#nice to see her calling all the bullshit out :) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bi-writes · 1 month

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who to call to clean up after an "accident" than your sick and twisted military boyfriend? :D (dark!ghost x dark!fem!reader, 18+)

cw: dark!reader, dark!simon, horror movie vibes, graphic depictions of character death/murder, unhealthy relationship dynamics, one slip of daddy, smut, unprotected piv, simon "spit in my mouth" riley, reader and simon are kinda psycho :D

you've been so nice to her. really nice. you've let it slide off your back whenever she doesn't do her dishes. you pretend you don't notice when she borrows your shoes from the hallway and wears them out to dinner. you hide yourself in your room when she has her awful, loud guests over, and you have never once said anything about how she takes her sweet time in the shared bathroom in the morning and makes you late 2 days a week for work.

but this? this?

she needs to keep simon's name out of her fucking mouth.

"excuse me?" you say finally. your roommate is shrugging on her jacket to leave, her purse in her hand as she types on her phone, using it as a way to not make eye-contact with you. her long nails are tapping against the screen, and it feels like fucking drip water torture. "what the fuck did you just say?"

she sighs, irritated, rolling her eyes as she keeps tapping away at the screen.

"you're so dramatic, it was just a fucking joke."

"you know, i let a lot of things slide," you laugh, humorlessly, and you cross your arms over your chest as you follow her into the kitchen. "but you need to be careful what you say."

"i don't do anything except call it like i see it," she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and looking at herself in the reflection of the mirror hanging on the wall. "you need to just...go out more. man like that isn't gonna stay for long if you don't give him something to go for. he's bored, you know. when you have him over here all the time. and i've totally caught him peeking at me after i shower, y'know."

"well why the fuck are you wearing nothing but a towel when my boyfriend is here, anyways?" you snap. "he's trying to be polite, he's a guest. what if i wore a fucking towel when you had your guy friends over?"

she laughs, poking at the edge of her lip to fix the gloss of her pout. "trust me, honey, no one's looking at you in a towel."

you step back, a little shocked. she rolls her eyes again, sighing.

"i didn't--"

"are you kidding me?" you retort. "you're the worst fucking roommate in the world, and i put up with all your bullshit, and now you're going to go so low as to insult the way i look just to make yourself feel better?" you make your way around the kitchen island. "you don't wash your fucking dishes, you steal my fucking clothes, you're always late on your rent so i have to spot you--"

"you know what, just because i'm fucking happy, and you're not, doesn't mean you have to take it out on me!"

"i am happy, you sorry bitch!" you cry. "i'm so fucking happy, you're the only thing in my life making me constantly miserable!"

"oh, shove it up your ass, you ungrateful little shit!" she snaps. "you're just so fucking insecure and hate me so badly just because simon would rather fuck a girl like me than have to spend another minute with--"

the crack of cast iron against her head shuts her up. it dents the side of her head easily, and her face smacks against the countertop before she crumples to the floor.

it's so fast. one minute, she's yapping, high-pitched voice straining your ears. the next, she's silent.

and she won't say simon's fucking name again.

you watch with bated breath as she folds into herself, her head hitting the hardwood last, a slow puddle of blood beginning to grow under the tendrils of her hair as your eyes move to the heavy pan you're still holding in your hands.

fuck, that's a lot of blood. god, you thought she was just full of fucking air.

you drop the pan once the rush of anger leaves your chest. it thunks onto the ground, and your hands shake as you see the specks of blood that are on the back of your hands, sprinkled over the shirt you wear. it stains your bare legs, even your toes, and you don't even want to look at the spray of it along the counters.

you should be crying, you think. you should feel bad. you're trembling a little, but you think it's just the adrenaline beginning to fade and not the guilt you know is supposed to be racking your insides.

you turn your eyes back to her. her eyes are dull. she doesn't move. it's so quiet now, utterly silent, and you take a deep breath as you take in the silence that you've craved for a long while now. you make your way quietly out of the kitchen, stepping over her body before going for your phone that sits on the coffee table in front of the couch.

you keep your eyes on her as you put your phone to your ear. it rings, and you tilt your head to the side as the blood begins to spiderweb under the kitchen table.

"'ello?"

you blink, looking towards the door. you clutch your phone a little tighter to your ear.

"simon?" you say softly. "a-are...are you busy?"

he hums lowly, chuckling, "no' at the moment, swee'eart, why?" he asks. "mmm...missed y'r voice..." you close your eyes as you hear the buckle of his belt. you try not to picture your giant of a boyfriend leaning back on his worn couch and shoving his jeans low enough to fuck his fist. "tolk t'me, luv...tell me 'ow much ya miss daddy."

you clear your throat gently, willing yourself to ignore the soft squelch of what you know is his hand around his cock, to not let it distract you from what's more important. "uhm...i liked the flowers you gave me, simon. t-they were beautiful."

the sounds on the other end of the phone quiet. you hear shuffling, and then a few moments later, the clink of his car keys.

"tha' right, baby?" he asks, and you close your eyes as you hear the front door of his flat opening. he's already on the way, already coming.

"yeah," you sniffle. "really nice sunflowers."

a yellow flower. he huffs on the other end of the phone, breathing a little easier.

"good girl," he murmurs, and then the line cuts. you set the phone down, making your way back to the kitchen and taking a seat at the table. you watch as the blood continues to curl over the floor. you make no attempt to help her; you just swing your feet under you as you look at her spoiled outfit, just grateful she isn't wearing your shoes or one of your jackets. you would hate to have to throw something out that she got all dirty.

there's a curt knock at the door ten minutes later, and then it opens. simon shuts the door behind him, cracking his neck by moving it from side to side before narrowing his eyes at you. you bite your lip, blinking, forgetting suddenly why he is here when he looks so fucking good. he's got a sweatshirt on under his windbreaker, worn jeans tucked into his boots; you like these jeans, his ass looks incredible in them.

"wot happened?" he asks. you stand, remembering your place. your lip starts trembling, and simon's eyes soften just a little. he's wearing his balaclava, hood up over his head and jacket zipped up, shadowing any true expression on his face. his gait sounds heavy as he lets his hands out of his pockets, coming towards you. when he steps into the kitchen, his eyes dart towards your roommate who's still on the floor, laid out unnaturally just by the oven.

he lets out a low breath, clicking his tongue under the mask. you hold your breath as you wait for his reaction.

"bloody hell," simon mutters, reaching up and throwing his hood off. you wring your hands together nervously, your eyes beginning to sting with tears. you brace for the accusations, for the inevitable terror of facing the music. simon is military, for fuck's sake, why the fuck did you think turning to him would be a good idea?

"i...i-i--" you start, looking up at him, and he holds up a hand, taking the side of your face into his palm before smoothing a gloved thumb over your bottom lip. you blink in confusion, not understanding.

"'s olright, baby," he shushes you, shaking his head. "don't cry."

"simon, i--" you sputter a little, gripping his wrist gently. "i just--i couldn't do it anymore, she just--"

he pities you. maybe you can explain. maybe if you tell him a warped story of what happened, he can help you. he must know someone. he must have important friends, he must--

he uses his free hand to move his mask up over his nose, and you lean into him when he bends, kissing you warmly. your eyes flutter shut, and you shuffle closer as he kisses you sloppy, kisses you hot. you mewl as he slips his tongue into your mouth, licking over your teeth and humming low as he pulls away. his eyes are flashing.

mmm. love.

"hmm..." simon licks his lips, smiling a little. he looks over you, almost pensive, his eyes scanning over your face before he settles back on your eyes. it's tender, the way he looks at you. romantic. "let's get this off of ya."

he reaches for the large shirt you are wearing, pulling it up and over your head. he crumples it into a ball before tossing it on top of your roommate, nodding his head behind you.

it's then that you realize simon isn't going to do the noble thing. he isn't going to call the police. he isn't going to turn you in, make you explain, he seems uninterested in knowing what really happened. no, he already knows what happened. but that's not important.

his pretty, perfect girl got into a little trouble. and he's going to make this go away.

"go on, luv. take a nice shower, yeah?" simon turns you around and pushes on your back gently. you suck in a shaky breath when he fondles your ass, pulling on your panties gently. "mmm...take these off, too."

you slip your panties down your legs, handing them to him.

"they have blood on them, too?" you ask, wiping your face, and he chuckles lowly.

"nah," he shrugs, stuffing them into his back pocket after taking a little sniff. "these are just for me."

jesus fucking christ, there's really something wrong with him. there's something really, really wrong with him.

and something wrong with me.

simon looks you up and down, his eyes catching on your naked body for just a few moments before he nods his head again.

"go on," he tells you. "before i get distracted." you pause for a moment, tilting your head back a little as he reaches out and cups one of your breasts in his big hand. you bite your lip, swallowing back a heavy breath as he flicks his thumb over your nipple gently. "greatest tits 've ever seen," he mumbles, scrunching his nose under the mask before he lets you go. "yeah, go on, baby." it takes everything in you to walk away when you see him reach down with that same hand and grip his bulge through his jeans, adjusting himself as he turns back to the mess in the kitchen.

when you shut the bathroom door behind you, you hear shuffling in the living room. the coffee table scraping. the couch being pushed. the rustle of the rug you have there. he grunts a little, and you hear his boots track from the kitchen back to the living room.

you turn the water on hot. you decide to take a bath, not looking at yourself in the mirror as you sink into the tub and plug the drain. you make the water scalding, and it soothes your sore muscles as you rest your cheek against the edge of the tub and stare at the door.

you're not sure how long you stay there. long enough for the water to nearly slosh over the edge of the tub and for simon to swing the bathroom door open, seemingly done with his...tasks.

he's taken his sweatshirt off. just a black t-shirt tucked into jeans, and there's a slight pant to his breaths that tell you he's exerted some energy. you notice he has his gloves still on, but before he touches you, he takes them off and tosses them into the sink.

"move over," simon mutters, starting to undress. you look up at him as he undoes the button on his pants, shucking his shirt off and into the corner before dropping his jeans. the water swishes as you sit up, and you swallow hard when simon kicks his boots and pants off, his cock hanging heavy as his mask is the last to hit the floor.

fuck, he's so pretty.

he has no regard for his size. he simply steps into the tub behind you, taking a seat. he looks comically large in your small bathtub, and you squeak a little as the water spills over the edge of the bath and wets the floor. he hums as he feels the hot water on his back. you don't say anything as his hands start to turn the water a little red. you just look up, away, at him.

you shuffle between his legs, tucking yourself into his space. you can't help but look him up and down, admiring his naked physique. he's just hot. big arms, thick thighs, sunburnt tattoos and scars cutting across his face. he hasn't shaved today, so there's some stubble along his jaw, but your eyes focus a little too much on his girthy length, heavy as it sits on his stomach and leaks a little there. his fat stomach, all solid and pudgy, such a nice place for you to rest your hands.

"you did good today," simon says finally. you look at him, and he tilts his head to the side. his approval makes your chest warm. "callin' me like tha'. wot a good girl you are."

keeping quiet on the phone is what he doesn't add out loud.

you purse your lips, trying not to keen at the praise, but it's hard not to when he reaches over and slides his hand over your shoulder, thumbing at your jaw.

"i-i didn't...didn't know what to do," you admit, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. you didn't know what to do, so you called him. level-headed enough to not do something rash and call someone else, no, you called him.

"mmm...tha's wot i'm 'ere for, luv," simon soothes you. "made such a little mess..."

you close your eyes. it's sick. deranged. fuck, it feels nice.

why don't i feel anything?

"i know. i'm sorry."

"nothin' ta be sorry about."

you slump into his arms, resting your cheek on his solid chest. you can feel his cock pulsing against your tummy, and you adjust yourself in the water, straddling him as you rest your chin on his pecs and look up at him through watery eyes.

you aren't sad. no. not sad at all. simon has shown you what he will do for the you. the lengths he will go. what he'll forgive just to take care of you. he's so capable, so understanding.

sick. twisted. mine.

"then i'll just say thank you," you mumble, grinding your hips slowly. simon hums, a wicked smile coming over his scarred face. he licks over his bottom lip, big hands gripping you by the fat of your hips as you grip the edges of the tub for stability. "say thank you to my big, strong man for taking such good care of me..."

he chuckles, his eyes lowering, watching your tits sway as you fit your pussy over his length and grind down on him.

"tha' so, baby?"

you nod.

"mhm," you whine. "how can i thank you, my big boy? how can i show you how grateful i am for cleaning up after me, hmm?" you bend at the waist, kissing him wet and warm, and he hisses as you suck his tongue into your mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, and normally you would curse him for it, but right now it tastes so much like him, and you lick around his teeth trying to taste more of that sweet nicotine.

"fuck--such a naughty little girl..." he snickers, reaching down. you sigh when he slides his big palms over your ass, forcing you to grind slower, the tip of his cock sliding through your folds leisurely. you grip the edges of the tub tighter, pressing down to give you more leverage to grind down harder. "make such a mess, oll the time..." you gasp when he presses into you just enough, the tip breaching your entrance and forcing you to squeeze around him, your cunt trying to suck him in. "olways needin' me ta pick up afta ya..."

you giggle, sliding your hands up his chest, gripping his shoulders for leverage as you sink down onto him. he grits his teeth as you do, his eyes focused on the way his cock disappears inch by inch until you're seated down in his lap, his length kissing deep and twitching excitedly. he always feels like a teenager again whenever you fuck--like you're the first pretty girl to ever wet his cock.

you cup his cheeks finally, smoothing your thumbs under his eyes as you bring his gaze up to meet yours. you swallow hard, looking down at him.

"i-i love you, simon," you breathe. he stills underneath you, his jaw clenching as he frowns just a little. you come a little closer, nuzzling your nose against his, your thumb falling to trace the outline of his torn lip. "i should've said it a long time ago...i-i..."

"heart's beatin' out y'r chest, luv," he mutters lowly. "'s olright...'m not goin' anywhere."

it's so disgusting. you should be fucking ill. you should be scrambling to the toilet, your breakfast halfway up your throat. you should be crying, emotional, begging simon to tell the cops that it was all your fault, because it is. he should've come here and made you do the level-headed thing and confess your terrible crime.

he shouldn't be here, sitting underneath you in your tub, cock-deep inside of you after helping you commit murder and then fucking clean it all up.

"what did i do?" you gasp, sitting up. you move to get out of the tub, but simon growls, putting two firm hands on your ass and shoving you back down on his cock, making you cry. "w-what did i do? s-simon, why don't i feel bad, why am i not sorry--?!"

simon tsks, feigning comfort. he juts his bottom lip out into a pout, mocking your little cries.

"oh, luvvie, don't start cryin' now," he chuckles. "don't start pretending like y'care."

uhm...

"simon--"

"no one likes a liar."

you're still trying to pretend, and he knows this. you're still trying to act how someone normally would react. someone normal, someone who thinks rationally, would never have picked up the pan in the first place. and even if they had, they would've scrambled, cried, picked up the phone and confessed, called an ambulance as they tried to get her to start breathing again, put both hands on her chest and tried to get her wake up.

but you didn't. you watched, unnervingly calm, as she stained the hardwood with her blood. you watched as her eyes glassed over, lifeless, and you watched as her insides began to paint the floor in abstract shapes as you gave it time to spread. and not once during that time, or waiting for simon, did you think to help her.

you didn't want to help her. and you certainly didn't think she deserved to get back up. maybe she hadn't done anything quite harsh enough to deserve death in someone else's eyes. annoying, overbearing, rude.

but it's hard to feel bad when she talked about simon. when she called him by his name. when you've seen her let her towel slip when he's in her vicinity, trying to coax him into her room when you're looking away.

you should've taken one of the throwing knives that simon hides in his boot and thrown it at her then, just for that.

"we're cut from the same bloody cloth, baby," simon says, almost accusingly. you grip the edges of the tub, trying to stand again, but he cants his hips and fucks up into you, drawing a frenzied moan out of you. you reach for his shoulders as he does it again, his tongue darting out before he licks a fat stripe over your pebbled nipple. "'s olright. 's okay, luv. don't worry. don't hafta get y'r hands dirty, swee'eart, i've got it."

"but simon," you whine, but all he does is shake his head. you don't have to put on this morality act for him. you don't have to pretend that you are sorry for something that you had every right to do, you don't have to explain to him why you aren't feeling the way you should be feeling.

simon doesn't care about how you should feel. he only cares about how you actually feel.

"she was in y'r way," simon grunts. "always bein' a bloody brat." he fists your hair and brings your mouth to his, groaning as you tighten around his cock. "'ow many times did she fuck ya over, baby, hmm? 'ow many times did she steal y'r fuckin' things, come outta the loo wearin' nothin' but her fuckin' knickers, yeah? 'ow many times?"

you kiss him, frantic, digging your nails into his pecs and dragging them angrily.

yeah. fuck her. fuck what she did to me, fuck the way she behaved, fuck her stupid face and her stupid attitude and her stupid little games.

"called ya names..." he's hitting your sweet spot now, making you cry from pleasure. your pussy feels so hot, squeezing him because you know he's right, and the way he fucks this time makes you think he really knows what you are and knows exactly how to get you there. "wot a fuckin' twat. deserved every bit o' it, baby."

you meet his eyes, dark and cruel. he's still moving, still holding onto your hips and drawing out little whines, but it's different suddenly, it's more. you nod, understanding.

simon is terrible. no good. his head isn't in the right place, maybe it never has been. you wonder, briefly, if this is what he does when he's at work, if these are the things that he's used to. maybe simon has been in service too long--maybe he doesn't understand that you aren't at war here, that you can't just kill and clean up, that you aren't in the field.

"she deserved it," you whimper, and he grins, all teeth, all mean.

"tha's it."

"she was such a bitch."

"fuckin' right."

"she got what was coming for her."

"nnghhh--fuck, baby, gonna make me fuckin' cum, tolkin' like tha'," he hisses. you practically smack him as you grab onto his scarred face, gritting your teeth as you glare down at him. his lips part, and you spit in his mouth as he fucks up into you, thighs hitting your ass with a wet smack that makes your head spin.

"and i'll get rid of the next bitch that so much as looks your way, simon."

the kiss is searing. hot, blinding, white noise fills your ears as he cums with you, stuffing you full as he cums hard, a pained groan leaving him as he collapses against the porcelain tub with a harsh thud. you follow him, chasing after him, kissing him between heavy breaths as you don't make any effort to move off of him. when simon opens his eyes, he can't help but smile.

he's never seen his reflection without a mirror.

#awwwwwwwwww thanks for taking care of me pookie #thanks for indulging my terrible mind and telling me its okay ;)#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon thoughts #dark!ghost #dark!simon

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yieldtotemptation · 2 months

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MINE ft. Yeji

yeji x male reader smut

9k words

it's a follow up to... NURSE

“You’re unbelievable!”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“You’re going to make me go insane!”

“That good, am I?”

“I swear one of these days—”

“I know, I know, I feel the same—”

“—I am seriously going to kill you!”

“Uh, shit, I’m out of jokes with that one.”

“Good, because I am Not. Fucking. Joking.”

Yeji’s well and truly pissed—rightfully so, mind you (you really fucked up this time), and for the first time ever there may really be no clever quip or line that can get you out of this one.

But of course, that won’t stop you from trying.

“Look around! This isn’t a fucking joke!”

She’s glaring at you, the kind of furious that could melt steel with her gaze alone, eyes narrowed into sharp slits that slice through your bullshit like a hot knife.

And so, you blink first, balking under Yeji’s glare, and decide to take her advice and look away, look around at your surroundings—at the many, many reasons Yeji is justifiably upset.

For one, there’s your current location—a hospital room, not a good look. Then, there’s the cast around your arm and bandages on your head—not the worse of injuries, but again, when you couple it with the IV snaking its way up your arm, and the morbid beeping of a heart rate monitor filling the silence, it really does not make you out to be the most intact of individuals.

Finally, there’s Yeji, her eyes verging on tears and her hands balled into fists, clutching the fabric of your hospital gown and looking like she’s ready to tear the room apart.

Add them all together: a hospital room, a handsome but seriously injured boyfriend, with his devastated girlfriend wracked with worry besides him… it doesn’t paint the best of pictures.

But yet, before you can stop yourself, another attempt at lightening the mood: “You should see the other guy.”

There it is! A crack in Yeji’s armour, a flicker of something other than righteous fury on her face—eyes widen slightly, lips part just a smidge—a ghost of a smile, perhaps?

But it’s gone before you can confirm its existence—Yeji’s façade is maintained and all you get is a minuscule quirk of her eyebrow.

“The other guy was a car,” she says through gritted teeth.

“And now that car is being turned into scrap and I get to be in the presence of the most beautiful girl in all of Korea.”

“I hate you,” she replies, lovingly (you hope).

“Most beautiful girl in all of Asia?” You’re almost there, you can see it on her face.

“Still hate you.” An ease in tension—a slight drop of her shoulders, a relaxing of her grip.

“The world?”

A sigh, a frown slowly turning upwards, success! — “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot,” you add, and that gets you a smile—a real, genuine, heart-stopping smile that lights up the room more than any fluorescent bulb could ever dream of.

“What am I going to do with you?” She’s shaking her head, letting you have your little victory.

“What would I do without you?” You ask, and she's rolling her eyes—nothing she hasn't heard you say before. “Certainly wouldn’t get to stay in a room this nice.”

Yeji blushes, her cheeks taking on the same shade of the excessive number of roses decorating your bedside. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously, Yeji?” You say, and echo back to her, “look around.”

It’s Yeji’s turn to act coy—as if it’s perfectly normal for a hospital room to come with a flat-screen TV, designer furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the city.

The room is closer to a luxury suite than a recovery ward—bigger than your apartment, even—and there’s a voice in the back of your head telling you to maybe risk another injury so you can maybe extend your stay even longer, especially if it means getting to have Yeji fuss over you like this.

“I might have called in a favour or two,” Yeji admits. “But they said this was the only room available!”

“Yeji, this is too much,” you say, but she’s already ignoring you, waving her hand dismissively.

“It’s nothing,” she says, rising off the bed and leaving you to your own devices, satisfied that you’ve been properly scolded.

But, you know better. While Yeji is like this with everyone she cares about—always giving, always putting others first—with you she gets especially intense with her caring, and as much as she’d probably deny it otherwise, you know that she’s more than a little smug at the sight of you laid up in this fancy hospital room, with nothing to do but let her pamper you.

“Sure, sure,” you say, but you can easily imagine her on the phone with every hospital in a fifty-kilometre radius, pulling strings left and right, leaning on the right people to get what she wants.

It’s just who Yeji is—no half measures, above and beyond in every aspect.

“I should unpack,” Yeji decides, retrieving a ridiculously oversized bag from the corner of your suite.

“Unpack?” You ask, but your question falls on deaf ears.

“I was halfway across the world when I heard what happened.” Yeji's clicking her tongue with annoyance as she struggles with the zipper for the bag. “Two days before I could get a flight out!”

“You didn’t have to rush—” you start to say, but Yeji whips her head around, a clear warning not to finish the very stupid sentence you’re about to complete.

“I didn’t have time to pack everything, just grabbed what I could from our place—” (your place, technically) “—and came straight here.”

Yeji instantly sets about your room, making sure that there isn’t a corner that hasn't been touched by her: your favourite tea brewing, the last book you were reading, a Bluetooth speaker playing her ‘songs to remind you of me’ playlist; every single thing you could possibly need to feel better.

It’s not even what she’s doing as she completes her takeover of your hospital room, it’s how she’s doing it.

She’s in her normal everyday uniform: one of your flannel shirts over a tank top that just so happens to ride up just right, showing off her toned midriff as she reaches to hang a change of clothes for you in the wardrobe. Then there’s the snug, tight yoga pants moulded to her curves that stretch over her unbearably firm ass every time she needs to bend over and take something else out from her bag.

It’s all too perfect to be accidental, and you start to get conspiratorial, like perhaps this innocent act of care is just a torturous reminder of your what you can’t have while you’re all laid up and injured.

She is dressed normally. But normal, everyday clothes for anyone else on someone like Yeji, with her body—all sleek muscles and tight lines—is absolutely devastating.

Yeji works fast, a tornado of love and care clad in a dangerous pair of leggings, and in minutes she’s done, adding a finishing touch by spraying her perfume around the room, overpowering the sterile hospital scent with the sweet, floral notes that are uniquely hers—this is her space now, anyway.

Finally, she stops at the foot of your hospital bed, picking up your medical chart, reading it like she understands it all (actually, knowing Yeji, she probably got her medical degree on the way to the hospital just in case she deemed the doctors and nurses weren't doing a good enough job and she decided to take over).

“Hm,” is Yeji’s summary of your current condition. It’s cute, seeing her stare at the clipboard with a focus she usually reserves for the stage. “Eating well, no signs of deterioration in fine motor skills, very responsive, and very… friendly?”

You raise an eyebrow. “They wrote that down?”

“Attending physician: Dr. Park Yoona, Nurses: Roh Ji Yun, Jeon Jeong ah, Bae Hye Jin,” Yeji starts to read out the list of names—female names—and you start to hear the nails being hammered into your coffin, “Nurse Kim Ji Won—seriously, like the actress? All women. Hm.”

“Really, I hadn’t noticed!” Maybe feigning ignorance would increase your chances of survival. “You’d think in this day and age there’d be more male nurses now though, right?”

“Hm,” it’s that noise again. “I’m glad to hear that while I was worried sick about you, desperately trying to get over here, you’ve been well taken care of. Must be nice surrounded by all these cute women in their little nurse outfits.”

“Oh, please,” you test a deflection, “they’re just doing their jobs.”

Yeji’s eyes bore into you. “One of these nurses dots her ‘I’s with love hearts.”

You can only sigh at your impending doom. It’s been a good life.

“Who do these women think they are?”

You switch up your strategy, trying another angle: “They’re medical professionals, Yeji, not strippers.”

“Right, medical professionals,” Yeji echoes, her tone thick with sarcasm, before she suddenly switches up, putting on her sweetest, and most uncomfortable, baby voice. “Oh no, such a big, strong man that needs help. Tell me where it hurts so I can rub it better for you!”

“Stop, stop,” you protest, as much as you would like her to rub it better, you still have your pride. “I barely even talk to them—they just do their check-ups and leave. I can’t even remember what they look like, they’re probably all just plain, old ladies.”

You regret the words as soon as you say them (you really should’ve seen this coming), because before you can get any further into your pitiful defence, the door to your room swings open, and in struts a young, cheery, bouncy woman.

“Is my favourite patient ready for another check-up?” You're already cringing at the nurse’s question—her voice a squeak that’s far too high-pitched and far too cute for a hospital. If anything, she looks like an actress playing the role of a nurse, in some bad movie where they clearly casted for looks over believability.

Yeji’s eyes widen at the sight of the new, endowed occupant of the room, and she reads the name on the nurse’s tag, pinned firmly over a set of scrubs that’s a few sizes too small, and you’re immediately reminded of her earlier threat to kill you with surprising clarity.

“Kim Ji Won,” Yeji reads out loud, before suddenly remembering herself, lowering a baseball cap over her eyes and slipping on a surgical mask, hiding her face from view. She turns away, pretending to fuss with the flowers on your bedside table.

“Oh!” The nurse exclaims, and you’re starting to feel the walls of what was once a luxurious hospital room start to close in. “I didn’t realise you had a guest,” she says, as light and cheerful as ever, “is she perhaps your… sister?”

Oh God, Yeji might really kill you after this. “No, no, no, she’s my—”

But Nurse JI Won ploughs onwards, having the gall (or lack of a sense of self-preservation) to turn to Yeji, and chat away. “Your brother has been the perfect patient! Me and all the other nurses just can’t get enough of him! He’s such a charmer!”

Yep. Definitely dying. It’s been a good life.

“Oh, oops!” Ji Won giggles, as she somehow drops the clipboard she was holding, sending papers scattering across the floor. “I’m so silly, give me a second to get it together!”

“No, no, it’s okay you don’t need to—” you try, but by now you should know better, “—bend over and pick it up.”

She’s already turned away from you, pointing her ass up and straight into the air, performatively picking up the pages one by one, taking her time so you can commit to memory the exact colour of the lacy thong peeking out of her pants.

It’s so blatant that you’re almost impressed, but compared to the practiced ease of your girlfriend, it’s a pale imitation. Still, your mind can’t resist making the comparison, even though there’s no ass in the world that can hold a candle to Yeji’s cheeks wrapped in sheer nylon.

Look at you, all loyal and shit—even in the face of all temptation, you’re still a committed boyfriend, through and through.

If only Yeji, who is now evaluating you with a glare as hot as a thousand suns, could know that your mind is filled with thoughts of just her… even as you're staring at Nurse Ji Won’s ass.

You’re dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

“Aha, got it!” Ji Won is back on her feet, jumping with a cheer that suggests that maybe she could use a little more support, whilst completely immune to the sudden drop in temperature in the room. Yeji might as well be a ghost to her, the nurse looks only at you, scanning your body, searching for any new injuries that may have popped up since your last check-up.

If only she knew to just come back in an hour.

“It says here it’s about time to take out your IV!” Ji Won sunnily declares.

Consent isn’t a word that seems to exist in this nurse’s vocabulary, and she takes the opportunity to lean real close over you, pressing her ample chest against your side, making sure you get the full feel of her curves as she reaches across to the stand.

Of course, you don’t look—that would be insane. Instead your eyes are on Yeji, who’s definitely not looking at the nurse. No, she’s still boring a hole right through your skull, her hands holding a shredded flower, her knuckles turning white.

“Okay, that’s all done!” Ji Won chirps, and mercifully removes her breasts from your shoulder. “Hey, why are you acting all shy? You’re usually so much friendlier!”

“Oh?” Yeji makes a noise for the first time, and it terrifies you.

But again, the nurse pretends like she doesn’t even exist. “Let me check your heartbeat… And—”

“I’m sure it’s all fine and you can leave now, right—” You try a last-ditch effort to save this poor nurse’s life, but she’s clearly not taking the hint.

“Perfect as always, Mr. Metronome!” She says, writing down on her clipboard, clearly not noticing the seconds of her remaining lifespan ticking away. “We always talk about how you must work out so much to have a heart rate so low and consistent, I mean, obviously you do—look at you!”

You file her comments away as yet another reason your life is about to end, and try to push on, “so—I’m all good, right?”

“Of course you are,” Ji Won replies, turning the volume right up on the flirtiness, and her eyes flicker over to Yeji before she winks at you. “But I’ll just double-check everything before I go.”

“No, I think that’s enough!” Yeji breaks the conversation with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, and the poor nurse jumps from the sternness of her voice. “You said he’s fine, he said he’s tired, and so that means you can leave now!”

“Oh, he’s tired? Does he need extra pillows, or is there anything I can do to make him more comfortable?”

But Yeji already has her out the door, practically dragging the girl out of the room by her collar of her scrubs. “He’s fine!”

The door slams behind the nurse, but not before you hear her giggle, “Hey, you look familiar!”

An icy silence fills the room once the nurse is gone, thick and tense. Yeji doesn’t move for several beats, it’s eerie the way she just stands there, staring at the closed door of your hospital room.

Something clicks in her head, though, and she locks the door, turning back to you, seemingly having made a final decision on your fate.

“So…” you throw out a feeler, trying your best to move straight past, well, everything. “How’s the tour going?”

“Is she perhaps your sister?” Yeji’s voice jumps an octave, a perfect imitation of the high-pitched squeak that had just left the room. She turns to you, throwing the cap off her head and tearing the mask off her face. “Vomit.”

“I have no idea what that nurse was talking about,” you say, immediately making a case to plead your innocence.

“So gross!” Her words are dripping with pure disgust, but at least it isn’t directed at you (for now, anyway). “That’s it! We’re moving hospitals!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down.”

“What is it with girls like that? Oh, you must work out a lot, I mean obviously you do!” Yeji continues her eerily uncanny impersonation. “Seriously, you’re an adult and you’re doing baby talk? ‘Perfect as always Mr. Metronome!”

“She’s just being nice, probably didn’t mean anything at all,” it’s a very weak argument you’re making, the only way the nurse could make her intentions more obvious were if she was wearing a bright neon sign that flashed ‘please fuck me!’.

“Bitch. Shameless! Hitting on my boyfriend in front of me. Acting so cute, so helpless—oops! I dropped my clipboard!” Yeji’s pouting now, fluttering her lashes, mimicking every blatant flirtation Nurse Ji Won had thrown your way.

“Really, we’re doing caricatures now?”

“Carica-what?” Yeji tilts her head to the side, and starts to sway her way over to you, her hips swinging from side to side with an exaggerated bounce. She’s playing it up to a T, making sure to sway, shake, to jiggle with each step she takes. “What does that word even mean? It’s such a big word. You must be really smart.”

Yeji settles into the role of the pretty, ditzy nurse far too easily, and her eyes tell you that she’s enjoying it far too much. For now though, you play along, clearing your throat and putting on your manliest voice—“I have been told I have a rather expansive vocabulary.”

“Wow, another big word,” Yeji’s at your bedside again, taking your hand into hers, looking up at you with wide-eyed awe. “Oh, you’re just so clever!” She giggles, as her other hand just so happens to come down on your thigh, leaving her free to squeeze and massage your muscles. “And so strong too! Do you work out?”

You grit your teeth as Yeji starts to trace her thumb in gentle circles over your skin, all the while staring up at you so innocently—she’s laying it on thick. “Sometimes…”

“I can tell…” Yeji continues, her voice trailing off as she runs her hand further up your thigh, light as a feather, but when she’s looking at you with those eyes and that smile, it’s if she’s dragging a live wire across your skin. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure as she leans in closer, lets her top hang a little loose, lets you get a peek at the soft swell of her breasts, parts those full, pouty lips of hers, her fingers tracing the contour of your leg as she moves higher and higher and higher, until her fingertips are on your—“Unbelievable! I cannot believe that actually works on you!”

“That’s unfair!” You shout in surprise, letting go of a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. “You can’t expect me not to react when you’re doing that!”

“Uh huh, I bet!” Yeji says, clearly not buying it. “You’re not at all attracted to the helpless, innocent, bouncy little slut that leans close so you can get a good view of her fat tits?”

“I’ll have you know I’m a singular pair of tits kind of guy.”

“This bitch,” Yeji curses under her breath, throwing her hands up in frustration. She unfortunately removes her hand from your leg, and plops herself down on your bed (it’s easily big enough for two), stewing in her emotions. You watch each cross her face: concern, jealousy, disbelief, a slight hint of amusement.

“Yeji,” you say, getting her attention, snapping her out of her thoughts. “You’re my girlfriend. I’m yours. That’s that.”

She stares back at you, her eyes light up at the declaration, and she punches your arm—your healthy one, of course. “You better be.”

It’s strange, seeing Yeji like this—so raw, so visibly affected by someone else’s attention on you. You’ve always thought of her as so strong, so confident, but there’s something in her possessiveness over you that is making you think about things that should definitely not happen in a hospital.

Fuck it, injuries be damned, without another word, you stretch forward and grab her by the waist, your good hand wrapping around her firmly, pulling her closer to you. She gasps, but doesn’t resist, no, she leans into your touch, her body melting into yours as if it’s been starved for affection.

You hold her tight, letting her settle into your embrace, and can only laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation you’re in. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be taking care of me, you’re really not helping my blood pressure right now.”

“I’m still mad at you,” Yeji murmurs into your chest, but there’s no venom in her voice. Instead, it’s filled with something else entirely—something softer, more vulnerable. Her body relaxes against you, and you feel the tension in the room start to dissipate.

“Let’s not pretend that you weren’t enjoying acting like a helpless, little slut, Yeji,” you accuse, and Yeji’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of red. “I know you.”

“It’s your fault,” Yeji says, still hiding her face in your chest. “You and your ridiculous sexy nurse fantasy.”

“It’s a classic,” you shrug, before making an executive decision. “And this time, we actually have the right setting for it.”

Yeji looks around the room, shyly biting her lip. Again, all an act, she’s far too perceptive to not have the same thought on the forefront of her mind. “Here?”

“I saw you lock the door.” You catch the smirk that flashes across Yeji’s face. “Your mind is as filthy as mine, Yeji, I’m just better at vocalising it.”

“You think you can read my mind?”

“You know I can.” You lean in, your mouth finding hers in a soft kiss to prove your point—you didn’t need to ask to know that this is what she’s been after the whole time. Your lips find her forehead, “I can read your mind”—a kiss on her cheek—“your body”—and a whisper in her ear— “your pussy.”

You know you’re right by the hitch in Yeji’s breathing, how she leans into your touch, and when she straddles you without a second thought. Her thighs squeeze down against yours, the fabric of her yoga pants sliding against your hospital gown. She’s all soft curves and heat as she settles herself over you, her hands pressing down on your chest to keep herself steady.

“That nurse really riled you up, didn’t she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yeji steals another kiss from you, a moan muffled against your mouth. But yet, there’s the slight grind of hips—slow, deliberate friction, unbearable by design. “I’m just here to take care of my helpless boyfriend.”

“Yoga pants, Yeji. Again,” you say. “I saw it all. How you just so happened to need to stretch, or bend over, or lean just right,” you tease, even though it’s getting harder and harder to get your words out by the second. “You’re just as bad as her, only you’re way better at it.”

You kiss her again, this time with more urgency, the type of kiss you’ve been dying to give her since she first walked into the room, your tongue slipping into her mouth and tasting minty sweetness on her breath.

“And you look way fucking hotter than her when you do it, too.”

A smug smile plays on Yeji's lips as she's kissing you again. “I am the most beautiful woman in Korea.”

“The world,” you correct her.

“Goes without saying,” she finished. “’Extremely hot girlfriend’, if I remember correctly?”

“On fucking fire,” you summarise, and reach out to touch her, needing to feel her, but Yeji stops you placing your hand back on the bed.

She gives you a stern look, and shakes her head. “No, no, no. You’re the patient here, remember? You’re not allowed to do anything,” she says, her voice a mix of playfulness and authority. Yeji leans in closer, her breath hot against your ear. “You have to let the slutty nurse take care of you.”

You see it again—that switch—and Yeji gets more adventurous, cutting off your breath as she drags her hand down, sliding it under your thin hospital gown, walking her fingers back up your thigh. She stops just shy of your hardened cock, her eyes never leaving yours, revelling in your neediness for her, your want, before finally she takes a hold of you, her grip firm and tight and sure.

There’s heat in her palm, and she pulls a moan out of you and into her mouth as she starts to slowly stroke. It’s the softness of her hand against the growing stiffness of your shaft, her fingertips grazing your skin—you know you should be more careful, more considerate of where you are, but with Yeji’s touch, all rational thought is lost.

“I bet none of those bitch nurses could make you feel like this.” Yeji’s touch is a masterpiece of precision and passion, each movement calculated, practiced, she’s right—she’s the only one who knows how to touch you in just the perfect way to make you ache. Her fingers dance along your shaft, her grip tightening and loosening in a rhythm that only she can hear.

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about.” You groan, playing dumb, your mind filled with nothing but Yeji’s body on top of you, her fingers wrapped around you. “What other women?”

Yeji’s eyes narrow, but she can’t hold back her smile. “Good answer,” she whispers, rewarding you by moving faster now, each stroke deeper, more deliberate, reading your every reaction to the way she pumps you, timing her fingers with your stuttering breaths.

She likes—loves—taking care of you, making you feel good, there’s a thrill in it for her, knowing that she’s the one who can make you this vulnerable, this desperate. Her hand moves with confidence, her strokes become more insistent, her gaze hungrier, and she leans forward, pressing herself into your chest, letting you feel the softness of her breasts, the stiffness of her nipples through the flimsy fabric of her top.

“Does this feel good, honey?” She asks, like she doesn’t already know the answer, like she can’t feel your hips bucking up to meet her touch. "Do you like it when I take care of you?"

You nod, unable to form words, unable to do anything but keep your eyes on Yeji and marvel at just how fucking hot she is on top of you as she strokes you. Her hair falls in soft waves around her face, tickling your neck and cheeks, and her eyes—those piercing, all-knowing eyes—affixed to yours, holding you hostage.

“God, I love this cock,” Yeji murmurs between kisses against your cheek, your jaw, your neck, “so big, so hard… All mine…” She’s so satisfied, so happy with herself—with your cock—her constant praise as much for her as it is for you. “Fuck, look how big you’re getting for me, barely fits in my hand.”

“God, Yeji,” you gasp, struggling to keep together, to keep from losing yourself in the palm of her hand, as each of her strokes, each of her words, keep coming, stroking your cock, your ego, fucking with you completely. “I’m getting close—”

“Not yet.” Yeji lets you go, leaving you panting, your tortured cock standing tall and missing her attention.

Before you can even mount a protest, she’s sliding up your body, stretching above your head to grab the hospital bed remote, smothering you with the soft mounds of her breasts as she does so. You groan into her, forced to feel the weight of her pressing down on you, the warmth of her skin against yours, teasing you in a way that’s both infuriating and heavenly.

With a click, the bed whirs into action, reclining back until you're flat on your back, staring directly up at her. She kneels over your head, and there’s the outline of her pussy through the fabric of her leggings, all swollen and damp and begging for your tongue.

She doesn’t have to look to know she has your undivided attention—she's pulling her shirt and her top over her head, setting her breasts, ripe and full, bouncing free from their confinement. No bra today (of course she didn’t, what would be the fucking point?) and you get a full view of those perfect tits, her dark, pebbled nipples already stiff for you.

“It’s your turn to take care of me.”

Yeji lowers herself onto your waiting mouth, lets out a noise that’s so needy, so fucking greedy, as your lips meet her heat for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

“Fuuuuuuck…”

You kiss, lick, nibble at her, tease her, groan into her thighs, as she urges herself against you, making you breathe in the scent of her sex, so immediately wet for you.

It’s not nearly enough for either of you—you need to feel her against your lips, your tongue. You move your hand up her thigh and towards her hip, digging your fingers into her waistband. But Yeji stops you again, and says the four most pleasant words in any language. “Just fucking rip them.”

There’s no hesitation—she lifts her hips off your face, you snake your hand between her legs, take one end of the fabric between your fingers, and another in your teeth: one quick, sharp yank, and you tear. The nylon gives way with a satisfying rip, and Yeji shivers above you as the cool air hits her full, puffy, exposed cunt.

“Mmmph, yesssss,” Yeji hisses as you pull her back down onto your lips, shuddering as you kiss that lovely crease where her thigh meets her pelvis, her pleasure vibrating through your own skull. She quivers, shifts, needy for your lips on her naked pussy, and she pleads, “stop teasing… I need it…”

You smile against her skin, your breath ghosting over her pussy, making her squirm. "What's the magic word?"

"Now," Yeji says, her voice firm, her thighs so magnificently tense. "The magic word is now."

With that, you give her a long lick, starting from the very bottom of her pussy and moving upward, tasting every millimetre of her juicy cunt, tracing the entire length of her slit, ending with an indulgent flick of her clit.

“Fuuuuuuuuck,” Yeji cries out, shivering, falling apart as your tongue finds that sweet spot, her thighs tightening around your neck. Her hands come down to either side of your head, her fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in place as she starts to rock back and forth, setting her own rhythm, matching her hips with the pace of your tongue. “God, you’re so fucking good at that, always so fucking good at that.”

She’s whining, so, so desperate, so pleading, and you’re eager as you taste her, explore her, will her to come apart in your mouth. You’re taking generous licks, tongue dancing around her clit, teasing it, testing her full vocal range as she cries out your name

“Oh, please, please baby, fucking please.” She’s getting wetter and wetter, coating your tongue, your lips, your chin. “I missed this,” she gasps, grinding herself against your tongue, all desperation and utter awe. “Missed you making me feel so fucking good.”

You look up, up at her as she rides your face, she’s so fucking breathtaking. Her body tensing around you and on top of you—so tight, so firm—chiselled abs honed by decades of dancing, that gorgeous curve of her waist leading up to her perky, petite tits, so lovely, bouncing with every gasp she takes.

"I'm so wet for you, honey, so fucking wet," Yeji whimpers, “you always make me so fucking wet—I can’t—ah!”

A sharp inhale, you suck her clit into your mouth, flicking your tongue against the sensitive nub. She’s moaning so fucking loud, so unrestrained, echoing through the hospital room and down the hallways, loud enough to let every nurse on the floor know exactly how fucking good it feels to be on top of you. Her hips jerk, she can’t control her own body now, and you know she’s getting closer and closer, determined to ride your tongue right to the end.

Just looking at her is all it takes for you—seeing her so damn horny, so satisfied sets you on edge, needing something, anything to take your cock and match her euphoria.

“Do you want me to help you out, baby?” Yeji’s reading your mind. You groan and affirmative into the folds of her cunt, and in an instant, you go from being smothered by her juices to being faced with the full, perfect tautness of her ass.

She makes it look so easy, so graceful, lifting herself off your face and spinning around to this new position—face down, ass up.

A second later and your wishes are granted—your cock, so heavy with need, standing neglected and alone is met by Yeji’s soft, warm lips, kissing the very tip of you, tasting the drops of pre-cum that’s already leaking out of you.

“Let me make you feel better,” is all Yeji says—just one light kiss, a whisper into your cock, and she dives onto you, swallowing your cock whole. It’s far too much, far too quickly, you’re out of breath and ready to tap out as her warm, wet mouth envelopes your whole rod in one, smooth suck.

Her tongue swirls around you, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, she takes you deeper and deeper, until you’re buried down her throat. You throb inside her, her throat muscles contracting back around you, and you can’t help but thrust up into her mouth, seeking more, needing more.

“Yeji!” You cry out her name on reflex as she takes you in, her hands digging into your thighs as she works her mouth up and down, bobbing, taking you deep and noisily, smacking her lips, sloshing her tongue. Whatever pain you had lingering from your arm, your head, or your ribs, it’s all forgotten—there’s only Yeji, and her exquisite lips, doing everything she can to wring every drop of pleasure out from your body.

It's too much, too intense, and you’ve been on the edge since she first grabbed a hold on you. This can’t end now, not when she’s sucking you so hard, practically worshipping your cock. You need a distraction—pull her hips back, gently, firmly, push that beautiful ass back into your face and indulge in her again.

“Mmmph—!” Yeji moans into you as your tongue meets her cunt, the sound reverberating down your shaft and right into your brain.

And now it’s a competition—you push through her pussy with her tongue, feel her walls tightening around you. She’s pushing back into you, grinding down on you, making sure you get the full flavour of her cunt, her ass, every inch of her on your taste buds.

She’s more frantic now, moving faster, sloppier on your cock as you push her closer and closer to climax. Her tongue slides against you, her cheeks hollow out around you, she drools and dribbles down your shaft—it’s messy and wet and absolutely fucking amazing.

But you can’t let her win, not this time. You double down on your efforts, suctioning your lips over her clit and start rapidly flicking your tongue, setting a relentless pace that you know will make her crumble. She tries her best to keep up, to keep going, but she’s a mess of sucking and moaning and quivering all over your face and on your cock.

Yeji works her tongue, her lips, her mouth—she makes sure you know it’s all yours. But then, after taking you all the way to the back of her throat, your cock pops out of her mouth with a wet smack, and she lets out a cry of pure, unbridled ecstasy. “Fuck, I can’t, I can’t, I’m gonna—FUCK!”

She collapses, bent over and prone, only her ass rocking and grinding against your face as she utterly, completely falls apart, ruined by just your tongue, ruined by the orgasm you’re giving her.

“So good—God—fuck—keep going, keep going, keep going!” Yeji’s voice is a chant, a prayer that you’re more than happy to answer. She’s shaking, her pussy pulsing against your face as you lick and suck at her clit, clouding your mind with the heady mix of sweetness and desire that has you hooked. She’s lost, given up and given over to you now, her moans becoming screams—“your tongue, your fucking tongue—gah!”

Her body geos rigid, locking up as she hits that wonderful peak—but you’re not ready to stop. You keep licking, keep pushing through wave after wave of pleasure that crash over her, not giving a second of rest. Her juices flood your mouth and you swallow greedily, drinking her in like it’s the only medicine you need.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—fucking making me feel so good—God!”

Nothing fucking matters, all you know is Yeij’s cunt is on your tongue and her ass is in your face, and your only job is to keep licking her to her core, until she finally goes slack, crumbling on top of you.

She stays like that, her legs shaking like she’s just run a marathon, her nipples squashed against your chest, her gasps hot and ragged against your thigh. You can feel the staccato of her heart, and you hold her close, massaging her lower back as she does her best to catch her breath.

And yet, there you are, still throbbing, still so fucking hard and delirious with your need for her touch.

There’s no point in hiding it, she’s so close you can feel her breath on your cock, your close enough to poke her eye out with how hard you are.

“Someone’s feeling left out,” she says, as if she’s not entirely to blame. “Is that for me?”

“You know it is,” you respond, far weaker, more pleading than you intended.

A gentle, torturous kiss against your thigh, and you’re just about ready to explode in her face. “Then I guess as your dutiful, loving, girlfriend, I better do something about it.”

It’s so easy for her—one moment she’s exhausted, out of breath on top of you, the next she’s fully recovered, back on top and mounting you, facing you as she smears the tip of your cock with her wetness.

You try to sit up, eager to get straight to it, straight to fucking her like you need to, but her hands are on your shoulders and she’s pushing you back down.

“Lie down, baby,” she hushes you, pressing you down onto the mattress. “Just enjoy this.”

Her eyes narrow as she drinks in the sight of you, bursting with anticipation as she lowers her pussy onto your cock. It’s a special kind of torment, one that makes your hips buck involuntarily, so impatient to feel her warmth again.

But she takes her sweet time, and it’s only when she’s close enough, she bends down, mouth hovering over yours. Your eyes drift shut, and you wait for that soft contact of her lips, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, she whispers, "I've got you," and you feel the warm, velvety embrace of her cunt as she takes you in, inch by agonising inch.

Fully seated, her walls close around you, and that’s when she kisses you hard, her tongue pushing past your lips and into your mouth with the same aching hunger of her cunt around your cock.

She tastes so damn good, feels incredible—it’s been too long, and you want nothing but to grab her, hold her and slam her hips down onto yours and drive deeper into her, but your body won’t cooperate.

You can only lay there as she starts to move, her hips rocking back and forth, slowly, intentionally, having you seeing stars. And then, just when you think you can’t take it anymore, she lifts herself up off your cock, and in one swift motion, sinks herself straight back down, whispering “holy fuck yesss” against your lips.

She needs time to get used to you, used to your cock filling her whole again. “This fucking cock,” she bites your lip as she rides you, “always so big, always so perfect.”

Yeji has to take it slow, has to let her pussy stretch around you, adjust to you, before she can start to ride you, to fuck you like she really wants to. And she does want to—wants to claim you, erase any doubt about who is the one person that can fuck you like you deserve to be—so, so much.

Each movement down the length of your cock is faster than the one before, each moan into your mouth hotter, each clench of her cunt around yours so much tighter, until she’s fucking you in earnest—harder, faster.

“So thick, so, so, riiiiight,” Yeji groans.“I’ve missed this, needed this.”

She’s riding you like she’s been waiting for this forever, like this might be the last time, bouncing her ass up and down, her eyes hooded with lust, her hair a wild mess around her flushed face, her nipples swinging every time your hips meet.

“When you get better, honey, I need you to fuck me real hard,” Yeji whispers in your ear, her breath hot and tickling, thick with lust, her tight cunt milking you, keeping you on the edge of insanity. “But I’ll take care of you for now, I’ll take care of this cock—fuck I love it—I love you—I love that you’re mine.”

“You’re mine too, Yeji,” you groan back to her.

“That’s right—I belong to you and you belong to me,” Yeji punctuates her point with a hard slam of her cunt down onto your cock. "You're My. Fucking. Boyfriend."

She’s getting faster and faster now, picking up her pace, like she needs to prove something, to herself, to you, to the entire fucking hospital.

“Those other bitches can’t ride you like I do—can’t fuck you like I do,” Yeji’s panting, each word fucked out of her, coming out like a proud battle cry. She’s right, you’re sure of it—no one else can make you feel this way, no one else can take you, claim you like she can. She’s lost in it now, lost in the heat and the friction, her whole body consumed by a burning desire to show you just how good she is at this.

Yeji leans back, sitting upright, giving herself better leverage to bounce on your cock, giving you a better view of her body—all perfectly sculpted edges and soft curves—and those fucking perky tits. They’re stunning, just like the rest of her, and you reach for them on instinct, cupping the soft mounds, feeling the weight of them in your palm. Her nipples are so hard, erect, begging for your touch, and you don’t want to disappoint—could never—so you pinch and twist them, watching her face contort with pleasure, feeling her pussy tighten around you as she cries out.

“No one can take this big fucking cock like I can—down my throat, in my cunt.” It’s a declaration—loud and proud, for every single person in the hospital to know.

“Jealous?” You grunt out the word, hoarse, rough. “Thinking about me fucking other woman like I fuck you? Making them scream—making them cum as hard as I’m about to make you?”

You can see the twist in Yeji’s face, how her pupils dilate as your words sink in. There’s a war playing out on her face, jealousy and desire, the mere thought of you fucking other woman making her pussy spasm around you. “Oh, fuck you! You would ruin them, honey, they wouldn’t be able to take you. Or is that what you want to hear? Some cute bitch screaming: ‘oh baby, oh please, oh daddy, I can’t take it—I can’t take this big fucking cock!’”

There’s truth in the mockery, and there’s a dark thrill in Yeji’s jealousy. But now’s not the time for anything (or anyone) else but her—you’re too close, too far gone, your cock throbbing with the need to spill into her.

“Only I can take it, it’s mine, mine, mine.” She’s soaking you, so needy, so deep, so fucking filthy as she whines over your cock. “You better keep fucking me—only me—or I will make your life hell.”

“Show me then,” you challenge her, and you can see something flash across her eyes—something primal, something rough.

“I’m yours,” she declares again, riding you in a way that can only be described as pure art, her whole body moving in perfect harmony with a singular goal—to be absolutely wrecked by your cock. “All yours, nobody else’s. And you’re mine.”

It takes one hard pump into her tight, sweaty body and she’s falling into you, her body pressed on top of you, her forehead pressed against yours. It’s electric, the connection between your bodies, a jolt of pleasure surging through your cock and her cunt until all that matters is the feel of her fucking you like her life depends on it.

It’s love at every thrust, every gasp and moan. Nothing but Yeji on top of you, her soft skin pressed against you, her heartbeat racing against yours, her wetness coating your cock like a silk glove. Not just pleasure, you’re claiming each other—she’s whispering it in your ear, whispering your name like a promise, a declaration of war against anyone who would dare to come between you.

“Fuuuck.” Yeji bites down on your shoulder, digs her nails in your skin, squeezes her pussy around you like a vice. “I’m gonna do it again,” she mewls, “this cock—your beautiful cock—is gonna make me cum all over again.”

She’s chasing that precious feeling, desperate for it, her hips moving in erratic circles, determined to bring you with her. You can feel it too, the beginnings rising from the base of your cock, the tension in your balls. You want to hold on, to make this last, but at this point it’s like trying to hold back a tidal wave.

“Give—fuck—give me more!” Yeji’s eyes are squeezed shut; her mouth open in a silent scream as she grinds down on you, her body trembling with the effort to keep her balance. You can see the tension in every line of her body, how her abs clench, her toes curl. It's like watching a live wire, and you're the one holding the current. "Nobody can fuck me like you do—fuck—nobody can take you like I can!"

You wrap your arm around her shoulder, holding her tight, wrenching control from her, making her prove her words with every forceful thrust. You’re going to be in pain later, but fuck all that—Yeji’s so wet, so tight, so fucking hot—she’s a force of nature, and you’re just the lucky fuck that gets to be in the eye of the storm.

“You’re going to cum in me, now, okay? I’m going to cum so fucking hard and then you’re going to cum right inside me.” Yeji’s completely given herself over to you, letting you fuck her, use her, she’s all yours anyway. “Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!”

And then she’s there, her cunt gripping you like a fist, her walls pulsing and quivering around you. Yeji’s eyes fly open, her gaze locks onto yours, and she’s cumming hard.

Her orgasm rips through her body, she’s choking your cock with pussy, muscles tightening and release in a painful rhythm, and all she can do is shake and cry out every filthy word she knows, every sweet noise she can make as she spills and creams and comes apart on top of you.

“It’s too much,” Yeji’s barely holding on, panting incessantly, “too-fucking-much—too-fucking-much!”

The way she looks, the way she fucks, the way she cums—it’s a thing of beauty, an absolute fucking honour to witness—every twitch, every shiver, every gasp that falls from her swollen lips. Her nails pierce your skin, her teeth threaten to draw blood, her eyes wide and wild as her climax crashes over her.

“Please-please-fucking-please!”

But she doesn’t stop. If anything, she’s becoming more insistent, more urgent, fucking back against you again, her hips moving in a blur, taking you like a woman possessed. She’s pleading for you, pleading for you to give in, to let go, to follow her into bliss. Yeji’s a woman on a mission—to make you feel her, to make you fill her and you realise that maybe this isn’t just about jealousy anymore—it’s about making you know in every fibre of your being that your cum belongs in her cunt and her cunt only.

"Give it to me," Yeji demands, “I need you to—please—fuck—cum in me!”

Every word’s a trigger, sending you spiralling over the edge. It’s been building for an eternity now, an unbearable pressure needing to find a home in Yeji’s scorching, sopping wet pussy.

“Kiss me—I need you to—need to taste—fuck—please—kiss me now!”

There’s nothing left to do but obey, bringing your hand to the back of her neck and pulling her down into a fierce, bruising kiss. Your mouths crash together, your tongues dance and entangle, your teeth clash, and all the while Yeji’s clenching around you, cunt contracting in an effort to keep you still, keep you together.

“Fill me.”

A final, triumphant spear into her and your gone—releasing, spurting your cum deep inside her—so hard, so hot, so intense, emptying everything, all of you, every last drop into her greedy pussy.

“Yesssssss—this—this is what I needed.” Yeji hums a satisfied note into your collarbone, so full, so complete, so content. She’s still slowly rocking her hips back and forth, still pulsing around you, milking you dry. “I feel so…full.”

She dissolves into a puddle in your arms, nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck. Your hand finds its way to her back, tracing gentle circles, rubbing away the tension that’s been built up, the strain she’s put her body through.

She’s warm, she's so alive, and you can feel her heart beating against your chest, a stilted, hurried rhythm that's gradually slowing down. You kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her neck, anywhere you can reach without having to strain yourself. It’s a gentle reassurance, making sure that for all the fucking and the filthiness, she knows that no matter what happens, you’re there to make sure she’s okay.

Yeji whispers an “I love you,” her words like a balm to your soul. “I really, really, fucking love you, you know?”

“I know, Yeji,” you say, low enough for only her to hear. “I really, really, fucking love you too.”

There’s still the embers of your shared climax resonating through your bodies, the come down from an epic high that’s left the two of you a tangled mess of limbs and hospital sheets. You both lay there, Yeji’s pussy still spasming around your cock, your cum and her juices dribbling down and pooling between your bodies.

“I was really worried about you.” Yeji whispers, vulnerable. The admission hangs in the air above you, a stark reminder of the fear and insecurity that’s been simmering just beneath the surface. “When they called me, I thought—I—I fucking hated that feeling.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. It’s all there is left to say.

“And I am really pissed about these nurses,” Yeji adds with a deadly seriousness, that only makes you smile. “I’m moving you to another hospital as soon as I can.”

“We just might have to after this,” you murmur, stroking her hair as you catch your breath. “No way they didn’t hear any of that.”

“Good.” Yeji declares, a little too intensely, too smugly.

You look down at her and can’t help but chuckle. “Well aren’t you all happy and copacetic now?”

Yeji looks back at you, pauses, and then grins. “Copa-what-tic?”

You can only roll your eyes. “Copacetic.”

“Wow,” Yeji starts, her voice back up an octave, laced with sickly sweetness. “Such a big, complicated word. You’re so smart.”

“Uh huh.”

“And these muscles too! Look at you all pumped and sweaty. Have you been working out?” Yeji teases, her cheeks still flushed a bright pink shade. She reaches down to give your bicep a gentle squeeze, mouthing an exaggerated ‘wow’ in amazement of its size.

“I did just finish a pretty intense workout. Might’ve even got another concussion from having my brains fucked out.”

“In that case, as your nurse it’s my responsibility to get you good and clean.” Yeji’s kissing you again, soft and slow. “Come on now, let me give you a good, nice scrub.”

“Is this going to be a reciprocal thing, you wash my back, I wash yours?”

“Why don’t you come with me and find out?” Yeji slides off your cock, peeling herself off your sticky body, and lifts herself up and off the bed.

You watch as she stretches, her body a glorious mess of grace and sweat and cum, and for a moment you’re just in awe of her. She’s glowing, and she’s not even trying.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” Yeji winks, already sauntering away from you and towards the bathroom, her hips swaying, her ass calling for you with each perfect bounce. “It’s time for some serious physical therapy. Nurse’s orders.”

#kpop smut #yeji smut #itzy smut #male reader

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jarofstyles · 21 days

Text

Haze

Hi bestie babes, here is a best-friends-to-best-friends-with-benefits piece! I am unsure if I'm doing a second part but if I did it'll be later on down the line.

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WC- 8k

warnings- use of marijuana, friends with benefits, biting, daddy kink, soft Dom H hehe

“H? Do you really think I’m pretty?” Y/N’s voice was slightly slurred, a mix of both tired and high as a kite from the joint they’d finished just a bit ago. The cool air flowed in from the window they’d cracked in order for her landlord not to get a call to complain, but she welcomed the chill. She always got a bit hot in her skin when the high hit her. “Don’t lie to me. Give it to me straight.

She loved smoking, sure, but she hated how it made her mind think about things she had purposely been putting off. Like her awful fucking dating life and how stupidly lonely she was.

Harry sat next to her on the sofa, his legs spread in an obnoxious manspread, his fingers messing with the Rubik’s cube. It wasn’t uncommon for them to smoke together- he was her best friend- but she wanted his opinion. The poor man was going to be subject to her insecurity.

Her string of bad dating experiences lately had made it hard to believe it wasn’t a her problem.

"Pretty? Babe, you're beautiful. Come off it." he mumbled, eyes still on the puzzle game. He was in that fluid mindset, neither here nor there. His reassurance felt nice but at the same time, a little vague. Her face contorted in a frown as she looked over at him. He was still baked, so she got it, but still. A little more would be nice.

“You have to say that. You’re my best friend. Tell me honestly, H. What is.. what is wrong with me? Because I don’t know how someone can go on so many bad dates and it not be a them problem.” It had been plaguing her the whole time and harshing the high. The words needed to come out. “I’m the common denominator.”

Finally, he put the Rubik's cube down and turned to face her fully, his gaze locked on hers. Sure, he was dazed from the weed, but he wanted to be sincere with her once he had heard how she had actually been a bit torn up from it. As hard as she tried, it wasn’t easy for her to hide her emotions from him. Even high Harry could see past the playful quips she had made lately. It had only been a matter of time before she had asked him about it and in his opinion, it was bullshit. There was nothing wrong with her at all. Y/N was amazing, but it was only natural to become a little insecure when someone had the string of bad luck like she had.

"Y/N, there's absolutely nothing wrong with you. I'm being completely honest with you, I swear. It's not you, it's them.” He winced knowing how cheesy it sounded but it couldn’t really be helped at the moment. “You're a fuckin’ amazing, smart, beautiful, funny, talented, kind person... I could list off all your good qualities cause there’s loads of ‘em, but m’high and can't think straight enough right now t’give you the fancier words like… exuberant? Pretty sure that one’s right ."

Y/N let out a little laugh. She could hear it in the low tone of his voice and how it seemed to take him longer than normal to say things when he was stoned and trying his absolute hardest to get that out, but it was a little cute. Too bad it wasn’t enough to get her out of her wallowing.

“Then I’m doomed.” She groaned, sinking into the couch. Her hands came up to cover her face, a tired sound leaving her as she tried to reset. “Dude, do you know how entirely and overwhelmingly exhausting it is? And don’t you dare call me dramatic.” Her eye peeped up at him before she fell back into a huff. “I know you get sex on tap but for the rest of us normal folks, it’s like a war zone out there.”

Harry snickefed at her little quip as he watched her sink into the couch. Letting out a sigh as he really thought about it though, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. "I understand how you feel, trust me. It's not easy for anyone. Although I have to admit, I can't exactly relate to your dating struggles, not really. I just happen to be lucky enough to have a very dedicated fanbase."

He was joking but… not really. He always teased her about this. The women who tended to hang out around the garage or try to get near him after hours to ride him in the cars that he just fixed… It wasn't hard for him to get what he wanted. Being good looking, tattooed, solid and single, it got you a lot of places, and a lot of ass. If only she could relate.

“Yeah, yeah. Slut.” She grumbled lightheartedly, kicking her foot against his thigh. It wasn’t fair it was as toned as it was. “You’re a mechanic and you’ve got all the rich soccer moms throwing themselves at you for a romp in the backseat while their husbands are at work. That’s nice and all, but the dating pool for us commoners is abysmal at best.”

Shooting him a glare, she grabbed the bag of goldfish shaped crackers and popped some into her mouth. “At this point I’d be fine with a friends-with-benefits sorta thing- but god damn it, I just want someone to love me at some point.” There was a moment of silence before she cleared her throat. They didn’t really discuss their sex lives and stuff often so she took his silence as one of not knowing what to say- which was fair. She was sorta dumping this all on him. In the grand scheme of things it wasn’t that insane. Everyone went through shit like this. “Sorry. I don’t mean to actually be dramatic this time.”

Harry shook his head at her remark, giving her a reassuring smile that had his eyes crinkling at the corners. He locked his gaze on her face as he listened to her speak, his expression softening with understanding instead of the smug joking he was giving off before. "Hey, s’alright babe. You're not being dramatic. It's how you feel, and I understand that. Everyone deserves love, and I have no doubt you'll find it."

He paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully. When he spoke again, his voice low and sincere as he knocked his hand against her thigh to get her to look at him.

"Y/N... can I ask you somethin’? And don’t make it weird.” He warned, making her unsure what the hell he could be asking.

Brushing the hair out of her eyes, she turned to look back at him with a questioning look on her face. “Sure. What’s up?”

Harry seemed to hesitate for a moment, unsure whether he should ask or not. It would most definitely change their dynamic if she was offended or freaked out by it, but regardless he felt like it it was something he knew he had to ask. He shifted on the couch, turning to face her fully, taking a deep breath and letting his gaze lock on hers before speaking.

"Y’know how you were saying how you're open to a friends with benefits thing? And how you're tired of being alone?"

“Yeah…. I literally said it like, two second ago.” She replied, voice slow and drawn out. She knew she was foggy, but damn. Of course she didn’t want to draw conclusions but she had to wonder why he would be bringing that up again. Her heart beat a little harder as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Why?”

His gaze remained steady on hers, his expression unreadable. He took a moment before speaking again, his voice low and slightly hoarse. Of course he wanted to be careful with his words, in the off chance this could offend her but he knew that he’d kick himself for not asking if he avoided it. He took a deep breath before asking the question.

"I was wondering... if you'd be interested in having an arrangement like that... with me."

Blinking rapidly, she had to be sure she wasn’t just hearing things. Usually she wasn’t the type to have hallucinations when high, but she didn’t know if he would ever actually suggest that. “Uh.. can you repeat that?”

Harry smiled softly as he saw her surprise. He knew it was a big ask, but he was committed to the idea now.

Leaning forward, his voice was smooth and deliberate as he repeated his question, this time with more confidence considering she hadn’t completely looked disgusted at the idea.

"I was asking if you'd be interested in having a friend's with benefits arrangement with me. No strings attached, just a... way to fulfill certain needs without the commitment. What would you say to something like that?"

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said.” The nod was casual, as if that hadn’t just completely freaked her out. Not in a bad way! But in a…. What-the-fuck-my-best-friend-just-asked-me to-casually-hook-up-on-the-regular, sort of way.

“Uh… I’m not saying no, but I have to ask why you’d suggest that? I didn’t think you were attracted to me in the slightest.” It had completely come out of left field. The intent behind complaining wasn’t for him to offer but to get genuine advice from him considering he never seemed to struggle in the dating department.

"Who the hell said I wasn't attracted to you? I’ve always thought you were stunning.” It wasn’t supposed to come off defensively but he had to wonder in the moment if maybe it did. Harry had never once thought of her as anything but mind blowingly gorgeous.

“Okay, but you have to say that. You’re my best friend, like I said before. I just….” Hesitance grew on her face, looking over his own for any sign of joking. If he was, her ego really couldn’t handle another blow. “I really don’t want to be a pity fuck. And I also don’t want to like… no offense to you, I don’t want to sleep with someone who isn’t exclusive with me? Not like in the dating sense but like, I’d ask you not to sleep with anyone else for safety and I don’t know how you’d feel about that.” Maybe she was rambling but thoughts were running rampant in her already overcrowded brain. Asking him not to fuck anyone else felt like an overstep for some reason.

As she spoke, Harry nodded along, listening intently. He understood her hesitation and appreciated the honesty; it was one of the things he had always loved about her- But he certainly didn't want her to feel like a “pity-fuck” either. That was the furthest thing she could be. He could respect her wanting a certain degree of exclusivity, especially for safety. He knew he was a bit of a whore and he wasn’t ashamed of it, but he had full ability and sometimes the wish to be monogamous- more than he expressed. Granted, if it were anyone else he’d probably feel a little suffocated in an ask like that but… It didn’t sound so bad when it came to Y/N.

"I get it," he said, nodding in agreement. Reaching out and placing a hand on her knee, his touch warm and gentle, he tried his best to reassure her. "I wouldn't suggest it if I didn't find you attractive, Y/N. It's not about pity, it's about wanting a connection with someone I know and trust. And it’s not like it isn’t a convenience for me, too. No awkward leaving afterward, no like… ‘here I’ll get you a cab’ or saying no to a sleepover. We’ve slept in the same bed loads of times and you know I love a cuddle..”

Sharpening her gaze on him, she tilted her head. “Is this because you wanna do some crazy kinky stuff? Cause I’m open but I dunno how crazy I’ll get.” She was kind of kidding…. But kinda not. There were her own things she wanted to explore, but she didn’t want to be a lab rat.

Harry's eyebrows raised at her question, slightly taken aback. He couldn't help but laugh lightly at her tone, but there was also a hint of genuine interest in his reply.

"You really think I'm into kink, huh? Some sort of freak in the sheets?” Wiggling his brows, he teased her. It wasn’t as if it wasn’t obvious that he was a bit of a frequent fucker, but he didn’t have much shame in that. It wasn’t a kiss and tell sort of situation, but he wasn’t shy about letting her know he’d had a lovely night the day prior when need be. “Well, maybe. But no, that's not the only reason..." He let out a breath, a smirk on his lips. "But I'd loveeee to find out what you'd be open to, if we did this."

“Nope, you first, casanova.” She bounced in her seat, getting closer. Her nosy tendencies took precedence over everything else, it appeared. Getting to know more about him that was was enticing and she couldn’t hold herself back. “What's the crazy stuff you’re into? C’mon, we never talk about this stuff.”

Harry was open about the fact he had a healthy supply of offers and hookups but she had stopped him a few times from giving details. Mostly for her sake, so she didn’t see him as some sort of deviant- even if he was. Now, though, knowing she was potentially someone who could experience said things? Her curiosity was killing the cat. Her cat. Metaphorically speaking.

The man’s lips curled into a small smile as he saw her eager expression. He leaned back on the sofa, his arm stretched out behind her. He was throughly enjoying her nosiness- maybe for the first time- considering it gave him the perfect opportunity to tease her a bit more. "Oh, where do I even start... I have quite a few kinks, darling. But I have a feeling you'd like to hear about a certain one..."

“Okay… so tell me.” She rolled her hand to motion to him to continue. Patience really wasn’t Y/N’s strong suit and it was beginning to show, even if the smoking had initially relaxed her. “Let’s hear it. I want to know what I’d be getting myself into, besides greasy hands and the smell of motor oil.” Though she’d never admit how she’d learned to enjoy it, too.

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn't enjoying how intently she was looking at him, how her gaze was fixed on his every move. He leaned forward just a bit, his voice dropping lower as he continued* "Alright, y’wanted to know, you'll get to know like the princess y’are. But keep in mind, I've got a few of these, not just one." The taunting made her give him that impatient look he was used to, snickering under his breath as she bore her eyes into him.

“Okay. Lay them on me, tell me!” She huffed, knocking his knee. “You’re edging for no reason. I already know that one because you’re gross. Tell me the real stuff.”

Raising a brow at her eagerness, he leaned back again with his arm still draped behind her. He began speaking again, letting his voice drop a bit. "Alright, just a little tiny taste then… See if you can handle it. I've got a thing for power dynamics, darling. Particularly, I like to be in control."

“Mm… I could have guessed that. You’ve got the whole smolder thing, and you do the…” Y/N put her hand behind his neck before pulling it off. “Then you do the neck holding thing when we go out. You like to control where people go. Boss me around. So I had a clue. Give me one I wouldn’t expect.”

The perceptive observations hadn’t been something he expected, but it did amuse him. He reached up to brush a strand of her hair away from her face, his fingers lingering against her skin.

"You know me too well, little dove." He muttered, his eyes sparkling with mischief. This was a conversation he was enjoying. Not one he anticipated tonight, no, but one that had him on the edge of his metaphorical seat. His real seat was leaned against the back of the couch. "Okay then... how about this? I also enjoy a bit of exhibitionism. Kinky enough for you?"

“Oh?” She sat with it for a moment. “Actually… that makes sense too. You’re understated in public but you still get a lot of attention. Behind the scenes you’re an attention whore and stuff, which I know first hand but… yeah.” She huffed. “Damn. Can’t believe I didn’t guess that sorta stuff.” Another question popped into her mind. “Wait… what have you done with that? Are you talking like. Dressing rooms, cars? Or in front of people for real?”

Harry grinned as she continued to analyze his kinks, watching her as she went through it in her head. Had she thought about it before on her own? That wasn’t something he’d mind, in all honest. He chortled at her question and leaned back, his arm wrapped behind her. He didn't want to reveal too much but he was enjoying this back and forth. Maybe a tad bit more than he should be.

"You've got good instincts, darling. Yes, I enjoy exhibitionism. And yeah, both dressing rooms and cars are on the list. But not just that... I like a bit more of an audience sometimes. But that’s a different conversation. I can explain why I like it, though. Since you seem to be so curious.”

“Do tell.” Yes, maybe she was a little nosy but… it was slightly arousing. Harry was interesting to her before but now, with the idea of her being in those scenarios, she felt an elevated desperation to know.

Harry noticed how her eyes darkened with excitement as she listened to him and it made a feeling of satisfaction twist in his gut. Having an effect on her was something he hadn’t realized he’d enjoy so much, but now that he had a taste he wanted to see more of it. He shifted a bit closer, his voice dropping into a low whisper. "I like the thrill of being caught. The danger of it, y’know? I love that it’s risky, that your adrenaline pump and you’ve got t’be quiet. Or you don’t, and you have people see- when it’s appropriate.” That was something he’d experienced a few times. “I’ve had it happen before. Maybe I could arrange that, if that’s something you’d want. People watching, not touching, just watching me touch you... and I’d touch you plenty, darling."

“I think um, I’d like it” It was hard to talk with how her tongue felt tied. “I’ve not done a lot of it but I think I’d be open to seeing and doing more of it.” Her voice weakened, feeling him close to her. His cologne was warm and slightly spiced, his fingertips brushing her arm. Y/N had never experienced the sort of thing he was describing. The most she had done was fuck in a car. “Y-Yeah. I think that’s something we could um… try.” She cleared her throat, trying not to show how affected she actually was. It was hard not to. “What other kinks? Anything I wouldn’t guess?”

Harry saw right through her attempts to seem unbothered and he grinned, his hand continuing to lightly brush against her shoulder. He was enjoying the effect he had on her, the more the minutes passed by. It was a brand new side of her that he hadn’t been privy too prior, but now that he had a chance to? He was going to indulge.

"Glad you're up for trying it, darling. And as for other kinks..." He paused for a moment, his gaze trailing over her body before he spoke again in a deeper voice.

"I'm also into a bit of rope bondage, but that’s for another day too. The typical things you’d expect in kink too, the rougher stuff sometimes, but I really like working you up until you can’t take it anymore. Making you desperate, y’know?"

“Ropes?” She swallowed the shock. “Oh. Hm…” it made sense given the other things but for some reason she hadn’t expected him to be into actual ropes. “I’d have thought maybe more handcuffs but you do like being difficult, don’t you?”

It was a joke but it slightly intimidated her. Nothing she wouldn’t try, though. She trusted him to do that sort of thing with her, if they got to it.

Harry hummed at her surprise and leaned a little closer, his hand coming up to her chin to tilt her face towards him. His eyes locked with hers, his tone serious. It was hard to ignore how beautiful she was now that he was allowed to think that way. It was something he’d tried to limit his brain from indulging in before, but knowing he’d have all the rights to be the one to stare and touch her, he felt like a layer had been peeled back.

"Yeah, darling, I like being difficult. And I like being in control. But we'll take it slow, alright?" He saw the hint of intimidation on her face and the small act of rebellion he liked to see in her. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, her skin hot and soft under his touch. “Nothin’ you don’t want t’do. I’ll make sure you're comfortable. Even if you’re a miserable little brat sometimes.”

“I…” her train of thought was stalled by the tender touch. Harry was… he was being a lot more liberal with his touches. Sometimes he was when he was high in general but this itself had her feeling hot under her skin. There was that intention now that this was slightly more than what friends do. “I can’t lie and say I’m not slightly intimidated by the thought of us doing stuff together. You’ve done a lot more than me.” She admitted meekly.

Harry simpered as he heard her confession and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He appreciated her honesty, understanding her intimidation. It would be the same for him in her position, but luckily he was going to use his advantage for good. "I know I've done more than you, but that's not a good nor a bad thing. Everyone is experienced in their own way, darling. And that's the point of us doing this... to explore each other, to learn what the other likes." He ran his hand down her arm, his fingers lightly tracing her skin, sending chills across her body.

His fingers curled around her wrist, lightly pulling her up and leading her to straddle his lap. This wasn’t at all where she had expected this night to go but… she couldn’t complain. With her nerves aside, Harry was by far one of the most attractive people she had ever met. There was no way she could turn away the opportunity to feel the way he touched someone romantically.

“You’re really okay not sleeping with anyone else in order to do stuff with me?”

Harry gazed up at her as she straddled his lap, his hands sliding up her thighs, pulling her closer against him. He looked up at her with a mix of desire and affection, appreciating her concern for his boundaries. "I'm absolutely fine with it," he assured her, his voice a low rumble. "I don't want anyone else." His hand came up, gently cupping her jaw. "I want to make you feel good, Y/N. I want to give you all the pleasure you deserve, and I want to be the only one doing it."

Y/N let out a weak sound as his lips pressed against the corner of her mouth. Having him so close was making her feel lightheaded, placing her hands on his shoulders as he tugged her closer to him, chest to chest.

“What do you want to do tonight?” She mumbled, eyes dropping to his lips back up to his eyes. “We don’t have to do like, everything and stuff but… I dunno.” The weed definitely made her aroused.

Harry chuckled softly, his lips just barely grazing the corner of her mouth, teasing her again. Feeling her body against his, her hands on his shoulders, it sent a wave of heat through his body. He doubted she knew that he’d started getting aroused when she started talking about what he’d be into.

"You're cute when you're bashful, darling. And high." He teased, his lips curving into a smirk as he spoke against her skin. "As for what I want to do... I just want to enjoy this moment. Maybe smoke a bit more, later. But mostly I just want to touch you."

“O-okay. You can touch me however you want.” Giving him that opening was bold, but she also knew she needed to just let him take charge. He said he liked to dom, so he would take care of her. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt soft presses of his lips over her cheek, down to her jaw.

“You smell really good.”

Harry could feel himself holding back the pleased noise. The little compliment was a welcomed one, but he didn’t get them often from her. It was a new part of their dynamic but he couldn’t find himself upset with it. In fact, he was going to do everything he could to get some more out of her. He glanced at her, enjoying the way her eyes closed in response to his touch. Running his nose down the column of her neck, he took a little inhale of her scent. Sugary Sweet. Just like her.

"So do you, darling." He spoke against her skin.

In a test of how she’d react, he let his hands slid under her shirt, his fingers tracing along her bare skin. There was no stiffening, so he continued slowly moving closer to the hem of her bra. His lips continued their path down, leaving behind a trail of tingling sensations and wet marks on her skin.

The shaky exhale was louder than she had wanted, his hot fingertips burning a trail over her skin. He took the permission to heart, tracing the bottom of her bra as his lips moved down her collarbone.

Her breathing hitched as she felt his teeth sink into the skin lightly, a firm sucking making her fingers grip his shoulders tightly and nails dig into him just a bit. “Oh, shit… why does that feel good?”

Harry giggled against her skin as he felt her nails digging into his shoulders, enjoying the fact he was already getting a reaction out of her. He continued to kiss and bite her skin, occasionally sucking on the sensitive parts, marking his territory and drawing out more sounds from her.

"Cause I know what I'm doing, darling." He murmured against her skin before biting her collarbone again, this time a bit rougher.

“Oh my god.” She keened, head falling back as her hand came up to cup the back of his head. Fingers curled in his hair, feeling his mouth mark her up while his hand went under her bra, cupping her in his palms. “Fuck.”

Y/N felt the pulsing between her slick thighs, her sleep shorts riding up as she shuffled closer and pressed his mouth harder against her skin. It had been a while since she’d gotten laid but it was a little embarrassing how quickly he managed to get her to feel completely insane.

The sounds of her keening and breathing and the feeling of her arching into his touch was making his own need for her grow. His lips continued to work her her skin, marking and kissing and doing all the things he wanted because it felt like heaven to have this on tap. He could only imagine how much better their smoking sessions would be, how much more fun sleepovers would be if he got to love her up like this without a second thought.

“H…” she whimpered. Rocking her hips slightly, she rubbed against his bulge she could feel clearly between her thighs. “You’re h-hard already?”

Harry hummed quietly, feeling a thrill as she rubbed against him. His lips curled into a smirk against her skin before he lifted his head up, looking at her with darkened eyes. "Yeah, 'course I am, darling. You have no idea what you do to me, do you?"

Moving his hands back down to her hips, he gripped them tightly to grind himself against her. Give her a taste of just how hard his cock got for her. There was no reason for her to doubt. “You did this, sweet girl. S’all your fault.”

“Oh, shit.” She groaned, giggling at the end as she felt his mouth fall onto her chest. Wet, sloppy kisses were placed on the tender skin as she felt him guide her back and forth, setting a pace for the friction. “I can’t tell if it’s been a long time or if uh… if you’re just really good at this.”

Both. It was absolutely both.

Harry chuckled against her chest, his breath hot against her skin before his smirk widened.

"Mm, I would like to think it's because I'm really good at this," his hands guided her hips, setting a slow, torturous pace. "But maybe also a bit of both. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

“Uh-huh.” She nodded. “9 months.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at her response and tilted his head to the side.

"Nine months? Damn, babe." He murmured, his hands going under her shirt, his fingers tracing up her sides, making her shiver. Getting the reactions from her felt almost as good as her rubbing over his cock. "That's a long time."

“Just didn’t find anyone good enough to let in my bed.” She retorted, using her grip on his head to guide him back to her chest. “Take my shirt off.”

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He quickly pulled her shirt off, throwing it over his shoulder, before his hands came back up to her body, slowly tracing up her stomach, his fingers brushing over her skin. The thought had been there quite a few times over what she’d look like bare, but this was a brand new vision for him. One he absolutely adored.

"Beautiful." He murmured, his gaze wandering over her chest as he took in the sight of her bare skin, his breathing growing a bit heavier.

Her voice interrupted his inspection of her body. “Bra, too, please. Have to bite the bullet.” Despite her nerves that maybe he wouldn’t like what he saw, she felt comfortable with him. Harry wouldn’t ever make her feel bad. That much she knew for certain.

Plus… she wanted to feel more of his mouth.

Harry chuckled softly and nodded, his gaze locking with hers for a moment as he ran his fingers over the straps of her bra, pulling them down over her shoulders.

"You're so beautiful, darling. Don't ever feel nervous around me," his reassurance grounded her, his voice gentle but firm.

He reached behind her back, quickly unclasping her bra and pulling it off, tossing it away. Taking a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him, his eyes lit with desire. “God. You don’t even understand how phenomenal you are, do you? M’a lucky son of a bitch that you’re letting me touch you at all.”

Y/N continued to rub herself against him, feeling flushed at the praise. It was embarrassing that she had a pretty good idea that her sleep shorts were getting soaked, but she was swollen and wet and the motions itself of him between her legs were getting her embarrassing close.

Feeling his mouth kiss over the naked skin, she let out a moan that she hadn’t expected to. He was delicate but demanding, taking what he wanted.

Harry groaned as he felt her rubbing herself harder against him, his hands gripping her hips tightly to guide her movements. He couldn't resist the need building up inside him, the need to make her moan and whimper and squirm beneath him.

"You sound so pretty, darling," The compliment murmured against her skin, his lips traveling down her chest, stopping every so often to leave wet kisses, claiming every inch of skin he could. Selfish, possessive, needy. He wouldn’t deny any three of those allegations should she so choose to label him.

“It’s gonna feel so good when you’re inside of me.” She whispered, almost in awe. He was thick and long and she could feel every inch under her. It was almost intimidating to feel it and know that was going to be inside of her at some point. “But I… we have to wait for that. Wanna do that when we aren’t all… you know.” High. At least the first time they fucked, she wanted to be sober completely. “I think I could get off just like this, though. I feel so good right now.”

Harry nodded, his lips continuing to leave wet kisses on her skin, his hands roaming up her sides as he continued to grind himself against her.

"Impatient, aren't you, darling?" He teased, nipping at her neck before moving his mouth to her ear, whispering in it. "You'll just have to wait for that, though. But...there's always other ways to get us both off, hm?"

“Which way?” She breathed, eager to hear any and all suggestions he had.

Harry held her gaze, his eyes dark and full of desire as he spoke in a low, husky tone.

"Let me show you."

He gently pushed her back until she was laying down, his hands running down her thighs, pushing them apart slowly. Shifting his position, he hovered over her, his body fitting perfectly between her legs. His weight rested on his forearms as he looked down at her, she felt her world right itself from how it had been tipped over.

Y/N hadn’t expected the shift of direction but she liked it. Feeling him on top of her, she felt… delicate. Protected. Even if his gaze was predatory and hot, she knew he was good hands to be in.

She also hadn’t expected his hands to grab her shorts, pulling them off and tossing them to the side- but as soon as her panties were exposed, he settled back between her thighs. It was less of a barrier between them.

Harry hummed in approval as he got a glimpse of her panties, taking a moment to admire the sight before him. "You're so fucking wet, darling. Made a mess of those useless shorts. Panties aren’t much better." He murmured, his eyes roaming over her body before they went back up to her face. "And I fuckin’ love that you're all mine right now."

Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. Grabbing his face, she pulled it back up to her own and kissed him. Taking matters into her own hands, she felt him reciprocate immediately. And god, could the man fucking kiss.

Harry let out a soft curse at her sudden action but didn't hesitate to kiss her back through it all, his lips moving against hers hungrily. He pressed his body closer against hers, trapping her beneath him as his tongue delved into her mouth, greedily tasting and claiming her like he had been teasing the whole time.

“I wish you could fuck me right now.” She whimpered, feeling him rock against her. His cock perfectly pressed against her cunt and their mouths lapping against one another’s, it was heated and desperate. They couldn’t, not right now, but the idea of it had her slick and throbbing. It was unfair how her body was so primed and ready for him but she had to do the right thing. He’d feel so perfect inside of her and she’d be so full and they both knew it. “I wish you were inside me.”

Harry groaned at her words, the sound almost like a growl as he buried his face against her neck, his breathing getting heavier as he heard her whimper. He rocked his hips against her, his own need growing stronger with every second that passed.

"You have no idea how badly I want that, darling. But we can't...not yet." He whispered against her skin, his hands gripping her hips tightly. “I’m plenty patient, though. I’ll wait for you to want it, and then…” the pause was heavy. “Then I’ll give you every fucking thing you’ve ever wanted out of a fuck. Can promise you that.”

“I know. I know.” There was no doubt that he was fully and utterly capable. She swallowed back her desperation, wrapping her legs around his hips to pull them closer. “You just feel so good against me. I never expected this…” she whispered against his mouth. “But I’m so happy you decided to be horny and suggest it.”

Harry laughed, leaning down to press his lips against her neck again, licking at the skin as he continued to move his hips against hers, his body hot and heavy against hers. He lifted his head up slightly, looking down at her with darkened eyes as he took in how she had started to look a little blissed out. Just how he wanted her.

"I didn't expect it either, darling. But... I'm glad I did." He murmured, his fingers caressing her skin as he settled into a slow, steady rhythm. Rubbing back and forth, rocking his clothed cock into the sticky heat of her ruined panties, he knew her scent would be on them and that just sort of did something to him. Her own mark left on him.

Y/N felt the bubbling pleasure in her tummy. Feeling him rutting against her, the softness of his tongue as it brushed against her own, his hand curled around the back of her neck in such a possessive and firm grip, she felt controlled in the best way. Her eyes rolled back as she felt him grind harder against her.

“Fuck, Daddy. That feels so fucking good, feeling you against my cunt.” She purred, keeping herself glued to him. There was a pause of moment but she could feel him twitch against her, the sharp intake of breath as he tried to catch himself. It had been a shot in the dark, but one that hit the bullseye. “You like when I call you that? Does it make you feel good too?”

The reaction was visible. The man liked it more than she could even seem but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to play into it to see just how far it went. “Daddy… daddy…. Dadddy.” She taunted, whispering it against his skin. “You’ll make me cum like this. Just keep grinding into me…. Just like this.”

Harry groaned at her response, his lips moving down to her neck, leaving biting kisses in his path. The honorific had him weak, even more worked up than he had thought he could be in this scenario. Little Y/N was getting bolder by the minute and he fucking adored it. It made him wonder what else he could get out of her.

"You're gonna get it, darling. Jus’ be patient and let me make you feel nice, the way you’ve been wantin’ too." he murmured against her skin, his hips continuing to move against hers, keeping a steady pace. His hand cupped her chin, forcing her to look up at him, his eyes dark and intense as he looked down at her. "Daddy's gonna take such good care of you, Y/N. Don’t ever doubt it."

Harry was hot to the touch, her fingers guiding his face back to kiss her as he ground his cock into her. She could feel how it twitched against her, her legs keeping him close so they could stay glued together. “That feels…” she babbled. “S’good. So good, H. I feel so hot and I’m so fucking wet and I wish there wasn’t anything between us but we gotta be good. So good.” She rambled. It was hard to control what left her mouth. She would call it temporary insanity if he brought it up again outside of their arrangement, but the simple movements were making her lose her goddamn head.

Harry's breathing was getting heavier by the minute, his heart pounding against his chest like they wanted to escape his ribcage as he continued to rock his hips against hers. He felt hot and needy, every fiber of his being screaming to be closer to her, but he held himself back, knowing that they had to at least try to be good. He’d get to sink his cock into that hot cunt another day, make her cum around it and squeeze and milk every drop from his balls into her. That was something he was going to look forward to. But for right now they were testing the waters, and he liked it way more than he thought he would.

"Y’feel so good, darling. So, so fuckin’ good, can barely stand it." He murmured against her lips, letting the praise flow easily off his tongue. It’s what the woman deserved. All these shitty hookups and no one knew how to get to those little itches she couldn’t scratch- but he could read her so easily. Harry knew what she needed. "You're doing so well for me, being so good. Daddy's proud of you."

The last sentence made her whine out loud. Pleasure flowed through her at his praise, wanting more of it. All of it. It had been so long since she had been touched by someone else, and while the last person she had expected to do it was her best friend, she had also never felt this level of desperation.

Harry could feel her body responding to his words, her whimpers and whines making his own desire for her grow even more. He loved knowing that his praise was making her feel good, that she needed to hear his words. He continued to murmur sweet, filthy things in her ear as his body moved against hers, his need for her growing more and more intense with every second.

"That’s my girl, sweetheart. You're doing so well for me, letting me take care of you like this."

He knew it had been a long time for her, felt it in how she kissed. Selfishly he would be glad to be the one she got to take care of her. No one else really deserved it. Maybe he didn’t either, but he cared for her genuinely. He liked her and he wanted the best for her- so that’s what he was going to do.

“M’gonna cum, daddy.” She whispered. “I feel it. You’re getting my clit so perfect each time you move… god, s’so embarrassing to cum dry humping but I forgot how good it feels.” Or maybe it just hadn’t ever felt this good with anyone else. It had been a while, sure, but she hadn’t actually had dry sex with someone since she was sneaking around with her boyfriends back home. Something about it made her know that it had to be a Harry thing, though. That he’s the reason it felt this fucking good and why she was desperate for it.

Harry could feel her words shooting straight to his core, his body growing hotter in response. He could tell that she was close before she had even said so, by the way her body trembled against him, by the way her words got breathier and more desperate. Hearing her say so only made him more eager to get there.

"That's it, sweetheart. Let daddy make you feel good, darling." Harry murmured in her ear, his hands gripping her tighter, his body moving against hers more frantically now as he chased his own release alongside hers. She was going to cum, she was going to cum because of him and fuck if that wasn’t the sweetest reward he could think of- he wasn’t sure what was. "You're doing so perfect for me. Just let go for me. You can do it. I've got you, sweet girl."

Y/N felt it approach quicker than she had wanted. It was no wonder, though. Harry was giving her everything she didn’t know she needed in the simplest way, and he wasn’t even inside of her yet. She felt safe and appreciated as his fingers held her and his lips cooed encouragement to her, the rhythmic back and forth of his cock rutting against her poor, soaked panties, the heat boiling over.

“I’m gonna- m’cumming, m’cumming, I’m cumming Daddy- Harry.” She babbled as her eyes welled up with pleasured tears, nails digging into his skin as she came.

Harry's breathing hitched as he felt her grip on him, her hands digging into his skin and her body trembling against his as she came. “There you go baby, there you fuckin’ go. Yes.” He gasped, feeling himself tip over the edge. His name leaving her lips in a strangled whimper had been the final straw, his own release hitting him like a wave, his body shuddering against hers as he followed her over the edge. Shooting right into his briefs, he felt the hot and sticky load and momentarily mourned the loss of it not being inside of her, but it was quickly passed over as the orgasm washed over him.

"God, darling," the man groaned, his voice low and rough as he buried his face against her neck. Mouthing over the skin as he tried to gather his bearings, he mumbled sweetness into her. "You did so well for me, sweetheart. You're so perfect. So good for me. Sweetest fuckin’ peach."

The loud groan that followed her own had caught her off guard, the sharp thrusts of his hips making her cry out in overstimulation but she did little to stop it, keeping her legs around his hips. “What the fuck was that?” She laughed, head falling back on the sofa with her eyes blurry and wet. It was hard to think.

Harry couldn’t say anything, his own brain fuzzy and his body in overload after that climax. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his forehead resting on her shoulder. His curls brushed her skin, scalp slightly damp as her fingers settled in the mess of hair and brushed through it without a second thought.

"Bloody fuckin’ hell, babe." Harry finally managed to say, his voice a bit shaky. "That was… incredible." He lifted his head up, looking down at her disheveled and flushed form, his eyes roaming over her.

It was just dry sex, but it had been better than some of the full on stuff he’d had. Maybe it was just their connection, their vibe, maybe even being high, but he knew it felt impeccable. This was something he wanted to revisit- and he would, especially when he was all alone with his hand on his cock.

“If it feels good like that, what the hell are we gonna do when we do the real thing?” Y/N blinked up at him, the flush of her orgasm glowing on her skin. She felt her body shivering slightly, her poor panties a complete mess she’d need to change into, but there was no regret so far. It took her by surprise considering she had been anticipating a bit of awkwardness between the both of them but there was no hint of it as they recovered, a light kiss pressed over her cheek as his hazy eyes looked down at her.

Harry let out a half-laugh, his body still feeling heavy and spent after that intense release- one that had been a welcomed surprise. There had been no prior indication that would be happening tonight but for as insane as it was that it happened, he was more than happy that it did. Getting to experience this side of Y/N had been something he liked far more than he could have ever anticipated.

Leaning down, his forearms rested on either side of her head as his eyes locked with hers while he spoke. "I have a feeling that the real thing will be earth-shattering." He said, his voice low and slightly hoarse. "The wait might kill me, though."

1K notes · View notes

softspiderling · 5 months

Text

god, it's brutal out here | r.c.

summary:

“And yet you’re still thinking of your ex,” Barry finished the sentence, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you get back together with her?”

“She doesn’t want me.”

“God, fucking Country Club,” Barry snickered. “You’re fucking dense.”

OR; 5 times your friends share their unsolicited opinions about your and Rafe’s break up.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of c*caine

word count: 5,4k

author’s note: the long awaited sequel of so obsessed with your ex! this can be read as a standalone fic, but there are little easter eggs hidden all over, which will be more fun if you read the first part! it's a little bit longer than I had planned, but there was no way around it. I hope you enjoy it so so much!!!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I Wheezie

“Hey Wheeze.”

You had accepted the facetime without looking at your phone, keeping it rested on a shelf while you were halfway into your closet, trying to find a dress.

“Does Rafe have a new girlfriend??”

Pausing, you shut your eyes, letting out a silent exhale before you picked up the phone, giving Wheezie a wry smile through the camera.

“Nice to see you too.”

The girl only looked at you, unimpressed and her arms crossed. You sighed, running a hand through your hair, knowing you didn’t have a way out of this conversation. Grabbing your phone, you sat down on your bed.

“Yes, Rafe has a new girlfriend.”

“I knew it!” Wheezie shrieked, throwing her arms up, and you only shook your head in exasperation. The tendency for drama clearly was in the Cameron genes. Wheezie frowned, getting closer to your phone as she looked at you.

“Why am I more upset about this than you are?”

You bit back another sigh. “Because Rafe and I are broken up, Wheeze. He’s allowed to date other people, matter of fact, I’m really glad that he has moved on.”

“Bullshit!”

“Wheezie!”

Wheezie rolled her eyes, but she sat back down, crossing her arms over her chest again. “I don’t like her.”

“You don’t even know her,” you sighed, rubbing your temple, feeling a migraine coming on.

“This is crazy!” Wheezie exclaimed. “You and Rafe never should’ve broken up in the first place! Rafe is probably only dating her to make you jealous so you’ll take him back.”

You couldn’t help but snort at that, Wheezie clearly watched way too many rom-coms. She frowned at you.

“Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny, this is, like, super un-funny.”

“Because, Wheeze,” you started, plucking a feather out of your pillow. “This isn’t some 90’s rom-com where I see Rafe with Rebecca and suddenly a sad song is playing. This is real life. We are broken up.”

“I still don’t understand why.”

“Remember when we used to fight all the time? And I was just always sad?”

Wheezie was quiet, her lips still pursed. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. Couples fight all the time, doesn’t mean you just have to break up.”

“Yes, couples fight all the time and they don’t have to break up, but it was the right decision for me and Rafe,” you said, your tone final. Wheezie looked at you, her frown slowly smoothing down.

“If you say so,” she muttered, not quite convinced. She stared down at her chipped finger nails, before she looked up again. “Can we still talk?”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Of course we can still talk, why wouldn’t we?”

“I don’t know… I mean, you’re gonna find a new boyfriend and maybe he has a younger sister as well and then I’ll just be your ex’s younger sister.”

“Wheeze,” you said, fondly, knowing where she was coming from. You had been in her life for most of her teenage years, it must be weird not having you around anymore. “We’ll still talk, no matter if I get a new boyfriend or not, even if he has a cool younger sister, or even three.”

Wheezie smiled, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re so dumb.”

“Yet you still want me around,” you teased. “How about you, Sar and I go get some ice cream and then to the movies this weekend?”

“Sounds good,” Wheezie replied with a big smile. She paused when someone called her name from somewhere in the house, before she turned back to her phone. “I gotta go, Rose needs me. I’ll text you later.”

“Alright, Wheeze. Talk to you later, be good.”

Wheezie waved into the camera, before the facetime ended. Your smile dropped and you tossed your phone on your bed with a sigh, letting yourself fall back on your bed. Even six months after the break up it was still hard to talk about Rafe, and now that he had a new girlfriend, you thought it’d be easier to get over him, but all it did was hurt more. It didn’t help that Rafe was still texting you every now and then. Nothing scandalous, just small texts, but you never replied. You both agreed on no contact after the break up, because you thought it’d give you a better opportunity to heal. You should’ve known he’d break it. Picking up your phone, you unlocked it, swiping to your messages.

Rafe [11/30/23: 1:43 am]: couldn’t sleep. remember when we took out the boat at two am bc we both drank a red bull at ten?

Rafe [11/30/23: 11:22 am]: sorry, i was drinking. didn’t mean to text you. hope you’re doing good

Rafe [12/25/23: 2:44 pm]: merry christmas. it’s weird without you.

Rafe [01/01/24: 01:02 am]: happy new year’s.

Rafe [01/05/24: 9:56 pm]: are you really not gonna text me back?

Rafe [01/27/24: 3:07 am]: i miss you

Rafe [02/12/24: 12:05 pm]: saw you at the party last night. you looked so fucking pretty. took everything in me not to talk to you.

Rafe [03/01/24: 7:12 pm]: idk if you care or not, but i still wanted to let you know. i’m seeing someone

You never replied to any of the texts, knowing it was for the better. You could block him, but you never brought it over your heart to do so, telling yourself you wanted him to reach you in case of emergency, but deep down, you didn’t want to block him.

Just incase.

II Barry

“Want some C?” Barry asked as greeting, presenting Rafe a small baggie with white powder in it as soon as he walked onto the lot.

“Nah,” Rafe declined, already feeling jittery enough without it, “Won’t say no to a beer though.”

Barry let out a grunt, tossing the baggie on the table, disappearing inside the trailer. Rafe took a seat in one of the chairs, running his hand over his buzzed head, bouncing his leg nervously. He had needed to get out of the house for a while. Ever since Rebecca pulled the picture out of the drawer, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Again.

Which is fucked up, really. He thought he got over you, he didn’t want to be the guy who thought about his ex while having a whole ass girlfriend. The door to the trailer opened with a slam, Barry exiting with two beer cans, handing Rafe one of them. The can was ice cold in his hands, and the cold liquid helped with his racing heart. He let out a sigh, rubbing a thumb over his eye brow. Rafe took another gulp of the beer, almost drinking the entire can in one go, while Barry watched him, assessing.

“You good?”

Rafe nodded, setting the can on the table.

“Yeah, jus’ stressed.”

“Work, or…?”

Barry trailed off without finishing his sentence and Rafe didn’t answer, wiping a finger over his jaw, which was clenched to the max.

Barry eyed him skeptically, leaning back in his chair. “How’s Mrs. Country Club?”

Rafe let out a loud sigh, tipping his head back, like he always did when he was annoyed with Barry.

“Barry, I don’t know if all the drugs you’re taking are starting to get to your memory, but we broke up.”

“Don’t be fucking rude,” he said, kicking Rafe’s chair. Not hard enough for it to tip over, but hard enough for Rafe to grip onto the arm rests, glaring at his friend. “How’d you know I wasn’t talking ‘bout your new girl?”

“Because you always call her Becky,” Rafe pointed out, giving him a look.

Barry shrugged, taking a sip from his beer. “You still know who ‘m talking about, so what’s the problem?”

“Problem is, it’s disrespectful. You know that’s not her name.”

“You’re still hung up on your ex while dating Becky, so who’s really disrespecting her?”

Rafe’s head shot up and the glare he sent Barry was deadly.

“Fuck this shit, and fuck you,” he snapped, pushing himself up from the chair, but Barry grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“Boy, sit down.”

Rafe scowled at him, before sitting back down, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. He did not come all the way out to the cut to get called out like this.

“If you came here to be coddled, you went to the wrong person.”

“I don’t need to be coddled,” Rafe muttered with an eyeroll. “Just wanted to let off some steam.”

“So?” Barry snorted, waving his hands around. “Steam away.”

Rafe scoffed, scooting down in his chair, shaking his head. “Do you think I want to think of her? I fucking hate feeling like this. Bex is nice, and she’s hot. And yet-”

“And yet you’re still thinking of your ex,” Barry finished the sentence, rubbing his chin. “Why don’t you get back together with her?”

“She doesn’t want me.”

“God, fucking Country Club,” Barry snickered. “You’re fucking dense.”

“Nah, you don’t fucking get it, “ Rafe sneered, leaning his head in his hands. And he didn’t, not really. Which really wasn’t his fault. Rafe just didn’t want to talk about the break up with his friends. Physically couldn’t. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t told anyone why you broke up. Just made it feel all to real, he guessed.

“Nah, you’re right, I don’t,” Barry said, shaking his head. “All I know is, one day you’re all fucking sunshine and the next you’re more emo than that Friday girl.”

“What?” Rafe asked, lifting his head to stare at Barry in confusion.

Barry waved him off. “You know, that freaky girl from Netflix with the black lipstick.”

“Do you mean Wednesday?”

“Yeah, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, all the same to me,” Barry huffed. “Point is, life’s too fucking short to do things that don’t make you happy.”

“Bex makes me happy.”

Barry gave him a long, hard look, squinting his eyes at him. “Yeah, right. Whatever makes you sleep at night.”

Rafe stared back at him before shaking his head, finishing the last of his beer before crushing the empty can in his hand, declining to answer, because he knew he couldn’t convince Barry.

He wasn’t even convinced himself.

III Topper

top [05/03/24: 4:06 pm]: gonna be at alex’s later tonight with rafe and rebecca just fyi if you wanted to come

mrs. rafe [05/03/24: 4:57 pm]: k, thanks for letting me know

—— NEW MESSAGE ——

top [05/04/24: 1:37 am]: can you pick me up?

It was Saturday night, a little past your bedtime for a night in. You were getting ready for bed, exiting the bathroom when your phone buzzed in your hand. Lifting it, you read the new text, not quite believing he’d make you do this. What the fuck was he thinking asking you to pick him up? Shaking your head in disbelief, you typed out an answer.

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: topper no

Before you could put the phone away, your phone already buzzed with an answer, and you nearly didn’t want to read whatever lame ass excuse he came up with, your hand stilling when your eyes flit over his text.

top [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: please, i don’t want to get a ride with rafe and rebecca

top [05/04/24: 1:41 am]: she asked me so many questions about you and i can’t be around rafe rn or i’ll tell him

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:45 am]: … fine

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:47 am]: you’re so annoying

Cursing Topper and yourself for not going to bed sooner, you put on a sweatshirt and grabbed your keys and purse, typing out another text before you headed out of the house, getting into your car.

mrs. rafe [05/04/24: 1:49 am]: be there in ten

top [05/04/24: 1:50 am]: omg i owe you <3

Barely ten minutes later, you pulled up in front of Alex’ house, looking out for Topper, before you spotted him underneath a tree. You rolled to a stop next to him, giving him the most unimpressed look.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Topper groaned, getting into the car, shutting the door behind him.

You rolled your eyes, pulling off the curb without another word, driving towards Topper’s house.

“I’m really sorry for asking you to come get me, but Rafe was looking for me and I had too much to drink already to lie in his face,” Topper said, leaning his back against the headrest, shutting his eyes.

You desperately wanted to know what Rebecca had asked but you didn’t want to come off as the nosy ex, even if this was Topper. So as nonchalantly as you could, you asked: “What did you talk about?”

“Jesus,” Topper said, running a hand through his hair. “She asked me how you guys broke up and wanted details, too. Was super insistent, I was kinda scared actually.”

Okay, so just normal sussing out the ex, you could deal with that.

“What did you say?”

“That it was a mutual break up and I didn’t know why you broke up, just that you suddenly disappeared from each other’s lives.”

You sighed. That was the vaguest answer you’d ever heard.

“Why didn’t you just tell her why we broke up?”

Topper glanced at you, his brows knitted together.

“How can I tell her something I don’t know?”

“What?”

You slammed on the breaks, nearly sending Topper flying through the windshield because the idiot hadn’t buckled up, while you stared at him.

“What do you mean you don’t know why we broke up?”

“I don’t!” Topper exclaimed. “Rafe refuses to talk about it and you never told me either.”

“Because I assumed Rafe has told you! It’s been like six months!”

Blinking at Topper, it took you a few seconds to process, jumping when someone honked their horn at you, when you remembered you had stopped in the middle of the street.

“Shit,” you muttered, shifting gears to keep on driving, eyes flitting to Topper repeatedly.

“So…” he started. “Why did you guys break up?”

You gripped the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white, letting out a deep breath. When you had left to come pick Topper up, you hadn’t expected having to tell him why you and his best friend had broken up.

“I was getting so worried about him. He was so stressed about the company every day, took home so much work and Ward was breathing down his neck to keep the numbers up. I told him that I thought he should take a step back, maybe take a break or something, tried to convince him of going on a trip or something, but the more I said, the more he seemed to be pushing himself into work. It got so bad that we were fighting basically every day, and it just wasn’t working anymore. It felt like we were going in circles.”

You cleared your throat when you felt yourself getting choked up, vision turning a little blurry from the tears in your eyes.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Topper exclaimed, patting himself down, looking for some tissues.

“Don’t worry about it,” you snorted, wiping your tears away with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You were so wrapped up in trying to retell the break up, you hadn’t even noticed that you already reached Topper’s house. “I shouldn’t even still be getting so worked up over this after all this time,” you sniffed, turning your car off.

Topper looked at you, with that typical look on his face and you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can’t believe Rafe hasn’t told you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly? I think he might be in denial about it.”

You scoffed at him, shaking your head. Why was everyone so hung up over your break up?

“It’s been six months.”

Topper didn’t reply, his hand on the car door and you expected him to bid you good bye, but that was too easy.

“… Do you think you guys will get back together?”

“He has a girlfriend, Top.”

“Still. I don’t think that Rafe and Rebecca are gonna last very long.” Topper looked at you, pressing his lips together, before shaking his head. “Sorry. Thanks for coming and for getting me home. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

You nodded, giving him a small wave, and waited until he got out of the car, shutting the door behind him, before you turned your car on, pulling off.

“What the fuck,” you muttered to yourself, wiping the rest of the tears off as you drove home.

IV Kelce

“Kelce!”

Kelce looked up from the pool table, a smile growing on his face when he saw Rafe come down the basement, his friend wrapping an arm around him for a brief hug.

“Happy birthday, man,” Rafe said, handing Kelce a bottle of the expensive whiskey he always drank when he was at Rafe’s but too stingy to buy it for himself.

“Ah shit, you didn’t have to,” Kelce uttered, though his eyes were sparkling as he looked at the bottle in his hands. He handed the pool stick to one of the guys next to him, leading Rafe to the bar. He grabbed two glasses from the shelves, pouring Rafe and himself a good amount, offering one of the glasses to him.

“Cheers to you.”

The two clinked their glasses, before sipping on the whiskey. Kelce really enjoyed it, too, with the way he closed his eyes, and Rafe only snorted in his glass. Kelce peaked his eye open, shoving his friend fondly with a grin.

“Rebecca here?”

“Yeah, upstairs.”

Kelce hummed in thoughts, nodding absentmindedly. He stared into his glass, swishing the amber liquid around before he spoke up again.

“You know she’s here, too, right?”

Rafe tensed, knowing exactly that Kelce was talking about you, but he had expected it. Firstly, because you and Kelce had always been friends, and secondly because he had heard Sarah making plans with you to go together. Didn’t mean this felt any less of a punch to the gut. He really hoped he wouldn’t run into you, because he wasn’t quite sure what he’d do; all he knew was, that Bex wasn’t gonna like it. Rafe cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound nonchalant.

“I figured, yeah.”

“That okay?” Kelce asked, and Rafe was starting to get annoyed, rolling his eyes. Why was Kelce questioning him about you on his damn birthday? He tried to dampen his anger though, not wanting to ruin the night.

“Yes. It’s your birthday, man.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, Rafe knew he did a shit job of hiding his emotions, and Kelce eyed him suspiciously.

“I don’t get you guys,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You got a new girl, but you still haven’t gotten over your ex, clearly, but every time I mention her, you act like it’s the worst thing in the world, but neither of you have said a bad word about the other.

Rafe scoffed, though his heart started to race at the thought of you talking about him. He wondered what you had said, if you cared enough to ask about him, or if you had long moved on.

“Are you ever gonna tell me why you guys broke up?”

“Maybe next time.”

Kelce gave him a wry smile, knowing this was Rafe avoiding the topic again. He lifted his head when more people starting coming down the basement, curling his hand around Rafe’s shoulder to give him a squeeze.

“I really hope you figure it out bro, because this right now is not it.”

He then excused himself to welcome the new arrivals and Rafe gripped his glass, before downing it in one go.

“Alright, who wants to get destroyed in a round of pool?” he asked, clapping his hands together as he approached the pool table. Anything to stop himself from going upstairs to look for you.

V Sarah

“Oh my god, I thought you were gonna keep talking to her forever!”

You gave Sarah a look. She hadn’t even waited a minute after you left Rebecca on the couch before she started talking about her.

“I don’t have a problem with her.”

Sarah groaned, linking her arm with yours as to not lose you in the crowd that has formed in Kelce’s house. You were glancing around, hyper aware that you could run into Rafe any second, but you didn’t want Sarah to notice.

“I don’t understand how you can be so chill. Did you not see the picture she had in her purse?”

You sighed, brushing your hair back over your shoulder. Was this ever going to stop? “Sar, please.”

“Hello?? That was super freaky.”

“Maybe she was just cleaning up and wanted to throw it in the trash and forgot it in her purse.”

Sarah laughed dryly, shaking her head. “Bullshit! Admit that you find it weird.”

“Okay, maybe it is a little weird,” you admitted. “But don’t you do things that are a little weird sometimes? Maybe she’s just a little insecure. Which I wouldn’t blame her for, you’re so mean. Shouldn’t you try and be her friend or something?”

“Why? She’s not gonna be around much longer anyways, and I already have a friend.”

You rolled your eyes, fishing your keys out of your purse to unlock your car. Again with the sentiment that Rafe and Rebecca weren’t gonna last much longer. You decided against deeming that statement with an answer and got into your car, with Sarah getting into the passenger seat.

“Do you want to grab some burgers?” She asked, buckling up, like you hadn’t just told you that your ex and his new girlfriend weren’t gonna last.

You gave her a look as you tossed your purse to the back.

“What do you mean do I want to grab burgers? I thought you wanted to leave because you’re meeting John B early in the morning.”

Sarah blinked at you, before she reached out to give you a shove on the forehead. “I was lying so we could get away, stupid.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, starting your car as Sarah protested.

“What? I was getting weirded out by you being all besties with Rafe’s new girlfriend. I don’t even understand how you can be so nice to her knowing she’s all up on your man.”

“Pray tell, who’s my man again?”

“Don’t even,” Sarah huffed. “You guys dated forever, I know you still love each other. And let me tell you one thing,” she said, raising her eyebrows at you. “If you got a new boyfriend? Rafe would not be this nice to him like you were to Rebecca.” With that, Sarah crossed her arms over her chest, settling back against her seat.

You only sighed, starting your car in silence.

“Do you want to get burgers now or not?” you asked, extending a peace offer while looking over at Sarah. She glowered at you, before nodding with an eyeroll.

“Yes.”

BONUS + I Rafe

“I did, at the party last night… She said she’s happy that you have me, that she was worried about how you work too much.”

Rafe pushed the pasta on his plate around with his fork, too engrossed in his thoughts to even think about eating. He didn’t even notice how Dennis had stopped talking. Rafe looked up from his plate, only to see Dennis look at him intently, an amused grin on his face.

“Sorry, were you saying something?”

“I was saying a lot, but you seemed like you were on a completely different planet,” Dennis noted, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Rafe winced, putting his fork down.

“Sorry, I have a lot on my mind.”

“I can tell,” Dennis mused. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Something like that.”

Rafe sighed, leaning back in his chair. Ever since you broke up, Rafe has been assuming that you didn’t care about him anymore, that you had long moved on from him and your relationship. He thought that you resented him, blamed him for the break up, which was honestly the main reason why he went back to the dating scene so quickly; to get over you. But hearing that you still cared about him? Enough to be nice to his new girlfriend and even ask about him? He wondered if there was still a chance for him and you to be together again.

If it weren’t for the fact that he already had a girlfriend.

“Can I give you some unsolicited advice, son?”

“Do I have a choice?” Rafe asked with a wry grin and Dennis only let out a belly laugh, shaking his head.

“Rafe, most relationships these days end because of your own ego, from both parties. No matter how big the fight or problem seems, will it really be that important in hindsight?” Dennis asked him. “How long have you an your girl been together? Almost 5 years, no?”

Rafe nodded, not daring to correct Dennis. He had never outright told him that you had broken up in the first place.

“See, that’s half a decade. I can assure you, in another half, you’re not even gonna remember this fight.”

Yeah, I don’t know about that, Rafe thought.

“Do you love her?”

Turning his ring on his finger, Rafe let out a soft exhale, before nodding. “Yeah, I do.”

“See. Problem solved.”

Rafe lifted his head to grin at Dennis.

“Thanks. Is it okay if we cut today short?”

“Sure,” Dennis said, waving Rafe off when he reached for his wallet. “Lunch is on me. Go get your girl.”

“I will,” Rafe promised, pushing his chair back to stand up. “I just gotta take care of something else first.”

BONUS + II You

You were staring at your phone, text thread with Rafe open. It was Saturday night; you and Sarah had went out to a small beach party. Sarah had gone to fill her drink back up and you had used that time of solace to overthink. About Rafe.

For the past few week, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. And you blamed your friends for it, really. First Wheezie, then Topper and then Sarah? Somehow all of them said that the break up was the worst idea, and even though you had always second guessed the choice to break up, this was the first time you actually actively regretted it.

The way Sarah seemed so sure that Rafe and Rebecca weren’t going to last long. Maybe you were wrong and they weren’t as happy as you thought. But then again, it wasn’t any of your business, was it? Who were you to put your nose into their relationship?

God, you shouldn’t be doing this.

“How long does Sarah need to fill her drink back up?” You muttered to yourself, finishing your vodka soda and burying the cup in the sand next to you, when you heard foot steps approaching.

“Finally! I was about to send a search group out for you!” you exclaimed, standing up and dusting the sand off your lap. “Seriously, how long does it take for-”

You froze when you turned around just to see Rafe standing in front of you, instead of Sarah. Swallowing thickly, you blinked at him, caught off guard.

“Rafe, hey,” you said, opting for casual. “Sorry. I thought you were Sarah.”

The corners of Rafe’s mouth twitched. “Yeah, I could tell.”

You looked at him, sighing a bit wistfully (mostly) internally, before you shifted on your feet nervously. “It was nice to see you,” you said, and it was true. “But um… I think I’ll go look for Sarah.” You gave him a small smile, before walking towards, and then past him.

“You’re still worried about me.”

You let out a startled laugh, pausing mid-step to turn back to him. “What?”

“You told Rebecca that you were glad that I had her and that you worried I work too much.”

“Of course I’m still worried about you,” you huffed, brushing your hair back. “You can’t be surprised about that.”

Rafe looked at you, and you could tell that this was news to him.

“Rafe.”

Rafe let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “You didn’t reply to any of my texts. I thought you were mad at me or somethin’.”

“I didn’t reply to any of your texts because we said we’d do no contact for a while.

“Still,” Rafe muttered, kicking a rock. “I didn’t think it would be so easy for you-”

“And because you were happy with Rebecca, do you think it’s easy for me to see you with someone else?”

“I broke up with Rebecca last week.”

“What?!”

Mouth agape, you stared at him and Rafe only rubbed the back of his neck. “She… Wasn’t what I wanted.”

“Oh,” you only said, letting out a soft exhale. “I’m sorry about that.”

Rafe sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. His gaze was trained on the floor for a bit, before he lifted his head to look at you.

“I want to try again… I want us to try again.”

“Rafe…”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes wide and you didn’t move as Rafe took a step towards you, reaching for your hand. Your fingers were cold in his but they quickly warmed to his touch, and the way he laced his fingers with yours, felt all to familiar.

“I love you. I never should have agreed to breaking up. It was arguably the second stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“And what’s the stupidest?” you asked, corners of your mouth lifting.

“Not listening to you when you were just trying to help,” he answered, looking down at you, so vulnerable like you hadn’t seen him in a long time. “I rearranged my schedule at the company so I could take on less work, take more time off and relax. Take the time to get us to where we were before it all went shitty.”

Your heart was in your throat as you listened to him talk, unsure what to say.

“Rafe, I don’t know… “

“Baby, please,” he begged, squeezing your hand. “Do you love me, still?”

You scoffed. “That’s not fair.”

“Why? Because you do?”

“Of course I still love you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. “Do you know how hard it was for me to ignore your texts? To see you with another girl, so happy?”

Rafe shook his head, lifting his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I wasn’t. Not really.”

You let out another sigh, looking at the way your hands were intertwined, how your heart had stopped racing, before you nodded, looking up at him. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

A smile spread across Rafe’s face, so big it was so uncharacteristic for him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It was like that word switched a flip inside of him, as he grabbed you by your nape gently, to kiss you, slotting his lips against your, and as your lips touched, it felt like you were finally home again. You only pulled away to breathe, both of you staring at each other like you couldn’t quite realize this was happening.

Sarah [05/11/2024: 10:45 pm]: (sent to 4 contacts) [picture attached: blurry photograph of you and Rafe kissing at the beach]

Topper [05/11/2024: 10:46 pm]: thank god.

Kelce [05/11/2024: 10:51 pm]: FINALLY!

Wheezie [05/11/2024: 10:59 pm]: !!!!!!

Barry [05/11/2024: 11:02 pm]: read at 11:02 pm

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: sooo.... what are we thinking?

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey #outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction

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inkydeeeeeeew · 4 months

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So like, I'm reading Return of the King and Faramir is kind of a total chad. But like, just in a straight talking, no bullshitting kind of way. He's like, Eowyn, not only are you hot, you're awesome, and we should go out, but even if we don't, we should definitely hang out. In this garden of the Houses of Healing. And she's like, Aragorn will never love me and I missed my chance to die in battle, so I guess we can hang out. So they hang out and they both get better, but then he leaves to do his job as Steward of Gondor and she starts getting sick again and Eomer calls Eowyn back to Rohan to prepare for Aragorn's coronation, but she declines. Faramir finds out she's getting sick again, so he goes to see her and he's like, there are only 2 reasons why you're still around and she's like, I do not have the fucking TIME for riddles. Speak plainly. And he's like, either you're staying here because you're avoiding Aragorn's coronation OR you're staying here because...I am here. And I hope it's the second reason. And she's like, uh... I don't have time for Aragorn's pity and I've lost all chance of valor because the war is over. And Faramir is like, uh... actually you killed a ring wraith, so like, you've already won valor? And she's like, oh and I guess you want to tell everyone you tamed a shield maiden of Rohan because you couldn't find a nice Dunedain girlie, and he's like, actually I would literally LOVE to tell people that. Also, Aragorn is the softest guy, so don't look down on his pity because he's got a really big heart and he simply can't help it. And she's like...fine. Deal. And he's like, YOU HEAR THAT, BOYS?! EOWYN'S MOVING OUT OF THE HOUSES OF HEALING CUZ I GOT HER ALL FIXED UP NOW.

1. I like, I HIGHLY identify with Faramir being this matter of fact with a romantic partner.

2. ARAGORN REALLY IS THE SOFTEST GUY. AND NO ONE JUST STRAIGHT UP POINTS THIS OUT BEFORE FARAMIR DOES. BUT IT'S SO TRUE.

#lotr #return of the king #faramir #eowyn #aragorn #aragorn is the softest guy #eowyn is trying to be off-putting and faramir is all no that actually sounds rad #love it.#Lord of the Rings #reading the book #rotk

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gremlingottoosilly · 7 months

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Reader begging könig to help her buy a house so she can move out from her brother's place. She promises to suck him off, he's a weirdo but she needs to leave and he has money. König pants are off before she can even finish the sentence. No time to second guess now

If there was a chart that would judge the price of gifts Konig would give you in exchange for sexual favors, buying you a place to live would probably be somewhere around getting on your knees like a good girl, give as many kitten licks to his cock as you physically can and then take it all in while massaging his balls and simply getting on your back in a boring missionary. He would finish inside of you - obviously - in first 10 minutes, not really bothering to prolong the moment. Knowing that once he gets you under him, you'd never escape him again...and if you'd ever try to...well. He might look like another weird loser, but he is a freaking colonel in the mercenary company. Has more connections to keep you locked in with him. He wouldn't just buy you a house, though - oh no, it would be too easy. You'd move out and never see him again...obviously, he can't have this. The apartment he gifted you is in his name - so you'd never try to escape without him knowing. He'd want relationships too - never letting you go out of his sight. Bragging in front of your brother, poor Krueger is forced to listen to him yapping about banging his sister and being her sugar daddy. You hate giving so much to this loser, but you must admit...he does have a nice, big dick that can reach your special spots every time he bothers with fucking you properly instead of humping you like a dog or suck on your tits while he cries about his mommy, but you also enjoy the money he is giving you. Konig is the type of guy to believe that nails cost somewhere around 500 Euros and he would give you this if you want - and then wouldn't even bother to look since he is too mesmerized by the thank-you blowie you will give him right as he steps home. You don't like this loser, you keep telling yourself this...but god, you're both two shy dorks, and sometimes he can be funny. Or interesting and even adorable when he talks about some bullshit. He took you out of the house and you swear to god that this is the only reason you're currently on his lap, calling him your big dumb bear.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #loser!konig

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nadvs · 5 months

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home before dark (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

After Rafe leaves, you make sure every door and window in your home is shut and locked.

You don’t know if Ty would do something as crazy as break in. But there was a time you’d laugh in disbelief at the thought of him hurling insults at you and that was all he did by the end of your relationship, so you’re not taking any chances.

Beneath the fear he impales you with lies a sense of betrayal. He was so good at pretending to be kind. Only a monster could put on such a convincing act just to break your heart.

When you tell yourself he’ll move on soon, you hate that it feels like false hope.

You text Sarah to let her know you made it home and that you’ll see her at tonight’s beach party. Even though Ty will probably be there, you don’t want him having any more power over you than he already has.

You’re determined to have fun. To have a life. Especially because you have someone protecting you now.

Rafe is unnerved as he stands on the beach under the starry sky that night, surrounded by the guys he parties with all the time.

The crowds and the conversations are all the same, but everything is different now. Because he’s looking out for you and it gives him something he hasn’t had in a long time. Purpose.

It’s disorienting to Rafe, going from avoiding you to keeping his eyes on you so persistently. From afar, he watches you laughing with your friends and now that he has a reason to, he takes you in completely.

He’d be an idiot not to admit that you’re beautiful. But he always knew that, no matter how hard he pretended not to notice you.

You slowly drift further away into the crowd. Rafe continues checking on you, keeping you in his sights.

Later on in the night, you’re in deep conversation with Sarah. Being three years her senior, you were much closer to Rafe when you were kids, but now you’d consider her a good friend.

When her eyes widen at something behind you, your body goes cold, expecting the worst. You turn to see your ex approaching you, a nearly empty beer bottle in his hand.

“Where’s Rafe?” you ask Sarah, hushed.

“Rafe?” she echoes in confusion. While she knows all about your ex, you haven’t had a chance to tell her that her brother is helping you put on a farce. You’re sure she’ll be in disbelief when you catch her up.

“Hey,” Ty says gently, his hand at the small of your back. The sensation you once welcomed makes you sick. “Can we talk? Please? I’m sorry about last night.”

It’s no surprise. You’re used to him yo-yoing between belittling you and putting on his nice guy act.

“No,” you respond, twisting so that his hand slips off of you. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?”

The booze in his system slows him down, but Rafe treads through the sand to you as fast as he can the second he sees Ty talking to you.

Suddenly, Rafe’s broad back is in front of you, a wall separating you from the man who’s tormenting you. When Rafe’s there, you realize Ty doesn’t scare you at all.

“Fuck off,” Rafe mutters.

Ty drunkenly staggers back, creating several feet of distance between you. His face contorts with annoyance.

“You know you’re just a bullshit rebound, right?” Ty calls. You look back at Sarah, who’s watching the exchange in confusion.

“I can’t hear you when you’re running away from me, pussy,” Rafe taunts.

Anger churns inside you at Ty’s words, prompting you to grab Rafe’s hand. You know Rafe couldn’t care less - after all, this relationship is all an act - but Ty calling him a rebound, insinuating that he’s meaningless to you, bothers you.

You pull him away, cupping his fingers with both hands.

Rafe was an inch away from chasing Ty and swinging at him. If it wasn’t for the alcohol blurring his senses, his fist would be aching right now from driving it into Ty’s jaw.

His entire body is stiff with rage, but for once in his life, the tension is dissolving instead of building up onto itself. It’s from the way your hands feel on him.

“What an asshole,” you say. Even though you should probably let go of him, you can’t.

Your touch is so warm. Rafe wants to ask why you reserve kindness for him after he shoved you out of his life. He wishes he could wipe it from his memory, the look on your face after he denied your every effort to talk to him. You grew up, but the disappointment in your stare never changed.

But he doesn’t know how to say all this. He doesn’t talk like that. With anybody. He couldn’t even talk to the therapist his father took him to see after it happened.

Maybe if he had asked him why he couldn’t so much as look at her, Rafe would have told his dad that the therapist’s blonde hair and gentle tone reminded him too much of his mother.

But after she told Ward that Rafe “wasn’t responding to therapy”, all he did was angrily yank his son out of the office, his grasp tight and painful.

Once they made it home, Rafe tearfully rushed to his parents’ bed to try to smell his mother on her pillow even though the sheets had been washed.

He spent most of his childhood pretending he was bigger than he was, eager to grow up. But he remembers nuzzling his head into her pillow that day, hyperventilating and thinking he was too small to know his heart could hurt this bad.

It felt like no time had passed when Rose came into the picture. Rafe knew his parents weren’t in a happy marriage, but he didn’t expect Ward to start seeing another woman so soon.

Rafe angrily confronted his dad, as if a ninety-pound kid could be any sort of threat. It was the first time Ward slapped him. He’s certain that it wasn’t the first time his father wanted to hit him, but his mother had always been his defence. And then in an instant, Rafe didn’t have her anymore.

You reach the shore together, far away enough from the crowd. You pull your hands away from Rafe and cross your arms, gazing at him under the moonlight.

“I wish he’d just stop already,” you say, shaken from Ty’s sudden approach. “Thank you. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Rafe says flatly. But he doesn’t walk away from you. He simply looks out at the dark sea with his hands in his pockets.

The waves crash beside you, the water climbing and retreating over the sand, threatening to wet your shoes.

The last time you stood together looking out at the water like this, you were kids skipping stones over the ocean’s swells. And because he’s not leaving, you take the opportunity to see if he’ll let you in, even just a little bit.

You crouch to pick up a small, smooth stone and try to skip it over the water. It immediately falls straight below the surface. You breathe a short laugh.

“That sucked,” Rafe says. His tone is lighter than what you’re used to.

“It’s been a while,” you retort. “And that rock wasn’t very flat.”

“Sure.” Despite himself, he cracks a smirk.

You can’t remember the last time you saw happiness on his face. He has his mother’s smile.

“You were better at finding the flat ones,” you say.

“I was better at everything.”

“And still so humble about it.” You haven’t joked around with him like this in so long that it feels new. “Prove it, then.”

“What?”

“That you can do better than me,” you say. “Get two skips, at least.”

Rafe keeps his hands in his pockets, looking down at the stones scattered atop the sand. The wind whips around you, threatening rain.

“We’re not kids anymore,” he rasps. If you want to take a walk down memory lane, you can do it alone.

He steps back, inviting the distance that lived between you for years to return. Yet another dismissal.

You step back, too. Your arms are not so much crossed anymore; you’re practically hugging yourself now. You need the comfort and he certainly isn’t going to give it to you.

“Did I do something wrong… before?” you impulsively say. Now that you have his attention, you find a shred of courage to ask him what’s been turning in your mind for years.

Deep down, you’ve always feared it wasn’t just the shock of what happened that made Rafe shut you out. Maybe you did or said something that deemed your friendship not worth keeping. Maybe you were too pushy. Or not pushy enough.

Rafe’s throat tightens. He never planned to have this conversation. He never wanted to.

You see his jaw clench. His silence is loud enough. It’s obvious he’s done speaking.

“Nevermind,” you say dejectedly. You turn, but his deep voice stops you.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his protective instinct kicking in again.

“Back to my friends,” you say.

“He’ll just bother you again,” Rafe states. “Come on.”

He tilts his head towards the side of the beach he was on. Looking at the group of the same rowdy guys you always see him with in the distance makes you frown.

No matter how much you’ve missed him, you know that standing silently next to him while he jokes around with his friends will just be a painful reminder of how he chose them and not you.

“I’ll be fine,” you say.

“It wasn’t a question,” Rafe snaps abruptly.

For the first time since you started speaking again, the compassion you always feel for him is overpowered by anger. You know he’s helping you, but his domineering tone reminds you of how Ty speaks to you.

“I’ll be fine,” you repeat. The cold tide reaches your feet, soaking your shoes.

Irritation pricks Rafe’s skin. For years, you’ve been trying to force conversations with him, and now, when he’s inviting you to stay by his side, you’re shutting him down?

As you walk away, the feeling of rejection screws a hole into his chest. Then he realizes that this is the cold, empty way he’s been making you feel for years.

“I know,” you say when you see Sarah, acknowledging her puzzled expression, linking arms with her.

You’re about to tell her this is all a game of pretend, but the risk of Ty finding out from anyone overhearing or her accidentally mentioning it to someone is too scary.

“What was that?” she says with a disbelieving laugh.

“Rafe and I… started talking again. The other night. And we’re seeing each other now.”

“Wow,” is all she can say. She glances across the beach, as if looking at Rafe will offer any sort of clarity.

You haven’t spoken much about him with Sarah. Years ago, you’d often tell her how much you wished he’d just talk to you again and she’d tell you he doesn’t talk to anyone anymore.

She knows your relationship with him is strained and basically non-existent. You feel bad for lying to her, but your fear of Ty is too big to take any risks.

As the night carries on, your ex stays away from you.

Before heading home, you separate from your friends for just a moment to throw out your cup when you see a figure approaching you.

Goosebumps grow across your skin as Ty passes by behind you, his keys jingling in his hand.

“You planning on hiding behind him forever?” he asks. “What’s gonna happen when he’s not around, huh?”

You stare at him with a scowl, hoping your face isn’t showing just how frightened you are.

To your relief, Ty continues on his way, crossing into the parking lot. You remember him picking you up in the car you watch him sit in now and how he acted like such a gentleman, all the while hiding who he really was.

He succeeded in scaring you. His words left you unsettled, tears pricking your eyes, your breath shallow. The thought of going home and sleeping alone fills you with dread.

Maybe it was just an empty threat. But maybe it wasn’t.

You need someone to stay with you tonight. You rush back onto the sand towards the other side of the beach.

Rafe’s gaze is fixed on one of his friends telling a drunken story. But then you appear, crossing the distance with a fear-struck expression.

“What’d he do?” Rafe mutters, his body tensing. “Where is he?”

“He left,” you respond. Your anxiety pushes you to hold his forearm for some stability.

“What’d he do?” he repeats.

“He… said some stuff,” you say, voice shaking. “Can you-”

“I told you to stay with me,” Rafe interrupts. He’s seething. This could have been prevented if you had just listened to him.

But the way you’re breathing and holding onto him, as if you’re lost at sea and he’s the only thing keeping you afloat, makes him regret snapping.

“And I didn’t listen because you yelled at me just like he does,” you mumble quietly, letting go.

The comparison stings. He shouldn’t blame you. He knows that. And now that the booze has worn off, he’d love a shot at Ty with nothing slowing him down.

Some of his buddies are watching you two in confusion. They’d never seen you together and now you’re clearly in a heated conversation. Just like a couple fighting.

“What were you gonna ask me?” Rafe says, wishing he hadn’t interrupted you.

You’re unsure if you should ask. But even with your home’s security system in place, who knows how long police would take to arrive after a triggered alarm? You need someone already there in case Ty is crazy enough to break in. Someone you know can protect you.

“Can you stay at my house tonight?“ you mumble. “I’m scared of being alone.”

Rafe falters. He agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend, and staying with you is a boyfriend thing to do, but the pressure of being in an empty house together after years of avoiding you makes him uneasy.

Yet, at the same time, the prospect of being completely alone with you gives him a sense of home that only adds to the confusion that’s been clouding in his mind.

“Did you drive here?” he finally says.

You know next to nothing about Rafe these days, but you do know that he does almost everything alone. He never arrives or leaves parties with people. It’s always just him on his motorcycle.

“I came with a friend,” you reply. “But I can wait until you’re ready to leave.”

His muscles lose some of their tension. You’d be willing to stand here and wait for as long as you’d need to just so you don’t have to be on your own. You’re desperate.

Rafe stays out until he’s exhausted. It’s how he makes sure the second he’s in bed, he can take a shot or do a line and fall asleep right away, giving no opportunity to be subjected to his thoughts.

But guilt is a powerful opponent and this is a fight he knows he’ll lose.

“Let’s go,” he sighs.

After you let your friend know you have a ride home, you make your way to Rafe’s motorcycle with him in silence.

He grabs his helmet from the boot, thoughtlessly about to put it on. But then he remembers he’s not alone for once.

He holds the helmet out to you. You hesitate, about to ask him if he has an extra for himself, but why would he?

“You sure?” you ask.

“Take it.”

“You don’t have to,” you say. Rafe sends a groan towards the starry sky.

“Goddamn it, do you have to be so difficult?” he mutters. The edge of his tone is cutting. You’re fed up.

“I know you’re doing me a favor, but could you stop being so rude about it?” you say.

Rafe exhales in frustration. Shit. He’s sure he’s acting just like your asshole ex again.

“Isn’t the whole point of this to keep you safe?” he says, softness in his voice. “Can you just put it on?”

You look up at him through your lashes. His forlorn gaze extinguishes the fire of your irritation and you relent, accepting the helmet, the shell cold and hard in your hands.

Rafe swings his leg over the bike, turning on the engine. He glances back at you as you put the helmet on.

You steady yourself and straddle the sputtering motorcycle. It’s nerve-racking placing your hands on Rafe’s hips.

With his feet on the ground, he drags his big hands over yours and guides them up to his abdomen.

“You have to hold tighter,” he half-shouts over the engine. You obey, your chest pressing against his back, your arms wrapping around his torso.

You wonder if he can feel how fast your heart is pounding. His t-shirt is so thin. His body is firm and warm.

You appreciate that he gave you his helmet, but you wish it wasn’t in the way now so that you could lean on him and press your cheek between his shoulder blades.

Your mind has run away from you. It’s odd craving someone who doesn’t seem to like you all that much. You still don’t even know why he’s helping you.

As Rafe drives out of the lot, slower than he usually would, he hates that he likes the feeling of you wrapped around him this much. He’s been pushing this sort of closeness away for so long. He didn’t know it could feel so good.

As he drives beneath the glowing streetlights, he can’t remember the last time he felt proud of himself like he does now. The relief that washed over your face when he told you he’d stay at your house is replaying in his mind.

While he’s the one protecting you, you’re giving him something, too. You’re pulling him away from the sense of aimlessness he lives in every day.

Rafe goes to his place first, stuffing the things he’ll need to sleep over into a duffle bag and draping it across his chest, before driving to your house.

When you step through the front door together, he watches you quickly enter your code into the security panel, then rush to shut and lock the door.

You’re clearly still so terrified. Rafe needs to know exactly what Ty did to make you act like this.

“What’d he say to you?” he breaks the silence, dropping his bag into his hand. “Tonight. What’d he say?”

You lean against the door, hands tucked behind you as you look up at him. It’s odd, Rafe being in your house. You never thought he’d be here again.

“He asked me if I’m gonna hide behind you forever and what I’ll do when you’re not with me,” you say. It makes Rafe want to kill the idiot with his bare hands.

“I’d call the police,” you continue, “but they don’t help unless he actually does something. Or if there’s proof that he’s planning to. I just hope he gets tired of it so you don’t have to keep doing this.”

Rafe wants to tell you he’ll be here for you for as long as you need him. It’s a shock that his knee-jerk reaction is to make a promise to anyone, let alone to you.

But it’s no surprise that your focus is on how this is affecting him. He still can’t figure out what could possibly make you think he’s worth the consideration.

“Where am I sleeping?” he asks, settling for the easy way out of the conversation.

You lead him upstairs to the guest room a few doors down from your bedroom. Rafe’s eyes travel over the family photos organized in a neat grid on the hallway wall, watching you grow up through every image.

His heart lurches at an image of four people on the beach. It’s you two as kids, surrounded by your smiling mothers. He hasn’t looked at a photo of his mom in years.

You notice the sound of Rafe’s footsteps stop and you look back to see him staring at a photo. You’ve memorized the wall by now, knowing exactly which one he’s looking at.

What can you possibly say? That you miss her, too? You can’t come close to understanding his grief.

His forehead crinkles, his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow, and you swear you see him stop breathing for a moment. Then his gaze darts off of the photo and you silently lead him the rest of the way.

Rafe enters the room you take him to and swings the door behind him without a word.

You get ready for bed and settle under your covers. Knowing you’re not alone helps you doze off within minutes.

You’re in a deep sleep when a loud clang pulls you into consciousness. Immediately, you fear it’s Ty.

But once you hear the tapping on the window, you realize it’s storming outside. A roll of thunder is what woke you up. You check the time to see it’s nearly two a.m.

Thunder rumbles again as you slip out of bed. Your survival instinct is beckoning you to go check on Rafe, to make sure he’s still here in case you need him.

You turn on the hallway light and see that the guest room door is just slightly open. And the bed is empty.

Before you can jump to conclusions, you hear a laugh track spilling out of the television downstairs. He didn’t leave.

You’re pretty sure Rafe doesn’t want you disrupting his solitude. But you need to know why he’s doing all this for you. It’s been tumbling in your mind since he agreed to it. That’s what gives you the push to go downstairs and find him.

(part three)

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wheneverfeasible · 2 months

Text

Third and final part of my angsty Steddie “Bullshit” story where Steve changes himself to try to keep Eddie’s love. I swear the happy ending is finally here everyone! Please put the pitchforks and torches away!

I hope it lives up to expectations and thank you everyone for showing such a keen interest in my story. This final part is LONG and dialogue heavy but hey, at least you finally get the fluff.

Part 1 || Part 2

It had been two weeks.

Which, sure, wasn’t the longest they’d gone without seeing each other before due to their lives being hectic, but it had been the longest they’d gone without even so much as a quick goodnight phone call since they finally got together. Steve’s hand had hovered over the phone every night, wanting to call Eddie and apologize and promise to do better, but he was too much of a coward.

Because, you see, as long as they weren’t talking, Steve could still pretend that they were together. He knew though that the moment his resolve crumbled and he called Eddie, or Eddie finally had enough and called him, that it would be over. Eddie would officially break up with him and this time Steve didn’t know how he was going to pick up the pieces.

He loved too much, too quickly, too earnestly. But it was never enough. It was always just bullshit and he didn’t know how to stop it from being bullshit. The first time he hadn’t taken Nancy’s own needs into account, had been too caught up in his own trauma to realize that she needed more than just to pretend that nothing had happened and move on from what couldn’t be changed.

Neither had been in the wrong, of course, both dealing with trauma and guilt in their own way, but in the end they had simply been too incompatible. He hadn’t been what she needed and she hadn’t been what he needed. They couldn’t change that, not even back when that spark between them still burned in an ember. But who they were simply couldn’t change to be what the other needed, or deserved.

So then he tried to change, for Eddie. Once Eddie and he got together, it was obvious they were too different. Their friends had commented on it enough, and then when Steve changed to be worthy of Eddie, they commented on that too. But Steve was fine with changing. He loved Eddie enough to become what would make Eddie happy. He’d do anything to make Eddie happy.

Except he failed. He failed and now he had gone two weeks without speaking to his boyfriend who probably hated him now.

Their friends wouldn’t tell him anything either, not that he really wanted them to know of his failure. Only Robin knew because she had been the first person he had called when Eddie had ran away from him when it became obvious Steve wasn’t good enough.

Robin, who had threatened to make Eddie’s balls into earrings, had muttered about how she’d always known he was trouble, but Steve also remembered how happy Robin had been when she discovered she wasn’t alone. She and Eddie had gotten on like a house on fire, bickering like they’d been siblings all along, and it had been so nice to have both his soulmates so close to him and each other.

He couldn’t let Robin hate Eddie because of Steve’s own failings. So he talked to her, told her it was fine, told her not to hate Eddie just because Steve couldn’t be what he wanted, though that only seemed to make Robin worse.

Until a few days ago.

She had suddenly returned with a smile on her face, and though she seemed impatient at times, she had at least stopped threatening bodily harm towards Eddie. She stopped bringing Eddie up entirely, actually, though she looked like she wanted to say something more than once.

Normally, Steve would have pried it out of her. It would have been easy too. A flash of wide eyes, downturned lips, tilted head, a soft whine to her name, and she’d be spilling state secrets to him…though he already knew all the state secrets that she knew. But she couldn’t hide from her soulmate. Ever since that first bathroom confessional, they were never very good at keeping secrets from each other.

Steve was too tired for that now. He just wanted Eddie. But Eddie didn’t want him.

Because he was bullshit.

Steve was curled on his couch, Dio blasting from the music system, the fancy new CD player rotating the shiny disc over and over again on repeat. Eddie had said he preferred vinyls, so Steve tried to only listen to vinyls when he was around, but Steve enjoyed the way he could set the new CD technology on repeat without having to get up. It let him wallow for longer.

Robin had been by earlier, though she seemed jumpier than normal, constantly looking at her watch. She’d finally jumped out of Steve’s bed they were lounging in and said she had to go about an hour ago, stuttering excuses and refusing to meet his eyes.

He wondered if Robin was beginning to realize he was bullshit too.

He couldn’t blame her. They didn’t really have much in common either. It was only trauma bonding that tied them together, or at least that’s what she had called it a few nights after everything to do with Starcourt, when she’d biked all the way to Loch Nora and pounded on the door until a bewildered Steve had answered.

She’d thrown her arms around Steve then, and he’d realized she’d been crying, and she kept whispering over and over “you’re safe you’re safe you’re safe you’re safe” as though she needed to reassure herself. Steve had at first thought she was talking about herself, but then he realized she was talking about him.

That particular realization had been electrifying. No one had ever really checked up on him before. But apparently Robin had been unable to sleep, plagued by nightmares of what the Russians had done to Steve, plagued by the what-if’s of Steve not making it out of the underground bunker. It was the first night they slept in the same bed together, but it wasn’t the last.

She’d told him that they were trauma bonded, them and the rest of the group, that no matter how different they were, they would always have each other’s back. That was also the first night she’d called him her soulmate though, making certain he knew she meant it Platonic with a capital ‘P’ and nothing else. Steve realized that it didn’t make it any less important.

But maybe that had been a lie too.

Maybe Robin was beginning to realize that they were too different. That Steve would never be good enough for anyone. Not good enough for his family, not good enough for Dustin, not good enough for Nancy, not good enough for Eddie, and not good enough for Robin. Always wanting, always worthless. Always bullshit.

It was during this spiral that a very polite, though loud, knocking came from the front door. He supposed they had to be loud to be heard over the sounds of Dio, which he had cranked up to try to drown out the thoughts in his head.

Steve rubbed at his eyes, which felt crusty from dried tears, sitting up from where he had collapsed after showing Robin out the door. He’d think that it was Robin returning for something she forgot, a regular occurrence, but she rarely knocked anymore. She typically just let herself in with the spare key he’d given her. He’d given one to Eddie too.

Pushing thoughts of his maybe-still-his-boyfriend away as he hit pause on the music, Steve shuffled towards the front door. He gave a brief tug of his Iron Maiden shirt, which was actually one of Eddie’s, to attempt to make his rumpled appearance look a little more presentable, and then he was swinging the door open to reveal…

Eddie???

Except…it wasn’t an Eddie he recognized. No, this Eddie was wearing an orchid pink polo and light khakis, and…were those Oxford shoes he was wearing?? With a matching belt??? His hair was smoothed fully back and clasped into a professional looking bun and not a single ring adorned his fingers, made obvious by the way Eddie held up a bouquet of roses. Even the ever present pick necklace from absent from Eddie’s neck.

Steve gaped.

“Hello, Steve,” Eddie said, even his voice seemed softer, less wild, and his smile was the sort Steve had seen his father’s business associates give to each other when a good deal had gone through. Happy, pleased, but restrained. Nothing like the manic grins he was used to from Eddie.

“E-Eddie?” he croaked out, absolutely in disbelief. Behind Eddie, Steve could see a station wagon parked where Eddie’s van should be. “What’s going on?”

Eddie held the flowers out towards Steve, who automatically took them. He couldn’t help but give a bemused smile even as he brought them up to smell. Eddie took a deep breath, indicating the foyer with a small motion of his hand.

“Sorry, but may we talk inside?”

This strangely polite version of Eddie was making Steve feel weirdly uncomfortable, so used to the exuberance that normally surrounded the other man. He took a step back, however, because it was Eddie. He could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest at seeing Eddie again, even if he looked different.

Steve closed the door behind Eddie after the other man stepped forward, though not before wiping his shoes off on the doormat, which Steve could not recall Eddie ever doing before. He felt like he had somehow fallen into an alternate dimension, and not of the Upside Down variety. Maybe that would have been better; he knew how to handle that kind.

“Um…let me put these in water?” Steve said, though it sounded more like a question, at a loss for what was happening right now.

“Of course, sweetheart. Do you mind if I put on the game?”

Sweetheart.

Steve felt a hopeful flutter in his chest and gut at the use of an endearment. Sure, Eddie was no stranger to using such terms in retaliation to bullies or anyone else he disliked, but that was not the tone Eddie used just now. No, he used the tone he always used with Steve, making Steve hopeful towards the idea that he hadn’t actually ruined everything yet.

He was so caught up with that fact that it took him a moment to process the second part of what Eddie said. “Uh…yeah, sure?” he answered with a question again, brows furrowing, as he wondered if he had somehow forgotten that he was supposed to host Eddie’s campaign night that night.

He hurried quickly to the kitchen to find something to put the flowers in, suddenly worried about how his home looked. He hadn’t been expecting to host Dungeons and Dragons, didn’t have the snacking station set up or anything. Did he have enough beverages? Who all was coming tonight? He felt his hosting anxiety start climbing at these questions, as well as the worry that this was a test.

If he failed tonight, would Eddie finally be done with him?

Steve was just settling the vase full of roses on the counter when he heard…was that…?

“Oh come on, Coach! Take him out!” Eddie’s voice filtered through to him as Steve slowly made his way towards the living room. “That asshole is making Gochnaur look like a capable shortstop!”

Was Eddie…watching baseball?

Did Eddie know about John Gochnaur?

What was happening right now?

Steve stood in the doorway leading into the living room, watching with a completely gobsmacked expression as, yes, Eddie was currently watching baseball and giving correct commentary. Steve hadn’t even known Eddie knew what a shortstop did.

Eddie glanced over at Steve and his annoyed expression smoothed into one of happiness. He pat the couch next to him invitingly and Steve could do nothing but walk forward and take his place at Eddie’s side. His furrowed brows shot up into his hairline when Eddie pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he started rattling off statistics of the players on screen like he did monsters during his DnD campaigns as he indicated the probability of home runs and errors.

“What the hell is going on right now?” he mumbled mostly to himself. This was…this was weird. He wasn’t sure he liked this. No, he knew he didn’t like this. Whatever this was, it felt wrong. He turned his head to frown at Eddie who still looked caught up in the game. In sports.

“Eddie, what…” Steve shook his head slightly, wetting his lips. “Why are you watching baseball? Why are you wearing those clothes? You just left the other days and now you look like a completely different person. What is going on?”

Eddie glanced over at Steve, his own brows high into his bangs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Steve. I’m wearing perfectly normal clothing. And sure, it’s only baseball, but it’s not like it’s basketball season yet.”

Eddie paused then, his expression settling into a neutral look for only a moment before slowly morphing to one of pained regret. He sight and hung his head for a moment before grabbing the remote and muting the screen. He then released Steve just enough to turn slightly on the couch to better face him.

“I’m sorry for leaving though, baby. There’s no excuse for just running out on you like that. I didn’t want to hurt you, I just…I had a lot on my mind and I needed to figure some things out. But don’t worry, Stevie. I have it all figured out now and now I can be an even better boyfriend to you,” he finished with a wide grin that looked nothing like his typical crazed charming smile. It looked more like the grins he used to make before he felt comfortable around Steve and the others.

Charming, yes, but not right. Not Eddie.

But Eddie was leaning forwards, brushing one of the limp pieces of his hair that he hadn’t even bothered to style these past two weeks—hell, had barely had the energy to even wash—back behind his ear. He then pressed forward to lightly kiss the tip of Steve’s nose with a smile, and Steve could only smile back. Eddie was here, with him, and that was all that mattered.

Except…

Except.

Eddie’s pink polo was still in his line of vision. It was Eddie, but it wasn’t Eddie at the same time. He looked nothing like the metalhead he loved. Not that there was anything wrong with what he wore now, of course, and honestly seeing Eddie in a polo was kind of hot, but…it wasn’t him.

Steve pulled back, his smile turning back into a small frown. His eyes tracked over Eddie’s outfit. Sure, Eddie looked nice in it, but it was incredibly wrong. The khakis even looked pressed. “But seriously, Eddie, what the hell are you wearing?”

Eddie looked down at his own clothing with a look of not understanding before looking back up at Steve. “I honestly don’t know what you mean. I’m wearing clothing. A shirt and pants I’ve even got underwear on underneath. Though I can wear a lot less of it if you prefer, baby,” he added in that sultry voice that never failed to get Steve going. He’d once accidentally slipped into it while DMing when he narrated a succubus type NPC and Steve had popped a boner right then and there at the table.

And Steve’s dick made a valiant effort to respond now actually, but everything was wrong and Steve didn’t like that. He continued frowning at Eddie.

“Why are you wearing a polo?” he asked more directly, because he knew from experience with Dustin and Robin and even Eddie himself that sometimes you just have to ask directly if you wanted a proper answer. And seriously. A polo?? “Where are your regular clothes. And why are you watching baseball?”

“I like baseball,” Eddie replied easily with a shrug. “It’s not as bad as I thought. I like that the players can have their little music intro. And I wear polos now, they’re surprisingly comfortable.” He gave Steve a gentle smile. “If you don’t want to watch baseball, we can do something else. You wanna put on some music? Have you heard Debbie Gibson’s new song? Truly heartbreaking. I bet it’s on the radio right now.”

Steve just gaped. It was like Eddie was speaking an alien language even though he knew that all that was English and he understood each word separately. All together though, coming from Eddie’s mouth? Yeah, nothing made sense.

“Eddie,” he breathed, slowly reaching out for Eddie’s left hand and feeling another swoop of wrongness at the lack of rings there. “When you said you wanted to put on the game, I thought you meant a campaign. And Debbie Gibson? Babe, you’re in a metal band. Debbie Gibson isn’t cool.”

“Hey! You treat Deb with respect. Girl’s got an excellent voice,” Eddie said with indignation. Steve could only roll his eyes because yeah, he knew that, but Eddie saying something like that? Unreal. It was Eddie’s next words that made him freeze solid, however.

“Besides, I quit the band. Dungeons and Dragons too. Figured I’m too old for that nerd shit. I’m thinking about getting a real job now anyways, so I don’t have time for all that anymore. Actually, do you want to go through the classifieds together with me later? Gareth said he’d try to get me an in with his dad’s company, but it’s better to be prepared.”

Eddie quit the band? Quit Dungeons and Dragons? Was talking about a corporate job? What. The. Fuck.

Steve scrambled up from the couch, his fingers moving up to squeeze the bridge of his nose before both hands settled on his hips as he stared at Eddie in disbelief. “You love Corroded Coffin. And Dungeons and Dragons! Why the hell would you stop doing something you love?”

Something flashed across Eddie’s expression then, something pleased like Steve had said exactly what Eddie had hoped he would, but it was gone the very next instant leaving Eddie simply staring up Steve with wide and imploring eyes.

“But Steve,” he said, and his tone was too earnest that it made Steve pause. “I love you more, and you don’t like those things. So I’ll change, for you.”

The words were like a bucket of ice water thrown back in his face. He couldn’t move, couldn’t react. Couldn’t resist when Eddie reached out and grasped his hand to pull him back to the couch he’d just vacated, pulling him against his side once more.

“You changed for me, so now I’ll change for you,” Eddie said like the solution was obvious. Steve mutely shook his head, but Eddie’s smile was toothy and sharp and so much like the smile he was used to that he couldn’t speak. Which was just as well, since Eddie wasn’t done. “You changed who you were because you loved me so much and didn’t want to lose me. Is it so preposterous to imagine that I love you so much that I’m willing to do the same?”

Yes! Steve wanted to exclaim, wanted to shout and shake Eddie, because of course Eddie didn’t love Steve the same way that Steve loved Eddie; no one ever did.

Well, except maybe Robin. They were Platonic soulmates after all. He knew that he had started doubting her earlier, which made him a little nauseous to do actually, but she had been the only one so far who had never abandoned him. Who seemingly cared for him the same way he cared for her.

But to think he could possibly be blessed with someone who loved him, romantically, that same way? To think that he might be lucky enough to have that sort of fabled love twice? Impossible! Because…because he knew. He knew he wasn’t good enough. He wouldn’t ever be good enough. He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good person. He wasn’t—

“Do you know why I love you, Stevie?” Eddie murmured, cutting off Steve’s thoughts and causing him to stiffen beside him. It wasn’t like he was unused to these declarations; Eddie never really shied away from telling Steve he loved him, though Steve had to fight back the inane temptation to make a bitchy little joke about it like he’d had before, teasingly crediting his ass or how pretty he looked on his knees. Eddie had given them as reasons enough for his love when they’d joked around before, just as Steven had teasingly cited his love as being because of how skilled Eddie’s fingers were, or the talent of his mouth.

He could sense, however, that trying to trivialize the moment would not go well this time. No, Eddie was looking at him earnestly once more, was reaching out again for Steve’s hand to hold and clutch between both of his against his chest. He thankfully did not seem like he was expecting an answer from Steve.

“It’s because you thought about my safety first, back then, at Skull Rock, even after I’d shoved a broken bottle at your neck. Even though we ran in two totally different circles, you immediately put me as a priority. It’s because you didn’t hesitate to jump into the water, not in belittlement of Wheeler and Buckley for being girls, or me for being…well, me…but simply because you were aware of your own qualifications and knew you were best for the job.

“It’s because, at the first real opportunity of being relatively alone with me, you immediately thanked me for coming to help you after you’d been pulled under, like there had been any other option. As if it wasn’t a given that you deserved to be made a priority too.”

Eddie paused then, thickly swallowed as his eyes closed momentarily. “Though you totally saved your own ass there, tearing that bitch apart with your bare hands. You’re a total badass, sweetheart,” he rumbled, the heat of hungry appreciation in his voice. “Wrapped up in soft yellow sweaters and ridiculously styled hair.”

Opening his eyes to look at Steve again, Steve could see some of that (still surprising) hunger lingering. Because yeah, he knew now that Eddie had near creamed his pants when he’d pulled an Ozzy with the demobat, and even though he questioned his boyfriend’s tastes at time, he was also always so gleeful to know that Eddie thought him sexy as hell.

But it was more than just that, and Steve felt his heart hammering away beneath his ribcage as Eddie kept going on, singing his praises as if Steve was truly something to be admired.

“It’s because,” Eddie continued saying, bringing Steve’s hand up to lightly nuzzle against his knuckles, “you always put everyone else first, even if you hide it behind your bitchy little snide words. Because you care about everyone else and would throw yourself directly into the path of danger to protect them. Protect us. And more than that, you take care of everyone around you, whether they show their gratitude or not. Dustin wasn’t wrong when he talked about how great you are.

“It’s because…” Eddie drew in another shuddering breath, his eyes wide and deep with emotion. “It’s because, when you look at me, you see me, not just another trailer trash failure who couldn’t even properly graduate high school. You see someone worth loving.”

“Eddie,” Steve broke in then with a cracked voice, his guilt unable to keep him quiet. “You were right about me, though. I was a douchebag. Even about you I was an asshole until everything went down. I called you a freak, and I didn’t try hard enough to stop Tommy from attacking you or the others, and I only cared about myself back then. I’m not the person you think I am.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie said with a shake of his head. “I won’t deny past dickishness, but I’m not so innocent either,” he pointed out. “I held my own prejudices, my own selfishness. I ostracized Lucas for daring to like sports, I nearly abandoned my bandmates the first time I thought I could make it solo, and I continually ran away when things got tough or hard, try as hard as I did to pretend otherwise.”

Eddie released Steve’s hand from one of his own so that he could snake it behind Steve’s neck to pull him in for a gentle kiss. Steve melted into it, terrified Eddie would eventually leave him still, while also taking great comfort in the kiss. It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, that much he was certain.

“You love with your whole heart, Stevie,” Eddie whispered when he finally pulled away. “I will never be able to apologize enough for taking advantage of that, for not realizing what was going on.” He dropped his gaze to the Iron Maiden shirt Steve was wearing, sliding his hand from Steve’s neck to his chest. “The fact that I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough exactly as you are will always haunt me.”

Steve didn’t want Eddie sad. He didn’t want Eddie to blame himself for Steve not being enough. He couldn’t get the words out though, not when Eddie looked so utterly heartbroken.

“I’m so sorry, baby. And I’m so sorry for leaving. I just…I realized what I did to you and I couldn’t…I couldn’t…”

Steve was horrified by the tears that began flooding Eddie’s eyes, causing him to reach out with his own freed hand pull Eddie in by his polo for another kiss. He didn’t understand what was going on, but…but…

Was Eddie truly not upset with him?

“Christ, baby,” Eddie murmured against his lips. “I love you in your polos. I love you listening to your own music in the car, the way your hair flops about as you jam out to Queen and Wham! and even Cydni fucking Lauper. I love how passionate you get about sports, the way you fuss over Henderson and the others, the way you call out other people’s shit. I love all of you, not in spite of you.”

Eddie pulled back to look properly at Steve, and this time it was Steve with tears brimming in his eyes. Everything Eddie said was like a revelation because the tone of Eddie’s voice, the look in Eddie’s eyes…he meant them.

“But…we’re so different,” he protested, because how was he supposed to accept that when they were nothing alike? Certainly Eddie had to have some regrets, or wish for some changes.

“Steve,” Eddie said on a near whine. “Of course we’re different. We’re different people.” He shook his head suddenly, taking a deep breath. He then reached out and caught Steve’s chin to force him to look at him, catching his eyes with his own. “Do you love me any less for being different than you?”

“No!” Steve yelled aghast. How could Eddie ever think that?

“Then why do you think I would ever love you less for the same?”

Steve opened his mouth, ready to protest again, except…except he didn’t really have an answer to that. Not beyond the fact that he would always be less than. Less than Eddie, less than the kids, less than everyone else he ever cared about.

Except…

Except.

The way Eddie was staring at him now, the way Eddie’s own pain reflected in his dark brown eyes, didn’t make Steve feel like he was lesser. Eddie had never made him feel lesser, actually. Eddie had instead made him feel like…like he mattered. Like he was something worth cherishing. Like…like he was loved.

“I…I don’t know,” Steve admitted, voice cracking, and the tears he’d been keeping at bay slowly spilled over and slid down his cheeks.

Eddie cupped his jaw with both hands then, and though his tears didn’t fall, he sniffled in a way that revealed that it was a very near thing. “I love you so much, baby. I was so ecstatic that you loved me too, that you seemed to be willing to take interest in the things I loved, that I didn’t realize I never did the same. I thought you were trying to figure out who you were, I never noticed that you stopped being you.

“I don’t want you to be just another metalhead who likes everything I like. I want you to be your own person, to like the things you like even if I don’t like them. I want to meet you in the middle of who we are, not a compromise, but as a sign of our love. I’ll take you to metal concerts and you can take me to sports games, even the ones with laundry baskets,” he gently teased. “Any of them, I don’t care. As long as I’m with you doing things you love, I’ll be happy. Because you make me happy, sweetheart.”

Steve’s eyes darted away, eyes catching on the screen where one of the players just stole a base and made themselves that much closer to winning the game, before looking back at Eddie. He didn’t see anything false in his expression, only genuine, hopeful sincerity. Like he truly meant his words.

“I’m fine doing whatever you want,” he mumbled. “You don’t need to sacrifice anything.”

“Baby,” Eddie implored. “It’s not a sacrifice to be with you. You’re so perfect for me, just like you are. Like you truly are. I fell in love with you not because of what you can give me, but because of who you are. I never thought you were actually trying to change to be who you thought I wanted you to be. Because I just want you, baby. If you still want me.”

“Of course I want you,” Steve murmured immediately, his hands moving to claps at Eddie’s forearms. “I’ll always want you.”

Eddie grinned at him, though it was still emotional. He at least managed to keep his tears at bay, blinking rapidly until there wasn’t fear of them falling anymore. He leaned in then to press a soft kiss to Steve’s forehead, his thumbs lightly stroking over Steve’s cheeks. “And I’ll always want you. Hell, baby, I’d marry you right now if it were legal.”

That got Steve’s attention.

He pulled back again, pulling Eddie’s hands from his face to stare at his boyfriend with wide eyes. Again there was only sincerity in Eddie’s gaze, and patience, as he let Steve process and work through his words. To understand just how much Eddie meant it.

Eddie loved him. He knew this of course, but…hell, they hadn’t been dating all that long, all things considered, and he’d once heard Eddie denounce marriage as just another conformist expectation used to take your individuality away, but here was Eddie saying he would marry him if given the chance. He knew Eddie wouldn’t say something like that unless he truly meant it too. Eddie loved him.

“But…we’re so different, Eddie,” he repeated in barely more than a whisper. “A-and I don’t want you to quit your band or Dungeons and Dragons or anything like that for me. I don’t want you conforming for me.”

Eddie just grinned again, his expression so full of love for Steve that it made Steve almost physically ache. “And I don’t want you changing for me,” he simply said, and…and maybe Steve was starting to get that, but…

“But you were so happy when I started listening to metal, and not all of it is bad,” Steve admitted. “I actually liked some of it. More than I thought I would.”

“I was happy,” Eddie admitted right back, letting out a soft sigh. “I was happy to share something with you, happy to help you develop your interest since I thought it was something you wanted. I didn’t mean to push it on you. I was just…I thought that if we had a shared interest like that, you wouldn’t decide I was too much. When you started dressing like this…”

Eddie moved to lightly tug at the hem of Steve’s shirt. “I had been so terrified that you would realize you could do better than someone like me,” he whispered. “Having you not be put off by the way I dressed, by the music I liked, by anything I liked made me happy because it calmed my fears that I’d scare you off or something, that you’d move on to greener and better pastures.”

And that was just not right. Better than Eddie? Someone like that simply didn’t exist. And all because Eddie liked a certain kind of music, or dressed a certain way? Absolutely not.

“Eddie,” Steve breathed, and this time it was him reaching out to cup Eddie’s cheek to make him look at him properly again. “You’re so amazing, Eddie. How in the world could someone better than you exist? You’re a fucking hero, man. And don’t say you’re not,” he said firmly when Eddie opened his mouth to say just that, like he always did when it got brought up. “You are. You’re brave and selfless and literally out your life in the line to protect others. You’re badass, baby. Just like me,” he grinned in tease.

Eddie softly snorted, placing his hand over Steve’s on his cheek so he could hold it as he turned his head slightly to kiss the palm. “You are a badass,” Eddie agreed. “And you’re sweet too, even though you deny that too. I love you so much, and I should have paid more attention to why you were suddenly into all the same things I was instead of just being happy to share them with you.”

Eddie squeezed Steve’s hand, placing another soft kiss to his palm before trailing his lips into gentle kisses against his fingertips. “And I should have done more to meet you halfway. I should have been doing this from the start,” he admitted, indicating the muted TV. “You were always willing to join my hobbies but I never even offered to join yours. I’m truly very sorry, baby.”

“Please stop apologizing,” Steve complained. “I forgive you, okay? It’s just…you’re…” Steve swallowed, making himself actually stop and consider Eddie’s words, their meaning, their truth. “I’d love you even if you always hated sports,” he said softly, a small light of understanding settling over him. Because if he could love Eddie without needing Eddie to like everything he liked…

“Then can’t I love you even if you hate the things I like?” Eddie murmured, as if finishing his thought for him. “I don’t need you to be a carbon copy of my interests, baby. I love you for you, Steve. I’ve missed your polos and your preppy look,” he grinned. “It’s hot.”

Steve flushed slightly at that, Eddie’s eyes telling him again just how truthful those words were. He hadn’t ever once considered that Eddie actually liked that part of him, not when Eddie always wore dark clothing and looked the way he did. They were so different…

His eyes moved once more over Eddie, taking in that ridiculously pink polo and khaki pants, so unlike the things Eddie would wear but so similar to something Steve would. And…yeah, okay, that was hot, but he didn’t want Eddie to wear it all the time because it just wasn’t him. If Eddie wanted to then of course he’d never say anything about it, but he would miss the way his metalhead usually looked. Like…the way Steve looked now, while Eddie…Eddie looked like how he would have normally dressed.

Because Eddie said he would change for Steve, would give up the things he loved, just to keep Steve happy. But Steve didn’t need that to be happy. He was happy just to have Eddie, exactly the way he was, without Eddie pretending to be something he wasn’t. He didn’t want Eddie to change for him, even though…yeah he would like to be able to share his own interests with Eddie sometimes. And maybe…

Maybe, if Eddie had started dressing like that gradually, started expressing interest in Steve’s hobbies slowly, he wouldn’t notice how much Eddie had been changing to try to fit in with him. Maybe he would have just assumed Eddie was genuinely branching out his own interests because he felt safe enough to do so without being ridiculed, like…like Steve had slowly done.

But Eddie had appeared so drastically changed that Steve couldn’t help but rebel against it, couldn’t help but clock it as wrong, could only see it for what it was:

Bullshit.

Steve grinned suddenly at that revelation. A bright happiness began filling him until he felt like he was full of fizzy soda and Pop Rocks. He realized that it was bullshit, but he wasn’t. What was bullshit wasn’t his love, or his inability to be exactly like Eddie, but the fact that he tried to be someone he wasn’t. Him trying to change who he was was bullshit. Because Eddie?

Eddie loved him anyways. Eddie loved him even if he was an ex-jock prep who cared about his appearance maybe a little too much, who cared about keeping his home and car clean, who listened to popular catchy music on the radio simply because it was fun. Eddie had fallen in love with Steve because of who he was, not who he could change himself into becoming.

Eddie loved him. And love like that could never be bullshit.

When Steve finally looked Eddie in the eyes again, truly looked and saw and heard everything Eddie had been trying to tell him, he felt tears escape down his cheeks again but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Because he got it now. He understood. Eddie hadn’t wanted him to change, he had just been supporting Steve in what he thought Steve wanted.

“I’m such an idiot,” Steve wetly laughed, throwing his arms around Eddie to bury his face in Eddie’s neck.

“Hey now, don’t insult my husband like that,” Eddie admonished, but his words sounded wet too as his own arms moved to wrap around Steve’s back and hold him close.

“We’re not married yet, asshole. You didn’t even ask me,” he pointed out with a giddy roll of his eyes.

“Right, right, silly me,” Eddie said, and Steve could hear the grin in his voice. “Guess I better go buy a ring first. And ask Buckley for her blessing.” Eddie drew in a shaky breath before huffing it out in a laugh. “Maybe she’ll let me keep my balls now.”

Steve pulled back with a confused furrow to his brows. He hadn’t told Eddie that his balls were in any danger.

When Eddie caught his expression, Eddie rolled his eyes next. “After I left, I spent probably a week trying to process everything, trying to figure out where I went wrong and horrified with myself for unknowingly encouraging you into changing for me, going over every little thing I fucked up. Then Buckley showed up and read me the fucking riot act.” He shuddered. “She’s terrifying.”

“I told her not to do that,” Steve frowned, though his lips twitched at his boyfriend’s dramatics. Christ, he loved him so much. And Eddie, somehow, apparently loved him just as much.

“Well I’m glad she did,” Eddie said with a small chuckle and shake of his head. “We came up with all this together,” he added with an indication of his clothing and the TV. “She heard my side of things and realized that if there’s an idiot in our relationship, it’s me. And then we came up with this plan to show you why I’d never want you to be someone you weren’t. Figured if I showed up completely changed too, you’d realize why it wasn’t what I wanted.”

Anxiety hit Steve suddenly and he stared at Eddie with wide eyes. “Wait, you didn’t actually quit the band, did you? Eddie!”

“No, no, not really.” Eddie paused. “Mostly.” He gave a little wincing smile at Steve’s fierce glare. “I told them what I was going to do, as well as saying that I may end up actually quitting if that’s what you needed of me. Because I meant it, Stevie,” he added with his own fierceness. “I love you more than I love being in the band or anything else. You’re it for me, hot stuff.”

“You are an idiot,” Steve groaned, and he didn’t know if he should be upset with Eddie, relieved, or insanely happy. He somehow felt all three at once, giving Eddie’s arm a small slap. “But I am absolutely determined to have a hot and talented famous rockstar boyfriend, Munson, so you better not quit. Or I’m dumping your ass for Jeff,” he said with a wicked little grin.

“Betrayal!” Eddie gasped, his hand moving to clutch at his shirt over his heart, falling back against the couch cushions dramatically.

Steve merely rolled his eyes again, though he couldn’t keep the deliriously happy smile off his face because this was his boyfriend. This dramatic, goofy, absolute loser of a man. He was so fucking lucky.

“And that station wagon out front?” he asked, eyebrow arching.

“Borrowed,” Eddie grinned, propping himself up with an elbow to look at Steve. “Jeff’s mom’s. Really had to make it authentic, ya know?”

“And the baseball knowledge?”

Eddie laughed at that. “Wayne gave me some pointers. I think he was ecstatic to finally be able to talk to me about sports knowing I would listen. He also says we’re all watching the season finale together.”

Steve just rolled his eyes. “It’s called the World Series, asshole.”

“Kind of pretentious to call it that, don’tcha think, seeing as how it’s only America playing?”

Letting out a huff, Steve crawled over Eddie to look down at him, straddling a thigh as both his brows raised high over his forehead. “You’re ridiculous, I hope you know that. But…” Steve’s expression softened into a small, almost shy smile. “Thank you. For loving me.”

Eddie smiled back up at Steve, settling back against the couch cushions and bringing his arms up to lightly hook over his shoulders and crossing them behind Steve’s neck. “Thank you for letting me,” he replied simply. “Now, will you please go back to my preppy sexy boyfriend who listens to ABBA and complains about bad hair days? I miss him dreadfully.”

Steve felt his happiness bubbling up inside him again, grinning down at Eddie before leaning in to take his lips in a giddy kiss. “Maybe you should take your Iron Maiden shirt back then, right now,” he murmured meaningfully against Eddie’s lips.

Eddie grinned beneath him. “Fuck yeah,” he breathed. “And get this pink monstrosity off too.”

Steve pulled back at that, planting his hand flat on Eddie’s chest to stop him from moving to do just that, causing Eddie to still beneath him. Steve slid his gaze over said pink monstrosity, wetting his lips with darkening eyes.

“No,” he murmured, voice roughened as he slid his gaze back up to Eddie’s widening eyes, a soft pink flush entering pale cheeks. “Keep it on.”

And he did.

At least until it was too ruined to be saved. But they could always buy Eddie another polo later.

Steve’s insecurities weren’t magically gone from one conversation, of course, but it proved to be a great start. There were still moments when Steve felt like he wasn’t good enough, but it helped to know that Eddie felt the same way at times too, that they were both so in love and would do anything for the other person.

After that day, the two worked together to find a new middle ground. Steve still supported Corroded Coffin at all their shows, wearing their shirts and other merch frequently, and even kept his studded leather bracelet that matched Eddie’s own. He went back to wearing his polos in his day-to-day life, however, and styling his hair with near ridiculous amounts of hairspray.

They talked about their hobbies, with Eddie making a mix tape of the metal songs that Steve actually ended up liking, and Eddie even found enjoyment in playing the occasional game of ball with Steve and even Lucas and the others sometimes joined in. (Sure, he mostly liked the way Steve looked all sweaty and flushed with exertion, but he had some genuine fun shooting balls into “laundry baskets” all the same too.)

They made compromises in the movies they watched, the foods they ate, and Steve took on a more passive role during DnD nights. His character decided to strike out on his own, in story, though he would occasionally rejoin the adventurers when their paths crossed, allowing Steve to play when he felt in the mood and sit out when he wasn’t. Steve had even cajoled Nancy into rejoining the game with him sometimes, much to the Party’s (especially Dustin’s) delight.

Eddie never really took to polos for regular wear, though he did wear the occasional Henley and Steve had convinced Eddie to take better care of his hair, helping his boyfriend set up a couple different routines based on the time frame he had to work with before events or daily life, earning numerous compliments on the healthy curls he now regularly sported. Steve loved the mornings where they got to primp together, and even Eddie flushed with happiness when they caught each other’s eyes in the mirror or helped each other fluff their hair.

Eddie also summoned the Party and acted like a drill sergeant as he commanded each of them to give Steve’s car a deep cleaning and detailing, shampooing and vacuuming and waxing the inside and outside until the BMW gleamed like practically new. He also helped enforce the rules about leaving no mess behind, either by forbidding open food containers or by picking up after themselves. Steve was so impressed by it that he couldn’t help dirtying the car a little again by taking Eddie into the backseat after everything.

They took down the posters and flyers and random crap that covered Steve’s walls, though Steve kept up the Black Sabbath and Dio posters, even if he made Eddie straighten them up. He also kept up the Corroded Coffin flag Eddie had made him, though he began adding his own decorations as well through encouragement from Eddie. Eddie even got him a banner for his favorite sports team, hanging it up right next to the Corroded Coffin flag. (Later, when Steve eventually moved out of his parents’ abandoned house, Eddie would cut a swatch of the wallpaper from the wall, framing the bit of plaid for Steve to carrying with them to their eventual shared home.)

Robin was a menace, of course, and continually made passing comments about needing earrings. The threat was not lost on Eddie and he always made certain he showered Steve in praise and confirmed his love for him whenever Robin gave him the stink eye. Steve may or may not sometimes signal when he wanted the threat made, especially around important dates like holidays and anniversaries.

And Eddie did make good on his comment about asking Robin’s permission for a certain question, though in his nervousness and excitement he fumbled actually asking Steve for forever and instead accidentally threw the ring at Steve one night after a dinner he’d tried to make but inevitably burned. They ordered take out and laughed about it, then Steve made certain Eddie never had to doubt his ‘yes’ right there in the kitchen. And living room. And bedroom. And then for good measure in the shower.

Steve always remained a prep, and Eddie always remained a metalhead, but over the years they slowly adopted and adapted bits and pieces of each other’s style, though Eddie couldn’t ever wear a polo to tease Steve without Steve immediately dragging him into bed. Or to the nearest flat surface.

There were days that the insecurities would crop up still, of course, for both of them. These days grew less over the years, the commitment Steve and Eddie felt for each other reflected in the matching rings they wore, exchanged during a small ceremony that, though not legal in the eyes of the law, was no less absolute in their hearts.

Because Steve knew now what those insecurities were, what the voice was that whispered that he would never be good enough for anyone, and he knew what to say when they tried to tear him down. And he would smile when he said it, safe, content, and secure in his and Eddie’s love.

“Bullshit.”

As I said before, I am tagging everyone who asked to be tagged, so if I’ve accidentally missed you or tagged the wrong person, I apologize. It’s a lot of people. Heh.

Tagged: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @gobbledy-gluk-gluk @petalsandpixels @coolgirldad @xxbottlecapx @yesdangerpls @lawrencebshoggoth @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @miss-wright

@brainsteddielyrotted @nerdyglassescheeseychick @ohimamarigold @sofadofax @moss-g0blin @secretly-kait @blossomingblueberries @my-love-of-books @blounette @p0lybl4nkk

@sapphicsforsteve @wearespacedust @mae-liz @stripey82 @tinyplanet95 @0mochiia0 @sunnycycle @jaytriesstrangerthings @hotluncheddie @dragonmama76

@stevieschrodinger @townseleven @estrellami-1 @evillittleguy @novacorpsrecruit @mugloversonly @imaginary-maggie-waggie @pointlessmosswitch @fatiguedclown @prazinos

@thedragonsaunt @bookworm0690 @brazenliar @samsoble @wrenisflying @queenie-ofthe-void @breealtair @highqueenhalalie @steddieassheg0es @theintrovertedintrovert

(rest of tags will be in a reblog, did not realize how many I had agreed to lol my bad)

#bullshit series #fix it #angst with a happy ending #steddie angst #steddie h/c #steddie fluff #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #stranger things #plot thots

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lesbianstarlightglimmer · 2 years

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Night

#meows #h. today was a bit stressful #my grandparents have finally decided they cant host holidays anymore bc theyre too old (now if only theyd use that mindset #for when my uncle asks them to babysit ie raise his kids)#but that means it gets put on us SO we had both sets of grandparents and my moms sister her daughter (my cousin)#and said cousin's bf. and like hes nice from what i see but i do NOT do well w new people especially those making immediate convo #and im sure i look like a jerk bc i had trouble making eye contact but it had nothing to do w him i just could not #plus it got reaaally awkward bc iiiim starting to think the grandparents dont like each other??#cant fully blame them my moms mom can be a bit much and my f*thers dad just says some random shit and i never know #what hes trying to get out. example being the night before we went over like we always do on xmas eve #and he questioned why i didnt go into art for a career like do animation and then said ''well i figured that they #[some confusing thing about math and lines and equations to idk animate ig???]#hes also super cheap whereas my gma is not at all #and a bunch of other stuff point is i sat at ''the kids table'' bc i figured there were just enough seats for my aunt and her husband #who decided to show (only to spew conservative bullshit outta nowhere) my mom and both sets of grandparents #but then my moms parents sit with me and my cousin and her bf??? like uhh. then my f*thers dad tried to make an escape #but his car was blocked in by the others lmaoo #and in her usual fashion my moms mom stayed A WHILE and so we had people over for nearly 4 hours which is well past my time #and during her extended stay i went to get a sip from my drink only to find it gone and i had a semi...??? idk what to call it #shutdown maybe? idk by that point i was DONE masking i wanted them OUT i wanted to pass out in the dark in my BED #idk this christmas has seemed overly stressful for no good reason #also ig my moms trying to hint for me to cook bc she got my fucking like 3 cookbooks (tho one of which was more sentimental #bc it was her writing down recipes for food she makes that i like like cereal cookies and meatballs)#(hers is onion soup mix w rice and ground beef rolled together into a ball w tomato sauce on it. usually served w mashed potatoes)#and then a ton of sleep shirts bc she misunderstood me. im not low on them even tho i got rid of a few old old ones #i just dont always bring enough here. but she takes some small thing and runs w it so no surprise there ig lmao #lil sad there was only a couple of things on my list i got and the rest was stuff she decided i needed (and didnt really #but ig its the thought that counts...? however much thought you wanna count it as ig lol)

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loving-barnes · 4 months

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LOGAN HOWLETT - VERSION OF YOU

A/N: Inspired by the Deadpool and Wolverine trailer. Inaccurate things when it comes to timelines and shit. Beware, it was not edited properly. Sorry.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: angsty?, attempt at being funny?

My stories are written for mature audiences - 18+!

Words: 2500+

Important note: Hugh Jackman!Wolverine (which means he's tall as fuck!)

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - VERSION OF YOU

“Do you think this is gonna work?”

“Agent Smith said it would.”

“It’s fucking weird, you know?”

“A lot of fucked up things happened before. This is nothing compared to what I have to deal with now. So, ladies first.”

Wade pointed at the weird-looking orange door. He didn’t want to walk through them first. That fucker shoved Y/N right into the portal before he took a step forward. Coward.

They appeared in front of a dive bar, during a bright sunny day. Y/N looked at Wade, well, more like at his masked face. “Wasn’t this place supposed to be fucked up?” she asked. “It’s too nice outside.”

“It will become in a matter of hours. Now, here’s the plan,” he said. “We’ll go in. I’ll talk first. If I won’t move with that stubborn mountain of a man, it’s your turn. Do whatever it takes to bring him with us - smile at him, have sex with him, for all I care. And, who knows, maybe we will know whether Agent Smith was right.”

“I call bullshit,” said Y/N, cracking her knuckles. “I don’t know him. I think it’s a fairy tale he made up so I would work with you,” she said, fixing her tactical suit. “Can’t believe I’m doing this shit with you, Wade.”

He chuckled. “Come on, you love spending time with me, kicking ass, making men suffer.”

“I will make you suffer.”

Together, they approached the entrance door of the dive bar. Wade was the first one to walk in. During the day, there weren’t many people around. Some people gave them brief attention but quickly went back to their beers. Y/N glared at Wade.

“Our guy is right there,” he said, pointing to the bar.

And there he was - their target - the man they had to collect to save the universe. Was it the universe or the multiverse? Whatever it was, he was crucial for this mission.

Y/N eyed his back - the dark jacket he wore and how bent he was over the bar. The sadness radiated from him. Something was happening inside her. As if she experienced a magnetic pull towards him.

Y/N showed Wade forward to start. She was curious to see the man’s reaction. She sat at a nearby table ready to watch the scene unfold. Of course, Wade used a beautiful opening line that would normally get his assed whipped.

“Hi, peanut.”

Y/N bit her lower lip to stop herself from laughing. This was Wade, typical Wade Wilson. Fucking Deadpool and her best friend. How the fuck did they manage to become friends? She knew him for a long time, fought alongside him and tolerated that dipshit.

“Look, lady, I’m not interested,” the man said gruffly. His voice was deep, husky and kind of sexy. It made Y/N tilt her head. Interesting.

It was painful to watch the interaction. Wade tried to get him off the chair, away from the bar before he could explain anything. Such a rookie mistake. It was time to intervene before Wade overstepped and jeopardised this whole mission.

She got off the chair and walked to the tall, well-built man. With a smile, she tapped on his shoulder. He instantly turned, his weird metal claws already out of his hands, ready to fight. When their eyes met, she showed him her bright smile and teeth. “Hi, peanut.”

His face changed from pissed to shocked in less than a second. For a second it lost its colour. The man’s mouth opened wide. “Y/N?” he said her name gently, too gently for her liking. “Holy shit.”

“Ha, Agent Smith was right,” Wade laughed, pointing a finger at her face. It got him three claws into his stomach. It made him grunt and fell to his knees. “Ouch. That fucking hurt.”

“You know me?” Y/N asked, not believing the whole story she was told back in the TVA.

That question took him aback. “What kind of dumb question is that, baby? Of course, I know ya,” and his hands reached for her face, holding her cheeks. To Y/N’s surprise, she let him. “How is this possible? How are you alive?”

It was Y/N’s time for her eyes to widen in complete shock. “Woah,” she stepped back.

“It’s me,” he said, frowning. “It’s Logan.”

Wade decided to step in, waving a hand at them. “I don’t want to interrupt this romantic reunion, but we need to talk to you, big guy. It’s important.”

“You came here with the weírd-looking sex toy?” Logan’s eyes were back on Y/N. “What the fuck is this? The the fuck is going on?”

That made her laugh. “Ha, Wade, even he thinks you look like a sex toy. With Cable, we are now three who think the same thing.”

“Fuck you, Y/N,” he spat back.

The man, Logan, pushed away from her, glaring. His claws were in the air, ready to strike if necessary. “Who the fuck are you?”

“My name is Deadpool and this is my annoying friend Y/N,” Wade introduced them.

“You are an ass,” Y/N glared at Wade.

“Impossible,” Logan shook his head, bumping into a wooden stool. “You are dead,” he pointed a finger directly at Y/N’s face. “You cannot be here. You died in my fucking arms! Who the fuck are you?” he raised his voice at her.

“I’m Y/N,” she said.

“Don’t bullshit me!”

There was a sound of a loading gun. All three lazily turned their gaze to the bartender who was pointing a shotgun at them. None of them was intimidated by that. “Get the fuck out of my bar! Now! Or I will shoot you all.”

“I think this is our cue,” Wade whispered.

Logan grabbed Wade by the red top of his suit, pushing him out of the bar like he was a ragdoll. Y/N immediately followed them out, ready to step in if necessary. She wasn’t worried about Wade. He was immortal. His body parts would grow back. She was more ready to step in intellectually. That was something Wade didn’t know how to do.

“Everyone calm down,” she said.

“No!” they both yelled at her, already fighting like children.

Y/N looked at herself, reading this story and made a sour face. “Men,” she sighed and turned her gaze to the two men who were about to tear each other apart. A purple-looking mist appeared in her hands and she pushed the men away from each other.

“That’s enough, gentlemen,” she said.

There was blood coming out of Wade’s abdomen - the marks from the claws. She had to shake her head. Wade had his gun out, pointing it directly at Logan. “Will you fucking listen, you oaf?”

Logan’s eyes moved from him back to Y/N. She saw how his stance relaxed. It was painful to look at her, see someone he lost. His claws retraced back into his hands. His fists clenched tightly, knuckles becoming white. “How come you are alive?” he asked.

Y/N sighed. “Because I’m not her… me… uh,” she shook her head. “It’s complicated.”

“Fucking talk, woman,” he raised his voice.

She raised her hand to calm him. “I can explain. But I need you to come with us, Logan.”

His eyes closed. When Y/N said her name, more emotions ran across his face. “How can I trust you? I can’t seem to trust my own mind.”

Wade was ready to say something stupid, but Y/N quickly shut him up by throwing him away with her power. “Believe me, it doesn’t make any sense to me, too. I can give you an explanation if you will help us.”

“Help with what?” he raised a brow.

Y/N made a face, changed it to a frown. ”To save the multiverse?” she said it like a question, hesitant whether he’d believe her. “Before you say anything, I know it sounds fucking crazy. Trust me, I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around it.”

Wade came running back. “That was rude, you know?”

“Shut up,” she glared at him. “We need his help, so let me handle it. Just for once, Wade, I need you to zip it, okay?”

He leaned closer to Logan. “She’s hormonal,” he whispered to him.

This time, Y/N decided to ignore his comment. “Please,” she turned her gaze to Logan. “Will you come with us? Help us save our world, all of the worlds?”

He scoffed. “I’m no hero, kid.”

Y/N turned her head to Wade, then back to Logan. “None of us are heroes here,” she said. “Maybe that’s why we are meant to save everyone’s asses,” she shrugged.

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “How come you are not a hero? You are the sweetest thing in this world. You are the definition of heroism and kindness,” he said.

She made a face. “Come with us and we’ll talk about it all.”

And he did.

. . .

Logan and Y/N sat behind an old-fashioned plastic table. He still wore his clothes while Y/N changed from her tactical suit to jeans and a simple shirt. The silence between them was awkward. The tension could be cut with a knife. His eyes scanned her from head to anywhere they were able to reach.

There was a stack of documents and papers by her side. She grabbed them to show them to prove she was not lying.

The door opened and Wade stepped in, out of his red suit. Logan gasped, horrified when he saw the man’s face. “What the fuck? Holy shit, that is fucking horrible. As if you were ran down by a Zamboni,” he yelled.

“It’s disgusting, right?” Y/N nodded. But a second later a grin was on her face.

“Ha, ha,” Wade pretended to laugh. “Can’t believe you two are laughing at a poor disabled man who happened to have his face fucked to safe his shitty life.”

“That was your decision,” Y/N reminded him.

Logan pretended to hurl. Y/N chuckled. “It’s hard to look at him.”

Y/N smiled at her friend. “Could you leave us alone?” she asked. “I need to talk to him alone and, well, it takes time to get used to your face.”

Wade pointed a finger at her. “One day, I will cut your tongue out,” he threatened. He was already on his way out. “Oh,” he threw her a little device. “If you want to show him something spicy,” he winked at her.

Once the door shut behind him, Y/N exhaled the breath she was holding. “Now that he’s out of the picture,” she waved with a hand.

“Just start singing,” said Logan, annoyed.

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N, but I am not your Y/N. I’m from a different timeline,” she started.

“How are you, not my Y/N? You sound the same, you look the same. You have the same mutation,” he said. “And a different timeline? What kind of bullshit is that?”

She shrugged. “Hey, I found out about all of this today, okay?” she then glared at him. “I, myself, have trouble taking it in. It’s crazy, it’s fucked up on so many levels. It’s not easy for me too, you know?”

Logan huffed. “Continue.”

“This is going to sound crazy, so prepare yourself.” She took a deep breath. “I was told, and showed, that somehow, we are meant to be together in almost every timeline.”

“What?”

Y/N made a face. “It sounds like a fucking fairytale.” Her hands grabbed the first folder, looking at its name. When she opened it, there was a photo of both of them. They looked the same. Y/N pushed her chair closer to him and showed Logan the details in the document. “In this timeline, we are both normal people. We live together in the Canadian mountains.”

Logan took the folder and read the document. His eyes went over the photo. He shook his head. “Holy shit,” was the only thing he said.

Y/N reached for another folder. When she opened it, she chuckled. “Here, you are a notorious mob boss,” she showed him. In the picture, he had an eyepatch over his left eye. “We live in Madripoor. People know you there as Patch.”

“What about my version in your world?” he asked.

She sighed. “There is none. I said we are meant to be together in almost every universe. In mine, you don’t exist.” She turned to the documents and took out the one from her timeline.

Logan snatched it from her, reading through the words. “You are a mercenary?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah,” she nodded. “Wade and I have a business together. He’s the only family I have. Well, Wade and his fianceé Vanessa. In the past, the Avengers approached with the offer to be in their team. I declined. That’s not who I am.”

“Is there a world, uh, timeline where you don’t exist?” he asked.

“They told me there used to be one, but that timeline was destroyed a long time ago,” she explained. “Don’t ask me how that happened, because I don’t have an answer for that. You should ask Agent Smith that.”

“Why do you keep calling him that?”

“He looks like a character from a movie,” she explained. Her hand reached for another folder. When she opened it, she laughed. “In this world, you and are enemies that secretly love each other.”

Logan’s brow raised. He read the details of their relationship. “You are on Magneto’s side?” he gasped. “I mean, she is… This is so confusing.”

“Uh,” she hesitated for a moment. “When did you lose me? Or the version of me. You know what I mean.”

“Haven’t you read that?” he asked.

“Nope,” she shook he head. “I’ve got through a couple of those folders. I was only told that we were going to your timeline and that I was dead. Plus to get you out of there and convince you to help us.”

Logan nodded. “You died…” It was hard to talk about it. “It happened a few years ago during a war that the mutants were in,” he said. “You died in my arms,” he cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered.

“I live with that pain every day,” he continued. “And now, it is fucking harder than ever before, because here you are, sitting in front of me, but you are not… her.”

At that point, she realised how difficult this experience was for him. Logan seemed like a tough guy. The pain that reflected in his eyes, how he avoided meeting her eyes more and more.

“Everyone I knew is dead,” said Logan after a pause. “No one lives in my world that I care about.”

Y/N bit her lower lip. “Logan,” she said his name softly. “We pulled you out of your timeline because it will be destroyed soon.”

His eyes widened. “Wait, what? What’s going to happen to me?”

“The TVA will present you with options. But if we save the multiverse, we will be rewarded. Or that’s what they told me,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter. No one in my world is alive.” He stood up from the chair. “Let’s do this shit. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.”

Y/N put a small smile on her face. She wanted to show him more, tell him what they told her, what she thought of it. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

#Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x female reader #Logan Howlett #Logan Howlett fanfiction #Wolverine x reader #Wolverine x female reader #marvel fanfiction #Wolverine fanfiction

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yournowheregirl · 1 year

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Let it be known that Eddie Munson hates big box stores. They represent everything he’s against: a big piece of capitalist bullshit that underpays its workers and pump out unnecessary products like it’s nothing.

And yet, he finds himself in a Target on a random Sunday evening.

He’s not quite sure how he got roped into doing Chrissy’s shopping for her, something about ‘owing her a favor’ and ‘making up for all the times she had take out the garbage when it was his turn to do so’ or whatever that means. But here he is anyway, pushing a bright red shopping cart in search of every item on her list so she can go on her date with that girl from the concert in peace. The things you do for friends.

Eddie finds the first few items quite easily - they’re on sale and easy to spot with the big display in the middle of the aisle - but once he gets to the fourth item on her list: Fresh Cotton scented candle, he starts to panic just a little.

Why are there so many fucking candles?

He rubs a hand over his face in attempt to make himself focus on the rows and rows of glass jars in front of him, taking a deep breath before he starts looking for the Fresh Cotton scented candle Chrissy wants. Only to find out, there aren’t any.

There is Pure Linen and Natural Cotton and even one that’s called Laundry Day - whatever the fuck that’s supposed to smell like - but there is not one candle that says Fresh Cotton.

Okay. Okay. He can do this. He knows Chrissy like the back of his hand, he’s smelled that candle practically every day, he can totally figure out which candle she wants.

Eddie grabs the first candle that’s vaguely named after a fabric and smells it, but that one isn’t the one he’s looking for. He tries another (closer, but not quite the same) and another (doesn’t even smell like cotton in the slightest), until he’s smelled practically every cotton-linen-laundry candle in the store and his nose has become immune to any smell whatsoever.

Christ, he really is a terrible best friend if he can’t even get her shopping list right.

Something red flashes by in the corner of his eye and Eddie immediately perks up and chases after it. He stops himself from screaming in victory when he sees that he was right and that there is in fact a Target employee in a red polo walking in the main aisle.

“Excuse me!” Eddie calls out. “Excuse me! Can you help me?”

The guy in the red polo turns around and whoa- Eddie didn’t know that they were hiring actual models to work at Target. He’s pretty sure he’s never met a big box store employee that looks this good - with floppy golden brown hair and a chest that fills out that red Target polo really nicely.

“Uh yes?”

“Great!” Eddie gestures the Target guy to follow him back to the candle aisle and grabs the two candles that he thinks are the closest to what Chrissy wants. “Which one of these is Fresh Cotton?”

Target guy frowns and takes the candles from Eddie’s hands, his hazel eyes narrowing as he reads the labels. “Neither? This one is Clean Cotton and the other one is Crisp Cotton.”

“Yes, yes, I know. But Target used to sell Fresh Cotton, I think, at least that’s what my friend’s shopping list says.” Eddie rambles. “So I guess my question is which one used to be Fresh Cotton and got renamed or whatever.”

“Huh.” Target guy shrugs and takes the lid off both the candles, carefully sniffing each of them before finally handing Clean Cotton back to Eddie. “This one smells the most cotton-y to me, so I’d go with this one, dude.”

Eddie feels his eyes light up with relief as he clutches the candle to his chest. “Christ, that’s a relief. Thank you...” He trails off, searching Target guy’s polo for a name tag, only to come up empty.

“Steve.”

“Thank you, Steve.” Eddie beams. He puts the candle into his shopping cart and rummages through the pocket of his leather jacket until he finds Chrissy’s shopping list. Scented candle? Check. “Look, I gotta go. I have at least twenty other things on this list and- hey!”

In one quick motion, Steve has grabbed the shopping list from Eddie’s hands, scanning the items on the list and the items in the cart with precision.

“Dude. Your friend asked for shampoo and conditioner. You bought them that two-in-one crap.” Steve scoffs.

“Is that... bad? Seems to me like it gets the job done faster.” Eddie shrugs.

“Is that bad, he asks. If your friend cares just a little bit about their hair, they’d be devastated.” Steve chuckles. “C’mere, I’ll help you.”

Before Eddie can even protest, Steve has taken his shopping cart from under his nose and gestures for Eddie to follow him. Huh, personal shoppers must be a new thing at Target. He just hopes that Steve doesn’t charge him a surprise hundred dollar fee at the end of the shopping trip.

Turns out, a personal shopper like Steve comes in handy for a Target virgin like Eddie. Steve (obviously) knows the store like the back of his hand and seems to know a lot about the products they sell as well - from the difference between normal and purple shampoo for blonde hair to the package of colored notebooks that Chrissy needs for the next semester. His knowledge is impressive and Eddie can’t help but stare and listen to every word that rolls of Target Guy Steve’s tongue.

(And if he lets a flirty remark or two slip just to see a twinkle in Steve’s eyes in between the shop talk, that’s nobody’s business but his own)

He is a bit confused when Steve starts loading things into the cart that aren’t on Chrissy’s lists, though. Things like highlighters and staples and various arts and crafts supplies.

“What are those?” Eddie asks.

“Hmm?” Steve hums, following Eddie’s gaze to where it’s looking at the small pots of paint in his hands “Oh. Those are for me.”

“You can do that?”

“Uh yeah? That’s the point of a store?”

“Right.” Eddie nods. “Yeah, I mean, duh. Just didn’t know you were allowed to shop on company time.”

“Right...” Steve blinks at him in response.

They go through the rest of the list fairly quickly, much to Eddie’s disappointment. When he first set foot inside the store, he wanted to leave as fast as he could, but now that he’s got Steve around, he doesn’t really want this shopping trip to end.

At least not without Steve’s number saved in his phone.

There are only a few people in line at the register when they arrive and Steve immediately starts putting his things on the checkout belt. As he waits, Eddie lets his eyes linger at Steve’s toned back, at the way the red fabric stretches over the muscles there, at the way those jeans look practically painted on.

Yeah, he really has to get that number before he gets out of here.

“You probably get employee discount, right? Must be nice.” Eddie grins as he starts putting his stuff on the checkout belt.

Steve cocks his head to the side. “No?”

Christ, not giving your employees a discount in your own store is a new low, even for a big company like Target. “Oh sorry, man. That sucks.”

“I mean, I have my teacher’s discount.” Steve shrugs.

Hold up. What?

“Your what?”

“My teacher’s discount?” Steve repeats. “I’m an elementary school teacher and I get a small discount on stuff I need for my class? Like these art supplies?”

“You- you don’t work here?” Eddie squeaks, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. Oh God, did he just drag a random stranger through a store and make him listen to all of his stupid problems with Chrissy’s shopping lists? This is embarrassing, even for him. “Fuck, I thought- I mean with the polo and- Christ, I’m so sorry.”

But luckily for Eddie, Steve doesn’t seem mad in the slightest. In fact, he just laughs, all bright and clear. “It’s alright, really.”

“But wait, if you don’t work here, why did you help me?” Eddie asks, ignoring the hopeful feeling that starts to bloom in his stomach.

Steve ducks his head for a second, suppressing a grin, before looking back up at Eddie through his eyelashes and fuck, he has no right to look this hot in a freaking polo shirt.

“Because I thought you were cute.”

A bright Target red blush settles over Eddie’s cheeks and there’s nowhere to hide, not even behind his hair because his dumb self from two hours earlier decided to put it up in a high bun.

“Plus, you looked like you were this close to having a panic attack in the middle of the candle aisle.” Steve shrugs. “I’ve been there, and trust me, it’s not a good look.”

The honesty in his voice makes Eddie cackle so loud that even the cashier turns her head to see what all the commotion is about.

“You’re ridiculous.” Eddie says when his laughter dies down.

“Maybe.” Steve says, his eyes already twinkling with amusement. “But did it work?”

Eddie really can’t say no to that.

(He leaves Target that night with two shopping bags filled with Chrissy’s things and a date with Steve the next weekend.)

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #i have never set foot inside a target so excuse my europeaness for any mistakes #they're idiot4idiot your honor #alice's writing adventures

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sqtorux · 6 months

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what's your type?

a short fic on how you found out how you weren't yuji's type. it's fluff and happy i swear.

yuji finds himself in a very difficult situation, already thinking of how to do damage control as he grabs your hand and starts pulling you away from the small crowd. this time however, the damage wasn't done by him. at least not entirely.

it was a few days after the sister school games with the kyoto school. your boyfriend and you along with nobara were visiting megumi in his dorm bringing him pizza when suddenly todo, apparently a student from the rival school decided to crash the little gathering.

you'd had heard of him from yuji and he wasn't exactly the type of person you see yourself getting close with, which is why when his eyes scan you up and down you couldn't help but cringe.

“hm so this is your girlfriend?” todo studied you closely as he rubbed his chin in concentration making you scoot a little closer to your boyfriend.

“yes!” yuji beamed at you but then glanced back and forth at todo and then at you trying to figure out what's going on.

“i didn't know your type changed, brother” ah that's what's going on.

that's also what got you in this set up. empty hallway with yuji profusely trying to explain or apologize. you couldn't tell with the way he nervously played with his fingers.

“y/n-”

“so what's your type then yuji?” he winced at the name, different from all the loving nicknames you used to call him. no yu no babe, baby, love just yuji.

“you i swear” he rubs the back of his head sheepishly, only earning a scoff from you.

“drop it. i thought it was jennifer lawrence? surely todo doesn't think you'll actually date her? or is he as delusional with other people's lovelife as he is with his own?”

“i might've… described…” yuji really should've kept his mouth shut but hey, he thinks it's better than hiding things from you even if it were as trivial as his type. only, it doesn't seem so trivial to you.

“so what is it? what's your type?” you press on stubbornly, crossing your arms and raising a brow waiting for his answer.

“t-tall girls with big butts” he flushed red and looked away. “to be fair it was before i met you everything changed when i met you you're perfect please” yuji held your hand and flashed his puppy dog eyes you always lose against.

“the concept of an ideal type is bullshit” yuji chuckled at your grumble and held you tight. “exactly babe! just because i find certain features… nice doesn't mean i’d immediately love them for it. it's all about what the heart wants and my heart wants you. only you.”

“you and your words…”

he only laughs as he holds you even tighter, if that's even possible, placing tons of light wet kisses all over your face.

“next time someone asks me what my type is i will say it's my adorable girlfriend” he smiled, peering down at you still not letting you go from the hug despite you squirming to get away.

“you do that” he finally loosens his grip around you. “but…” you slowly took a few steps back, a smirk on your lips.

“what are you upto?” yuji tries coming closer but you wave a hand to stop him.

“when someone ask me what my type is i will say it's cillian murphy!” you stuck your tongue out and dash away.

“hey that's not fair!!” yuji ran after you, laughter echoing the hallways of the school bringing life to it.

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love-anddeepression · 1 year

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I have like 2 ideas for Miguel O’Hara x platonic teen reader

1. Reader tries to impress Miguel with their parkour skills on missions

2. All the other spider people call reader “baby o hara” or like “mini Miguel”

OOHOHOOOO NICE, I wrote a Drabble hehee

Baby Spider- Miguel O’Hara x teen!reader

“What the actual frick Frack is that?” You say as the anomaly holds out a light that emits a low frequency sound.

“Did you actually just say frick frack? And that’s to attract her moth droids.”

“Well, when I actually swear, you give me this look!”

He scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s bullshit.”

His head whips to you with an eyebrow raised.

“You just proved my point!” Your hand swings out to point at him.

“Can—can the both of you focus on the villain here?” The evil anomaly deadpans at the both of you.

“Shut up!” The both of you shout at her, Miguel’s claws extend.

“You know what I’ve had enough, she’s annoying me.” You groan, “let’s just get her back into her universe.”

“Be careful.” He warns.

“I’ll be fine.” Internally you’re grinning because you’re excited. Pavitr had taught you a few parkour tricks to try during missions and you wanted to show them to Miguel. You walk to the edge of the roof and look at the layout of the windows. All in jumping distance, some perfect for flipping, and it was honestly too good to be true.

“Hey!” You wave your arms to distract the anomaly. And to Miguel’s horror, you take a running start towards the edge of the roof and flip her the bird while jumping off.

“AY BE CAREFUL!” He covers his mouth in shock as you reappear, quite literally swinging upwards, as if you launched yourself like a rocket. Flying towards the heavens.

He watches as you flip mid air and use a roof ledge to bounce from one building to another. Your hands and legs constantly moving in some way. He can also see the way you turn to look at him every two minutes. Like you want him to see your skills. He smiles a faint smile under the mask.

“Hey, boss, I’d hate to break up your little moment, but the anomaly has a substantial amount of droids that are mostly being captured as we speak.” lyla informs him.

Miguel runs towards where you’re teetering off the edge of a tall building and watches as you use your webs to blind the anomaly. He takes the opportunity to launch himself from the building and swings to the anomaly, destroying her droids in the process and coming to towering over her menacingly

His clawed fingers wrap around her neck, baring it to him as his mask fades and his fangs sink into the flesh, paralysing her.

He wipes his mouth and looks at you. You’re standing sideways on a window.

“Impressive parkour, kid.”

You nod, “thanks.”

When he turns you fist bump the air and jump, forgetting that you were sideways and you fall with a shriek.

Red webbing wraps around waist, you’re pulled towards Miguel. He just looks at you for a few moments. You groan.

“I know you’re trying not to laugh.”

“What do you mean, I’m *snort* not laughing.”

After a few seconds of silence, he doubles over and takes a deep breath, and as you huff out a laugh, Miguel O’Hara, known for being a mean old grump, sputters out nonsensical words while laughing his ass off.

“Yeah, yeah you’re hilarious.” You try to calm him down, but you’re having trouble stopping yourself from laughing as well.

Suddenly a portal opens and Jessica drives onto the roof. The both of you notice her as Miguel wheezes and coughs.

“You good?” She asks after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

The man clears his throat, “Yeah, let’s take this lady back.” He throws the anomaly into the portal and walks in, “come on, kid.”

“What about you, Mini Miguel?” She raises her eyebrow.

“Perfectly fine, Jess” you grin at her underneath your mask.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman atsv #atsv x reader

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honeybeedrabble · 1 year

Text

Kinktober Day 13: Size - Tutor!Miguel x AFAB!Reader 🎃

can you tell i hate my math class this sem ?? :D

CW: unspecified age gap (reader is in college miguel is in grad school), trauma inducing stats vocabulary, piv (unprotected don’t be stupid), creampie (don’t be stupid), mean miguel, harsh grabbing, fingering (kinda), finger sucking, general size difference.

18+ MDNI

It was getting late, you and your roommates Machi and Gale having dinner with you. You huffed, slumping in the chair you sat on.

“This is such bullshit, I’ve been stuck on this problem for like half an hour already. Nothing’s clicking.” You pushed your dinner aside and looked at Gale for reassurance. She tilted her head at you with a raised brow.

“Girl, you know damn well I’m not getting it either. Just call it quits for tonight, it's not due for another two days.” She said, sipping a chilled can of coke.

“Oh, come on. Neither of us are understanding this shit. I mean, this symbol looks like a backwards three! I miss when math used to just have numbers,” you complained, squinting at the statistics homework in front of you.

“That looks ridiculous,” Machi laughed. “Never have I been more glad to be an arts major.” She said, getting up to put her dish away.

“If it bothers you that much, why don’t you just visit the tutoring lab? I think they’re still open.” Gale said, grabbing your dish and following Machi to the sink.

“Really?” You asked, checking your watch. 8 pm.

“Hey, we pay thousands of dollars in tuition, okay? If they can’t stay open or help when students need it what's the point in taking all that money from us?” Gale shrugged. You sighed, standing up from your chair.

“Well, I guess I better get moving if I want to make it to the tutoring center before 10. Let me know if you guys need anything while I’m out.” You grabbed your keys and left the apartment after grabbing your bag and slipping your shoes back on.

_____________________________________________________

You arrived at the building, glass doors sliding open as you walked through them, the cold air conditioning giving you goosebumps. You walked over to the sign in sheet, looking through available tutors for the next hour or so.

“Crap…” You sighed, looking through the sheets. It seemed like you needed an appointment before hand, at least electronically.

There was the sound of laughter down the hall, you turned your head towards the sound. There was a much larger man along with a guy who seemed about your age. You recognized the shorter individual from your statistics class.

“Well, I’m glad we could get your problem figured out.” The tall man said, a big hand patting the younger guy's back heavily.

“Yeah, it only took us all night.” More laughter.

“Hey, if its due in two days all night is nothing.” The tall, tanned man said. He was massive, you could practically see his muscles bulging underneath his white buttoned shirt. His chocolate hair slicked back, a few strands messily framing his face. You were in a trance when his almost red eyes met yours. You felt your face flush.

“U-Uh, Hey! You’re in my statistics class arent you?” You asked the shorter guy, desperately avoiding the older mans gaze. The shorter guy said your name questioningly, you nodded.

“Yeah, thats me.” You said, clutching your bag tighter. “So… you got help with the homework?” You asked, motioning to the taller man.

“Oh yeah, this is Miguel.” He said, patting Miguels back.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” You said, grabbing his large hand and shaking it. You felt your palms become sweatier, his hand practically enveloping yours. “I didn’t see your name under the statistics sign up sheet.” You said, voice almost trembling.

“Well as a grad student my major is scientific research so that's why I’m not under statistics.” He said, a slight smirk across his face, his grip on your hand becoming tighter.

“O-oh,” you said softly.

“But I use statistics in almost everything I do, so I can help out with any problems you’ve got if you need it.”

“Miguel’s not a bad tutor, it only took us so long to finish cause I haven’t shown up to class in weeks.” Your classmate laughed. “I’ve got to get out of here but thanks for your help, man.” He waved before walking out the sliding doors into the dark night.

You and Miguel turned to each other, you suddenly felt very nervous.

“So… Would you… tutor me?” You asked, rubbing your arms for warmth.

“Well, it's not quite 10 yet and I don’t have any other sign-ups, so why not?” He shrugged, walking down the hall with you following after him.

You two walked down the hall, reaching a small study room at the end of it.

“This is the room I reserved for the night, so don’t worry about anyone coming in here super late and trying to steal it from us.” He said, opening it up for you to walk through.

You walked into the room, a table with a few chairs in the center with a whiteboard behind it. It seemed fine to you as you walked in, sitting down on a chair, slightly taken aback when it rolled underneath your weight. You looked down and noticed wheels at the feet of the chair. You looked up again when you heard the door shut, Miguel locking it behind him.

_______________________________________________

“And that's why your z score is going to be 20.99. Does that make sense?” He asked. You were fucked.

The whole time you were supposed to be paying attention you were completely distracted by his being. He sat next to you, his large frame practically caging you in between him and the desk. He was everywhere, and if you weren’t staring directly at the paper, you were scared you were going to faint. You nodded, eyes looking down at the problem, refusing to tear away from the mathematical mess you made.

“Yeah…”

“Then tell me how you got it.” He said, deep voice rumbling in his big chest.

“Well, first you uh…” You circled a random number in the world problem then looked up at him with helpless eyes. He raised a brow.

“You start with the standard deviation?” He asked, clearly unamused.

“Well… You definitely use it somewhere…” You said half joking. Miguel was still unamused. He sighed deeply, throwing his head into his hand.

“I’ll explain it one more time, okay?” He said, grabbing the pencil from your hand. His hand brushed against yours and held your pencil as if it were a toothpick to him. “So, we’ve identified the mew, right?” He asked, underlining the foreign symbol.

“Yeah…” You said, asking yourself what the fuck is a mew?

You were determined to stay focused but that man made it difficult. You turned to look at him while his eyes were fixed onto the paper, scribbling out equations and typing into your calculator- which he also made look puny in his grasp. You watched him as he spoke, the way his soft lips moved as he talked, revealing sharp canines every now and then between words. You felt your face flush, entranced by his presence. You eyed his large shoulders, following them down to his massive arms. You looked back up at his face, admiring his features while he was so deep in thought. He looked down at you.

“So now we just divide and… hey?” he said almost harshly. “Are you paying attention?” He asked in a snarky tone. You felt your face drop.

“I… um…”

“Distracted again?” He tossed the pencil onto the surface of the table, muscular arms crossing as he almost glared at you.

“I’m sorry.” You felt exhausted, covering your face with your hands in defeat. You felt like crying.

“Maybe if you weren’t so focused on undressing me with your eyes and more focused on these problems, you’d understand this shit by now.” He grunted. You stilled, face buried deep into your palms before you peered at him through between your fingertips.

“W…What?” You asked, looking at his almost red eyes.

“I said what I said.” Miguel's voice was low, he grabbed your seat and pulled it towards him, the wheels moving you with ease. You felt your core tighten, as your face continued to burn hot, regardless of the air conditioning.

Miguel's eyes practically violated you, staring deep past your own and into your soul before looking you up and down, clearly enjoying how you cowered.

“That pretty little head not used to thinking this hard?” he asked low in your ear. You shuddered, hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. “Pathetic.”

He grabbed your waist with his large hands, daring to crush you between his palms. He slowly stood up from his chair, face inches away from yours. You took that as invitation enough and crashed your lips into his, those soft lips felt even better than you imagined, a whimper escaping your lips as his grip increased. He pulled you off of the chair and slammed you onto the table, papers flying and pens scattering around you. You let out a grunt as the air escaped your lungs from the impact.

“I’m taking time out of my night to try and teach you this shit and you can't even meet me halfway and try to learn it?” He huffs yanking down your frumpy sweats to your ankles. You kicked them off, laying on the table in your tight shirt and panties.

“I-I’m sorry, you're just so-” he cut you off with two thick fingers plunging into your mouth, you gagged when they hit the back of your throat. He smirked, watching you drag your tongue around the knuckles of his fingers.

“That ought to shut you up.” He ran a finger from his other hand to your clothed cunt, you moaned around his thick digits when he caressed your clit. Your hips moved on their own accord, grinding against his large hand. “Would you look at that? I didn’t know they accepted whores into this school.” Miguel hummed, voice smooth like honey and deep like an ocean.

His single finger moved to where your pussy and thigh met, yanking aside your black cotton panties to reveal your wet cunt, which clenched around nothing at the sudden cold air.

“Jesus… I bet you were thinking about this all night, huh?” Miguel teased, the calloused tip of his finger just barely grazing along your seeping hole, spreading the warm slick higher and higher up your folds until he could smear it along your sensitive bud, eliciting another moan from behind his drooly fingers.

“Needy, aren’t we?” Miguel withdrew his fingers from your mouth while his other hand unzipped his dress pants, the metal of his belt buckle clanking together as he pulled it out of its loops. The belt hit the floor with a small thud and with his drool-soaked fingers he freed his massive cock and ran the slippery fingers up and down his shaft.

Miguel tore your underwear off of you, as if it was like taking a sticker off a piece of fruit. You felt yourself drip down your thighs, unsure whether or not it was okay to touch yourself while watching this Greek god of a man pleasure himself with your spit, watching your tense cunt beg him to stuff it.

“Like what you see?” He asked, slipping his finger into his mouth and moaning long and deep when he tasted your sweet slick on his tongue. You nodded vigorously, grabbing one of your tits to entice him even further. “Why don’t you take that off while we’re ahead?”

You quickly tossed off your shirt and bra, completely naked on the desk. Miguel softly laughed, watching how nicely you obeyed him.

“You're too easy, y’know that?” With a few more pumps to his shaft, he harshly grabbed one of your thighs and spread your legs even further, admiring your wet pussy.

The moan you two let out when he put his cock inside of you could've been heard by the whole building if it hadn't been well past 10 pm and everyone had gone for the day. His girthy member dared to split you in half, the sheer size of him was far too much to handle, especially all at one. We watched with pleasure as your breathy moans turned into agonized whimpers the further he drove into you. When he had finally gone balls deep inside of you, there was an obvious cock bulge deep inside of you as he stretched out your pussy wonderfully.

“M-Miguel…” You sighed, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple.

“Oh, so this can keep your attention but me slaving away on your homework can’t?” He smugly asked, pulling out before slamming into you with a grunt. You wailed, scratching the hard surface of the desk underneath you, crumpling stray pieces of scratch paper into your palm while arching your back.

Miguel started at a rough pace, making room out of your tight pussy for his intimidating cock, juices slicking the shaft of his member, and sounds of your wet pussy gushing paired with the creaking of the table filled the room, moans, and mewls adding to euphonious music of your fucking.

“So fucking tight… so fucking tiny… I bet I could fold you like a pretzel,” He said amusingly, grabbing the backs of your thighs and pushing the fronts of them against your chest. You cried out loud, new depth being explored by his commanding dick while he used you for his pleasure.

With his massive hands, he spread his fingers out, his thumbs on the backs of your thighs and his four fingers on the small of your back, grabbing onto you so he could bring you up and down on his deep thrusts.

You were seeing stars at this point, scared your arousal would drip onto your homework papers and soil all the progress you’ve made. But it didn’t matter anymore when you threw your head back onto the table and shook in his hands, pussy clenching around his meaty cock and milking him for his own cum.

“Ngh- What did I say? Easy…” He moaned, thrusting inside of you a few more times before he shot a huge load inside of your tiny pussy, cum leaking out between where your sexes met and rolling down your asscheeks.

You lay there on the table, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Miguel watched entranced as your shared cum leaked out of you, finger fucking it back inside of you, wondering if it he could stuff it all back in. He quickly realized your overstimulated cunt couldn’t take it as tears welled in your eyes.

“Sorry,” He said, removing his fingers. “Now uh… where were we?” He picked up the page of work, then his face dropped, looking at the splotch of cum that had spilled out on accident.

“On second thoughts… you might want to turn this in online.”

Tag List: @fuckmachine42069 @pasdasin @alien-girl-violet

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