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mandukkul · 3 months ago

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LOVE BETWEEN TWO — n.rk

synopsis: you and riki have different ways of seeing love but, in the end, you'll always know who you'll end up with.

moments building up before the first i love you

tags: childhood friends to lovers, non!idollau, neighbour!riki x f! reader, FLUFF!!!, only fluff and comfort :)

warning: proofread but might have some spelling + grammar errors

wordcount: 4.5k

published: 3rd october, 2024

authors note: this oneshot acts as a thankyou for all the followers and love i get!! i’m so sorry for not being more active :( BUT i completed this! and i just want to say THANK YOU FOR 1000!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU WHOLE!!! as much as riki loves you! and as much as we love riki :)

reblogs + comments appreciated

Act 1: loving

Riki had never understood love – that is, until he met you. He knew he loved many things, like dance, and his family and friends, but if you had asked him if he knew what love meant, he would have buffered like a 2000s-era computer. Of course, Riki knew what love was; he had watched it in K-dramas and had seen it rendered in manga. By their definition, love was hard. Love was hard and difficult and full of miscommunication, but also, love was soft and kind and offered the sweetest touches to one's heart that anyone could ask for.

Love was everything, and nothing, all at the same time.

He then concluded, after the piles of pirated manga and dramas he had accumulated over his 17 years of boyhood, that love was simply you. He didn’t need to be a genius to understand that; he knew if it wasn’t you, then no one was going to fit that definition of love for him. Riki didn’t fully understand love, but he understood you – how he felt about you. You, in all your beautiful glory. Love was your touch, your smile, your laugh. Love was what he looked forward to every day.

You were truly the only exception to his dilemma of love, because with you, love came so easily. Love was just like breathing – it was so effortless when it came to you. Love for you felt like rain kissing his cheeks in humid summers, like snow tickling his nose during winter, like an autumn leaf falling on his head in the fall, like cherry blossoms blooming when spring arrived.

Love for you felt like nature, like it was natural. He was sure he had been born to love you, inside and out. From the moment he had met you at the age of 4, when you were dressed in stained patchwork overalls, obviously from playing in the dirt; your hair tied in uneven pigtails because you had just had to tie them yourself. Your hands clasped some wilted old flowers he had passed while walking Bisco; you had offered them to him as a greeting gift with that cute little grin of yours.

“Hello! Want to be my best friend?”

Four-year-old Riki didn’t know it just yet, though he did have an inkling, but he would be head over heels for the girl in front of him for the rest of his life.

He had stared at the flowers in your hand, weak and slouchy in posture. He looked back up at you and didn’t have the heart to tell you that those flowers were the exact ones Bisco had decided to relieve herself on. So, he took those piss-stained flowers and nodded his head with as much agreement as his little body could give.

At the ripe age of 18, as he watched you from across his window, peering into your room, where you haphazardly flopped onto your bed with exhaustion despite only hanging out in his room all day. He could just tell you had screamed into your bed by the way you flailed around at the edge. He watched you suddenly stop, as if you had run out of battery, flip over to your back, and lay still for a while longer.

He loved you.

You could sense him staring at you, with your strangely acquired Riki-sense. You lifted your head to confirm your theory, and there he was, leaning against the window frame staring into your room. His eyes lay still on the object that was yourself, and he was filled with so much adoration, so much love, so much bliss at even the sight of you.

And yet, you scoffed at his blatant staring, feeling his chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul like the Ghost Rider from the movies. Of course, he had that stupid love-stricken look, and of course, he was already waiting for you to stare back.

Love for you had meant many things – too many things to quite pinpoint the right meaning. As you grew up, you learnt more about love than loss, and hence, you learnt that love hurts.

Love was like the humidity in summer, where the air was too thick, and the wind stuck to your skin; love was like the dullness of autumn, where the wind was cold and brisk but not enough to complain about – just enough to be irritable; love was like winter, where it got so cold you couldn’t even feel your face anymore, the season of sickness and disease that forced you to remain indoors and watch the sky cry frozen tears; love was like spring, when hay fever was at its worst, staining your cheeks with unintentional tears and a stuffy nose.

Love was hard. Love was difficult. Love was confusing.

You remembered every single time something you had loved got lost. The very first time was when the friendship bracelet Riki had made you when you were 5, decorated with mismatched charms and trinkets, disappeared one day when you went to the park. The nights you had spent crying didn’t outweigh the nights 5-year-old Riki had spent consoling and reassuring you that he’d make another one – a better one. But 5-year-old you knew the sentiment that was put into that very first bracelet, the one made without obligation to be replaced.

You remembered wailing about how it wouldn’t be the same, that Riki would have the very first bracelet, and you’d have a stupid second version because you had been careless. Then, you remembered the sound of beads crashing onto the ground, scattering anywhere and everywhere. You were scared you’d slip and crash despite being a giant compared to a measly bead.

“Now I’ll make two new ones so we’ll both be the same again.”

You couldn’t recall a more romantic and pleasant memory, where Riki had been so genuine and cute, so willing to give up something that was his to meet your happiness.

Five-year-old Riki really had you wrapped around his finger from that day on.

Despite your own volition, your heart bloomed and blistered, so full of him. It beat to the spelling of his name (in Morse code), and you couldn’t help but pull the threatening smile down into the scowl you attempted to display.

Like clockwork, your eyes locked with the same amount of love and willingness that you gave yourself credit for. You crawled towards your window and lifted it open so you could talk to him again as if the past 12 hours hadn’t occurred.

He was waiting for you, gazing like the stars had blessed his presence – graced his very being with the holiness that was you.

You had to force yourself to calm the oh-so-obvious flush of your cheeks, putting it down to hike up to your room as the reason for your sudden flare-up.

“Aren’t you tired of looking at me all day?” you remarked, and he was so quick with his reply, “I could never get tired of looking at you.”

Him and his flirty personality. You didn’t remember where he had gotten it from, or how he had developed it. You’d grown up with him all your life, and that part of his personality was still an anomaly.

You let a scoff out, rolling your eyes and folding your arms, blatantly ignoring the ache in your cheeks that you refused to surrender to his love.

“It’s not like I’ll disappear if you blink, relax,” but Riki had never been more relaxed than when he was looking at you. Not just the plain stares he gave during his maths classes, or at the dinner table, or even when he stared at his home screen that was so obnoxiously filled with you, but the type that showed interest, that showed he was immersed, devoured, totally consumed by whatever had his attention.

He liked to think he had found the perfect balance of clinginess and distance but still unknowingly leaned towards pulling you in.

“Most girls would love it if I stared at them,” he had said.

He was right. Nearly every girl at school would have sold an arm and a leg just for the boy to even look in their direction. If you weren’t you, you would have cherished and felt blessed to even have the Nishimura Riki in your presence.

But you were you, and you had grown up with this annoying brat all your life. Even if he could be sweet and sensitive at times, or when he tried to show you he was more man than boy, he was still Riki: your first friend, your best friend, and your first love.

Besides, someone had to keep his beautiful ass humbled, or else he would have resorted to those once-targeted alpha male Andrew Tate ads.

“To be honest, I find it a bit creepy,” you had snickered to yourself as he pouted at your response.

Those cute lips of his.

You had always known how to bring his rising ego down, one way or another.

With your smart and witty remarks, you anchored him just enough so he didn’t fly away and drift into the realm of egoism.

He couldn’t get enough of you.

“Fine. I’ll stop looking at you,” he had declared, but his eyes betrayed his words, and his gaze never, not once, pulled away. He had one eye open now, tilting his head away but still, ever so slightly, gazing upon the beauty that you emitted.

And you were still looking. Of course, you were; of course, you would.

You never took your eyes off him because he was just so cute, and his attempt to one-up you in snark was quite endearing.

“Good luck with that,” you had laughed, leaning onto your palm as you watched him sigh in defeat, but not before he caught your own gaze on him.

“Oooh, why are you looking at me like that?” he had prompted, leaning over his window to be closer to you. “Do you think I’m cute?” he wriggled his eyebrows ever so playfully, that shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“No,” you had deadpanned, dropping your palm down to the frame. He pouted again, more pouty than usual, pulling a frown.

He whined with one of those annoying squeals, something you had grown used to over the years of knowing him. “My girlfriends are so mean to me,” he had said, frowning with his eyebrows pinching and lips pouting. You couldn’t help the small pull of your lips, seeing how comical he was being.

For a split second, you had lingered on his words. “My girlfriend,” he had said with so much pride. “My girlfriend” was all you really heard because he was calling you his girlfriend like it was your name, like it was a prize, a gift, a blessing. “My girlfriend” sounded like honey-laced praises.

He had feigned a gasp at the sight of you trying to hide your smile, and then you had burst into giggles because, of course, you revelled in his misery. But it was okay because the sound of your laughter, that joyous giggle, had erupted because of him, and that was more than enough to subside the little bits of bullying you always seemed to aim at him.

His heart beat along with the rhythm of your laugh.

It was late, and the stars had been watching your tales unfold.

Of a girl whose love yearned and pined, reaching the moon and kissing the ocean. Whose love was kept sacred and scarce, and yet, a love that was sought after, searching for love like hers. One that treasured and was kept safe, a love made of steel but soft like wool. A love that comforted.

And of a boy who loved like no other, so full and so rich. Whose love poured like the rain kissing the ground – endless and fulfilling. A love so abundant, it counted for the world.

There was so much love, too much. It was overbearing, consuming, and it was eating you both alive.

It was overwhelming.

“Hey.”

Your name had left his mouth like honey.

The silence of the gap between your two homes became deafening. Your laugh had slowly died, and your attention had glued onto him alone.

It was now or never.

Riki had known that love was you. He had known that the moment his eyes met yours, his definition had been filled in an instant.

He knew, he had loved – no, he loved you.

His second pause after the call had been enough to erupt a yawn from your lips, ever so slightly slipping past your perfectly shaped lips.

“You should get to bed,” he had said, but the lovesick gaze that you were too tired to catch said everything.

You had fought the urge to ask him what he was really thinking. You were tired, but you knew Riki – your Riki. You knew how his eyebrows pinched a certain way when he contemplated, only further accentuated when he hesitated.

You had his entire face burned into your mind, and your heart.

But for tonight, you had let him and his burning thoughts wait as you slightly nodded.

“I’m not gonna wake you up this time,” you replied, smiling ever so slightly.

You had left your window open, as you always did. Your window to his – it was like you were always together, connected through a fated string that crossed from one pane to the other.

…

Act 2: between

You had grown to find joy within nothingness—or so you told yourself.

All your life, you had searched for things to put meaning into. Simple commodities that resembled fractions of joy you attempted to keep. As a child, you had never pondered trivial things that would be impossible to find answers to.

You loved the definite, the certain, the things you knew you could hold close to your heart and never let go. Like the grudge you held for the boy who had bullied Riki when he was nine—too fiery of emotions for little you to experience. Your little face had burned red with anger, fists balled and shaking with rage. There had been no stopping nine-year-old you from unleashing divine fury upon the bully. Or like the childhood bracelet Riki made when you were kids, which you had sworn never to remove despite the horrendous combination of charms. A symbol of your eternal friendship.

As you stuffed your locker with yet another textbook you barely cared about, you heard cheers echo against the walls, ricocheting straight into your ears. The stampede of footsteps seemed to hurdle past you, racing toward an unknown presence from across the hall.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t know who that presence was. Of course you did. You couldn’t ignore it, not when his fiery gaze burned holes into the back of your head.

You subtly looked over your shoulder, and there he was, in his glorious seven-foot-something stature. You saw how all the girls crowding him seemed to be trying to attract his attention, calling for his name, asking him silly, mundane questions. Anything just for a simple glance, but all Riki could do was stare at you like you were a lost treasure he had just discovered.

His gaze alone spoke a thousand words.

"I wish I could hold you."

"Your hand is mine."

"I want you."

"I need you."

"I miss you."

Those were more your feelings than what you thought his gaze said, but you had an inkling he felt the same way.

In the space between you, from metres away across the hall, you couldn’t help but feel so full of him—him and his love. He was saying nothing, yet the whole world went deaf in his presence.

You could see, miraculously through the heart-eyed girls, how he fidgeted with the little torn hem at the bottom of his shirt, remembering how you had been the culprit for that "measly" (his words, not yours) tear.

You watched as he scratched his neck awkwardly, trying to be as polite as a boy could be when rejecting a starry-eyed girl. They gave him chocolate-covered strawberries—though you knew he’d only eat them if they were microwaved despite your protests—and little love letters he would never end up reading, also despite your pitied protests.

All you wanted to do was pull him out of the crowd of crazed girls, to scream that he was yours—despite often telling him that you weren’t an object and shouldn’t be defined as "mine." Maybe it was jealousy that rippled through your blood, burning with a touch of yearning because, of course, you yearned for him. Every second of the day.

You yearned for his touch, his words, his silence.

Despite your many reluctances to say so, you were so deeply infatuated with Riki, you might as well have sprawled it across your forehead. Every distant look, light feathery touch, gentle breath that brushed against the shell of your ear. Everything he did, you clung to like a hoarder. A stupid, love-stricken hoarder. Every thought of yours was consumed by him, captivated by his every essence. Feminists before you would have shaken their heads, disappointed by how much you thought of Riki.

Frankly, you were too smitten with your dear ol’ boyfriend, even if he claimed you didn’t show enough affection to him.

Maybe it was for the best, as your gazes left each other like strangers with a fleeting glance. Similarly to last night, there was an invisible wall separating the two of you, tension threatening to crack under the pressure.

Riki was still being bombarded by love-sick girls, his longing gaze shifting into more of a plea as he watched you with all the free space he was supposed to take up.

You ignored his plea, of course, turning back around and into your locker. You would speak to him later anyway—it’s what he gets for making you late this morning (you had waited for him, as you always did).

…

Act 3: two

The two of you sit in the silence of your room for a change. The curtains of your window that peer into his room are pulled shut, dimming the space enough that you can only tell his expressions if you’re inches away from each other.

Which you are.

Riki insisted on staying over this time, wanting to leave the musk of his room for once. But really, he misses the sight of your walls.

Plastered across from him are pictures of friends and family, some of him and your shared friend group, others of his sisters and you. He thinks to himself how you have a knack for interior design, pleased with the way you showcase your love through photographs.

You say it eternalises the memories, so even when you’re both old and rotten to match your insides, you’ll always have the days of your youth.

And there’s a little flutter in his stomach when he thinks back to this memory because you said “both.” He loves that you see him forever entangled in your life.

Riki watches you doom-scroll on that godforsaken bird app. He likes to believe he’s got all your micro-expressions down—like the slight twitch of irritation in your eyebrow, the lift at the corner of your lip when you see something funny, or the scrunch of your nose when you see a resurfaced video of Nikocado Avocado.

Riki doesn’t spend half as much time on his education as he does staring at you. You’re awfully beautiful in your (his) shirt and dirty sweatpants. You’ve never bothered putting effort into your appearance when you’re in the comfort of your (or his) room, having known him far too long to care if he thinks your shirt smells like perpetual instant ramen.

His eyes travel from your appearance back to your face, and he just loves you. Loves sitting next to you. Loves seeing your face.Loves your appearance. Loves your personality. Loves that you're the opposite of a breath of fresh air—you’re comforted in his old, musty room.

Because even if he and you were stuck back in his room, you’d never change. You’re constant.

He loves the way your voice drops when you sense your tone’s shifted higher when talking to him, saying you’ll never be caught speaking to him with a babied voice. He loves how you deny his obvious affection for you—behind closed doors, because he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his friends. He loves your loudness, your quietness, your happiness, your silence.

He loves you.

He’s going to say it.

As he stares at you, yearning for you, you pretend not to notice the burning gaze of your lover. Twitter lost your attention long ago—the nth tweet about yet another scandal circling the app. Instead, you focus on your breathing. With how wild your heart’s beating, the best you can do is control how you breathe—ensuring you don’t fold in front of the lovely boy cuddled up next to you.

If Riki really knew how much you adored him—his hair, his eyes, his laugh, his smile, him—you’d never hear the end of it.

In truth, you’re simply enamoured with him. You love him. Everything about him. Years of girlhood wasted on a beautiful and sweet boy. Girlhood never prepares you for how to love a boy so lovely, so perfect. You think about how there have only been a few moments in your life where you’ve felt nothing but bliss.

Childhood was easy; ever since that fateful day where you picked a bunch of piss-covered flowers, you had no worries other than befriending the awkward little boy next door.

You’ll be sure to thank your parents’ boss for the move.

Teenhood, not so much; it’s riddled with an array of angst and anxiety. It’s a surprise you’re not imploding from the assignment you’ve been procrastinating or having a philosophical crisis like “what is love?”. But no, teenhood, albeit filled with plenty of anger and sorrow, has its fair share of wonderful moments.

Like right now, sitting in the comfort of your room—for a change. You’ve spent time imagining how your life would unravel, always with him in it, and how it ended up. The pictures plastered across the room aren’t just for show—they’re evidence that you’re happy.

Blissful.

Without Riki, you wouldn’t know what bliss is. Feeling nothing but pure and utter love.

He’s everything perfect about love.

And of course, you’ve said “I love you” plenty of times—80% of those times were when you were just kids. But that was when you were just friends. A silly phrase, really, because if you ask anyone who’s known you two since you were kids, they’d say you guys got married at the ripe age of seven with grass-bladed rings and flower crowns, with any passing animal as witness to your youthful marriage.

But now you’re dating—the dreaded boyfriend-girlfriend status. Nothing’s really changed in your relationship. Riki remains full of love and charisma, his attitude never wavering because, as he puts it, he’s known you were “the one” since you handed him those dirty flowers. You’ve remained witty and lovely as always, retaining the same spunk you had as a kid. The only two differences (soon to be one) are that your status has changed from friends to dating, and you’ve yet to say those three words, eight letters.

The phone that sits in your loose grip almost slips out, clearly losing its purpose of mindless distraction. To your dismay, Riki catches sight of your fumble, noting that you haven’t scrolled in seven minutes.

“Did my shameless staring finally catch your attention?”

He’s shameless, alright.

You drop your phone, staring deep into his dreamy eyes. You remain silent, but your expression tells him everything.

Despite the pull of your eyebrows and the purse of your lips, you love him.

“Say… what’s one thing you love about me?” he prompts, ready to finally tell you those long-awaited words. He’s thought it all out—how he’d list everything he loves about you, like he’s about to write your biography. He’s been dreaming of this moment since you started dating.

You think thoughtfully, like you’re scrounging your brain for an answer, leaving the silence in the room to deafen him with anticipation.

“Hey! Stop thinking so much!” Riki exclaims, offended that you’ve taken more than three seconds to answer, while his response would take 0.003 milliseconds (at least in his mind).

You let out a playful giggle, something you gave up trying to hide long ago. “I’m kidding,” you say, smiling.

“I’m kidding,” he mocks you in his ridiculous, high-pitched voice.

You love many things about him, too many to count. You simply love everything about him, like a reflex you can’t control.

“I love it when you’re silent.”

Riki visibly deflates, a slight frown ghosting his plump lips. His eyebrows pinch into a “what the hell” kind of expression, and his nose scrunches cutely at your words.

But you smile knowingly, taking in his sudden silence. You tune into the stillness of the room.

A rapid heartbeat.

“If you hate talking to me, just sa—”

“Because even when you’re quiet,” you interrupt, stretching your hand out to gently caress his hair, “you’re the loudest in the room.”

Your hand travels from his hair to cup his cheek, and Riki—the ever entranced—instinctively leans into your touch.

“Because you can just look at me, and I hear everything I need to hear.”

Your words are soft, gentle, and Riki swallows the lump in his throat that he hadn’t realised had formed. He stares deeply into your eyes—a different kind of stare than before.

Normally tender and kind, full of unspoken words of love. Now, all you see is devotion.

Riki focuses on the silence you’ve created, tuning into the nothingness that you said you loved about him.

And he thinks he can hear it, the silence.

It’s so loud, it bounces off the walls, pounding in his heart—even you can hear it.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

“What do you hear?” He pulls you closer, your lips hovering above his, so close he can feel your breath.

“I hear ‘I love you.’ ”

Your lips mould against his before he can respond, but something tells him that you know. And besides, he has a lifetime's worth of “I love yous”— he’ll let you have this one.

author's note pt.2: its been more than a year since i made this wip and i finally finished it LOLLL it took me so longggg ANDDD i feel like its a bit lackluster in the second act... ENJOY THOUGH. i love the the ending

#mandukkul #mandukkul’s aquarium #enhypen #nishimura riki x reader #ni ki x reader #niki x reader #riki nishimura x reader #nishimura niki x reader #ni-ki #niki fluff #nishimura riki #ni ki #niki enhypen #enhypen x reader #niki imagines #riki nishimura #enhypen riki

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okiedokrie · 1 month ago

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All Is Fair In Love And War Pt.1

Summary: Joshua is nothing if not determined. If he wants something, he'll get it; not that he even had to try before. But sometimes, like Icarus, he flies a little too close to the sun. But hey, all is fair in love and war!

Characters/Pairing: Aphrodite Incarnation!Joshua x Fem!Detective!Very Mortal!Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, crack, angst if you really squint

AUs/Trope Info: Greek God!AU, Partners In Solving Crimes, Strangers to Lovers, "time isnt linear" trope, "holy shit im kind of obsessed with you" trope

Word Count: 3,194 (Full fic is around 10k)

Warnings: Depiction of a crime scene (gore, blood, gun, conspiracy), depiction of drug use, character death (major and minor), smut warnings in the next part

Rating: 18+

A/N: I decided to split this into parts since I'm not confident ill be able to finish this within the deadline, this is part of the The 13 Gods of Olympus: A Seventeen collab hosted by @beomcoups and @wooahaeproductions! This is just the first part, so if you enjoy it, please consider signing up for the taglist. Thank you!!

In the summer of 2000, Joshua Hong was almost five years old. People always commented on how pretty he was for a kid, that he’d surely grow up to be a very handsome man.

Which is why it was a tragedy when he died from a freak truck accident.

Yes, Joshua Hong died at the age of five. For like, 10 minutes.

The doctors called it a miracle - a small child should not have survived a whole six of the twelve truck wheels, but somehow he was resuscitated, much to his parents’ delight.

This incident caused two things to change dramatically - Californetherlands now has stricter trucking laws and Joshua woke up to memories of literally being Aphrodite.

Throughout the years, from that fateful summer day to the present day, Joshua flopped back and forth between believing that the memories were just fever dreams and genuinely considering that he may be a reincarnation of the goddess. But ever since he got to hone his powers, he’s been more inclined to believe the latter.

By the age of 28, he has mastered the art of seduction. No, not sleeping with people constantly. It was more so the art of getting people to say ‘yes’ to everything he asked of them.

This made Joshua a very powerful and influential figure in Los Amsterdam; You see, the way he dealt wasn’t by out-witting people or being richer than them. He dealt in favors. If you wanted to be a popstar, he’d introduce you to a famous producer, and get you a record deal that would solidify your career - all for the low, low price of free.

In turn, you’d owe him, like the many powerful people who owed him large favors.

Joshua found himself in downtown LA, in the club that he owned, just under his penthouse. He enjoyed playing the guitar and performing for his patrons, everyone seemingly captivated by his voice, or his beauty, whichever one caught their attention first. He finally strummed the last chord of his song, enjoying the applause of the crowd as the DJ started to play the usual club music. Just as he was about to retreat to the bar, a feminine voice stopped him.

“Joshua! Hey!” She said, hair bouncing over her new fur coat, jumping excitedly, calling him over.

Joshua smiled widely at her - she was one of the people he had helped start her career as a singer. He didn’t do much other than introduce her to the CEO of her current label, it was her natural talent that got her this far.

“Ah, Diana, good to see you!” He said, going over to meet her in a friendly hug, the kind that didn’t touch at all. “How has being a singer treated you? Any good news?” He said, making small talk with an old acquaintance.

“Oh please,” she started, her new haughty attitude showing, “It’s all over the news! I just got nominated for a Grammy!” She said in a sing-song tone. Joshua just nodded Truth be told, he didn’t really have much interest in pop music, but he did try to match her enthusiasm.

“That’s great! I knew you’d make it big.” he said, remembering the first time she came to him, a girl in clothes that almost looked like rags, now decked out in every designer brand you could think of. “So, what brings you back here then? Surely you already have everything you ever wanted?” He said lightheartedly. Even if all of Joshua’s connections owed him favors, it was quite uncommon for them to come back to him after having achieved their dreams.

“Well,” She said, her old, meek bashfulness coming to the surface. “I just wanted to see you again, to thank you for what you have done for me.” She tucked a hair behind her ear. “And I know no matter what favor I do for you in return, I could never break even for just how much you’ve impacted my life. So, thank you, Joshua.”

Joshua genuinely felt relieved to hear her say that - usually, people’s pride and greed got in the way of them acknowledging those who truly helped them along the way, but as he suspected, this girl still had a soul so pure. “Let's get some drinks by the bar and chat some more, yeah? My treat.” He offered, which she gladly took, the conversation between them flowed naturally, Joshua enjoying her tales of success.

It was an hour after the club closed that Diana decided it was time to head home. Joshua offered to see her off, like the gentleman he was, and so they walked to the sidewalk, her hand around his arm.

Joshua opened the taxi door for her, offering her a few bills in cash to cover the fare, “It was nice seeing you again, hopefully, you’ll make time to catch up with me in the future.” he said through the taxi window.

“Yeah, I hope I get the chance to see you again soon. Goodnight Joshua.” She said as she rolled up the taxi window.

Joshua watched the taxi drive until the end of the block, and everything seemed to be going smoothly. Then, another car intercepted her in the intersection.

It happened so quickly, too quickly for Joshua to even register the new car’s window sliding down, holding a gun out to the taxi Diana was in. Gunshots echoed through the street, the sound of tires popping and glass shattering but all Joshua could make out was the sound of two sets of four tires screeching against the concrete. Diana’s taxi collided with a nearby lamppost, the taxi flattening and curling around it.

That was the last time Joshua saw her alive.

It was all over the news “Beloved Grammy-nominated rising star, Undyne, passed at a downtown intersection in a successful assassination.” Headlines went crazy with her story, telling her life before her short-lived success as a pop star.

The police were on her case, and the street cameras identified a black car with a non-existent plate number. they couldn’t find the people who owned it, but they did have enough evidence to call it a homicide.

Joshua, being close to the scene at the time when it happened, was one of the key witnesses to the whole case.

Currently, Joshua is in the waiting area of the police station, waiting for the detective on the case to lead him to the interrogation room where he will give his statements. He was just mindlessly scrolling through his phone when a voice snapped him out of it.

“Mr. Hong? Correct?” One of the officers asked him. He nodded to confirm it, repeating his full name. The officer just nodded too, “Okay, please follow me. Detective L/n will be there to ask a few questions.” He turned to the direction of the interrogation room, Joshua trailing behind him quietly.

The officer stopped in front of a door, “Here we are, just head on in.” He said, nodding at him. He walked into the interrogation room, the chilly air making goosebumps rise on the surface of his skin, the thin cardigan he wore did nothing to shield him from the cold. He took a seat at the chair facing the door, poking at the cold metal table as he waited.

“Good Morning Mr. Hong, I’m Detective L/n. I’m here to ask you a few questions, everything said here will be transcribed as evidence for this case, do you consent to this?” You started, taking the seat in front of him, your tone was very professional, as he expected, you didn’t even bother with pleasantries other than introducing yourself, which didn’t bother Joshua. He confirms his consent verbally, politely smiling at you with his hands clasped over the table.

“Great, I’d like to ask a few questions about you first.” You said, taking out your folder for the case, “You’re Joshua Hong, born on the 30th of December, 1995. You own the club downtown where your place of residence is also. Is all of that correct?” Joshua confirms all of the information is correct.

“You can just call me Joshua, by the way, Mr. Hong makes it seem like I’m someone important.” He said bashfully, scratching the back of his neck.

You just nod, writing something down in your notebook, “What was your relationship with Diana Kamatayan?” You asked, reviewing the official file which states that she is one of Joshua’s ‘clients’.

You were well aware of how the king of Los Amsterdam does his business, favors for favors. That’s how he got this far, and if you don’t hold up your end of the bargain, he’ll take away everything he gave you. You knew asking for Joshua’s help would make this investigation go quicker, but that would mean you’d owe him.

Owing Joshua Hong anything is a dangerous position to be in.

So while you have him in this interrogation room, you’re going to try to milk every bit of information out of him while it’s free.

“Well,” he started, getting comfortable in his seat, “She was one of my clients, I’m sure your file on me already knew that. Other than a professional relationship, I don’t really have one with her. That night was the first time I’ve seen her in a little over a year, actually.”

You nod, the timeline matches up, “And why did you meet her that night?” You ask next, trying to get more out of the nature of this last meeting.

“She approached me while I was in my nightclub. I was just about to turn in for the night when she came up to me to catch up. She thanked me for introducing her to a producer and wanted to catch up.”

Joshua really wasn't giving any information for free, as the interrogation went on you could only collect information you already knew. He didn't reveal any more than a simple google search did.

You drop your file folder onto the table, where Joshua's posture remained calm, cool, collected across from you, the small, charming smile still on his face.

“Did you get what you needed, Detective?” Joshua asks politely, tilting his head with his query.

“All I got was everything we already knew.” You sighed, rolling your shoulders in your seat. You turn in your seat, facing Joshua head-on once more. “Joshua, you are one of the most powerful and influential men in Los Amsterdam. We need your help in solving this case. All our leads have gone cold. We need your connections.”

Joshua smirked, the only time his expression changed from the relaxed and polite smile he had for the rest of the interview. His posture relaxed, leaning forward over the table, he placed his palms down on the cool metal surface, and said, “You do know what that would mean, right? The price you’d have to pay?”

You nodded, “I know all too well.”

“Asking me for a favor would mean that you’d owe me, do you think you can afford to pay that price?” He raised his eyebrows, you’d think your eyes deceive you when his irises glowed a soft gold—tilting his head in an almost teasing manner, taunting you.

Your breath hitched as you looked back at the one-way glass, knowing your co-workers were watching every detail of this interaction. “I promise I’ll deliver what I owe you. Just- please help us.” You said, not being able to look at him directly in the eyes.

He straightens his back once more, his polite smile returning to his face. “It’s settled then, I look forward to working with you Miss.”

Driving through the streets of a somewhat more affluent neighborhood, you stop in front of a well-known party den. There are plenty in Los Amsterdam, but this one was popular because of their ‘free-love’ policy.

Essentially, if you want to fuck, every surface is available to borrow for the duration.

You don’t look forward to entering the den, especially since you don’t know which surfaces are good to touch, but your partner beside you seems to be relaxed and content to visit such a place.

“God, I haven’t seen Jackson in forever. I hope he’s still having the time of his life here.” Joshua said with his bright eye-smile. You turn back to him, eyebrows furrowing in disgust. How could he find a place like this enjoyable? You don’t understand how the minds of party-goers work.

“Okay, how exactly is visiting a party den supposed to help with our investigation?” You finally ask him, he refused to elaborate on how relevant this location was when you met up with hiim, or during the entire car ride to said location.

“Well, Jackson still owes me, and he’s Diane’s ex’s first producer. If there’s anyone with a motive to get her killed, it’s her ex. I asked him to get Johnny drunk enough to pass out in one place. Now you have the perfect stage to corner and investigate him!” He said, with a smile on his face as if his plan didn’t just open up a whole new can of worms for you.

“You do know it’s illegal for me to just interrogate him without a warrant right? He might lawyer up if he figures out we’re onto him.” You said running a hand through your hair.

“Which is why I got you this,” he pulls out a skimpy party dress and matching heels from his duffle bag, “We blend in with the party-goers, that way you’re not interrogating him, you’re just having a conversation.”

“Joshua Hong you are insane.” You said, tone raising, “I’m not walking into a sex den looking like a hooker!”

“Don’t worry, we’re just trying not to stand out, please, just trust me.” He said handing the outfit over to you. You think over his words, it would be wise not to draw too much attention to yourself. If you made it obvious that you were a cop you’d have to resort to improvising.

You were never good at improvising.

Joshua gave you the decency to turn away while you changed, he was already in his usual relaxed suit that already made him look like a pimp, so he was already dressed for the occasion.

You both step out of the car, your heels clacking on the pavement below you. How Joshua managed to find your shoe size is in itself impressive, but you don’t have the time to dwell on that.

You both enter the bustling house filled to the brim with people indulging in their vices, whether it was alcohol, drugs, the ‘free-love’. It was a mess of bodies and fluids that you’d rather not inspect closely.

Joshua expertly weaved through the crowd, parting it like Moses did to the red sea. He didn’t have any difficulty locating Jackson Wang, the host of these parties.

“Jackson!” Joshua called out, the man was sitting in one of the many loveseats, a can of beer in hand and two ladies under his arms, giggling and getting very comfortable with him.

Jackson squints over the flashing lights, eyes widening in recognition after seeing Joshua. “Joshua! My man! Glad you finally made it! Got to say though, that favor of yours was an odd one. But you’ll be able to find him in my room. You know the way.” He waves him off, resuming to talking to the women clinging onto him.

You follow after Joshua, quickly climbing a few sets of stairs to get to the third floor, the entirety of the third floor was just Jackson’s room. He made sure to lock the door behind the both of you when you guys arrived.

The floor was far quieter than the floors below you, and less of a mess than them too. This room felt like Jackson’s actual home, and not like a party den.

Joshua spots Johnny stumbling around the room, nursing a liquor bottle- a few of them.

“Joshua we can’t interrogate him when he’s like this, he can barely even stand!” You said, waving your arms in front of you to point at the inebriated man.

“That’s not a problem, watch this.” Joshua takes long and purposeful strides toward him, once he finally reaches him, he takes his face in his hands and stares directly into his eyes.

You watch in awe and slight confusion, until Joshua speaks up, “You want to tell us everything we want to know, and you will be sober as a priest while you do so.”

Suddenly the haziness in Johnny’s eyes faded in an instant, his brown eyes now have a golden ring around the irises, like a puppet on a string.

“What did you need to know?” Johnny says, no longer under the influence of alcohol.

“Joshua, what did you do to him?” You ask in slight horror.

“Nothing illegal, don’t worry about it.” He said, “Continue your questioning on him, detective, if we spend any more time here Jackson’s gonna think we’re having sex here.”

Not wasting any more time you ask Johnny, “Are you aware that Diane Kamatayan had been assassinated? Do you know any information about that?” Johnny squints before his eyes widen in recognition, “Diane, yeah, her, we dated a bit. I was obsessed with her. But she broke it off when she got big. Yeah, I’m pissed, but instead of doing anything healthy with my time I just chose to shit-talk her on Twitter and drown in alcohol. When I heard the news about her passing, I lost it, went straight here where Jackson just kept handing me bottle after bottle with no questions.”

You look at Joshua, raising an eyebrow, not much of a motive if he didn’t even contact her directly in the entire duration of their time as exes.

You shake your head, back to square one then.

“It didn’t help that she started dating the old geezer of a producer of hers.” Johnny said, eyebrows furrowing in frustration, “That whore, she probably got big because that sleaze of a producer gave her banger after banger for sucking his dick or something, tch.” he said, clicking his tongue and crossing his arms.

“I’m pretty sure it was him who killed her too.”

You and Joshua look at each other in shock, eyes meeting for a second, almost as if communicating telepathically.

“Why do you think that?” You ask, cautious around the increasingly irritated Johnny.

“He’s always been a greedy bastard, worked with him before. Wanted to claim all the royalties of my song, so I sued him. Pretty sure he got threatened by how rich Diane was getting for that hit.” Johnny spat, distaste seeping into every word he said, “Now Diane is dead, and the bastard is getting married to some Slavic model, most likely cashing in all those royalty cheques.”

You and Joshua nod at each other. Joshua snaps his fingers, it’s almost as if snipping a puppet off its strings, the glow around Johhny’s eyes dims and disappears, suddenly slumping over the seat, stumbling drunkenly like he did when you found him.

“Okay, we have a lead.”

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lefteagleblizzard · 1 month ago

Text

𝔇𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 Until Dawn males x male reader

Summary: 4 smut scenarios featuring each of the men from Until Dawn. Each scenario exists in its own standalone world, completely unconnected to the others—distinct, isolated, and unforgettable.

Tags: He/Him pronouns used for the reader. Mike Munroe x male reader; Matt Taylor x male reader; Josh Washington x male reader; Chris Hartley x male reader. Set before the events of the game. All of these are separated and not connected. All of these with bottom male reader. Friends to lovers/ established relationships. Smut. Gay smut. Dom Mike Munroe. Gentle dom Matt Taylor. Dom Josh Washington. Submissive Chris Hartley. Pinning. Anal sex. Shower sex. Riding. Blowjob.

Recently reached 300 followers and i wanted to do something special <3

Words counts: 8000 words (around 2000 for each character)

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

ℳ𝒾𝓀ℯ ℳ𝓊𝓃𝓇ℴℯ

Cocky and relentless. Teasing that borders on merciless, using his natural charisma to push buttons and see you squirm and blush beneath him. He doesn't stop until he's left you utterly wrecked, trembling and begging for more. He'd enjoy having full control, alternating it with whispered reassurances or moments of tenderness.

Mike Munroe sat in the chair beside you, leaning back with his signature cocky grin plastered across his face, a textbook in front of him that he hadn't opened once since arriving. He had the look of someone who didn't really care about studying, which, frankly, was true. This entire night was a ruse, a flimsy excuse to be alone with you under the pretense of needing help with an exam.

The plan had seemed solid in his head. You'd sit close, explain things to him with that focused, determined look he loved and he'd lean in, let his charm work its magic and, eventually, your studying would devolve into something much less productive.

Mike had always been good at getting what he wanted. A flash of his smile, a sly remark and most people melted. But now, as you sat at the desk flipping through pages and genuinely trying to explain a concept he couldn't care less about, Mike was starting to feel… frustrated.

"You're telling me I have to memorize all this crap by Thursday? Who the hell needs to know about… what even is this—" he glanced down at the page in front of you, squinting as if the words offended him “—polynomial functions for real life? What, am I gonna solve equations at my job interview?"

You sighed, trying to ignore his dark eyes locked onto yours instead of the textbook in front of him. "You signed up for the class, Mike. I didn't force you to take it."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, waving a dismissive hand. "But that's why you're here." He leaned in closer, resting his elbow on the desk and his chin in his hand, his face mere inches from yours. "You make it all make sense. You're, like, my personal genius."

Your stomach twisted at the compliment, even though you tried to brush it off. This was just Mike being Mike, wasn't it? He was like this with everyone. Charming, flirtatious, impossible to ignore. You'd seen him in action before: the way he smirked at the girls in class, the playful winks he threw at random people in the cafeteria.

It was just his thing. And yet, being on the receiving end of it made your heart race in a way that was becoming harder to ignore.

"Your 'genius' thinks you should actually start paying attention," you said, nudging the notebook closer to him. "Try solving this one."

Mike groaned dramatically, dragging the notebook toward him like it physically pained him to do so. "You're cute when you're bossy."

"Mike—“

"I'm kidding." He shot you a lopsided grin before glancing at the problem you'd written out. He picked up the pen, twirling it between his fingers as his brow furrowed in mock concentration. "Okay, so, uh… the square root here is… this, right?"

You couldn't help but laugh at how off he was, shaking your head as you leaned over to correct him. The faint scent of his cologne, woodsy with a hint of spice, hit you as you got closer and you froze for a moment, suddenly all too aware of how close you were.

Mike noticed. Of course he noticed. His grin widened and he tilted his head slightly, his eyes flicking from your face to your lips and back again.

You cleared your throat, quickly retreating to your seat. "Focus, Michael."

"I am focusing," he said, his voice warm and husky now, enough to make your pulse race and your breath catch. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms behind his head, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a strip of toned stomach. He caught your eyes flicking down and smirked. "On you."

Your face burned and you buried it in the textbook, pretending to reread a section. "Don't you have an exam to pass?"

"Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah," he said, waving his hand lazily. "But it’s hard to concentrate when you're sitting there all cute and stuff."

Your heart stuttered, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes, words stuck in your throat as you kept your focus ahead.

He shifted on the chair, his eyes trailing to your lips as you read aloud from the book. God, you had no idea how good they looked, slightly pursed as you concentrated on the material. He could only think about how soft they would feel against his, how warm they'd be as they moved down his body.

His gaze darkened, drifting lower, watching the way your throat moved as you spoke. He wanted to trace his lips there, feel your pulse against his tongue. The idea made his pants feel uncomfortably tight and he shifted again, trying to will the thoughts away.

The study session continued, with you trying your best to keep things on track despite Mike's constant interruptions. He'd accidentally brush his hand against yours when reaching for a pen, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. He'd lean in close under the guise of needing help, his lips so close to your ear that his breath tickled your skin as he murmured, "Explain that one more time?"

The shift you made brought you closer, your thigh brushing against his and Mike had to work hard not to react.

"Here," you said, pointing to a diagram you'd sketched out earlier. "This is how you get everything right. Got it?"

Mike barely registered your words. He was too busy realizing how he could feel the faint heat of your body. His eyes dropped to your hands as you gestured toward the page, wondering what they'd feel like gripping his shoulders, his hips, his—

"Mike”

"Hmm?" He blinked, forcing himself to meet your gaze.

"Are you sure you're okay? You keep zoning out. You said you needed help with this, right?"

Mike sighed dramatically, flopping back on the bed. "Yeah, yeah, I need help," he muttered, though he wasn't talking about school.

As you leaned forward to grab some papers on the desk, his eyes traced the curve of your jaw, the line of your neck, the way your shirt shifted slightly to reveal just a hint of skin.

It was torture.

Sweet, delicious torture.

"Can we take a break? I feel like I'm not gonna retain any of this if I don't decompress a little."

You glanced at the clock. "We've only been at it for 20 minutes."

"Exactly!" Mike said, his grin widening. "That's, like, more than I've ever studied so far."

You rolled your eyes, doing your best at suppress the warmth rising at his warm gaze in your direction. "Let me at least finish this thing?"

"Alright, fine," he muttered, picking up the book with a theatrical sigh and flipping through it aimlessly. "Keep cracking the whip, Teach."

You smiled faintly and got up to grab another set of notes from your backpack. The second you stood, Mike's eyes trailed down the curve of your back, lingering too long on the way your jeans clung to your butt. He bit his bottom lip, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

Enough was enough.

With a quick sigh, he stood, ego hurt and curiosity piqued. He closed the textbook on your desk with a sharp thud. His lip curled briefly at the sight of the boring equations inside, a momentary flicker of irritation at how they'd monopolized your attention. Then he turned his focus back to you.

When you turned around, annoyed at now being able to find what you were looking for, you froze.

He moved closer until your back pressed against the wall. His chest rose and fell steadily, his lips curving into a soft, almost vulnerable smile.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice was low, the teasing edge stripped away, leaving something raw and earnest.

"Uh… sure?" Your pulse quickened as his hand came up, resting lightly against the wall beside your head. His tall frame radiating heat as he leaned closer to you. His dark eyes bore into yours, not with the usual teasing glint, but with raw, unfiltered emotion that made your heart race.

"Do you like me?" he asked, his voice low and intense.

The question hit you like a punch to the chest. "What?"

"You heard me," Mike said, his tone softening, though the intensity in his gaze didn't waver. "Do you like me? Because, damn it, I can't keep this up anymore. I came here because I wanted to be with you, not to study. I just… I need to know."

You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you could barely think after hearing the vulnerability in his voice.

"Just tell me the truth," he murmured, his hand lifting to cup your jaw. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek and the tenderness of the gesture made your knees weak.

Your throat tightened and you felt heat flooding your face. "Yes, Mike. I like you. A lot."

His grin returned, slow and breathtaking, as though your words were the only answer he'd ever wanted. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to hear you say that."

He closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that stole the air from your lungs. It was hungry, raw, as though he'd been starving for this moment. His hands found your waist, pulling you forward until you were pressed tightly against him as his tongue pushed into your mouth, exploring with urgency.

You gripped his shoulders instinctively, your fingers digging into the firm muscle as he deepened the kiss.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. "Fuck, I've been wanting this for so long. You have no idea."

He bent down abruptly, his arms sliding under your thighs to lift you effortlessly. You gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist. Mike's lips moved to your neck, kissing and nipping as he trailed down to your collarbone. His light stubble scratched your skin, a delicious friction that left you squirming in his hold. He sucked a mark just above your collarbone, his tongue soothing the sting before he moved up to your jaw, his breath hot against your cheek.

"You taste so fucking good," he murmured, his voice a husky growl.

His lips found yours again, the kiss deeper this time, his tongue delving into your mouth as though he couldn't get enough. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he ground his hips against you. You could feel his hardness through his jeans, pressing insistently against you and making you ache with need.

With a grunt, Mike turned and carried you to the bed, laying you down carefully before crawling on top of you. His weight pressed you into the mattress, his sturdy frame caging you in as his lips found your neck again. His hands were everywhere, exploring your body with a mix of reverence and urgency.

You moaned softly as his teeth grazed your neck, his tongue soothing the sensitive skin before his lips claimed yours again. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, tugging it off in one swift motion before discarding his own. His bare chest pressed against yours, the heat of his skin making you gasp as his lips continued their assault on your neck.

Mike's hands moved lower, unfastening your pants with a speed that made your head spin. He slid them down along with your underwear, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you fully bare beneath him.

His fingers found their way between your legs, teasing you as he leaned down to kiss you again. His other hand wrapped around your length, stroking you with firm, steady movements that made your hips buck into his hand.

"You like that?" he asked, his grin wicked as he watched your reaction. "I want to hear you, baby. Don't hold back."

He worked you with expert precision, his mouth returning to your neck to suck another mark. He was relentless, his fingers slipping lower to tease your entrance, his voice low and commanding.

"Relax for me," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'll take care of you, I promise."

His fingers moving in and out with practiced ease as he murmured praises against your skin. His other hand continued stroking you, his thumb teasing your tip in a way that had you writhing beneath him.

"God, you're so tight," he muttered, his breath hot against your neck. "I can't wait to feel you around me."

When he finally replaced his fingers with the hot, throbbing weight of his cock, the stretch was overwhelming. You hissed, your hands gripping his shoulders as he sank into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head falling forward to rest against yours.

Mike’s lips didn't stop their assault on your neck, alternating between wet, searing kisses and the light scrape of his teeth that left trails of fire in their wake. Each movement of his hips pressed his thick, throbbing length deeper against you, and the friction was maddening.

"Fuck," he whispered, "You feel so good. So fucking good."

His restraint snapped, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he fucked you deeply, his groans mixing with your moans in the heated air.

His pace quickened, his thrusts hitting deeper as he angled his hips just right. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as pleasure overwhelmed you.

"That's it," he growled. "Let me hear you."

You couldn't hold back, your moans growing louder as he pushed you closer to the edge. His hand slipped between your bodies, stroking you in time with his thrusts.

"Come for me," he whispered, his voice strained.

His words sent you over the edge, your climax hitting you as you cried out his name. The way your body clenched around him pushed him over the edge, his thrusts growing erratic as he spilled inside you with a deep groan.

He collapsed on top of you, his body trembling as he pressed soft kisses to your neck, his arms wrapping around you as he held you close. "Worth every second," he murmured, his voice soft and full of affection.

ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉 𝒯𝒶𝓎𝓁ℴ𝓇

He would seek constant reassurance as he takes tentative steps. However, once he gains confidence, he becomes surprisingly assertive. He'd focus entirely on your pleasure. His athleticism would lend itself to strength and stamina, ensuring you're worshiped and cherished. He would revel in making you feel safe yet utterly overwhelmed by the raw power of his passion, glowing with pride every time he draws out a moan or gasp.

The campus was alive with the lazy hum of an afternoon sun. Matt Taylor was out on the field, his athletic frame in constant motion as he jogged the perimeter.

The way his shirt clung to him, damp and snug from exertion, only highlighted the strength in his broad shoulders and the subtle definition of his chest. It clung stubbornly to his abs, outlining the defined ridges of his stomach. Every muscle in his body seemed to work in perfect harmony as he moved.

The sweat glistening on his caramel skin only made him look more enticing.

He stopped after a lap, bending slightly to catch his breath, hands resting on his thighs. The sight was enough to steal yours.

There were moments when his head would turn, his dark, warm eyes flicking in your direction. He always seemed aware of your presence, like you were a natural part of his environment. The way you looked at him was as essential as the air he breathed.

He'd catch your gaze just for a second, his lips quivering into a smile. It was like he knew you were watching and wanted to remind you that he saw you, too.

With a deep breath, Matt straightened, one hand pushing his damp shirt away from his torso, exposing the hard lines of his stomach. Wiping the sweat from his face and neck with a calm, unhurried precision.

Matt tilted his head just slightly, as if gauging your reaction. Then, without missing a beat, he pressed his hand to his lips and blew a kiss in your direction.

Your heart stuttered, the sheer casualness of it leaving you stunned.

He turned toward the bench at the edge of the field, where his water bottle rested and took a moment to hydrate. He poured some of the cool water over his head, letting it cascade down his face and neck before trailing over his chest. The droplets caught in the sunlight, gleaming as they traced the curve of his shoulders and the hard ridges of his collarbone. His free hand dragged across his jaw, wiping the excess water away in a move that was as unintentional as it was captivating.

The others called out to him, ready to start another round of drills and he responded with an easy wave. As he jogged back to join them, he passed by where you sat.

"Hey," he said, his voice low and warm, tinged with the kind of softness he reserved for moments like this. He leaned down, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "I was trying out some new moves. Gotta know if they're, you know, impressive enough." His tone was light and teasing, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in his expression, like he genuinely cared what you thought.

"They're impressive," you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended.

His smile softened and for a moment, he looked almost shy. "Thanks," he said, straightening up and running a hand through his short, damp hair.

You watched as he jogged back to his friends, the muscles in his legs flexing with every step. He jumped right back into the game, throwing himself into it with renewed energy. He made daring plays, diving for the ball in ways that sent his friends laughing and clapping him on the back. He'd glance your way after every particularly bold move, his smile growing brighter each time he saw you watching, eager to impress you.

The dim lighting of the locker room cast soft shadows over Matt's glistening body as he leaned against the lockers, phone in hand, his voice warm and playful. His towel hung loosely around his neck and his shirt was long forgotten, leaving his torso on full display. Every inch of him radiated heat.

The room was quiet now, save for the distant echo of running water in the pipes and the soft shuffle of Matt's footsteps as he paced near the benches.

"Yeah, I'm still here," he chuckled into the phone, his deep voice carrying a hint of teasing affection as he talked with you. "No rush, though. No one else is around."

He glanced at the screen, his smile softening before he made up his mind on what to do next.

"Want to hang out? We can talk later after I'm done here, if you want?" He murmured, voice low with a sweet and earnest tone.

"Turn around," you said.

Matt froze for a moment, processing your voice now coming from behind him. He spun on his heel, his eyes widening as they landed on you standing just inside the locker room door. A surprised laugh escaped him and he hung up the call, sliding his phone into the pocket of his gym bag.

"You're here," he said, his grin growing wider. His dark eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and shyness as he took a hesitant step forward.

"I wanted to surprise you," you replied, your voice soft but steady.

He moved closer, the heat of his body palpable even from a few feet away. The faint sheen of sweat making every curve of his muscles stand out.

"Let me—uh—just a sec," Matt stammered, rubbing the back of his neck as he closed the distance between you. He was so careful, leaning in slowly as though worried he'd overwhelm you. His lips brushed yours lightly at first, the saltiness of his sweat mingling with the sweetness of his breath.

"You don't mind the, uh…" He gestured to himself, his cheeks flushing slightly.

"Not at all," you murmured, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, his mouth moving against yours with a mix of gentle passion and restrained hunger. One arm looped around your waist while his big hand cradled the back of your head. His hands found your hips, his touch firm but tender.

He broke the kiss only to glance over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the empty locker room. Once satisfied you were alone, he turned back to you, his expression soft but smoldering.

"Shower's right there," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Think we could, uh… clean up together?"

The corner of his mouth twitched in a nervous smile, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable.

You didn't answer with words, letting your lips find his again instead, this time with more urgency as he backed behind with you caged in his arms.

The shower stalls were humid and warm, steam curling in the air as Matt turned on the water, letting it cascade down his back. He stood under the stream for a moment, his head tilted back, droplets running over his shoulders and down his chest, washing away the sweat that clung to him.

He turned to you, his expression soft but filled with intent. "Come here," he whispered, holding out a hand.

You stepped into the stall, the warm spray hitting your now naked skin as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. His lips found yours again, deeper this time, his hands exploring your back, your sides, the curve of your hips. His touch was firm but gentle, every movement infused with the kind of care that made your chest ache.

His hands moved to your waist, lifting you slightly to press you against the cool tile wall. The contrast of temperatures sent a shiver through you, but Matt's body pressed against yours was a furnace, his heat keeping you grounded.

The water ran between you, slicking your skin as his kisses trailed down your neck, his lips warm and soft against your wet skin. His breath was hot, mouth lingering over every inch of you like he couldn't get enough.

"I want to make you feel good," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, water dripping from his hair and into your eyes.

Hands broad and rough from years of training roamed your body with deliberate care. He started at your waist, his thumbs grazing your hips, then slid them down to cup your thighs, pulling you closer until every inch of him was flush against you.

His lips moved down the side of your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses that lingered, his tongue flicking out to taste the droplets sliding down your skin. "You feel so damn good." Matt murmured, his voice thick with need.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip before his tongue pushed into your mouth. His hands drifted lower, gripping your ass firmly as he hoisted you up, pressing you against the cold tile wall.

His hips pressed into yours and you felt the unmistakable hardness between his legs, the weight of him grinding slowly.

"Matt," you gasped, your voice catching in your throat as his lips found your collarbone, then moved lower, trailing down your chest. He paused at your nipple, his mouth closing around it, his tongue swirling as his teeth grazed just enough to make you arch into him.

The water streamed down his back as he continued his descent, his tongue and lips mapping a path across your stomach, his hands gripping your hips tightly, anchoring you. He looked up at you as he knelt, his eyes filled with a hunger that made your knees weak.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

You nodded quickly, your breath hitching as he kissed along your thighs, his mouth hot against your damp skin. His fingers traced delicate patterns, teasing you, making you ache for more. He submits his mouth to take on your length, his tongue flicking out to taste you, slow and deliberate as he traced every vein and ridge.

The sensation of his mouth on you was almost too much. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you arched up against him.

His hands gently rested on your soft, supple ass. He circled the hole gently before pressing his finger inside up to the second knuckle. Your head tilting up as the finger went in deeper before adding in another finger.

When you were trembling beneath his touch, Matt stood again, pulling you into another searing kiss. His hands gripped the back of your thighs, lifting you easily as he aligned himself with you. The anticipation was overwhelming, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Tell me if I'm too much. I don't want to hurt you."

His sweetness melted into raw passion as he slowly pushed inside, stretching you in a way that made your breath catch. The pressure was intense, the fullness almost too much, but Matt paused, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured against your skin.

"You're doing so good for me," he said, his voice strained, his restraint obvious as he let you adjust.

When you nodded, giving him the okay, he began to move. His thrusts were slow at first, measured, each one sending sparks of pleasure through your body. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you steady as he found a rhythm, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the small, steamy space.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his voice barely above a whisper as he buried himself deeper.

His pace quickened, his control slipping with each thrust, his eyes watching you intensively, filled with unspoken adoration and need.

Matt's hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers stroking in time with his thrusts. The dual sensations were overwhelming, your body tightening around him as you felt yourself teetering on the brink.

"Come for me. I want to feel you," Matt whispered, voice a mix of command and plea.

His words pushed you over the edge, your climax ripping through you with an intensity that left you shaking, your cries muffled against his shoulder. The way your body clenched around him sent him spiraling, his thrusts becoming erratic as he groaned your name, his release spilling inside of you hot, heavy and overwhelming.

He held you there, both of you trembling as the water continued to pour over your exhausted bodies, his breath ragged but his smile soft.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse but filled with tenderness.

You nodded, your fingers threading through his damp hair as you pulled him into a soft, lingering kiss. "More than okay."

And with that, Matt grinned affectionately before wrapping you in his arms, his warmth and love enveloping you completely.

𝒥ℴ𝓈𝒽 𝒲𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓉ℴ𝓃

He would be almost hypnotic. His hands firm, guiding you like a puppeteer while he watches every reaction with piercing eyes. Touch that alternate between rough and tender. He'd seek absolute surrender, his lips tracing feverish paths across your skin as he demands every gasp, every shiver, until you're completely undone.

The basement was dimly lit, a warm glow from the single overhead bulb casting shadows over the eclectic collection of items Josh's family had accumulated over the years. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with dusty film reels, old cameras and props from Josh's endless experiments in cinematography. You trailed behind him as he rifled through a box, muttering under his breath about where he'd left the camera he needed.

"You've got enough stuff down here to make a whole trilogy,” you spoke amazed, picking up a fake severed hand from one of the nearby tables. "Let me guess, this was for some horror project?"

Josh turned, his smirk lighting up his face even in the shadows. "Oh, that? Nah, that was just Halloween last year. Dad thought it'd be funny to have it sticking out of the candy bowl." He rummaged through a nearby crate, pulling out a few props from old projects like the fake blood packets and a weathered script.

You laughed, shaking your head as you placed it back on the table. Josh returned to rummaging through his box of supplies and your attention wandered to a nearby shelf where a cracked clown mask hung ominously. This place is like a treasure trove, a mix of fascinating and unsettling, much like Josh himself. His mind always worked a mile a minute, brimming with ideas that danced somewhere between genius and chaos.

"Found it!" Josh declared, holding up a vintage film camera triumphantly. "This baby's gonna make my project an A+ for sure."

"Finally," you teased, crossing your arms. "I thought we'd be down here forever."

Josh's grin widened, that familiar mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. "Oh, don't tell me you're scared of basements."

"I'm not scared of this place," you replied, rolling your eyes while turning around to see again a cool looking mask that you wanted to try out.

"No?" he asked, his tone mock-innocent as he casually reached for something behind him.

When you turned around to face your boyfriend again, your eyes were met with a mask that resembles a skull-like style with a pair of thin black eyebrows, a cracked nose and rotten styled teeth. The dim light casting eerie shadows across the distorted features.

He lunged at you with a guttural growl, arms outstretched. Startled, you yelped involuntarily, stumbling back a step as he grabbed you with exaggerated ferocity. He gripped tightly your waist and hoisted you effortlessly onto a nearby table, pinning you in place.

"Gotcha!" he exclaimed, pulling the mask off to reveal his gleeful grin.

"You absolute jerk!" you gasped, swatting at his chest with your right hand in frustration.

Josh laughed, his deep, warm chuckle echoing through the basement. "You should've seen your face! Priceless."

"You're the worst," you muttered, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed how flustered you were.

"Oh, come on," he said, leaning closer. His hands rested on either side of your hips, trapping you. "You're even more handsome when you're scared. Seriously, it's not fair."

He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, "Let me make it up to you for my genius prank." He concluded the line with a kiss to your neck, his lips warm and insistent against your skin.

"Trust me," he whispered, his voice low and rough, his hands sliding up your sides as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear.

Your breath hitched, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down your neck and along your collarbone. His fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, pushing it up to expose more skin, his lips following the path his hands carved.

"We’ve done it not even an hour ago," you murmured, your voice trembling as he nipped lightly at your shoulder.

Josh chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. "Perfect then! Means that you’re ready for me," he admitted, pressing his lips to yours into a kiss that was equal parts sweet and consuming. His hands roamed your body with a mix of confidence and care, his touch leaving trails of heat in its wake.

He broke the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt over your head, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you. "You look good," he said simply, his voice tinged with awe.

"Stop being sappy," you teased, though your heart raced at his words.

Josh grinned, his hands sliding to your waistband. "Fine, I'll focus on other things"

He made quick work of your pants, his lips finding yours again as he pressed you back against the table. The feel of his body against yours, the weight of him grounding you, sent a shiver down your spine.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and intimate.

"You," you replied without hesitation, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

Josh groaned softly, his fingers tightened on your thighs, his thumbs stroking the bare skin just above your knees as he stepped closer, pressing himself against you. His lips trailed along your jawline, soft and teasing at first, but the heat in his movements grew with each passing second.

He tilted your head slightly, exposing more of your neck and pressing his lips there, warm and insistent.

Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue following in a slow, deliberate sweep that left you shivering. His hands roamed upward, fingers hooking under the hem of your shirt before tugging it over your head in one swift motion.

"God," he breathed, pulling back just enough to take you in. His eyes were dark, predatory. "You're fucking amazing."

"You don't look so bad yourself," you managed, your voice shaky but laced with a teasing edge.

Josh smirked, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, there was no pretense of restraint. His tongue slid against yours, the kiss messy and consuming as his hands pulled you closer until there wasn't an inch of space between you.

Your hands found their way to his shirt, pushing it up over his torso. He broke the kiss just long enough to yank it off, tossing it carelessly to the floor before returning his lips to yours. The heat of his bare chest against yours sent a thrill through you, his skin warm and slightly damp as your hands explored the defined lines of his back.

Josh's hips rolled against yours and you felt the unmistakable hardness pressing against your thigh. Your own erection makes your pants feel painfully tight. He groaned softly, his breath hot against your neck as he ground into you, the friction sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You're driving me crazy," he admitted, his voice rough as his hands slid to the waistband of your pants. He hesitated for just a moment, his eyes meeting yours. "Can I…?"

"Yes," you said quickly, the word barely more than a whisper.

He grinned, his usual cocky demeanor softened by the flush in his cheeks, and tugged your pants down, his hands deliberate and firm. You kicked them off, your skin prickling with anticipation as he leaned back to admire you.

"You're perfect," Josh said, his voice husky as his fingers traced along your thighs, his touch featherlight but electrifying.

You reached for him, pulling him closer until his body was pressed fully against yours. The feel of him, hard and eager, against your own growing arousal made you gasp. Josh took the opportunity to kiss you again, his hands sliding lower to grip your ass, lifting you slightly as he aligned himself with you.

"Ready?" he asked, his hands voice soft but filled with intensity.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck as he positioned himself. The stretch as he pushed inside was slow and deliberate, his movements measured as he let you adjust to the fullness.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he buried himself completely.

The words sent a shiver through you, your hands tightening on his shoulders as you urged him to move. Josh pulled back slightly, his hips rocking forward again in a slow, steady rhythm that left you breathless.

He found a pace that was both gentle and intense, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one drawing soft moans from your lips. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you as he pressed kisses to your neck, your jaw, your lips.

Your own voice trembling as the pleasure built with each movement.

Josh's pace quickened, his control slipping as his need for you overwhelmed him. The table beneath you creaked with each thrust, but neither of you cared. The only thing that mattered was the way he filled you, the way his body moved against yours like you were made for each other.

Your climax hit suddenly, a wave of pleasure crashing over you and leaving you trembling in his arms. You cried out his name, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body clenched around him.

Josh wasn't far behind. His thrusts grew erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself as deep as he could, groaning your name as he spilled into you. The warmth of his release sent another shiver through you, the sensation leaving you breathless.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, tangled together on the table, your breaths mingling as you came down from the high. Josh pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his hands trailing soothing patterns on your back.

"Am i forgiven now?" he asked, his voice hoarse but laced with his usual humor.

You laughed softly, nuzzling into his neck. "Yeah, I'd say so."

Josh grinned, his arms tightening around you as he rested his forehead against yours. "Good. Because I'm not done yet."

𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈 ℋ𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓁ℯ𝓎

Hesitant, nervous chuckles and self-deprecating jokes peppering the atmosphere before his passion takes over. He's the type to fumble slightly, then find his rhythm as he becomes more confident. He'd moan sweetly, almost embarrassed by how lost he becomes in you, whispering heartfelt praise and words that reflect just how irresistible he finds you.

The game's victory screen flashed across the TV, the sound of triumphant chiptunes filling the room. Both you and Chris collapsed onto the bed in an exhausted heap, the adrenaline of finally beating your highest score leaving you giddy. His laughter bubbled up first, that unmistakable mix of relief and joy that only he could manage and you couldn't help but join in.

"We actually did it," Chris said, breathless as he flopped onto his back, one arm draped lazily across his forehead. "I thought we were doomed when you missed that jump in the third level."

"Excuse me, you're the one who forgot to grab the power-up right before the boss fight." You shot back, turning your head to face him.

Chris groaned, dramatically rolling onto his side to look at you. His glasses were slightly askew and his hair was sticking up in every direction, but he looked so completely relaxed and at ease in that moment that it made your chest ache in the best way. "Okay, okay, my bad. But you have to admit I nailed that final combo."

You snorted, nudging his shoulder with yours. "Yeah, sure. But only because I carried us through the rest of the game."

His jaw dropped in mock outrage. "Carried us? You died twice in the first round, man!"

“And who revived you at the end?" you shot back, smirking.

Chris opened his mouth to respond but stopped, his grin widening as he broke into laughter. "Alright, alright. You're not entirely useless. We're gaming legends now! They're gonna put our names in the Hall of Fame or something."

"Right next to the guy who discovered cheat codes for unlimited lives," you quipped.

"Exactly," he said, grinning as his blue eyes sparkled behind his glasses. "We're pioneers of our time."

The two of you laid there, the laughter slowly fading into a comfortable silence. The faint glow of the TV bathed the room in soft light, illuminating the faint curve of his smile as he gazed up at the ceiling. His arm was still close to yours, his fingers just brushing against your skin in a way that felt deliberate but unspoken.

"It was fun," Chris said after a moment, his voice quieter now.

"Yeah," you agreed, your own tone softer. "I don't think I've laughed this much in a while."

He turned his head to look at you, his glasses sliding down his nose slightly. "From now on you'll be my good luck charm."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "You just needed someone to keep you focused. You do get distracted a lot."

Chris groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Don't remind me. I'm like a dog chasing squirrels. Oh look, shiny object—game over."

You both laughed again, the sound soft and intimate in the late-night stillness. When it faded, you found him watching you, his blue eyes catching the flicker of light from the TV.

"What?" you asked, your voice tinged with curiosity.

"Nothing," he said quickly, but his grin gave him away. "You're a lot of fun to hang out with, you know that? Like, even when you're roasting me."

"Glad to be of service," you teased, your own grin mirroring his.

His gaze lingered a little longer than usual, his expression shifting slightly. "No, but seriously. I mean it. You're, uh… you're really great."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.

"Thanks," you said softly. "You're pretty great too, Chris."

He smiled, a little shyly this time, and turned onto his side fully, propping his head up on one hand. "Have you ever thought about how weird life is? Like, one day you're just doing your usual things, then Sam one day shows up with someone like you and suddenly everything's a million times better. Boom. Butterfly effect."

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to be romantic at two in the morning? Because I think the lack of sleep is getting to you."

"Hey, don't ruin my moment!" he protested, but his laughter undercut his words.

You laughed too, the sound mingling with his as the moment stretched on.

You sat up on the bed and then crawled toward your destination, the TV's glow fading as you turned it off. When you turned back to the bed, Chris was sprawled out like a contented cat, his arms spread wide, his legs slightly apart. His glasses were back into their original place at the top of his nose.

"You just gonna stare, or are you gonna accept my invitation?" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion.

You laughed, shaking your head, but the way his smile widened when you leaned closer told you that you weren't fooling him for a second. You crawled onto the bed, resting against his side as he let his arm fall lazily around your waist.

"Happy now?" you asked, pressing a quick kiss to his left cheek.

"Getting there," he said, voice soft and a little breathless

You didn't stop, peppering more kisses along his cheek and down to his jaw, light scratches from his stubble against your lips. Your hand wandered lower, brushing over his stomach, then down to his pants, where you felt the beginnings of his growing arousal.

Chris chuckled, the sound nervous but filled with anticipation. His free hand moved to your back, pulling you closer as his breath hitched. "Wow, okay, uh… Someone's feeling bold tonight," he murmured, though his grin betrayed how much he was enjoying it.

"Aren't we supposed to be basking in our gaming glory?"

You squeezed him gently through the fabric, feeling him harden further under your touch. "Should I stop, then?" you teased, feigning innocence as your fingers lingered.

"Nope!" he blurted out quickly, his voice cracking slightly as his head shot up. His face was flushed, but his lips found yours in a soft, insistent kiss, his usual shyness tempered by a growing determination.

The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing yours as his hand slid under your shirt, his fingers warm and exploratory against your skin. You shifted, straddling his lap, and he let out a quiet groan as your weight pressed down on him. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you slightly as he rolled his hips up, creating delicious friction that left you both breathless.

"God, you're… You're really good at this," Chris muttered, his lips trailing down your neck, each kiss accompanied by a soft hum of approval.

"You sound surprised," you teased, grinding against him again just to hear the way his breath caught.

He laughed softly, though it quickly turned into a low groan. "No, no, I mean—I just—" He stopped, shaking his head as if words were failing him entirely. "Never mind. Keep doing that… please?"

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him again, your hands slipping under his shirt to explore the warm expanse of his chest. He was lean but toned, his body radiating heat as your fingers traced over him, eliciting small, breathy noises that only spurred you on.

Chris's hands slid to the waistband of his pants, fumbling slightly as he worked them down. "Help me out here," he said with a nervous laugh, his cheeks red but his smile never wavering.

You helped him and he helped you out, the two of you working together to peel away the layers until you were completely bare. Him beneath you with your naked body on top of his. His erection stood proud, flushed and eager and the sight of him vulnerable yet so clearly aroused made your own desire burn hotter.

"You're handsome, you know that?" you said softly, running your hands over his thighs as you sat back to take him in.

Chris laughed, covering his face with one hand. "Oh my God, don't say stuff like that. I'll die."

"Too bad. I’ll say it, whether you like it or not," you teased, leaning down to kiss him again.

His response was a muffled laugh against your lips, but it melted into a moan as you reached down to guide him to your entrance. He gripped your hips tightly, his eyes searching yours for confirmation and when you nodded, he let out a shaky breath.

"Okay," he said, his voice soft but steady. "Okay, just—take your time."

You did, slowly sinking onto him, the stretch intense but achingly good. Chris's grip on your hips tightened, his head falling back against the pillow as a low groan escaped him.

"Holy shit," he whispered, his hands trembling slightly as he held you steady. "God, you feel amazing."

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you began to move, your body adjusting to the rhythm as you found a steady pace. Chris's eyes were half-lidded, his lips parted as he sat up from his previous laid position. His hands were guiding your movements but never pushing, always letting you set the pace.

"Is this— shit, is this okay?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly as his hips bucked up involuntarily.

"it's perfect," you murmured, leaning down to kiss him. "You're perfect."

His laugh was breathless, almost disbelieving, but he met your kiss with fervor, his tongue tangling with yours as his hands explored your body. The soft gasps he made, whispered curses, your name falling from his lips like a prayer… it all drove you closer to the edge with every thrust.

Chris's movements became more erratic, his hips meeting yours with increasing urgency. "I'm—oh God, I don't think I'm gonna last," he admitted, his voice high and strained

"Don't hold back," you said, your own voice trembling as your climax built.

With a choked groan, Chris buried himself as deep as he could and tightened his arm around your body, his release hitting him in waves that left him trembling beneath you. The feeling of him filling you, combined with the look of utter ecstasy on his face, sent you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing through you as you collapsed onto his chest.

For a moment, the two of you stayed in that position, your breaths mingling as you came down from the high. Chris's arms pulled you close as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

"Best. Night. Ever," he murmured, his voice warm and content.

"Agreed," you said, your own smile matching his as you nuzzled against him.

If you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3. Let me know if you had a favorite one out of this four fine men ;)

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jaybirdluvr73 · 2 months ago

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You're my Best Friend (nanami kento x reader)

A longer fic version of this

Best friends to lovers with Nanami Kento. Fluff, a little tiny bit of angst but a Happy ending. Mild spoilers. Set in the early 2000s. I was thinking about what to call this and became inspired by the song "You are in love" by Taylor Swift

a/n: this is my first fic like this, i hope you guys like it. Feedback is super appreciated <3

"You're a…what?", you say in disbelief, trying to figure out if your normally level headed best friend has officially gone insane.

"A sorcerer", Kento says slowly, as if he hasn't fully accepted it either. "In the world, there's cursed energy and some people, sorcerers, are capable of using it. Usually to fight curses."

Your mouth hangs agape as you wonder if this is some prank he's playing on you. But Kento has never lied to you before. (although he's never claimed monsters and sorcerers were real either.)

"I believe you", you say finally, to Kento's relief, "I mean this sounds completely insane but I trust you."

He finally cracks a small smile before frowning as he remembers something. "That's not all"

"What? Don't tell me aliens are real too"

"They want me to go to a school that trains sorcerers" he swallows before continuing, "in Tokyo"

You feel your heart stop as you realise that means you'll hardly see him anymore. Ever since preschool, the one constant in your life has been Nanami Kento. Sitting in class, eating lunch, walking home, no matter what you did or where you were, he was always by your side.

You can't pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with him, you just remember waking up one day and knowing. Maybe it was when he would ask the teachers questions for you in preschool, or in elementary school when he tried to bake you a cake by himself for your birthday. It might have been when he started reading all your favourite books so he could talk about them with you or when he spent half an hour trying to win you a teddy bear at an arcade. You may not know when you fell in love with him but you do know that loving Nanami Kento came as naturally as breathing.

"Promise you'll come back to visit", you say, trying to offer a smile. He nods, swearing that he'll never break a promise to you.

Nanami Kento remembers the exact moment he fell in love with you. It was fourth grade and your tenth birthday was coming up. He spent days looking up recipes and baking tutorials so that he could bake you the perfect cake. He spent hours on it. By the time he finished, his mom joked that there was more flour on him than in the cake but it was worth it to see the look on your face when he sowed it to you. The cake didn’t turn out great, the layers were uneven, the frosting was grainy and the entire thing was lopsided. When you saw it, you immediately started tearing up. At first he started apologising because he thought it was so bad that it made you cry. But then you threw your arms around his shoulders smiling widely and told him that nobody had ever done something so nice for you before. From that moment he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life making you smile like that.

“- and I put some of the new Fall Out Boy songs on the playlist too. The new album isn’t their best but”, you stop as you see a strange look on his face. “What’s wrong Ken?”

“Nothing’s wrong it’s just,” he pauses then says, “You’re my best friend”

“The cheesecake was good but I think next time I want to try the brownie”, you say, shivering as you step outside the new bakery Kento brought you to. “I told you to bring a jacket, " he says, frowning while he takes off his sweater to give you.

“I didn’t think it would be this cold!” you say trying to defend yourself as you tell him to keep his sweater on so he doesn’t freeze. “I’m not feeling that cold anyway”, he says as he forces the soft material into your hands.

You put it on, closing your eyes as you feel the warm embrace of the fabric. “It smells like you”, you say before clarifying, “in a good way, I mean.” He just laughs and shakes his head before walking you back home.

He laughs the same way years later, when you reveal that you slept in the sweater for a week, only stopping once it didn’t smell like him anymore.

“Kento I know you’re in there!”, you shout, knocking on his bedroom door. “Your mom told me you were home.” He opens the door with a sigh before looking down at you and asking what you were doing here. As he gazes at you, you notice the deep eyebags that weren't there before, and a hardness in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

“I’m here because my best friend disappeared! Because you haven’t responded to my texts, or IMs or emails for weeks and I needed to know that you were okay”

“Well you can see that I’m fine. Thank you for checking on me, but you can go now.”

“Fine? Really” , you scoff, pushing your way into the dark room. “You won’t talk to me, your parents told me that you barely say a word to them and you clearly haven’t been sleeping! I want to help you Ken. I want to be there for you but you keep pushing me away.” Your voice softens before you continue, “I know you and Haibara were really close. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now”

“Exactly, you don’t know how I’m feeling right now and I hope that you never do”, he yells , “I’ve seen what this life can do to people, I’ve seen the toll it takes on the people left behind. I could die at any moment while on a mission, and I don’t want you to have to feel that kind of loss! I love you too much to put you through that! It’s better this way.”

“Better for who Kento? Because I’m already miserable without you and you don’t seem to be doing much better! I know that being a sorcerer is dangerous and that something could happen to you. But isn’t it better to have loved and lost than to live life alone, because you’re worried about what might happen?”, you feel tears welling in your eyes before you continue, “I’m in love with you Kento and I don’t care how risky your life is. I’m willing to face any amount of pain if it means keeping you in my life. I would rather have you, and risk losing you, than not have you and lose you anyway.”

Kento feels his world stop spinning as soon as the words ‘I’m in love with you’ spill out of your lips. His mouth hangs open as he tries to figure out what to say. The only words that he manages to get out are, “Can I kiss you” as he leans closer. You nod slowly as you move towards him.

You can feel his breath tickle your face before his lips finally descend to capture yours. Something warm grows in his chest, like the first flowers of spring blooming after a long winter. The entire world around him disappears as he feels your soft lips dancing against his own. His hands move gently to cup your face as he deepens the kiss. You snake your arms around his waist, feeling the soft caress of his hands on your cheeks. Feelings left unsaid for years come bubbling up and overflows.

When you two finally break apart to breathe, you notice a familiar look in his eyes. And this time, you knew what it was.

He is in love

a/n: I'm not a huge fan of the title banner i made but lmk what you guys think.

tag list: @jasminelee324

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leofukin6sukz · 6 months ago

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puck-luck · 5 months ago

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the adventurous one | dawson mercer

warnings: outdoor/public sex, unprotected sex, references to oral (f!receiving) at a later date, dirty talk, praise pairing: dawson mercer x fem!reader request: "Okay hear me out but Dawson seems like such a nature lover and hiking guy. So could I request something where he and reader go on a hike by a river or something because Dawson wanted to show her but she doesn’t want to hike anymore (lazy girls unite) so she stops him for a “water break” and slowly she manages to get him to have sex right there. Completely public but also private? Please?" ABSOLUTELY! wc: 2000

“Daws, slow down,” you call, watching the distance between your boyfriend and yourself increase with each step.

Dawson had invited you to go on a hike with him this afternoon in place of his normal workout. You had said yes because you love your boyfriend, but you were both all too well aware that he was a little more physically fit than you, being, oh, an athlete and all.

You had held out as long as you could before asking for a break, but you’re nearing a creek and it’s a pretty sight, so maybe Dawson will let it slide.

You sit down on a stone and dig through your backpack for your water bottle, gulping down the still icy-water. Dawson has turned around and is making his way back to you now, plopping down on another rock near you and stretching his legs out.

“Tired already, baby?” Dawson asks, rubbing his shins and grinning at you.

You glare at him, bothered by his teasing. You take another gulp of your water, then shove the bottle back into your bag. “Not tired, just hot.”

“You always are,” Dawson says with a nod. He stands, then grabs your hands and pulls you to your feet. “Ready to move along?”

You groan, pursing your lips and looking up at him with a furrowed brow. Dawson mistakes your displeasure for a similar pose that you do when you’re asking for a kiss, so he leans down to peck your lips. He takes your hand and goes to pull you along, but you stay in place.

“What if I proposed an alternate workout?” You ask. “Instead of finishing this hike.”

Dawson chuckles a little, coming to stand in front of you. He ducks his head a bit and raises his eyebrow comically, like he’s listening intently to the idea that hasn’t even fully formed in your head yet.

You walk your fingers over his chest, teasing him.

“It involves cardio,” you say, trailing off. You let your hand slide up his neck and into his hair sensually, then you smile at him. “Your favorite kind of cardio.”

Dawson laughs, twisting the end of your ponytail with his index finger. “How about we finish this hike and then, when we get home, I’ll treat you to some of that cardio?”

“Or,” you drawl, “You could fuck me right here and then we could go home?”

Dawson looks around. “Right here?” He asks. “In– on the trail?”

You shrug, batting your eyelashes coyly at the boy. “Why not?” You ask. “Aren’t you supposed to be the adventurer here? Why am I the one suggesting this?”

He’s got a silly look on his face, seeming suspended in time as he processes what you’re saying, and you want to poke his cheek to wipe the expression off his face. Instead, you push his hair back and scrunch your nose while he thinks, peppering a series of kisses over his cheeks and the corner of his lip.

“You’re dangerous, huh?” Dawson finally says. “And you hate hiking that bad?”

“Well, I only really said yes because I wanted to spend time with my cute boyfriend,” you say. “And since I’ve thought of a better idea than hiking, I want to spend time with my cute boyfriend that way.”

Dawson sucks his teeth, then his tongue pokes through the hole in his mouth. You can tell he’s relenting, even a little excited by the idea. He pushes you backwards, walking you off the side of the trail just far enough that you can still see the pathway, but no one can see you in the trees unless they’re looking.

“Right here?” Dawson asks, biting his lower lip and sliding his hands over your waist, underneath your shirt. “Right now?” He untucks his lip and kisses you, then lathers his lips down your neck.

“Yes, please,” you reply, pulling off his shirt and getting your hands on his sweaty chest.

Dawson tucks the shirt into his backpack before returning to you, then pulls your shorts down your legs and tucks them away.

You’re half naked against a tree, feeling much more vulnerable than you ever have been, and you feel very glad that Dawson isn’t moving to take your shirt off. Yes, you suggested this, but it was really a ploy to get out of hiking. You’re not normally this adventurous, true to your word that Dawson is supposed to be the adventurous one, but the thought of being in public does send a little thrill up your spine… in addition to the thrill from the litany of kisses that Dawson continues to leave along your exposed neck, shoulders, and chest.

“Give it to me, Daws,” you whisper, pulling him up to your lips. He uses one hand to push his shorts down just enough that he can draw his cock out and wrap his fist around it.

He pets his cock through your folds as he strokes himself to full hardness, letting the tip of his dick poke at your clit and stimulate you to the point that you’re dripping for him. The spongy head of his member leaks against you and helps spread your slick. He pitches his hips forward once he’s satisfied that you’re both completely ready.

“Have you been keeping secrets from me?” Dawson teases quietly. “I didn’t realize you love me so much that you would let me take care of you in front of everyone.”

“There’s no one here,” you reply, just as his tip breaches your hole and you let out a sigh.

“But you would, wouldn’t you?” Dawson says. “If I wanted to fuck you somewhere way more public, you’d let me, yeah?”

He continues to push inside you with little strokes, teasing you as he draws in and out. He’s filling you, but he keeps sliding out with slow pumps. He’s waiting for you to answer, but he’s not stopping his movements. It feels far too good for you to do anything but moan, so Dawson continues to talk.

“Maybe for another time,” Dawson muses. “For now, how about I make you come and then we can head home and I’ll give you another one?”

“Yeah,” you agree, clutching at Dawson’s muscles.

He hikes your leg over his hip and drills forward, covering you with his own body. His thrusts are short and pointed, hitting your back wall and causing your mouth to drop open in pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of your tight walls around him.

You squeeze him as you near your peak, only intensified by the breeze rustling through the trees that reminds you that you’re in public and anyone could walk by. You wrap your arms around him, forearms sticking to his skin. One of your hands grip the waves of his hair tightly, tugging slightly with each thrust.

“C’mon, babe,” Dawson murmurs. “Come on my cock and I’ll clean you up when we get home.”

He speeds up his thrusts, reaching his hand up your loose shirt to squeeze one of your tits. He pinches your nipple and tugs a bit, leaving you whimpering beneath him.

“I can feel you getting closer,” Dawson continues in a whisper, his voice filling your ear like a physical caress. “I want to feel you fall apart.” He sucks your neck, nipping at your earlobe.

You arch up into him, his cock shifting inside you to hit your g-spot. You reach down and rub circles over your clit with your middle finger, your head tipping back and getting caught on the bark of the tree.

“That’s it,” he encourages, sucking at the edge of your jaw. “Atta girl.”

Your moans grow high pitched and Dawson covers your lips with his own to make sure no one can hear you, even though you haven’t heard anyone else walk along the path since before you thought to entice him.

You come over his cock, clenching down on him as your body is riddled with shocks and waves of bliss.

Dawson slows as you come, watching your expression change with the feelings that overcome you.

When you recover, he’s back to sliding in and out of you, stimulating his cock just enough to stay hard but not enough to threaten his own orgasm if you want to stop.

“What are you doing?” You groan, frowning and tugging his hair. “Go, Dawsy.”

“Go?” He questions. “Y’sure?”

“Want you to come too,” you reassure him, locking your leg around his waist and lifting the other to join it. Now, he’s pressing you against the tree to keep you in place and he’s reaching a deeper spot inside of you. You’re wrapped around him like an octopus and you’re grinning at each other.

“Okay, baby,” he agrees, starting to move again.

“Don’t hold back,” you instruct, and he laughs.

“Okay, no holding back,” Dawson says, then shushes you with a little peck. “You asked for it.”

He lunges into action, thrusting forward with a determination that leaves you reeling, especially after you just experienced such a strong orgasm.

He’s quick and hard. He pushes you against the tree and it hurts a little bit, but not enough to make you ask him to stop. You want him to come, come inside you, give you something to clean up later when you get home and he puts his head between your legs.

The thought of that draws you away from the bark that’s rubbing against your bare backside, turning the discomfort into intense pleasure as you resume your soft circles over your clit.

Dawson is grunting in your ear, kissing you, holding you tightly and praising you as much as he can before going breathless. His hips are stuttering, bucking against you in an uncoordinated way that signals his impending orgasm.

“Fill me up, Dawson,” you goad, scratching over his back with your nails, marking him up. You’ll look down at those marks when he eats you out at home and moan louder, making the same kind of noises that Dawson is making now as he crests over.

“Baby,” he moans as his seed starts to spill inside of you, filling you and warming you. He pumps his hips, letting his orgasm run its course. Little noises and pants leave his mouth, lips brushing against your own. “Yeah,” he murmurs, repeating the word as he comes back to himself and the pleasure dissolves. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you agree, rolling your hips a few times, then tapping his shoulder. “Okay. Get out. Time to go home.”

“But I like it so much in here,” Dawson teases, sounding faux-pained just to get on your nerves. He always does this, especially when you guys risk a quickie before you need to be somewhere or meet someone.

“Mmm, well, maybe you can come back later,” you assure him as he slides out of you and tucks himself away.

He uses his shirt to wipe between your legs before pulling your shorts up your legs, redressing you and kissing your stomach before coming back up to your lips. “Love you.”

“Love you,” you reply.

He takes your hand and starts to lead you back to the trail, walking down the part of the path you’ve already taken back to the car. “You really didn’t like hiking with me?” He asks. “So much that you’d risk getting a tick– which I’m going to check you for later, by the way– just to convince me to go home?”

“I wanted to work out with my cute boyfriend,” you remind him, swinging your hands between you. “This type of work out is much more fun than walking up a big ol’ hill.”

“I’ll convince you one day,” Dawson teases good-naturedly. “But you know, I won’t complain if you want to do this again.” He flashes you a wink and a big smile, a little skip to his walk that you match all the way to the car.

note: i'm still at work! this is andy from the past! i hope you guys enjoyed this fic and i can't wait to come back and be more active in a couple of weeks <3

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