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saintsugu · 1 year ago

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PLAY TIME; KINKTOBER DAY 5

rating: mature; mdni

pairing; yuuji itadori / ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

word count: 5.6k

content warnings: explicit sexual content, 18+, apocalypse au, vague horror (aka it’s kind of creepy), vaginal penetration, all of the explicit sex is with sukuna, manhandling, true-form sukuna, monster fucking (two cocks // four arms), non con, sadomasochism, slight dacryphilia, dvp, usage of pet, bellybulge, unprotected sex, cumflation, alluding to cucking

Author’s note: super unedited. i’m really proud of this fic + the idea as a whole, but i’m really proud of the fact that I got the last 2/3k done in about 1.5 hrs. please enjoy the last piece of 2023’s Kinktober!<3

Today, the forest is ominously quiet—even more so than usual. Dead leaves crunch underneath your boot with every step and it makes your skin crawl; not to mention how freezing cold it is. How did you even end up out here alone to begin with?

Letting out a shaky breath, which is painfully visible, you try to tug your sleeves down to cover your numb hands. As you’re in the process of doing so, the frightening noise of a twig snapping has your hand instead finding your knife on instinct.

It could be an animal, but it’s not likely. Given the time of year, most are hibernating, and those that aren’t have already been skinned and cooked.

You turn around yet are met with nothing except the forest from which you came. With the trees being as crowded together as they are, it’s easy for someone to hide, so your guard isn’t exactly down just yet.

After many excruciating minutes of silence, a voice speaks and you’re too terrified to realize who it is. Unsheathing your blade, you take a step behind you and are ready to hit whoever may be in front of you.

“Hey, stop, it’s me!”

Yuuji catches your wrist within moments of impact. Despite his desire to always be gentle with you, the current predicament required a bit of force from his end and you couldn’t help but wince before releasing the knife. The blade clatters against the stones below you and you sigh so loud in relief that you’re sure the entire forest could hear it.

Your eyes soften and you press your head against his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was you.” The statement is fairly obvious, yet you still feel the need to clarify that you didn’t mean to try and stab your boyfriend, rather than the stalker you figured he was.

“Don’t be,” you can feel his hand intertwining with yours and it makes you feel safe. “Let’s go home. I already carved out a path for us, I was just looking for you.”

The trek back to the cabin is short but a bit steep. Yuuji’s holding onto you tightly the entire trip. The grip on your hand aids in making you feel a little more at peace despite the eerie crawl of the woods.

The cold weather has been well appreciated. Both you and Yuuji find it much easier to layer up and use blankets, rather than deal with turning the generator on fully to keep cool. The way you have it now, you’re able to keep it on for a few hours at a time—just enough for you to shower and do whatever else requires electricity, before shutting it off. There are only a few downsides to the chilling temperatures; one of which, being the fog that occupies the forest.

It completely limits visibility; that’s nice if you’re holed up in the cabin, but when you’re out scavenging? Horrible. You can’t even see two feet in front of you.

“Be careful. Step over,” he carefully directs you, quiet as he grips your hand a little tighter. It’s how you know you’ve arrived home. You’re careful to raise your feet and make sure you don’t bump against the fence that Yuuji had staked into the ground.

The wiring itself isn’t awfully thick, but it keeps most animals away; not to mention that it’s main function is sound purposes. Along the wires, there are different cans and bells that will rattle if the fence is at all bumped or tugged. It’s a good method to keep you and Yuuji up worrying all night.

It’s so cold. Your words are barely above a whisper, hands shivering slightly as the cabin comes into view. You can nearly hear the frown in Yuuji’s voice when he tells you that you’re almost there. He’s been very….overprotective of you, to say the least. It’s not like you can blame him, though. The world is scary now.

“Close it a little softer next time.” You can’t help but teasingly scold your partner as you step into the warm home.

“But I wanted to shut it before the wind picked up.” It’s cute, the way he snickers at you before moving towards the fireplace. “You should change into something clean while I start the fire.”

You had planned to already, so you have no issue bouncing towards your shared room to change your clothes. When you return back, Yuuji has busied himself with the fireplace.

Moments like this are nice. Those times, no matter how brief they may be, where you get to watch your boyfriend clumsily set the logs on fire. The simplicity of it all nearly makes you forget the world right outside of your door that has gone to hell.

It’s just you and the boy occupying the cabin. At different points, people have come and gone, but it’s been a long time since you’ve met eyes with anyone other than Yuuji. A man by the name Megumi stayed with you for a bit, nearly six months, actually, before taking his leave in search of his father. The rest, you’ve long forgotten their names. It’s quite…sad, actually. You spend a lot of nights wondering about their whereabouts.

“You like what you see?” He teases. His palms are pressed against the floor behind him, lanky limbs spread out a bit as he uses his locked out arms to hold him up.

“Oh always,” you nearly giggle. He never fails at finding a way to cheer you up.

Eventually, he stands up to help you make some food. It’s nothing special, really. You just boil rice over the fire and cook it with some canned chicken that Yuuji managed to find on a run last week.

Food has been getting harder to manage as of late. Thankfully, when this started, there was already a large pantry full of non-perishable food inside the cabin. Even with that being said, it’s been years and supplies are depleting rapidly. Between the two of you, you surprisingly don’t eat much, so it’s easier to ration better, but with less than half of the supplies left, you can’t help but worry.

“It’s good,” he says, taking a bite. He’s leaned against the wall across from you—you’re both still keeping warm near the fireplace.

If it weren’t for the bitter temperatures, you would’ve probably sat at the large, oak table in the dining room— a table that’s much too big for only the two of you —but with the crisp and cold air, you opted to eat on the floor in favor of the warmth.

It’s sweet but it makes you laugh a little. He always tries to make you feel better, no matter what the topic at hand is; he’s like a man consoling his wife. “If it wasn’t, I’d be worried. Takes a lot of work to fuck up rice and chicken,” you say playfully.

“Better than I could do.” His laughter is contagious. It fills the air the same as it fills your lungs. The pure joy you feel when hearing it, spreads through your entire being as your lips curl into a smile of their own. “I’m serious!” He grins even wider. “Gramps used to make all my meals for the most part.”

“‘Dunno how you got this far like that.” You’re laying on your stomach while you tease him. Your body is nearly perpendicular with the wall, but the side of your head rests against a pillow. Having already finished your meal, you have nothing better to do than shamelessly stare at your lover.

The sound of the fire crackling mixes with the boy’s voice and fills the room. It all feels so cozy that it makes you forget what awaits you outside of that small wire fence. He makes it easy to forget—or to ignore, for better lack of words.

When you’re staring into his eyes, it’s easy to pretend like you’re unaware of the storm raging outside. As if you don’t know the world is burning the same way the shriveled firewood has.

Once he finishes his bowl, you find it as a perfect chance to straddle his lap. With your legs spread, your knees press into the plush carpeting. The moment can only be described as intimate as your foreheads touch.

“I love you.” It’s a quiet affirmation that you both repeat at the same time. The repetition causes you both to laugh, before he silences you with a soft kiss. “My girl,” he whispers.

Slow kisses begin to get more desperate as his hands roam your body. He’s in nothing more than a black tank top, and a pair of thin pajama pants that are too baggy for him. It gives you easy access as you kiss his neck, uncaring of how you do so; it’s not like anyone will see.

For the rest of the night, Yuji conveys just how much he loves you. Your time spent together consists of limbs messily intertwining as he has his way with you on the floor. Despite having full control over a willing partner, Yuuji is still so sweet and kind to you. He may accidentally overestimate his strength and manhandle you slightly, but he always tries his hardest to not hurt you in any way.

He brings you to the edge more times than you would have ever imagined and he’s a bit more…clingy than usual—not that you mind, of course. You just hadn’t realized how scared he had gotten when you got seperated in the forest. He definitely did a good job of hiding it from you.

After cleaning up and triple-checking that the doors are locked and the windows are still boarded up, you make your way into the bedroom. You feel extremely safe and secure as you lay beside him. An arm draped over your side as he pulls you close into his chest.

“Goodnight,” he whispers softly. You swear that your name has never sounded sweeter than when it’s dripping off his tongue.

Thanks to his comforting touch, you’re asleep within minutes.

— three years ago.

Run. Keep running. Don’t stop.

Those words repeat through your head on a loop. They got louder and louder the more you felt your body start to slow. You’re running out of energy. As much as you wish it could, even your sudden burst of adrenaline isn’t enough to combat your starvation and dehydration.

You feel like you’ve been running for days—like some wild animal that’s being hunted down. Every time you try to take a breath, they’re on your heels again.

Nearly 3 weeks ago, you had stumbled upon a small group. They offered you food and shelter, in return for manual labor. Due to your starved state, you didn’t think to ask many questions before taking the water they offered you and mindlessly agreeing.

Unfortunately, what you had hoped to be a new companionship, turned out to be psychopaths trying to force you to kill unsuspecting people. They would track down homes and kill whoever resided in them. You tried to sneak out, but they caught on and were quick to chase after you.

It’s been over a week of this little chase, and you can barely stand. You’re beginning to wonder if running is even worth it, at this point.

Despite seeing it, your brain doesn’t fully process the branch in the path until after you’ve tripped over it. You have absolutely no time to recover as you fall straight towards the dirt.

“Shit,” you curse, feeling thorns poking against you. As you lie on the ground, exhaustion setting in even more so now than before, your inner monologue morphs.

Get up.

You’re nearly screaming at yourself. Every part of your body feels heavy. No matter how hard you will yourself to get back on your feet, you’re rendered incapable.

The approach sound of footsteps confirms that this is the end. Once they find you, they’ll kill you without a second thought. At least I tried. It’s the last thought that runs through your brain as the footsteps get louder and everything goes dark.

It’s quiet. You like it.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt so…at peace.

“You’re awake.” The voice sounds panicked but…happy?

You’re quick to shoot up, but you’re surprised when your hands move freely. If they didn’t kill you, you had at least expected them to restrain you somehow. Yet, when you look around the room, it’s so unfamiliar.

“…who are you? A-are you with them?” You feel weak at the stammer in your voice, but it can’t be helped. Despite his soft features, you’re terrified of the man sitting across from you.

It’s clear that he’s confused, but you still aren’t convinced. “With who? When I found you, you were unconscious in the dirt.”

That doesn’t make sense. Did they…stop looking for me?

You nearly ask again, but you’d rather not be questioned about why you were running. If he wanted to kill you he would’ve done it when you were knocked out cold. There’s no reasonable explanation for him to bring you back to his home and do it there.

“I’m Yuuji,” he says and you can tell that he’s worried he’ll upset you. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

It didn’t take long for you to warm up to him after that. You truly had nowhere else to go, so you slept in the guest room of his cabin for months, until one day, things took a bit of a…different route.

“How’d you find this cabin anyways, Yu’?” Your voice is a bit higher than usual as you lean against the plush couch. On his latest supply run, the boy brought back a good amount of alcohol and you both agreed that it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.

“I didn’t,” he shakes his head, words a bit slurred. “It was my Gramps’. Been in the family since before I was born. It was my family’s designated rendezvous place—we all kind of picked it as a joke but,” he pauses. The silence is deafening as you hang on his words. “I was the only one who made it here.”

Your expression drops. Neither of you had attempted to ask about the other’s families in the months you’ve known each other, finding it a bit of a personal topic to bring up at random, but now, considering you’re both tipping over the edge from the alcohol…your filters are a little less engaged.

“It’s okay, though,” he takes a sip of his beer as he plasters a fake grin onto his face. He pauses, before his face turns sour. Initially, you believe that he’s about to open up, add on to what he said, but you quickly stand corrected when he bolts up and starts to walk— no, run off.

“Yuuji?” You call after him as he disappears from your view. Due to the drinks, your reaction time is a bit sluggish, so it takes a minute before you’re up and following him. Once you finally follow him into the open bathroom, you find him hunched over the toilet and it suddenly makes sense.

His beer can is on the floor, its contents pooling around the base of the toilet as Yuuji uses his forearms to keep himself stable. He doesn’t throw up much, mostly just coughing and gagging— Still, the sight brings up a few…unpleasant memories and the sounds alone make a melancholic feeling settle in your chest.

“Do you want some water?” You offer, but he shakes his head.

“Stay here.” It’s a simple request. His words are slurred, but the look in his droopy eyes tells you he means it. He rests his head against his right forearm, staring directly at you as he tries to regain his strength.

Eventually, you settle onto the floor a few feet away from him. With your back against the door, you curl your knees up to your chest and just wait for him to feel better. A few minutes pass, neither of you would really be able to count how many, but he finds himself leaning against the bathtub rather than the toilet.

“’m glad I found you,” he says quietly, voice hoarse from coughing so much. “I was kind of going crazy all by myself. I swore I started hearing things,” he chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

It’s so peculiar to you how Yuuji is so…positive. Even now, drunk and hunched over a toilet bowl, he finds it in him to laugh. You don’t have it in you to tell him that you’re happy to— cause that would require admitting that you care about him.

“What were you doing before all this?” You ask him curiously, trying to change the subject. It’s something you’ve wondered for a long time yet never found a way to bring it up.

“I was just a college student,” he laughs a bit, the skin of his eyes creasing at the thought. “I delivered pizzas when I could. Did some odd jobs, too. Like…landscaping for my grandpa’s neighbors and shit. What about you?”

“Just bartending,” you nod, thinking back to those simple times. “It was good money.”

The two of you sit and talk like that for a little longer, until Yuuji eventually starts to doze off. As cute as he looks as his eyes flutter shut, you know better than to let him sleep there. “C’mon, let's get you to bed,” you say softly, helping him stand up.

“You’re so sweet,” he murmurs, half asleep and still inebriated as he leans against you. You’re practically dragging him towards the bedroom with his arm around your shoulder. “And pretty too. ‘M so happy we found you…”

That night and in that moment, you were too hung up on him calling you pretty to acknowledge the we in his words; or maybe you did notice, but it was subconsciously easier to just…chalk it off as a slip of the tongue.

—

You’re drenched in sweat as you suddenly wake up, body practically launching away from the bed. You press your palm to your chest, feeling the way your heart is beating at an inhumane rate.

For the past few weeks, you’ve been having vivid nightmares. Usually, they’re all similar; all having to do with you being taken or something of the sort. Tonight’s dream was a bit different.

You were in the cabin, but nothing was working. The boards were off the windows, the fireplace wouldn’t light, and the generator wouldn’t work. Thankfully, you woke up before anything bad could truly happen, but waking up was bad in and of itself, considering the bed is empty with Yuuji nowhere to be found.

“…Baby?” You call out nervously, leaning over to turn your bedside lamp on. You were hoping that he was just in the bathroom, but that hope is quickly squashed when he doesn’t call back.

With a stuttered sigh, your legs swing over the side of the bed as you prepare to search for your lover. Shaking hands sift through your drawer, pushing around objects you forgot existed, before landing on a thick flashlight. It illuminates the room, making your eyes widen in a weak attempt to adjust to the light.

Your footsteps are light and cautious against the creaking wood and it’s a scene straight from a horror movie. Once on the stairs, you can hear something creaking— a door or a window— but when you get in the kitchen, you can’t seem to find anything.

Timid as a mouse, your voice is quiet as you call out for Yuuji. There’s no response, of course not, but as you begin to speak again, you’re very quickly disrupted.

A thick hand wraps around your face, easily covering your lips and practically suffocating you as his fingertips dig into your cheekbones. Panic bubbles out of your throat, eyes wide with adrenaline, yet as you go to scream, another hand finds its place around your throat.

“Don’t scream.” A dark and eerily familiar sound pierces your ear. It’s a contorted and dark version of a voice you hear every day. “Or you could, but who’ll find you?” He mocks sadistically.

Your head is yanked back, nearly giving you whiplash as it makes contact with the man’s chest. You feel as though you’re about to hurl. The panic is presenting itself clear in the form of bile in your throat, and the fear in the form of tears.

“I’ve sat on the sidelines for too fucking long.”

Another hand begins to tug at your flimsy pajama shorts— wait, another hand…?

Looking down in absolute horror, you’re greeted by a third arm tussling at your clothes. You’re convinced you’re going insane, but it’s so real. At this point, with dead people walking around, nothing should surprise you, but even so, you can’t help the way your eyes widen in horror at the side of multiple sets of arms.

You’re far too distraught to even register the way the fabric tears at your thigh, completely ripping apart with a flick of his hand. The lump in your throat grows, making your mouth dry as you struggle to speak.

“W-who are you?”

The man behind you just laughs— a deeply disturbing sound as it vibrates throughout the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything, just grabs your waist with one of four hands and begins to drag you; where exactly, you aren’t sure.

Amongst the laughter, he covers your eyes as he manhandles you away. He’s keeping your sight obscured until you can ‘properly see me’, as if it’s some sort of game. It’s terrifying.

It feels like the wind is knocked out of you with how roughly he’s shoving you against a hard surface— your table, you soon realize. He maneuvers you as if you’re some kind of doll and gets you laying onto the table before your vision is finally returned. He retracts two out of four hands; keeping them only on your waist and throat.

Your heart drops when you finally see the man in front of you. It’s Yuuji— your Yuuji, but his body is deformed. He’s much taller and stockier for starters. He’s missing the lean figure that you’ve grown to adore. Instead, he’s towering over you ever more, with an extra pair of arms sprouting from his midsection. One of the most disturbing parts, though, are the second and third eyes. They’re placed directly under his regular eyes, but they’re half the size. It makes you want to throw up.

“What? You don’t like seeing your baby Yuuji?” he imitates you with a sadistic grin.

You’re shuddering in fear, throat constricted just enough to let you speak. “You are not my Y-Yuuji,” you stammer, shaking like a goddamn leaf.

He just laughs, tugging at your panties. Even with you desperately squeezing your thighs together, he rips them apart with ease. “You’re right, I’m not. Yuuji couldn’t fuck you properly even if someone was telling him how.”

What is he talking about? Who is this?

“And trust me, I tried,” he says, like he’s exasperated as he rips your panties off. “Every time I talk to him, he just ignores me. Little brat.” He’s muttering to himself as thick hands pry your legs apart.

“Please, don’t,” your voice shakes, resorting to your seemingly last option of begging whoever this imposter is. “I-I’ll give you anything else just don’t…” you can’t even speak it out loud. You know what he wants to do to you— what he’s about to do.

Your pleading is met with a loud, and mocking laugh. “You look so cute like that; all helpless and crying. You humans have always looked best like that.” It makes sense. You would’ve never described him as human. You don’t know where he’s going with this tangent, but his voice soon drops an octave and answers your question.

“Do you really think I’m gonna pass up the chance to get what I’ve been craving for so long? Why, because of a few tears?” You hadn’t even realized you were crying until then, but now that you know, the dams are releasing.

“W-who are you?” Sure, he’s claimed to be Yuuji, but it’s clear that you aren’t falling for that. His eyes zero on your cunt as thick fingers begin to prod at your folds. None of the movements make sense and it’s clearly not for your pleasure. It feels more as if he’s just inspecting it.

It’s been a long time since he’s been let out to play, after all.

“Call me Sukuna, Doll.” His words are eerily dark before he roughly shoves a finger into your cunt. For the most part, you’re fairly dry, but he knows that he can change that; and he knows that it won’t take him long, either. Humans are simple creatures.

Tears slip out of your eyes faster, only fueling him on even more as he starts to finger fuck you. His fingers are a lot thicker than the slender digits that you’ve gotten used to. It hurts but it also..feels good? You hate even thinking that, but you can’t deny the physical pleasure you’re experiencing despite the mental anguish alongside it.

“You’re wet,” he obnoxiously observes, uncaring of the way it makes you squirm. “Do my fingers feel that good? Or are you just used to Yuuji treating you like glass?” You don’t respond, instead opting to turn your head away.

A third finger slips in and you swear that it’s already the equivalent of your boyfriend’s cock. “I always told him that he needed to be rougher. The little brat wouldn’t listen but I knew better; I know that girls like you just want to be treated like whores.”

As the pad of his fingers press into your g-spot, you finally let out a moan. It’s whiney and high pitched and out of fucking nowhere. In all of the times he’s listened in on you and Yuuji having sex— which has been every time — he’s never heard a noise like that leave your lips. It has his ego inflating even further.

Immediately, you’re trying to bring a hand to your lips, trying so hard to muffle the noises that keep seeping out like a waterfall. Still, it’s no use once Sukuna catches onto what you’re doing. A large hand overpowers your own as he pins it against the hard table.

“Don’t do that,” he demands, a sick grin on his face. “I want him to hear.” Him? Yuuji can hear?

You’ve been far too scared to put together all of Sukuna’s implications. Too riddled with fear to even think about if Yuuji knew that this demon was living inside of him. Even so, from everything he’s said, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure it out.

It doesn’t take much longer for his patience to break. With one hand still buried inside of your cunt, two others are undoing his sweats. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight you see next.

Not only is his cock considerably bigger than Yuuji’s, but there’s two of them.

With panic spreading through your body, you’re very quickly trying to scramble away. “T-those can’t—“ you’re stammering, body attempting to crawl away from him and up the table. Even with you slipping away, he’s trying to line one of his cocks up. “Those can’t go inside of me. Y-you’re fucking crazy,” you curse, mind reeling just at the thought of him trying to jam just one of those things inside of you.

“Stay fucking still,” he barks, yanking you back down and right onto his dick. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, and your eyes begin to roll back. With your lips parted in an O, he finds himself groaning at the feeling of your tight heat and the sight of your oh so beautiful face twisted up in both pleasure and pain.

With a deep groan vibrating his entire chest, he bottoms out inside of you. He feels impossibly deep as he nestles inside of you. Your nails scrape against the wooden surface, and your back arches. Your entire body is being overwhelmed by the intense pain he’s causing, yet you can’t deny the element of pleasure that’s mixed in.

You would’ve never mentioned it to him, but Yuuji did always treat you like glass. He was always a bit too kind and a bit too gentle. It felt good, just not…intense.

“Sukuna,” you nearly scream the name, hips stuttering as you try to not cum right then. He’s pushing your knees up to your chest, leaning forward to get a good look at the pathetic puddle he’s turned you into, as he fucks you roughly.

“You sound good saying my name, pet,” he laughs, thrusting deep into you as his second cock rests above your stomach. “I always knew you would.”

The two of you stay like that for awhile— Sukuna fucking you within an inch of your life, and you taking it like some sort of rag doll. It doesn’t take much longer for you to cum. With the length of his second cock rubbing against your clit, you’re easily overstimulated until you're squirting all over him.

That’s another thing you’ve never done with Yuuji. It feels so dirty and twisted, but fuck, you can’t deny how good this monster is making you feel. His cock is reaching places you didn’t think possible and it’s driving you insane.

After what feels like forever, Sukuna’s finally starting to pull out. You’re practically half-conscious at this point. Your body is lolled out on the table, limply laying there as you stare up at him with lidded eyes.

You watch as his, seemingly permanent, grin widens, and you don’t fully understand why it is, until you feel something else prodding at your hole. He’s not…is he?

For the nth time tonight, your eyes widen at the sight of him trying to push his other cock into your pussy beside the one that’s already there.

“S-Sukuna it won’t fit, it won't—“

“Will you ever learn to shut up?” He snarls, starting to push in. Thankfully for him, two cocks is a quick way to get you to quiet down. You’re far too preoccupied with getting stretched beyond your limits to worry about talking back.

It feels like you’re going to explode at any given time. It’s just too much. You could barely fit what was in you before, let alone double. Your eyes twitch due to how hard they’re rolling.

Finally, as you begin to regain some semblance of control over your body, you try to refocus your vision. Your eyes land on Sukuna once more, studying how he begins to look less like Yuuji the longer this goes on. He’s beginning to morph into his own self. It’s weird and creepy and you want it to stop.

Drifting away in search of something else to latch onto, your eyes find another thing to focus on. This one, though, is much more alarming.

A thick bulge can be seen poking through your skin in the shape of his cock. You watch in absolute horror as it moves in tandem with his hips.

“You little humans,” he purrs. “All so fragile. Look at that…” once his hand goes to trace the bulge and you finally see just how large his hands really are. “Look how deep inside of you I am. C’mon,” he taps your cheek, trying to pull you from your dazed state. “You can’t fall asleep yet.”

He doesn’t even give you the chance to say something in response. Instead, he begins to fuck you at a rough pace. Not as fast as earlier, but a lot deeper. With each stroke, you find yourself crying out his name and reeling from the pleasure he’s providing. It’s sick and insane that you’re finding any aspect of this enjoyable, let alone all of it. Every single movement has you one step closer to cumming.

By the time Sukuna’s emptying both of his cocks inside of you and filling you to the brim with cum, you’ve already hit your climax two additional times. You’re completely dazed over at this point, barely even conscious, and definitely not aware enough to notice how swollen your tummy is due to the copious amount of cum he dumped inside of you.

He hasn’t even pulled out yet, but he’s letting out a deep sigh. The deal he and Yuuji made was that he got to fuck you once and only until he came. He has a feeling Yuuji won’t allow him any other fun than that, especially since it’s going to be hard enough trying to convince you this was a nightmare or whatever other bullshit he’ll try to feed you.

“Okay, brat,” he mutters, pressing down lightly on the bulge and watching you haphazardly squirm. “I’m done now. Let’s go.”

One. Two. Three.

Nothing comes. No one switches.

A devilish grin finds Sukuna’s face once more.

“God, you’re such a little pervert,” he laughs. “You want to watch me fuck her brains out again, don’t you, Yuuji?” Even with no response, he knows he’s right.

His hand strokes your cheek gently, before roughly grabbing your jaw, scaring you but not enough to jolt you awake.

“Seems like we get to have some more fun, Doll.”

tagging: @enchantedforest-network , @themovingcastlez , @hannzai , @pussydrunkfyodor , @chaoticmoonave , @kkittycries , @dilfhos , @saintriots , @suyacho , @princess-okkotsu

#jjk smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #yuuji itadori #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #itadori yuuji #yuji x reader #tw noncon #.kinktober 2023 #.ezra’s writing #.file } itadori #.file } sukuna

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miley1442111 · 7 months ago

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transfer- s.reid

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a/n: intended for fem reader, but as always imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: how your sudden transfer forces certain feelings to the surface

pairing: spencer reid x bau! reader

warnings: none

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“It’s an executive decision Y/n, they are not asking,” Hotch sighed and you felt bile rise in your throat as the team stared in horror. You were being transferred to the Pentagon. “I know this will be an emotional time for all of us-”

“It’s not emotional, it’s a horrible idea,” Spencer said, his voice calm despite the storm raging in his mind. He wouldn’t be able to see you everyday? Bullshit. “She’s a crucial member of this team-”

“Spencer, they aren’t asking. Strauss expects her to be back in DC within the next hour,” he explained and exited the room. Everyone fell silent and Spencer raised his eyes to meet yours. You looked terrified and angry, he hadn’t seen you this angry ever.

Not only were you one of the most vital members of the team, you were the thing that made all this shit just that small bit easier to deal with. What would he do now without your teasing jokes? How would he even want to go to work when he knew he wouldn’t see your tired smiles in the mornings? When would he remember to rest if you weren’t reminding him?

And how would he be able to tell you he was in love with you when he didn’t see you everyday?

“I-I’ll… I’ll go get my bag,” You sighed, accepting your fate and leaving the room, Spencer trailing behind you.

“Y/n!” He called after you. “Wait, I-I’ll come with you to grab your things,” He internally kicked himself for not thinking of something better to say. When he caught up with you outside the building, he could see the tears falling from your eyes, even in the darkness of the night.

“I don’t want to leave,” You sniffled. “I told them I didn’t want a new position, I told them that I was h-happy here, that I want to be h-here.”

Spencer took you in his arms, letting you cry into the side of his neck. Had the circumstances been different, he would’ve over thought about the fact that you were so close to him. So close that he could smell your hair, so close that he could feel your soft skin on his, so close that he was very much enjoying the way you clung to him.

“I mean… I don’t have any say? T-there’s so much more I wanted to do… I- I had this whole plan-”

“It’s ok,” he soothed. “You’ll do great things at the pentagon-”

“Fuck the pentagon!” You exclaimed, pushing him off of you. “I wanted to… I wanted to tell you for so long, a-and then the moment never seemed right, a-and I just assumed I-I’d lost m-my chance and I’m was sure you were already s-seeing someone so it didn’t even matter but then we g-got even closer a-and-”

Spencer’s heart was beating out of his chest, were you trying to say what he thought you were? “What are you trying to say?!” He shouted over your rambling, stopping the pacing you were doing in front of him.

“I’m in love with you!” You shouted back. Spencer stood there, stunned, as you anxiously waited for an answer. You got one in the form of the grin on Spencer’s face. One of his hands reached out and grabbed your waist, while the other cupped your cheek, pulling you in to kiss him. His lips against yours were electric. You were relieved that he felt the same way and you were ecstatic that he kissed you.

“I’m in love with you too,” he whispered against your lips, pulling away. Your hands rooted themselves in his hair as he kissed you again, only pulling away when the rest of the team cheered from the door.

You two were met with congratulations and cheers, happy that the two of you had finally told each other how you felt.

You walked onto the airstrip, Spencer’s hand in yours, not even scared for your new role.

You had Spencer, what else did you need?

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, obx+)

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #doctor spencer reid

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mountttmase · 7 months ago

Text

Don’t Get Caught

Note - lil bit of cheeky dad Mase to round off our Monday. I hope you’re all good and I hope you enjoy this 🩷 smut has not been smutting for me in a while so let’s see 😂 feedback would be appreciated 😘

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 3k

Warnings - smut

‘So it’s just a shed?’

‘No Mason, it’s not just a shed’ Declan huffed. Annoyed by Mason downplaying his new purchase that he was proudly showing the pair of you around. Not that you could see much as it was dark outside and for the most part his new summer house was just an empty shell bar some cupboards. ‘I’ve got someone coming tomorrow to wire the electrics so the lights work, then I’m getting a tv installed, a mini fridge, like you name and I’ll probably have it, it’s gonna be immense’

‘What does Lauren think of all this?’ You asked, shining your torch round so you could see more of the space but it really was a work in progress right now.

‘She’ll have her section too, don’t worry. And I’m getting her one of those outdoor sofa set things she’s always wanted to go by the hot tub outside, plus a new swing for Jude. They’ll love it’

You were about to ask another question when his phone began to ring, Lauren’s photo flashing up on the screen but the more she spoke the more displeased his face became until he was hanging up with a huff.

‘Ah for fucks sake, Madders has thrown up in the guest room, I need to go and kick his arse’ he sighed, his hand running over his face like he didn’t want to deal with it and you couldn’t say you didn’t blame him as you tried to hold in a laugh.

‘Sounds grim’ Mason chuckled, making his way over to you in the dark and holding you at your waist. ‘We’ll be back in soon, yeah? I just wanna have a look round a bit more’

‘Yeah yeah take your time, I’ll see you inside later’ Dec mumbled before leaving the pair of you alone. Watching him trudge back to the house with his shoulders slumped before you turned to Mason who you could just about make out in the dark.

‘Look round what, Mason? It’s a shed with a counter and a few cupboards’ you asked, turning in his grip and resting your hands on his chest as he pulled you closer and even in the dark you could see his pretty smile.

‘I don’t think Dec would be too happy if he heard you say that’ He laughed and you rolled your eyes playfully. ‘What do you think anyway? Would you like a summer house?’

‘Maybe’ you shrugged. Trying to imagine something similar in your own garden. ‘Would be fun to have movie nights with Ollie in something like this, like we could get blankets and those big bean bags things. Maybe some nice fairy lights so we can get all cozy’

‘You could also use it as somewhere when you need some time away from the boys’ he winked, pulling away from you as he took a better look around and it clicked in your brain that what he meant by it.

‘Oh I see, you just want it for you’ you laughed and he knew he’d been caught out as you heard him try to contain his giggles. ‘Come on, what would you have in here then?’

‘Well I’d get a tv definitely, and I like the idea of a mini fridge…’ Mason started but you didn’t listen to the rest of it. The thought of the three of you all snuggled under a blanket in something similar in your own home made your heart thump and the need to check Ollie was okay washed over you.

Ollie was at home with Lewis, the latter staying for a few days as he had a few appointments with Mason he needed to plan and it was always easier to do it when they were together rather than over the phone. Thankfully he was more than happy to look after Ollie for the evening so you and Mason could go to the joint birthday party that Dec was throwing at his house for the pair of them.

Lewis hadn’t texted and he was under strict instructions not to unless there was an emergency so the pair of you could have some time out, but you missed your little boy and you needed to check on him. Your finger hovering over the call button but before you could press it you felt Masons hands at your waist again.

‘Are you even listening to me?’ He laughed, shaking you slightly until you looked at him and you could tell from the look in his eye he knew what you were doing.

‘Sorry Mase’ you sighed, holding your phone to your chest as he pulled you closer. ‘I just wanted to check in and make sure Ollie is alright’

‘He’s probably asleep baby, Lewis knows what he’s doing’

‘I know, I just wanted to be sure’

‘Hand it over’ he smirked, laying his palm out flat for you to put your phone into but you just shook your head and held it closer to your chest.

‘No Mase it’s fine, I’ll keep it away’

‘Why don’t you turn it off?’

‘Yeah Mase, real sensible’ you laughed, rolling your eyes as you put it back in your bag as Mason placed a kiss on your forehead.

‘Come on, Ollie is fine. I know it’s weird being without him but why don’t we take our minds off it a bit?’ He shrugged, not picking up on the cheeky tone to his voice at the end but you were curious about what he was going to suggest.

‘How?’

‘You wanna play a game?’ He asked, backing you up against the cupboards just behind you and you let him do it until you couldn't move anymore. Your bum hitting the top of the counter and you looked up at him curiously.

‘Depends, what did you have in mind?’

‘A little one I like to call, don’t get caught’ he whispered whilst hiking you up to sit on the counter by your thighs. ‘Never played it before but I thought it might be fun’ he smiled as he squeezed your thighs. ‘I’ve been thinking about it all day’

‘Mason’ you warned but he just smiled and kissed you heavily. Knowing he pretty much always got his way in situations like this and your resolve would crumble soon enough.

‘Come on baby, I know you want to’ he teased before kissing you again and when Mason kissed you like this you knew exactly what it meant. ‘I haven't had you in days and I won’t be able to again for a while’

He was right. He’d been away for a few days for a game and tomorrow he’d be off again for a training camp so tonight was really the only time you had to be physical. You just thought it would come later on when the pair of you were in bed not outside in the middle of Decs new purchase.

‘You know I’ll make it worth your while, baby’ he whispered. Lips ghosting your jaw before he playfully bit your earlobe and when his kisses started to travel down your neck you felt your body turn to jelly.

‘Won’t everyone be able to see?’ You asked, looking towards the floor to ceiling sliding glass doors that were just to the right of you and you gulped nervously.

‘We can barely see each other, gorgeous. Don't worry I won’t let anyone see you, you’re for my eyes only yeah?’

‘Okay’ you whispered. Letting him kiss you again as you gave into his desires as in this moment you wanted him just as much.

‘I’m gonna make you feel so good you’ll forget your own name, pretty girl’ he whispered against your lips and even though his sentiment made you smile you knew he meant it. When Mason had had a bit to drink his mouth tended to run away with him and when you were being intimate it was no different. This version of Mason liked to talk you through it. To pull the strings and tease you into oblivion until you were a mess beneath him and you knew if he got his way tonight you’d be in for a wild ride

Before you knew it, you felt his fingers trail over your thighs and under your dress. Gripping your bum so he could pull you forward and rest you just on the edge of the counter but thankfully it wasn’t very wide and you were able to lean back and rest against the wall as his fingers danced over the front of your underwear.

‘You can’t tell me you don’t tell me you don’t want this, you’re dripping for me’ he growled, fingers circling just where you needed them over your underwear and it only took a beat for you to start grinding your hips to meet his movements. ‘See, there we go. You know exactly what to do don’t you?’

You let him tease you a little while longer as he kissed you roughly but soon enough he was finally pushing your dress up higher and gripping the top of your underwear so he could pull them from your legs. The cold air hitting you and making you hiss before you could just about make out him stuffing the black lace into his back pocket.

‘Hands on my shoulders baby, need you to hold on tight yeah?’ He told you, hearing him pull down the zip on his trousers and shuffle his boxers about just enough to free himself and you clenched around nothing in anticipation of what you were about to do.

As soon as you felt his tip pushing against your entrance his lips were on yours. Swallowing your moans as he eased himself into you slowly but you were surprised about how easy it was since there was no foreplay involved and you were just getting straight down to business.

He still took his time though. Moving slowly in and out of you so you could both adjust and the small whimpers and moans falling from both of your lips just egged the other on until your brain was foggy with pleasure.

‘Remember when we first met, you told me you were a good girl’ he spoke against your lips before kissing along your jaw softly. ‘I’m not so sure i believe you anymore’

‘I’m a good girl for you’

‘And only me, right?’ he sighed, resting his forehead on yours as he kept his pace steady. ‘You’re mine, and you’re always gonna be mine’

‘Masey’

‘What is it baby? What does my good girl want?’

‘Harder please’ you whimpered, wanting him to lose control a little bit as you knew he was holding back until you were comfortable but you were ready to have all of him now.

‘Yeah? You think you can take it’ he asked, hands grabbing your wrists so he could tug them away from his shoulders and before you knew it he had your wrists crossed above your head. Holding them together with one hand so they were against the wall whilst his other hand gripped your waist to hold you still. His hips picking up pace just like you wanted him to and you let a loud moan slip past your lips.

‘So fucking innocent but just look at you. Begging for me like this’ he growled, his words making your tummy flip but you couldn’t answer as he moved his hand to rest on your lower stomach before applying a little pressure. You knew he could feel himself inside of you from the profanities that were falling from his lips but the new sensation had rendered you speechless as your eyes rolled back in your head.

‘You love that I’m fucking you in here don’t you, I bet you want the whole world to see’ he grunted. His thumb now moving back to circle over you as he still applied pressure to your tummy and you almost screamed from how good you felt. ‘Want everyone to know how good I give it to you and how good you can take it’

‘Mase, please’ you cried, so overwhelmed with everything he was giving you that they were the only two words you could remember right now but he just carried on snapping his hips back and forth deliciously.

‘Thats it, say my name. Tell everyone who’s making you feel this good’

You felt Masons hand move away from you, giving you a bit of needed relief as you felt like you were about to explode but you saw him reaching into the back pocket of his jeans until he pulled out his phone.

‘Mase? W-what are you doing?’

‘Shhhh it’s okay. I just need it, need to remember what you feel like when I’m away next week’ he stuttered. ‘My eyes only, remember? You trust me?’

‘With everything’ you whispered back. Recording each other was something you’d never done before but you couldn’t deny the idea made your tummy flutter and you did trust him. He was your husband and the father of your child after all but even though this new idea scared you slightly it also thrilled you.

‘Good girl’ he chuckled, smiling as he placed a reassuring kiss to your lips, promising again it was just for him before he pointed the camera down to where the pair of you met started to record himself slipping in and out of you. The whole act turning you on more than you thought it would and the moans that left your lips were sinful.

‘Look at you, can’t get enough can you?’ he whispered, looking up to see his face slightly illuminated from the light on his phone and the first thing you noticed was how wild his eyes were. ‘You feel so unreal’

‘Masey, I’m so close’

‘I know gorgeous’ he whispered. Shutting his phone off so you were both in darkness again and his free hand returned to your waist to hold you still. ‘I need you to hold it for me though yeah? Just for a minute, okay?’

‘Mase’

‘I know I know, I’ll make it worth your while though, I promise’ he told you. Finally lowering your arms back onto his shoulders so he could get a better grip on you and your fingers got lost in his hair as he rested his forehead on yours again. ‘Just wait for me, yeah?’

‘Okay’ you whimpered. Trying your best to hold off but it was difficult and the way Mason was moaning into your mouth didn’t make it any easier.

‘That’s my girl’ he grunted, eventually hiding his face in your neck so he could focus on reaching his high but as the seconds went on you felt like you were about to explode as his lips connected with your sweet spot.

‘Go on baby, let go for me’ he told you, keeping his pace steady until your high rippled through you. Letting him continue to talk in your ear until he was softly biting your shoulder as he came undone himself.

It was quiet for a few moments, just the sound of your breathing mixed together as you caught your breath with your heads hidden away from each other but soon enough he was looking back up at you with a shy smile on his face.

‘That video, I can delete it if you want me too. I just got caught up in the moment I’m not sure what came over me’ he chuckled. Tucking some stray hairs behind your ear before kissing your forehead softly.

‘No it’s okay, you can keep it. As long as it gets hidden somewhere’

‘Really? You don’t mind?’

‘Well I prefer the thought of you watching me rather than random people on a weird website’ you laughed, cupping his jaw so you could place a gentle kiss on his lips before he quickly grabbed his phone again.

‘It’s gone straight into my hidden, yeah?’ He showed you, using the Face ID to show you its new home and you blushed as you caught sight of the multiple pictures of you in your underwear he also kept in that folder. ‘Under lock and key along with all my other naughty photos of you’

‘You’re terrible’ you laughed, your breath catching as he finally slipped out of you but he was quick to kiss you again before he readjusted himself and did his trousers back up.

‘And you are the love of my life. Thank you for playing along’

‘Let’s just hope Dec doesn’t find out what we’ve done’ you laughed, letting him help you down onto the floor as he adjusted your dress but your legs were still shaky for your high and you had to grip Mason’s arm for support. ‘Can I have my underwear back now?’

‘I’ll think about it’ he winked and with one final kiss you made your exit and rejoined the rest of the party.

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ballad-of-birdy-lamb · 5 months ago

Note

Saw your post about TF2 being added to your list so here I am 🙏 I would like the one and only bed sharing trope with gender neutral reader, with heavy (my bbg) sniper, engie, and scout 💚 thank you ❗

Intertwined, sewn together.

Heavy/Sniper/Engineer/Scout x Gender Neutral! Reader separate romantic headcanons Summary: The hotel you were staying at with the mercs accidentally gave you a one bed hotel room. Warnings: probably OOC :( Word count: 1.1k ⋆｡°•☁︎

Heavy:

He’s very calm when it comes to sharing a bed since he’s done so with his family and you will be his lover someday, so he’s ready to get used to sharing a bed with you.

Heavy isn’t nervous about it since he thinks of it as simple and just job related but can’t deny the fact, he’s a little smug about spending sleeping time in the same bed.

By far easiest to sleep in the same bed with but he’s a furnace and huge. He’ll warm the bed like it’s electrical and keep you close, whether that be because of you or him wanting to be near or his size. It has got to do with living in the cold Russian mountains his entire life, he’s so used to the cold he never realizes how much heat he radiates.

You better hope the bed is big, Sasha’s going to sleep on the bed too, like a baby.

“Sasha will sleep in bed too, no changes from home.”

Heavy is a quiet and deep sleeper, more likely will not notice when you (eventually) fall off the bed from his size and Sasha. The harsh snow and windstorms have made him a deep sleeper.

He’s not the type to be insanely cuddly while asleep since he likes personal space. It’s an effect of growing up in a lonely Russian mountain and more likely having to share rooms/beds with his sisters. He needs personal space and likes it. But he likes you too, so you can be an exception.

If it’s exceptionally cold, he’ll (sadly) move Sasha to let you sleep against him for extra warmth, it’s not like the hotel is of good quality so it’s likely to happen. Heavy has a good time when that happens since he likes knowing you’re doing it on your own, not being forced by him and it gives him a reason to think you like him more.

Sniper:

He’ll act like it’s not a big deal when you’re given a room with only one bed, and it’s true, he doesn’t view it as a big deal. He’s sharing a bed with you. You! It’s when it reaches a basic time to go to bed does it sink in.

He probably has to be forced to sleep in a bed since he’s grown so used to sleeping in chairs for his job, having to be up quickly has its disadvantages. His back hurts from laying horizontally sometimes since he’s so accustomed to stools.

It’s not a particularly great experience for him or you sleeping in the same bed, especially since he views you as more than a friend. Sniper will be so stiff when lying next to you, it's insane, sheet metal build the entire night.

He wakes up so many times in the night to go to the bathroom, it’s insane. You have to be a deep ass sleeper to not wake from it every twenty minutes (at least).

While he’s stiff lying next to you from anxiety, he’ll quietly admire you. It’ll just be looking over your sleeping face. He’s a sniper of all things, he’s good with detail and he’ll find every little thing about you. The way your eyelashes tilt, the softness of your lips, and the basic movements and sounds you make while you sleep.

If you’re the cuddly type while you sleep, he’ll be ten times stiffer and won’t know what to do but will just get used to it throughout the night. Sniper won’t try wrapping his arms around you until he feels too tired to care. But after that he’ll hold you real tightly.

Engineer:

Honestly, one of the easier to be around when sleeping in the same bed, he’s very vocal about wanting your comfort, not just because it’s a basic thing to do, but because he genuinely wants you to be comfortable. He likes you and doesn’t want you running off because you possibly find him creepy.

Engineer’s still got that southern charm when it comes to this specific event since he is very intent on your willingness to do anything beyond platonic. If you suggest sleeping on the floor, he’ll encourage sleeping in the same bed.

“It’s just a bed, it’s not like anything more will happen anyway. It’s better anyway for your back.”

He is so similar to Sniper since he rarely gets to his bed to sleep, he’ll just end up sleeping somewhere random in his shop, which is why he has extra blankets in there. But now, he’s more inclined to be in bed.

He sleeps like a dad, snoring and stuff, possibly CPAP worthy but leave that to Medic to figure out. He doesn’t move too much though, just occasionally shifting in his sleep but it’s comfortable enough.

He’s very soft and you can accidentally move to cuddle him. Engineer would wake up suddenly in the night, looking over at you instinctively to see if you’re alright and would find you pressed into his side. He’d smile about it, in a smug kind of way but genuine happiness since you feel comfortable doing such a thing with him.

Scout:

When you got to the hotel and found out there was a mistake and you needed to share a bed, he was so excited. He’s been showing off so much for you.

He’s the most prominent in acting like sharing a bed isn’t eating him alive. Scout’s insanely confident but it’s not something he’s done with someone he’s liked before. He’s beyond giddy to be fair.

It wouldn’t be too surprising if he’s used to sleeping in a bed with other people, not because he gets play ever, but because he’s used to sharing beds with his siblings. He knows how squished together he needs to be to not be swung at for being too close to someone while sleeping.

“Don’t worry, there will be enough room on the bed for you even with me and my huge muscles.”

Just before you’re ready to go to bed, he’ll go into the hotel room's bathroom and hype himself up. Ok, someone hot is in his bed, which means good stuff because you’re hot and in the same bed as him!

At the same time, he’s sweating buckets. Scout is nervous because he’s asked if you’d ever want to sleep in the same bed as him and now it’s happening! You’re so close and your skin seems so soft, and you smell so nice and you’re so nice!

He kicks in his sleep, aggressively too. He’s like a dog that runs in its dream and does it physically too.

Scout will hold your hand when he randomly wakes in the middle of the night, it’s the farthest he’ll go because he would want you conscious when he gives you kisses. He wants you to remember how awesome a kiss would be from him!

⋆｡°•☁︎

Insanely OOC but first TF2 request!! Thank you so much for requesting!!

My tf2 masterlist

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angelicyoongie · 1 year ago

Text

lovesick (XI)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 4.6k — warnings: yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late.

Previous – Next

You rest your head on the back of the couch, staring out at the snowflakes that drift to the ground one by one. The trees outside are blanketed in a thin layer of snow, white powder clinging to barren branches. Time has moved quickly yet all too slowly since you were brought here, the days blending into nothing. Judging by the weather, you think it must be late November by now. You prefer not to ask – without the finality of an exact date, it's easier to pretend that you haven't been here for over two months.

There's a soft hum going throughout the entire cabin, portable heaters working overtime to keep the chill out. Seokjin must've bought out an entire store with how many there are scattered around, the first one already appearing the day after Namjoon brought you back. The heaters have been added one by one with each passing week as the temperatures have continued to drop and you're honestly amazed that the old cabin can even handle such a high energy consumption. You do sometimes wonder how Jimin has explained away the no-doubt skyrocketing electrical bill, but considering no one has come to check it out; the station clearly doesn't find it all that suspicious.

You shiver instinctively as the wind howls, the thin windows fighting against the frost that's beginning to cling to them. The crackling fireplace can't keep every room warm, not anymore, but it still gives the common room a little boost of coziness, a little extra warmth whenever the wind picks up outside. You're not actually cold but that doesn't stop the arm around your waist from pulling you back, plastering you against Taehyung's chest.

Seokjin didn't lie when he told you that they would be watching you around the clock.

Your personal bubble is constantly invaded, the chilly weather being the perfect excuse for the boys to cling to you like a second skin. Some part of you is always being touched, regardless of whether you like it or not. They like to pretend it's just to 'keep you warm' but you can see the thinly veiled threat for what it is. This is their way of reminding you that they don't trust you – that you've brought all of this upon yourself.

"What are you thinking about, babe?" Taehyung mumbles sleepily against the back of your neck.

"Nothing special," You say, the words tumbling out easier than you'd like. "I'm just not looking forward to how cold it's going to get up here."

"Hmm," Taehyung's mouth flutters over your skin as he tightens his grip around your waist, "You don't have to be worried, Y/n, I'm sure we can come up with lots of ways to keep you warm."

You can't remember when your skin stopped crawling at Taehyung's flirty remarks.

Maybe it was after those two weeks he and Jimin had been banned from the cabin – their own personal punishment for pushing you too far. You didn't think much of it, didn't care about how they fought and yelled about how unfair it was. You were still trapped, so what difference did five or seven hovering soulmates make? After all, the two of them had set you up, ruined your plans, so it felt like a small victory that their actions actually had consequences. Taehyung and Jimin didn't cross your mind once while they were away. So why, why, did you feel like you had missed them the day they returned?

It was like a switch had been flipped in their absence, one you couldn't turn back off. Ever since that night you let yourself be held by Seokjin, something had happened. You could no longer find the energy to flinch or frown when they reached out to touch you. Their sweet words and love stricken gazes didn't garner the same disgust as it used to. It was like the fight had been drained out of you. You were so tired of feeling scared, angry, hopeless, so you simply just... stopped.

Something in you finally gave up that night and decided it was time to accept your fate. It was easier. It hurt less. And so you've slowly been coming to terms with it, with this, ever since.

You sink into Taehyung's embrace as he lays back down on the couch, your head on his chest and your legs tangled together in the cramped space. He lets out a content breath at the way your body relaxes into him, at how you hold on to him like you want to be there.

Small patterns are drawn on your back as you listen to the steady beat of Taehyung's heart. A wooden log crackles and fusses as it breaks apart, sending small embers floating into the burning flames. You never expected that you would ever end up here, feeling uncomfortable and yet somehow, undoubtedly, safe in one of your stalkers' arms.

It should make you horrified, repulsed, after everything they put you through, but you can't help the way your soul sings at the close proximity. Being around them is starting to feel right – and you're no longer sure how much of you, the real you, will be left by the time the soulbond truly settles.

It doesn't matter how much you hate it. You can't do anything to change it as long as you're stuck here, with them.

You stare at the flickering flames, releasing a shuddering sigh.

Maybe... Maybe your next life will be better.

That's the only comforting thought you allow yourself to have.

"Can you pass me the salt, sunshine?"

You wordlessly hand the shaker over to Hoseok, watching as he only adds a little dash to the dough he's mixing up. His arm flexes as he combines it all into a firm ball, strong hands making quick work of the rather heavy dough. After you let it slip a few days ago that you were craving cookies, Hoseok decided to make it his mission to bake you some. The amount of dough he's mixing up would have been enough to feed you for weeks if you were alone – but since you're currently living with seven men who can eat their own body weight for breakfast, lunch and dinner – it might just last you two days if you're lucky.

Leaning your hip against the counter, you bite your lip as you continue to watch Hoseok work.

There is a question you've been burning to ask him, that you feel like you need to know before you can fully accept your new reality; how did he find you?

While the other boys have told you of their own volition, Hoseok still hasn't mentioned it. You know he first saw you at that fundraiser but that doesn't explain how he managed to figure out your name or address. You had barely worked at Filter for a month when the event happened, so it's not like any of the other vendors knew who you were. The booth for the café was listed under your boss' name and you weren't wearing a name tag, so how did he do it?

"Take a picture Y/n, it'll last you longer," Hoseok grins as he catches you staring at his profile.

"Huh? N-no, I–" You stammer, eyes widening as you realize you must have zoned out while you were thinking.

You're momentarily saved from your embarrassment as Yoongi peeks his head into the kitchen, hair windswept and his cheeks flushed from the cold.

"I got you what you asked for from the store," He announces, showing you the plastic bag in his hand.

"Thank you, Yoongi," You don't fight the soft smile that settles on your lips, your heart fluttering treacherously at the sweet grin you get in return.

"Anything for you," He mumbles shyly as he leaves the bag by the kitchen entrance, cheeks a little pinker than before as he goes back to the common room.

Your eyes jump from the plastic bag to one of the kitchen shelves just above it, gaze getting caught on the familiar black box that's perched upon it. The sight of it still makes something sour explode in your stomach. The contents inside are the whole reason you ended up here in the first place and you hate that you have to look at it every day. You've weighed the consequences of getting rid of it once or twice, of tossing it into the fireplace and watching the kaleidoscope of coloured letters burn into nothing, but you just can't find it in yourself to do so. Even if you'll never be able to use it, it's still evidence.

It's not the only thing that's been collected from your apartment, either. The mantle above the fireplace is decorated with a few of Taehyung's postcards and some of Yoongi's lyrics are framed on the wall alongside pictures Seokjin snapped of you. They must've removed all their gifts and letters to cover their tracks shortly after they took you. You're not sure why they felt the need to bring them here but you're sure that they have some twisted explanation for it.

You can practically hear Jimin's voice saying 'we got you such nice gifts baby, why shouldn't they be on display?' whenever you look at them.

"Hyung is such a softie," Hoseok chuckles, his voice bringing you out of your thoughts.

You make a sound in agreement, shifting your weight nervously as you watch him finish up the dough. He carefully adds a pile of chopped-up chocolate, working the pieces into the firm mixture.

As Hoseok pops the bowl into the fridge and moves over to the sink to wash his hands, you clear your throat, finally blurting out a rushed, "Can I ask you something?"

Hoseok hums under his breath as he scrubs his skin clean, taking his sweet time as he leaves you waiting for an answer. You barely catch the quick flicker of his gaze on your neck, eyes lingering on the bare skin that's visible above your sweater before he turns back to shut off the sink.

"Sure," He agrees, eyebrow quirking as he reaches out for a towel to dry his hands, "I'll answer your questions if you promise to do something for me afterward."

You swallow thickly, uncertainty prickling at the back of your skull. You have no idea what kind of favour Hoseok will ask of you in return, but you're too curious to pass this chance up.

"Okay," You nod. The gleam in Hoseok's eyes leaves you a little unsettled but you need to know the answer to your question.

The fridge buzzes loudly in the beat of silence that passes between you. Hoseok leans against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other as he gives you an encouraging nod. "Ask away then, sunshine."

"I want to know how you found me, how you figured out where I live," You breathe, your pulse kicking at the flash of surprise that passes over Hoseok's features.

"Hm. That's a rather unexpected question but you'll get your answer," Hoseok says, pursing his lips.

"I first saw you at the fundraiser, you know that. I wanted to approach you, offer to drive you home to make sure you were okay after that bitch touched you–"

Hoseok utters the word with such venom it makes the hair on your arms raise, "–but your friend beat me to it. Heejun, was it? I couldn't just leave you, not after finally finding my soulmate, so I decided to follow you."

Your heart squeezes at the mention of your best friend, longing filling every inch of your chest.

"I wanted to make sure that you got home safe. I actually tried to approach you a few times after your shifts at Filter but something always got in the way, and you slipped away before I had the chance to introduce myself," He sighs.

"After a few weeks, I felt like I had missed my window but I couldn't just give up, not when I had finally found you. So I figured there was no harm in continuing to watch you from afar, making sure you were safe while I figured out how to break the news to you. By the way, your building isn't all that safe, sunshine, I got ahold of your apartment number just by asking one of the old ladies who were having a smoke outside."

Hoseok shakes his head, clicking his tongue as if he wasn't part of the problem that made your apartment unsafe in the first place.

"I thought giving you letters and gifts was romantic, that it would make you curious about who your secret admirer might be – that you would feel happy to know there was someone out there who cared for you," Hoseok gives a flat chuckle. His eyes are stormy as they flick over to the black box, "But it turns out I was doing the opposite. I can't believe Tae managed to influence the bond that much."

Hoseok seems surprisingly upset about how things played out, like he actually thought he was doing something nice.

You give a small shrug, knowing that there's nothing you can say to lighten the mood. Even without Taehyung's influence, Hoseok still took things way too far – he was the one who decided to drug you, after all.

"Did that answer your question, Y/n?"

"Yeah, thank you," You murmur.

Although it still makes a burst of fear flare up in your chest every time you think about what they've put you through, it's nice to finally know exactly how Hoseok did it. Although it's too late to do anything about it now, there is some solace in finally getting an answer to one of the many questions you've had ever since the first envelope showed up.

"Now for your end of the deal," Hoseok says, nimble legs already carrying him across the kitchen, "Stay here for a second, sunshine, I'll be right back!"

Hoseok is only out of the room for thirty seconds tops before he returns, one hand hidden behind his back. He watches you carefully as he presents a familiar flat squared box to you, dark eyes drinking in every minuscule detail of your reaction.

"Oh, that's–"

Your voice tapers off as Hoseok opens the box, revealing a necklace you've seen before. It's one of the jewelry pieces he gifted you alongside his letters, one of many you had stashed away under your bed to forget about. The golden chain is attached to a small, dainty sun pendant, the design simple yet clearly expensive.

You have seen this necklace somewhere else before too, though. Your gaze flickers up to Hoseok's neck as you're hit with the memory of your first visit to his shop; of how you noticed the chain that slipped out of his shirt as he assisted you.

It's the exact same design.

"They match," Hoseok confirms as he gently takes the necklace out of the box.

Couple necklaces.

You give him a weak smile, "That's very, um, sweet."

"Isn't it?" Hoseok looks fondly down at the piece of jewelry. "Will you turn around so I can put it on you?"

You do so easily, knowing that Hoseok could have asked you for something far worse in return for sating your curiosity.

Hoseok's breath hits the back of your neck as he steps closer, the warmth sending goosebumps all over your skin. You can almost feel the rise and fall of his chest as he brings the necklace around your neck, clasping it in place. The tips of his fingers skate across your throat under the pretense of fixing the chain, your breath hitching as a fluttering kiss is placed just below your ear.

"Fits you perfectly," Hoseok murmurs against your skin.

"Thank you," You whisper, swallowing thickly. You bring a hand up to touch the necklace, feeling how the pendant rests in the nook between your collarbone.

Hoseok hands trail down the outline of your body as he pulls back, squeezing your hips as he reluctantly says, "You can go join the others in the common room, sunshine. We need to wait a bit before we can bake the cookies and there's no point getting the other snacks ready too soon, the others will just hover it up."

"S-sounds good," You almost feel a little unsteady on your feet as Hoseok's touch finally leaves you. You flash him another feeble smile as you try not to hurry too quickly out of the kitchen, your hand moving from your gifted necklace to your chest.

Did your heart just race because Hoseok touched you – because he kissed you?

You halt in the hallway, in the one blind spot the cabin offers from the common room. Taking deep breaths to collect yourself, you will your heart to slow down. This is what you wanted, what you accepted would happen when you decided to give up, and yet, you can't help but feel a little betrayed by your own body.

It's only been a little over a month.

Just how badly is your soul craving them that you're able to give in so easily, so quickly?

"Y/n, darling, I saved you a spot next to me!"

You startle as Namjoon calls out to you, your thoughts slipping away at the sound of his voice.

"Not fair hyung, I saved her a spot too," Jungkook's pout is audible from your hiding spot.

Squaring your shoulders, you push down on the unease that seems to have made itself at home in your bones. After all, isn't this what you wanted; for things to be easier? Why are you still trying to fight it when you know nothing good will come of it?

"Just let it be," You mutter, defeated.

The smile you plaster on as you walk into the common room comes a little easier than before, doesn't feel as fake as it used to. You let yourself be pulled down on the couch between Jungkook and Seokjin, allowing them to fawn over you to their heart's desire.

You don't let yourself linger on the worrying thought that the constant attention is starting to feel nice, for very long.

"Is it too scary for you?"

You startle at the hushed whisper that brushes against your ear just as the heroine screams on screen. Turning your head to look at Seokjin, you find wide eyes staring back at you, his skin paler than normal. He flinches as another shrill yell comes from the TV, his already tight grip around your right hand only growing stronger.

"I'm okay," You murmur back, giving his fingers a light squeeze.

Seokjin visibly deflates at that, his uneasy gaze flickering back to the movie. You clear your throat to tamper down the laugh that wants to bubble up, finding Seokjin's false bravado a little cute. It's clear as day that he's terrified of the scary movie Jungkook chose for your movie night – even without the death grip he has around your hand. You've been feeling Seokjin flinch and cower at every loud sound so far, his body somehow halfway hidden between you and the couch. Still, it seems he doesn't want to admit that it frightens him when the rest of the boys hardly seem fazed by what's playing out in front of them.

"I'm a little thirsty though, do you think you could get me something from the kitchen?" You ask lowly, mindful not to disturb the others.

Seokjin's eyes snap back to you, relief flooding his features at the easy out, "Yes! I'll be right back." He doesn't waste another second before he practically leaps from the couch, the lights turning on as he hurries to the safety of the kitchen.

You flex your fingers with a small wince, skin tingling as blood is finally able to rush back into them. You glance around the room as you wait for the feeling in your hand to fully return, noting how absorbed the rest of the guys look. Jungkook's hold around your left hand has gone slack, his attention fully on the movie. Namjoon, Hoseok and Taehyung are pressed together on the other couch, a big bowl of popcorn half-devoured between the three of them.

The cookies you 'helped' Hoseok make earlier are almost gone, only a few of them left despite the double batch he cooked up. You quickly reach out to snatch up another one before the rest disappears, your gaze slipping over to Yoongi as you lean back on the couch. He's curled up on one of the chairs nearby, his eyes closing every so often despite the loud bangs and screams that fill the room.

The sight of Yoongi nodding off with his cheek squished in his palm is stupidly endearing, so you end up stuffing the cookie into your mouth to keep your smile at bay. You chew slowly, enjoying the slight crunch from the crispy exterior of the cookie and how the soft insides somehow manage to melt in your mouth at the same time. It's honestly a little unfair just how good it is.

As you swallow the last bite, you glance around the room, confused, realizing Jimin is nowhere to be seen. The previously occupied chair next to Yoongi is now vacant and he isn't sprawled out on the floor anywhere either.

Just as the thought strikes you, you feel the back of the couch dip, a figure gracefully jumping over the backrest to settle into Seokjin's spot. The sudden appearance startles you so badly that you let out a shocked noise, your hand covering your racing heart as Jimin makes himself comfortable. You have no idea how he managed to get to the back of the couch undetected or even why he decided to sneak around, but you've learned over the past month that there's no use questioning Jimin's antics. He simply just does whatever he feels like, when he feels like it.

"Sorry," Jimin grins as he leans closer, not looking very sorry at all. "If I made it too obvious that I was stealing Seokjin hyung's spot, the others would fight me for it."

You can't help the way you instinctively tense up as Jimin draws closer, some hesitancy still lingering after that night he caused you to explode. It has gotten easier over the past month to be near him, the constant forced proximity hasn't given you much of a choice but to grow closer to them. But Jimin has, surprisingly, been putting in some effort to make being around him a little more tolerable too. He's toned down his vulgar flirting and he no longer hovers and glares at you with suspicion whenever you interact with any of the others. It's still not great, but it is better.

Jimin's smile falters as you grow stiff. He lets out a small sigh as he decides to show you mercy and turn his attention to the TV instead of you, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. It isn't until you've gradually begun to relax again, preoccupied with watching the movie, that you lean back into the cushions, feeling Jimin's fingertips brush over your shoulder the moment you do. The touch is light and fleeting, barely even there, as he tests the waters of what you'll allow.

It's clearly an invitation for you to lean into his embrace but he doesn't push you to do it, doesn't force you like he would have a month ago. You think this must be Jimin's attempt at making amends – of him offering to do things at your pace instead of his.

He tentatively curls his hand around your shoulder when you don't pull away, fingers almost floating over your skin with how hard he's trying to not be overbearing.

If Jimin is putting in this much effort, shouldn't you be too? It'll only make things more painless.

Between one deep breath and the next, it almost feels like your mind blanks as you shuffle closer to Jimin, letting him tug you to his chest as his arm drops to your shoulder. He preens with satisfaction that you're allowing him to touch you, chest puffing as he presses a quick kiss to your forehead.

"Hyung," Jungkook whines from your left as you're pulled further away. His grip tightens around your hand, refusing to let go as he moves after you on the couch. He presses himself flush against your side, huffing as he pulls your hand back into his lap.

"Jungkookie," Jimin glances at him over your head, whispering out an amused, "Why are you holding on to Y/n so tightly, hm? You're not even scared."

Jungkook pouts in the return. "So what? I'm holding Y/n's hand in case she gets scared. I'm just being thoughtful."

Jimin snorts. He raises his hand from your shoulder to ruffle the back of Jungkook's hair, messing up his locks. Jungkook grumbles under his breath at the action but doesn't move to push him away, his head lolling comfortably back into Jimin's touch.

You smile at the cute moment, heart lurching at the ease and content air they have about them whenever they're interacting. They, along with the rest, are such good friends – made for each other, almost – that you often find yourself wondering if your bond is a fluke, if they were actually supposed to be soulmates without you. The theory doesn't feel too far-fetched, not when you see them interact like they're puzzle pieces falling into place, perfectly fitting together.

It only makes you miss Heejun and Jaemin more.

Biting your lip, you turn back to the TV, just in time to watch the heroine escape the house she's been trapped in for the past two hours. The monster she's been running from is left behind, roaring and pacing behind the windows as she runs into the rising sun. Your stomach feels heavy as a hopeful smile spreads on her lips, the horror she's faced almost forgotten as she moves closer and closer to her rescue.

Your breath gets caught in your throat as the camera pans back to the abandoned house before it fades to black, eyes shaking as it hits you that you haven't even thought about leaving the cabin for the last few days. It used to always linger in the back of your mind, squeezing your heart whenever you looked out the window and saw the freedom that was so close, yet so far away. But you can't recall a single moment lately where that was even a fleeting thought. Has being around them constantly really strengthened the bond that much, enough that you no longer feel the urge to leave?

You slump into Jimin's embrace, ears ringing as the others begin to stretch and stand up.

With each passing day, it's becoming worryingly easy to just sink into their arms and forget everything you tried to escape from in the first place. Has running away not crossed your mind just because it's been easier to not dwell on a future that's slipping further out of your reach – or, perhaps even more frighteningly, is it because you simply just don't want to anymore?

You stare blankly at Jungkook as he tries to whisk you away to his room for the night, gut churning as your mind runs circles around you. There is one question you can't shake, one you don't have a proper answer for;

Do you want to stay?

a/n: please leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the chapter -it means the world to me and makes writing all that much more fun! 💖

dun-dun.... it seems like our poor mc is really struggling with her soulbond :( what do we think about the different scenes of her hanging out with the boys? of her realizing she might actually want to stay with them? i'd love to hear your thoughts!!

(it seems like some of you are a little upset that the mc isn't fighting back more, but please keep in mind that this story was never supposed to be this long and y'all voted for smut, so girlie needs to at least like them before that happens lol)

see you again in two weeks for the next update on november 10th!

#bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere x reader #yandere hoseok #yandere jungkook #yandere jimin #yandere yoongi #yandere taehyung #yandere seokjin #yandere namjoon #yandere kpop

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writingbuckets · 29 days ago

Text

Broken Plays: Chapter 5

paige bueckers x reader

wc: 3.2k

a/n: part 2 to a double update <3

**********

The energy in the bar was electric, alive with the thrill of victory. Paige’s team had just pulled off a hard-fought win in a high-stakes game, and the celebration was in full swing. Her teammates were laughing and shouting, reliving the best moments of the game as they crowded around a table stacked with empty beer bottles and shots.

Paige, however, was distracted.

She sat at the edge of the group, nursing a drink and scanning the room with an intensity that had nothing to do with the win. Her gaze kept drifting, unbidden, toward the corner of the bar where you sat with some mutual friends. You were smiling, laughing at something Jana said, looking every bit like you belonged in this moment of joy. But even from across the room, Paige could see the strain beneath your smile.

It had been a few weeks since your last real interaction, and things were still tense. There was an invisible line between you two, one Paige didn’t know how to cross anymore. She had tried apologizing, awkwardly fumbling through her words, but it hadn’t gone well. You weren’t ready to forgive. Paige understood that, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch you from a distance, knowing she was the one who had caused that hurt.

A loud cheer erupted from her teammates, pulling her out of her thoughts for a moment. Jana had just downed another shot, and Azzi was already lining up another round for the table. But even as her friends celebrated, Paige couldn’t shake the tightness in her chest.

Her attention shifted back to you, now on your second drink, already looking a bit tipsy. You hadn’t been one to drink much before, but tonight, it seemed like you were throwing caution to the wind. Maybe it was the atmosphere, or maybe it was something more. Paige wasn’t sure, but a part of her worried that you might be drinking to avoid something—feelings, perhaps, that neither of you had fully dealt with.

It was later in the night when the confrontation finally happened.

You had stepped outside for some air, needing a break from the noise and the constant reminders of Paige. The cool night breeze helped, if only for a moment. But just as you started to relax, the door creaked open behind you.

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was her. You could feel her presence, like a magnetic pull, and suddenly, the air felt thick again.

“You’re avoiding me,” she said, her voice flat but carrying a hint of something else—frustration, maybe.

You rolled your eyes, keeping your back to her. “I’m not avoiding you. I’m just living my life.”

“Really? Because it feels like every time we’re in the same place, you act like I don’t exist.”

Her words hit a nerve, and you spun around to face her, your eyes narrowing. “Maybe that’s because you made it pretty clear you didn’t want to be part of my life.”

Paige flinched at that, but you didn’t care. She didn’t get to be the victim here. Not after everything.

“You’re being too harsh,” she shot back, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “You act like I’m the only one who did something wrong.”

You let out a bitter laugh, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh, please. Don’t try to make this about me. You’re the one who ended things, remember? You’re the one who couldn’t handle a real relationship.”

“I never said I didn’t care about you!” she argued, taking a step closer, her voice rising. “I was scared, okay? I didn’t know how to deal with everything.”

“That’s not an excuse, Paige,” You snapped, your anger finally boiling over. “You don’t get to play the scared card and expect everything to be fine. You walked away, and you broke me.”

There. I said it.

For a moment, she just stared at you, shock flashing in her eyes. Maybe she hadn’t realized how much she had hurt you. Maybe she had been too caught up in her own fears to see what she was doing to you.

But you weren’t finished. Not by a long shot.

“You don’t get it, do you?” you continued, your voice shaking slightly, though you tried to keep it steady. “You think this is just about some casual thing that didn’t work out. But it wasn’t casual for me. I—I fell for you, Paige. And you made me believe, for a moment, that maybe… maybe you felt the same. And then you pulled the rug out from under me.”

Paige opened her mouth to say something, but you held up a hand, cutting her off. You weren’t done yet.

“You didn’t just end things. You ended them in the worst way possible. You shut me out like I didn’t matter, like we didn’t matter. And that… that broke me.”

You hadn’t meant to say all of this. You had spent months telling yourself that you didn’t need closure, that you could move on without it. But now that the words were out, you couldn’t stop.

“I blamed myself for so long,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “I thought maybe I did something wrong, that maybe I wasn’t enough for you. But now… I see it wasn’t about me. It was about you, and your inability to deal with your own feelings.”

Paige’s face had fallen, her bravado crumbling under the weight of your words. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. She just stood there, absorbing the full extent of what she had done.

“I’m sorry,” she finally whispered, her voice barely audible.

You didn’t respond right away. Paige had apologized so much lately, you weren’t sure if you believed her anymore. She had hurt you so deeply that an apology didn’t feel like enough. But there was something in her expression—a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before—that made you pause.

“I really am sorry,” she said again, her voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t realize… I didn’t know how much I was hurting you.”

You clenched your fists, trying to keep the flood of emotions at bay. You had waited so long to hear those words from her, but now that they were here, you didn’t know what to do with them.

“I was scared,” she continued, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I didn’t want to admit how much I cared about you, because I wasn’t ready for what that meant. So I pushed you away. And I know that was wrong. I know I hurt you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Yeah, you did.”

She winced, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’m trying to make it right now.”

“Make it right?” you repeated, incredulous. “You think an apology is going to fix everything? Did you think I would be waiting here for you to finally realize how you feel?”

“No,” she admitted, her voice small. “But I’m not running anymore. I’m trying, and that’s all I can do.”

For a moment, there was silence between you. Just the sound of the wind rustling through the trees, the faint hum of music coming from inside the bar. And then, without really thinking, you spoke.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and real. Paige’s face fell even more, her eyes dark with regret.

“I understand,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “But I’m going to try. I’m going to keep trying, even if you don’t forgive me. Because I care about you. I always did.”

You stared at her, your heart pounding in my chest. There was something in her eyes that made you believe her, even though every instinct in you told you to protect yourself. To push her away, like she had pushed you.

But you couldn’t.

Not yet.

**********

“Yo, Paige!” one of her teammates shouted, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “What’s up with you tonight? You’re not celebrating enough. We just won, remember?”

Paige forced a smile, pushing down the turmoil that had been brewing inside her all night. “Yeah, I know,” she said, lifting her drink to take a sip. “Just tired, I guess.”

Her teammate gave her a skeptical look but let it slide. “Well, we’re not done yet. Shots?”

Paige shook her head. “I’m good for now.”

Her teammate shrugged and moved on to the next person in line for celebratory drinks, but Paige remained where she was, her gaze inevitably finding its way back to you. She watched as you threw your head back in laughter, but there was something in the way you moved, a slight unsteadiness, that made Paige’s stomach tighten.

As the night stretched on, you felt herself easing up, a bit too much maybe, caught in the euphoria of the celebration and the buzz from your drink. Somewhere between a laugh and another round, your guard had slipped, just enough for the sting of your past to come seeping through.

And Paige noticed.

By the time you got up from your table to head toward the bar, your steps were noticeably wobbly. Paige stood, her body acting on impulse before her brain could catch up. Even if you weren’t on the best terms currently, she still felt a protective instinct to take care of you. She found herself following you, weaving through the crowded bar until she caught up to you just as you were about to order another drink.

“Hey,” Paige said, her hand brushing lightly against your arm to get your attention.

You turned, your eyes slightly glazed over but still sharp enough to register surprise at Paige’s presence. “Oh, hey,” you said, your words slurring a bit. “Didn’t see you there.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “I think you’ve had enough.”

You rolled your eyes, though the gesture was sluggish. “I’m fine. I’m celebrating, remember?” You waved a hand toward the bartender, signaling for another round.

Paige gently grabbed your wrist, stopping you. “Seriously, I think you’re done.”

Your expression shifted, a flash of annoyance crossing your face. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Paige.”

The tension between you snapped taut in an instant, both of you standing there, too close to each other in the crowded bar. Paige could feel the heat radiating off your skin, your frustration mingling with something deeper, something more raw.

“You’re drunk,” Paige said, her voice low but firm. “Let me take you home.”

Your laugh was harsh, bitter. “Why do you care?” you asked, your words biting even through the alcohol. “You didn’t care before, when it mattered.”

Paige stiffened, but she didn’t let go of your wrist. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” You yanked your hand away from Paige’s grip, swaying slightly as you took a step back. “You didn’t care when I was falling for you. You didn’t care when I needed you to just… give a damn. And now you’re acting like you’re the concerned one? Don’t give me that.”

The words hit Paige like a punch to the gut. She had been prepared for your usual snark, but this—this was different. This was the kind of honesty she hadn’t been expecting, the kind that cut deep.

“I did care,” Paige said quietly, her throat tight. “I still do.”

You laughed again, but this time it sounded more like a sob. Your hand came up to wipe at your eyes, but you were too slow, and a tear slipped down your cheek.

Paige’s heart clenched. She had never seen you cry before—not like this. Not because of her.

“You didn’t care enough,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “You left me hanging, Paige. You made me feel like I didn’t matter. Do you even know how hard it was to see you go on like nothing happened? Like I was just another girl you could throw away?”

Paige opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. She didn’t have a defense. Everything you were saying was true, and it hurt to hear it, to see the pain in your eyes and know she was the cause.

“I wasn’t ready,” Paige admitted, her voice barely audible over the noise of the bar. “I was terrified.”

“Of what?” you demanded, your eyes red and glassy from both alcohol and tears. “Of me? Of us?”

“Of losing control,” Paige confessed. “Of getting hurt. I didn’t know what to do with how I felt, so I pushed you away. And I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough and I know you’ve heard it too many times, but I am.”

You stared at Paige, your expression a mix of anger, sadness, and something else—something Paige couldn’t quite place. Vulnerability. Hurt.

“You’re right,” you said, your voice quieter now. “It’s not enough. I gave you everything I had, and you threw it back in my face. You made me feel like I was nothing to you. Do you have any idea how hard it was? To just… see you, knowing you didn’t want me?” your voice dropped to a whisper, but the pain behind it was clear. For a moment, you saw Paige flinch, her face softening as her hand hovered near your shoulder, as if she wanted to reach out but was too scared.

Paige swallowed hard, she had messed up—big time. And now, standing here, seeing the tears in your eyes, she realized just how much damage she had caused.

“I didn’t mean…” Paige started, her voice cracking. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just didn’t want to hurt you, but I ended up…” She cut herself off, her fists clenching at her sides. “I don’t know how to fix this,” Paige said, her voice rough. “But I want to try. I don’t want to lose you.”

You shook her head, wiping at your face again. “It’s not that simple, Paige.”

“I know,” Paige whispered. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I’ll prove it to you, if you’ll let me.”

For a long moment, you just looked at her, as if searching for something in Paige’s face. Then, finally, you sighed, the fight seeming to drain out of you.

There was a long, painful silence between you. The bar noise seemed to fade into the background as you stood there, both of you raw, exposed, and unsure of what came next.

Finally, you looked away, your shoulders slumping in defeat. “I want to go home.”

Paige didn’t hesitate. “I’ll take you.”

**********

Paige guided you out of the bar after you said your goodbyes, holding you steady as you made your way to the sidewalk. The cool night air hit you, a stark contrast to the heat and noise of the bar, and you shivered slightly.

You walked in silence, the tension between you still there but softer now, less charged with anger and more with sadness. Paige didn’t know what to say, and for once, she didn’t try to fill the silence with empty words. She just stayed by your side, letting you lean on her when you stumbled, offering support without asking for anything in return.

When you finally reached your apartment, Paige helped you inside, guiding you gently to the couch. You sank down into the cushions, looking exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

“Do you need anything?” Paige asked softly, standing awkwardly by the door.

You looked up at Paige, alcohol still flowing throughout your body, your guard slipping as the exhaustion settled deep in your expression. You ran a hand over your face, sighing heavily. Your voice came out soft, almost defeated. “I don’t know, Paige,” you murmured, barely meeting Paige’s gaze. “I don’t know what I need anymore. I used to think I did… but you changed that.”

Paige shifted uncomfortably, it seemed you always knew what to say to hit her where it hurt most. She took a tentative step closer, watching you as you leaned back into the couch, shoulders hunched, eyes rimmed with tiredness and something else—hurt, raw and unmasked.

You let out a small, broken laugh, covering your face with your hands. “You know, I used to feel strong. I thought I could handle anything. And then you came along, and I let myself… I let myself believe in something with you.” Your voice cracked, and you took a shaky breath. “And then you just… left, like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.”

Paige’s heart sank, and she knelt down beside the couch, her gaze soft and searching. “You did matter,” she whispered, but the words felt too small, too inadequate.

You shook your head, your voice rising as you continued. “It doesn’t feel like it, Paige. You acted like I was some… some passing thing in your life. And maybe I was to you. But I was all in. I thought… I thought maybe you felt something, too. And when you walked away, I told myself I was fine. I told myself it wasn’t my fault for falling for you. But God, it hurts, Paige. It hurts so much.”

Your voice cracked, and a single tear slipped down your cheek before you quickly brushed it away, as if ashamed to be seen breaking. Paige felt her own throat tighten, guilt and regret crashing over her like a wave. “I felt… something, something I couldn’t explain. And instead of facing it, I ran.” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

You finally met her gaze, the vulnerability in your eyes so stark it made Paige’s heart ache. “And I’m supposed to just… forgive that? Forget it?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“No, I don’t expect you to,” Paige said softly. “I just… I don’t know how to make this right. I want to try, though. If you’d let me.”

You sat in silence for a long moment, the weight of all your words filling the room. Slowly, you leaned back, closing your eyes as you let out a shaky sigh. “I don’t know if I can ever trust you again, Paige,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But… I miss you. That’s the hardest part. I’ve missed you this whole time.”

Paige lowered her head, her own shame nearly overwhelming. “I know I messed up,” she whispered. “I was selfish, only thinking about myself and how I felt, and in the process, I broke the only thing that felt right.”

A tense silence followed, thick with unspoken words and years of lost moments. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, clearly fighting to pull yourself together. When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet but unwavering. “Maybe it was real for a moment. But that moment is gone, Paige.”

The words stung, sharp and final, but Paige nodded. She had no right to ask for more, not now. She got up slowly, lingering by the doorway, her throat tight as she struggled to find something—anything—to say that wouldn’t sound hollow.

“Take care of yourself,” she said softly, her voice breaking just a little. She turned, pausing only briefly to glance back, catching a glimpse of you in a vulnerable moment that struck her to the core.

Without another word, she slipped out of the apartment, the door closing behind her with a quiet click. The night air felt colder now, and as she walked away, the gravity of what she’d lost settled over her fully, leaving her wondering if she’d ever be able to make it right.

And as you sat alone, your hand resting on the couch where Paige had just been, the ache you’d tried to bury all this time resurfaced, sharper than ever.

For now, though, you both knew—some things couldn’t be undone.

#paige buckets #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wcbb #wcbb #wlw fanfic #wlw post

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marigold-hills · 2 months ago

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day 10: making love | @wolfstarkinktober2024 | 3993 words

MINORS DNI - NSFW - EXPLICIT

(also: crying, spit as lube, touch-starved Sirius)

Also on AO3 here

****

The signal takes twelve years to reach Earth.

There are many colonies now. Some stay in close touch, sharing news, sharing commercial routes. They’re an extension of the life already thriving on the home planet; separated by distance but keeping trade and communication alive.

Not Proxima Centauri b.

Remus remembers reading about it when the colony was established. When Black Industries had revealed themselves to be little more than a cult and left Earth behind to start a new, pure human race.

There was nothing from them. Until now.

The colony has collapsed. Send help, the voice said, then twenty two seconds of static silence. Then: please.

Chances are there is nobody there anymore. That’s what Head Command cited, when they ruled out the possibility of sending search and rescue. The message was sent twelve years ago, the admiral said, whoever sent it, they’re dead by now.

But those twenty two seconds played on repeat in Remus’ head. He woke up hearing them, fell asleep replaying them. Then, one morning, the final word, the please, appeared in his dream, and he knew he had to do something.

He’s had some favours he’d scrounged up over the years. Things he never thought to cash in, because what for? He didn’t mind covering the odd shift or hiding the odd miscalculation that a higher-up missed. Sure, there was the time when Admiral Dumbledore came to him to fly someone out of the Sol system under the radar. Sure, Moody once did ask him for help derailing legislation through less than stellar means.

As it turned out, he’s had quite a few people he could press on, lean on, to make it happen. Nobody understood why he cared so much. He didn’t understand either.

But he was given a ship, and indefinite time off work (a sabbatical, they called it - like pilots ever had those). He went alone because that was the deal. Nobody is to know. This is a waste of resources and of taxpayer money.

Two weeks, it takes him to reach the exoplanet.

(Nothing, in comparison to twelve years.)

He doesn’t mind the solitude. Just him and his little ship, and all the stars in the sky. It’s a newer model, easier for a crew of one to manage than the older ones. The computer working the systems keeps getting smarter. Soon, Remus thinks, his job will be obsolete.

Proxima Centauri b is pretty from orbit. Vast oceans, swaths of green, sun-bathed clouds hiding it from view in the most picturesque way. Remus watches as the line of day-night moves across the surface of the planet, so, so slowly. He’s stalling - he’s here and now he’s stalling, because this is it. What if it was for nothing? What if the voice had been extinguished in all the years that passed?

He’s not to land unless he makes contact: a waste of fuel on an already wasteful journey. It’s a clear command and already he knows he’s going to break it, because he’s not come this far just to be waylaid by the colony’s malfunctioning communicator, or the owner of the voice not seeing his message. Because, if he’s there, why would he check it? After all those years?

Still: there is flagrant disregard of orders, and there is covering one’s tracks, so Remus sends out the message.

Survivors of the Proxima Centauri b colony, come in.

The little black text on the little green screen flickers with its own electrical life.

No response comes and Remus tells himself you knew this would happen, it doesn’t mean anything. He sends the message again, and then again after a couple of hours. He has enough fuel to stay in orbit for a week and still get back to Earth with a safe amount spare.

He’s planned it like this: three messages, equal times apart, to show he tried it that way first. Then, short circuit the communicator - notoriously unreliable on the class of ship he’d been provided. Nobody can blame him for not trying. Nobody can blame him for finishing the mission in person.

What else was he to do, turn back?

He lands as near to the colony as the landscape allows. The compound is vast but the atmosphere is breathable. Remus has gotten used to the staleness of the recycled air he’s been in for a fortnight and this freshness is so welcome it makes him a little bit dizzy.

From the first look, it’s clear that the colony was abandoned - that something had happened. Remus’ footsteps echo against the white walls of the compound in an eerie quiet. He’s been to these places, these colonies, more times than he can count, but never once had he seen it empty.

It’s only the steady humming of power, running through the cables built into the floor, that gives him hope.

He comes across a doorway to an Aeroponics bay and this - this can’t be something that had cultivated itself. There must be someone here.

The plants have grown tall, their exposed roots well maintained - the air is moist, warm and hazy and Remus doesn’t think he sees an automatic water deployment system. Somebody must have just sprayed them. He touches the leaves of potato plants, gathering the moisture with his fingers because it’s a dual thing of life here - a sign and a gift.

There’s corn, and what he thinks is spinach, and strawberries. He shouldn’t be surprised - this was a large scale colony, with families and children. Of course they’d have things just for pleasure, even if it’s not the best use of the space.

The first time Remus sees him, it’s just a glimpse of a person walking through greenery. An afterimage of dark hair, of leisurely steps, of a strong, straight posture.

And then the man takes a few steps into the main aisle and turns around, and there he is.

It’s clear he’s been living by himself for too long. His hair hangs past his shoulders, unkempt but clean, a mess of black waves. There is a thinness to his frame, a suggestion of jutting elbows and sharp hipbones, clothes hanging on him like they were used to a larger body. Facial hair accentuating the edges of his cheeks, the set of his eyes.

Even like this, clearly malnourished, clearly not caring for his appearance, he’s beautiful.

They stand apart - two meters, maybe three. Remus still in his flight suit, the man in something soft and worn and comfortable. There’s the buzzing of electricity and the humming of the air purification unit and no other sounds, none at all.

Remus knows it’s him. He knows his silence as others would know his voice

And then: “You came,” and the voice, too, is familiar.

“I did.”

The man takes step after halted step, like walking on unfamiliar ground. He comes closer but not close. Remus understands.

“How long has it been?”

“Twelve years.”

An interface on one of the plant unit beeps and the man turns to it. “Huh,” he huffs out, a small sound almost like no sound at all.

He fiddles with the positioning of roots and presses buttons that make the beeping stop, then picks up an atomiser and sprays a fine mist over the plant. He has lovely hands, even if the fingers look a bit bony and the nails have been bitten down.

“What’s your name?” Remus asks because he’s wanted to know since the first time he heard the recording.

“Sirius,” the man speaks to the plant.

And Remus is a pilot. He knows the stars. He’s flown amongst them, used them as guides. He knows which one is the brightest in the winter sky and how to orient by it.

“Suits you.”

Sirius turns to him again, surprise written clear across his face. “You’re still here,” he says, then pauses. It’s the same pause Remus knows. “You didn’t go away.”

“No, I didn’t. I won’t.”

“No?”

“Not without you.”

More plants get sprayed, more roots adjusted. Sirius checks things on the interface displays along the aisle he stands in.

There is no need for him to maintain them anymore. Back on the ship Remus has enough food to last them both a month. He won’t tell Sirius that - he watches him care for the plants as if by muscle memory. They must be what kept him fed all the years he’s been alone.

He doesn’t move. Everything in the Aeroponics bay feels fragile and breakable, the air soft with mistwater, the silence held up by humming electricity. “Will you come with me?”

“Not today,” he walks out of the Aeroponics bay, doesn’t look back.

***

Proxima Centauri b is situated in a binary star system. The days are almost never ending, and the nights, when they happen, are so black that navigation becomes impossible.

The dual suns are larger than Remus has ever seen from any planet surface, the size of the Earth’s moon when it hangs full low over the horizon. They’re both red Dwarfs, giving out little heat. The sky is painted a dark maroon and the shadows are strange, multi-positioned. Everything looks one-dimensional. Flat, like a photograph. Rendered in tones of reds and greys, and deep, rich blacks.

Walking into the compound is like waking from a surrealist dream.

Sirius is in the Aeroponics bay again, tending to his plants. He doesn’t startle when he sees Remus.

“You came back,” he says after a long stretch of silence. He maintains eye contact this time, waits for the answer.

“I said I wouldn’t leave.”

“There is a difference between not leaving and coming back.”

Remus wonders where the bodies of everyone who didn’t leave but didn’t come back are. Every other member of the colony of dozens. Did Sirius bury them, dug up the cold, hard ground? Is there a cemetery outside in the infertile red soil? Was it slow, gradual? Or did the colony collapse all at once, suddenly and quickly, until Sirius was all that was left?

“Come,” Sirius says, but doesn’t look if Remus follows.

There is a Mess Hall across from the corridor, with a small kitchen attached. Sirius gestures for Remus to sit. He does, choosing a chair closest to the kitchen and wonders if this is where Sirius would normally sit, or if he rotates his spot, or if Remus is the first to sit there in twelve years.

Sirius placed two bowls on the table, cream-of-potato soup and cornbread. “Eat,” he says, dipping the bread into the soup in lieu of a spoon.

“Thank you.”

Sirius drops the bread and looks at Remus and it’s clear that before he wasn’t, not really. Not at Remus, but through him, like he was an apparition or a hallucination or maybe not there at all. A trick of the light or a figure of mist.

The scrutiny verges on uncomfortable. Remus tries eating, tries to look natural - it would be so easy to spook Sirius here, one wrong move is one too many. Remus can’t afford to make a mistake, not when the eyes looking at him (into him) are so bright with life that simply wasn’t there before. He didn’t notice that Sirius was as flat as the horizon until he sparked up.

“This is very nice,” he says about the food.

And Sirius barks.

It’s a laugh, Remus supposes. An approximation of one. Sirius silences it and touches the hollow of his throat with unsure fingers. Remus wonders how long it’s been since he laughed.

“It tastes like shit,” he says. It’s the most animated he’s sounded since Remus found him. His fingers don’t move from over his trachea, as if he’s feeling the vibrations his voice creates there. “I ran out of salt years ago.”

Everything they’re eating was grown by Sirius’ hands, then made into food by him too, and that annuls any complaints Remus could have had about the taste. He’s seen how SIrius is with his plants, delicate and caring, like they’re more than just something which provides him with nutrients.

Did you speak to them? Remus wonders. Did they keep you company, the only other breathing things left here?

Once the food is gone, Sirius meanders away. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” Remus says to his retreating back. Whether Sirius heard it or not is unclear - his steps don’t falter, he doesn’t turn back.

Not today.

***

There is an artificial day-night cycle on Remus’ little ship. Lights simulate the natural progression of the Earth’s sun to keep his circadian rhythm from deteriorating while he’s off planet.

(He dreams of silence.)

In the morning, Sirius is outside of the compound. The angles and edges of his face look softened in the strange reddish shadows. He doesn’t say you came back, doesn’t say anything. The way he watches Remus is unlike he’s ever been watched before: shrewd intent, no hesitation. Each step he takes towards him is like that, too.

Remus doesn’t move. Waits for Sirius to reach him. (He thinks he’ll always wait for Sirius to reach him.)

“Who are you?” Sirius finally asks as they’re face-to-face, less than an arms’ length apart, close enough to touch.

“Lieutenant Remus Lupin,” he answers in the simplest way he knows how. They both know that’s not what the question meant.

“Why are you here?”

“You know why,” Remus tells him. It’s not you sent a call for help and it’s not it was my duty.

Surely, Sirius feels it too - maybe felt it before Remus got here; when the message made it to Earth or when Remus was played it for the first time, or when he downloaded it onto his personal drive and snuck it out of the lab. These things don’t happen in a vacuum. Surely, Sirius too must have dreamt of this moment when the silence gets filled with words, and the next one when it will be filled with sound. Just the two of them, where before Sirius was alone, reminding the air what it feels like to resonate.

Sirius takes the last step forward and brings his hand up, fingers trembling as, haltingly, he places it over Remus’ heart.

“We don’t have to,” Remus tells him, “we can wait.”

“I did my waiting.”

Sirius moves his hand up, along the zip of the flight suit, until he reaches Remus’ throat: a mirror of how he touched his own, fingertips light against the skin.

Remus speaks just so Sirius can feel his voice as it’s created. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

Sirius is conservative with his words, with the humming sounds he chooses to respond with. Everything from him is a bit rough - a voice unused in too long a time. Some words he overpronounces. Forgotten how they feel on his tongue, Remus guesses.

The hand on his throat stretches out, fingers splayed until they span the width of it, then slip around and into his hair. Sirius watches as if he isn’t the one doing it. As if it’s something that just happened, that was always going to happen. Inevitable. Written into the atoms that make up the both of them, aeons ago when they were still stardust caught in nebulae, strewn across the cosmos. Cyclically, with each universe beginning and each one ending, coming back to this moment - to this first touch.

Delicately, because Sirius should always be touched delicately, Remus takes hold of his wrist. Sirius’ breath hitches, then stops. It's divinity to touch him.

Remus makes it gentle. Makes it safe. If he’s the first in twelve years to place marks of fingerprints on Sirius’ body, then he’ll make himself into something worth it.

It’s a wonder how seamless everything is. As if it isn’t new. Remus knows Sirius is going to kiss him before he does. There is no change in his demeanour but there is a shift in the silence, something else stirred through the determination.

And then Sirius does. And Remus finds his home on Proxima Centauri.

It’s odd, that he didn’t realise a part of him was missing until he found it, but it’s so clear now, with Sirius’ lips against his own. There was a hole inside of him and now, with each second he is allowed this, each second he’s given this, that hole is filled.

Sirius is slow about it. Patient. If nothing else he must have learnt patience, surviving like this. Remus keeps it like this: soft touches as their lips come apart and come together. Warm, where Sirius is warm, the only source of heat on the surface of this cold planet, the only source of life.

Sirius leads him toward the compound and it’s like stepping into the ocean - the water welcoming its long-forgotten counterpart.

They walk through the corridor, past the Mess, past the Aeroponics Bay. There are more spaces there - Engineering and Storage and rooms Remus pays no mind, too engrossed in the way Sirius has weaved their fingers together to pull him along.

The bedroom they enter is sparse. Utilitarian. Somewhere Sirius shouldn’t belong in and yet, through circumstance, does. Remus thinks of his home back on Earth. Comfortable bed strewn with blankets, an old wood fireplace he’s had converted into plasma. Thinks of Sirius in his kitchen or on his little balcony or in his bed.

Then Sirius reaches for the zip of his flight suit, and Remus thinks of nothing at all.

“Don’t touch me softly,” Sirius asks when Remus runs careful fingers up his arms. “Touch me like you’re here.”

So he does: tightens his hold, puts his hand into Sirius’ hair, down the sharp bones of his face, across the harshness of his beard. Sirius’ eyes flutter open and shut, once, twice - on the third they’re red-rimmed and wet.

“I’m here.”

They kiss again and it’s harder this time. Purposeful. Remus walks them forward until the backs of Sirius’ knees hit the bed and he collapses onto it, still held as he wants to be held.

There are tattoos down Sirius’ sternum. Remus discovers them with his mouth as he pushes the soft shirt up and off and out of the way.

This is the first one: a soft, quiet whimper, laced with the tears that finally spill. It sounds both like pleasure and like pain. Remus coaxes more of them out of Sirius’ throat as he mouths across it. Feels the trembling under his skin as his body remembers how to make these sounds. Feels the skin heat as it remembers why.

“I found you,” he says into Sirius’ ribs. “I knew you’d be here.”

Sirius doesn’t reciprocate. He lays stretched out on the bed; hands twisted into the pillow, one a fist he bites into. “Don’t hide,” Remus tells him, “let me hear you.”

“I don’t know how.”

“It’s alright. We'll find it.”

He licks down Sirius’ hipbone and the sound comes again. Louder, needier. More like a moan. He does it again, and again. Encore. One more time. For me, once more. Then: harder and Remus obliges, bites to bruise.

There is no teasing. There are hands in hair, pulling, and mouths tasting and then please Sirius says - please, the word that brought them together.

Remus doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to resist giving in when Sirius asks like that. He pulls one of Sirius’ legs up, wraps it around himself to spread him open. Licks his own fingers until they’re soaked. Kisses Sirius through the first touches, apologetic. Forgive me for the pain. Sirius grabs at his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. He’s so impossibly tight, so wonderfully warm, and Remus knows when it turns from hurt and discomfort into something better. Sirius’ face doesn’t relax, but contorts into pleasure.

“I’ve forgotten,” he says in halted breaths.

Remus fucks him with two fingers, slow but hard. Kisses each moan straight from his mouth. Sirius clings onto him through it. “Please, Remus, more,” he uses the name for the first time.

(Better than silence, the sound of the name ripped out of him mid-moan.)

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Remus doubles his efforts to make just his fingers good enough. They have nothing to help with the stretch.

“It won’t hurt,” Sirius uses the leg thrown over Remus’ hip to bring him closer. “Let me feel you. Let me have you.”

“You have me,” Remus tells him and means it in so many ways, “whatever happens here now, you have me.”

Something softens in Sirius’ expression. He pulls Remus in, fingers splayed across his jaw. Kisses him so slowly. The contrast - fingers hard where they bring Sirius pleasure but his lips soft and yielding and pliant - the contrast is almost enough to send Remus towards his own edge.

He’s not prepared when Sirius surges up and reverses them. Pushes Remus to the bed and straddles him. Rids them both of what clothes they have left on. Then, hand on Remus’ cock, his face turns mischievous and that? That is the look that suits him better than any other. “You’re so hard for me already,” he purrs. “I want to feel you everywhere, inside of me and outside.”

And who is Remus to deny him? No one. He’s no one, but a vessel for the things he feels for the man above him. Before he was empty and now, here, he’s overflowing.

I think I love you, he wants to say as Sirius lathers him up in spit. I think the stars have sent me you.

The moment you laid eyes on me was the moment my existence began.

Sirius is careful about it, but inch by torturous inch he lowers himself down Remus’ cock. He’s warmer than the double suns keeping the planet alive. Remus could stay like this, surrounded by him, until the permaday ends.

And then Sirius sits. Arse flush to Remus’ hips. Throws his head back in pleasure, mouth agape and eyes closed as he feels it out.

“That’s it,” Remus tells him, voice tight and hands splayed on Sirius’ hips, grounding them both. “Take your time.”

Sirius, a contrarian, starts to move almost immediately. Minute rocks back and forth. Remus feels it as static electricity in his veins. He brings Sirius down, until he lays down on Remus and their lips can meet again, and Remus can bend his knees and drive himself further into Sirius, use the grip on his hips to bring him down closer on each thrust.

It’s maddening. Unlike anything. That he found it here could be proof of a higher power, had Remus not flown across the known galaxy. He always knew there was no space for such things in the sky. (He didn’t realise they were hiding here.)

Their movements grow erratic. The tears in Sirius’ eyes return and Remus wipes them off with his thumb. This gesture he allows himself to be soft, and Sirius turns his face into the palm of Remus’ hand, welcoming it.

“I’m so close,” Sirius says. The way he clenches over Remus a giveaway. Maybe a reward, but Remus doesn’t think he’s done anything in this life worthy of such a thing.

Remus takes Sirius’ cock in hand, keeps his thrusts deep and steady. “That’s it,” he says, “come for me.”

Sirius moans into Remus’ mouth, loud and unashamed and this, this right there, is what makes Remus cum.

There is an eternity contained in the time they cling to one another. Remus runs his fingers up and down the lovely curve of Sirius’ back. All the ways left to discover you, he thinks, tracing vertebrae. All the time we’ll have, now we found each other.

***

In the two weeks they take to get back to Earth, silence becomes a thing of the past. Remus reminds Sirius what it’s like to be touched, and in return Sirius rewrites each sensation for him like it’s brand new.

“Stay with me,” Remus asks before they land, and:

“Always,” Sirius replies.

#wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar #sirius x lupin #remus x sirius #sirius black #remus lupin #remus lupin x sirius black #rl x sb #rlsb #dead gay wizards #marauders era #fanfic #marauders #Wolfstar kinktober 2024 #kinktober 2024

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soapssuds · 9 months ago

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Infinity

Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x Female ! Reader

Part 11 | new life, new beginning, new death

Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Infinity Masterlist

For centuries, a battle between Gojo and Sukuna raged on all because of one soul, one girl, one person who kept coming back.

In some lives, Sukuna would have her sitting prettily on his lap, one of his four hands running through her hair as the two would enjoy the peaceful silence that nature had to offer. Not a single soul or cursed spirit bothering them.

However, in most lives, y/n would be living again and again with Gojo. Their hands always intertwining as they would meet each other, become friends, die a tragic death, and then be reborn again, again, and again.

Though, the silent battle for her that both Gojo and Sukuna were holding came to a standstill when Sukuna was sealed away and turned into a cursed object. His power being split between his twenty fingers. When this happened Gojo couldn’t have been happier. Finally, Sukuna would not interfere. At least, that was the plan as he and y/n died again, and their souls were reborn in present time.

GOJO SATORU yawned loudly as he fell back into his chair, his eyes staring up at the ceiling as a bored expression crossed his features. His blindfold lying uselessly across his desk.

This was the first life he ever lived in such a modern world. This was the first life he lived where he felt so much power course through him. This was the first life he lived at the age of 28 that he has yet to meet y/n.

Though, he blames himself for that. Mainly because he didn’t receive his past memories until late in his teens right after he got stabbed by Toji Fushiguro.

But even after I got my past memories back, I still haven’t met y/n. Where could she be? Is it possible that she hasn’t been born yet?

He crinkled his nose at that. That would be a pain if that’s the case.

But what was also a pain was Itadori Yuji. One of the new first years and someone who is now the vessel for Ryomen Sukuna. The King of Curses hasn’t mentioned anything about y/n yet, but Gojo knew that the conversation was bound to happen sooner or later. A shame that Itadori would be in the crossfire.

No matter, as long as Itadori can keep a hold on the King of Curses, then when Gojo finally finds y/n, Sukuna shouldn’t be a problem at all.

A knock on the door was quick to break him out of his thoughts. His eyes narrowed drastically when he felt Yaga’s presence behind the door along with someone else.

“What now,” he muttered.

Grabbing his blindfold, he was quick to put it on while also plastering a goofy smile on his face. (He thought feigning happiness would be easier than being grumpy despite him still being unhappy about not knowing where y/n is.)

“What’s up principal? It’s not everyday you come to meet me in my office.”

“I knew you wouldn’t bother coming to the meeting today, I brought them here.”

“Meeting? Bringing someone?”

Principal Yaga sighed, “and of course you weren’t listening… Gojo. I clearly said that you would be in charge of showing the new teacher around. She’s new and graduated a few years ago from a different school. What made her choose to come here as a teacher, I don’t know. But I hope you will at least show her around before letting her loose.”

Gojo waved his hand dismissively, “sure, sure. I’ll show her around.”

Principal Yaga turned slightly to the person standing a little away, “This is Gojo Satoru, he’ll be showing you around. Hopefully, though, you won’t have to deal with him much after today.”

“Rude,” Gojo said with a smile.

“Thank you Principal Yaga.”

The moment he heard her voice, an electric jolt went right through Gojo’s spine causing him to stand up a little straight, the smile on his lips falling as his mouth opened slightly.

No way.

“Hello, Gojo. My name is L/n Y/n. I hope we can be great friends!”

Thank you so much for coming to me yourself.

“It’s nice to meet you miss L/n, I hope we can be great friends too.”

He held out his hand to her, to which she gladly took with a smile on her face.

Over the many lives he lived, Gojo knew that rushing things would lead to Y/n dying, hating him, or something a bit more sinister happening. Slow and steady was always the way to go. Besides, as long as he was here, then he was sure that everything was going to work out this time.

He was the strongest now, after all.

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#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yandere satoru gojo #yandere gojo #yandere gojo x y/n #yandere gojo x you #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo satoru

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stylesloveclub · 2 years ago

Text

Pleasing (grumpy h blurb)

In which Harry's acting kinda grumpy, and y/n helps him... destress. :)

+++

Harry’s hand slams onto his phone, muting the blaring chimes of his 6 AM alarm. His head hurts and his eyes are heavy, and the thought of having to get out of bed, get dressed, and go to a business meeting when it’s still dark outside makes his feel physically ill.

He’s tired… beyond tired. Last night had been another one of his annual “In-Chef nights.” He’d been up on his feet, cooking meal after meal from 6 PM all the way until midnight, and had then spent an additional two hours with his staff cleaning up. He’d driven home in the cold rain, and didn’t even have enough energy to change into his pajamas when he got home. He just stripped down to his briefs, and collapsed into his bed.

Running on barely four hours of sleep, he’s feeling cranky and miserable and irritable. The sound of his alarm has been nagging at him through three snooze cycles, and he knows if he stays in bed any longer, he’s going to be running late.

He forces himself to blink his eyes open. He feels gross and sluggish, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, and letting out a loud groan. The early morning meeting he has today isn’t even one that he’s excited for… he hates the constructors that are helping him open a new Pleasing location in New York. They’re bad communicators, and always make mistakes in the plans that they’ve made. Harry’s a very particular man, he’s picky about the way his food is cooked, a neat freak in his home, and has an organized schedule that he never strays from. So working with these incompetent people, who somehow always manage to royally fuck something up… god it really gets Harry frustrated.

He yanks the blanket off of himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed. His feet meet the floor, and it’s ice cold. Great.

This is just fucking great.

+++

“Jesus fucking christ.”

Harry takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes to calm himself. It doesn’t work. His nostrils are flaring and his eyes have turned a dark, angry shade of green. “I fuckin’ said last week that I wanted gas stoves. So why is there an order for six electric stove tops?”

Ian, the contractor, fumbles in front of Mr. Styles, cheeks turning red. “Uh-um, t-the installation of the electric stoves was cheaper.”

“What did I explicitly ask for,” Harry seethes.

“Err– t-the gas–”

“So what in your right mind made you think that I’d be okay with this?”

“I– well, sir, we just wanted to go with the option that was more affordable–”

“Do you think I give a fuck which one is cheaper?” Harry yells. “For fuck’s sake, I’m running a multi-million business!” He slams the papers he’d been holding onto the desk in front of him and stands up angrily, his chair scratching loudly against the hardwood floors. “Get this fixed, today,” he says before storming out of the conference room and slamming the door behind him.

He locks himself into his office, and sits in his chair, rubbing his red-veined eyes. He’s too tired to have to deal with all this shit today. How hard is it for people to follow instructions? His life would be so much easier if everyone else didn’t fuck up so much.

He sits there for a few minutes with his head in his hands, fingers still rubbing at his eyes to try and soothe away the burning feeling he feels every time he opens them. His head is starting to hurt, a pounding migraine so intense that he can feel his heartbeat in his ears, and his stomach hurts. All he had to eat today was a black coffee before he went into that horrific meeting five hours ago.

Yes, the one hour meeting they had planned had ended up taking five hours instead. He literally had to clear his schedule to fix all the fucking mistakes that they were making. They’d chosen the wrong tiles for the floor, ordered the wrong stove tops for the kitchen, and had designed all of the countertops to be one inch too low… it literally pained him to be working with such incompetent designers.

And now he was behind on his work.

He lets out a tired sigh and turns on his desktop, opening his emails. The bright screen makes his eyes sting, and he has to squint to read the tiny word on the screen. He scrambles around in his drawers and finds his reading glasses, but still, the words blur together and make his head hurt. He bares with the pain, and spends an hour or so responding to emails and filling out paperwork, until there’s a knock at his door.

“What is it?” he calls out a bit snappily, not looking up from his paperwork.

He hears the door jiggle, trying to open but struggling against the lock. “It’s me, Mr. Styles!”

Immediately, he puts his pen down and unlocks the door for his sweet y/n to come in. She’s holding a plate of food for him, and looks up at him with her pretty smile, cheeks warm and dimpled with kindness.

“Hey puppy,” he murmurs, surprised. She hadn’t come in for the majority of this week because she had finals. In fact, she just had her physics final just this morning.

“Hi!” she says enthusiastically, entering his office. “Teddy told me that you’ve been here since 8, n’that you haven’t eaten anything all day.” She looks up at him with her adorable bambi eyes, “How come you’re allowed to scold me for not eating enough at work when you’re skipping meals too?”

He smiles lightly, “you’re right puppy, that’s hypocritical of me.”

“Very hypocritical,” she nods resolutely. “So, I brought you some food! I had Teddy make it, ‘cos I know he’s your favorite.”

His stomach growls at the sight of the fettuccini alfredo in front of him. He’s starving but he’d been way too caught up in his work to think about getting up to get himself any food. “Thank you,” he says, taking the plate from her and picking up her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles.

“It smells yummy, so I want some too,” she says, sitting down on the chair behind his desk. “But we gotta eat it quick, ‘cos I’m supposed to get back out there in five minutes.”

“Thought you weren’t meant to come in today?” he says, sitting down next to her.

“I wasn’t scheduled,” she says, shoving a forkful of the pasta into her mouth, “but then Grace texted me asking if I could cover for her. She got the flu.”

Harry hums, grabbing a tissue from his desk, and wipes off the little bit of white sauce clinging onto y/n’s lips, her mouth full of deliciously creamy and garlicky pasta. “How were your exams?”

She rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Don’t talk about it. So hard, but everyone else said it was super hard too, so hopefully there’s a fat curve.” She claps her hands excitedly, “But at least I’m done! No more school for the rest of the month!!!”

Despite his initial grumpy mood, he can’t help the smile that graces his face. His girlfriend is literally the cutest thing in the world, especially when she gets all giddy and excited like this. She’d been really stressed out and MIA all week because of her exams, so it’s refreshing to see his lively and happy y/n again.

“So proud of you puppy,” he says, cupping her cheek and giving her a kiss.

She twirls a forkful of pasta for Harry and feeds it to him. “Are we gonna hang out tonight?” she asks.

“Of course. Need t’cuddle tonight, you’ve been so busy I feel neglected.” Just sitting with y/n for a few minutes has already calmed Harry down, the stress in his body fizzling away.

She giggles cutely. “Okay baby. We can spend alllll night together.”

+++

The ache in his stomach fades away after finishing the pasta that y/n brought for him, and after popping an advil, he feels his headache start to slowly go away as well. He’d gotten an email that the electric stove tops had been returned and that an order for the gas ones had been put in, so he’s feeling more relaxed about that as well.

He lounges around in his office until y/n is done with her shift, and they sneak out the back exit to head home together. He’s got a one hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on her thigh, and he’s feeling much better than he was this morning when he’d been all grumpy and stressed out.

When they get to a stop light, his phone rings. He thinks nothing of it when he picks up, not even looking at the caller id. “Hello?” he answers casually.

“Er– Hi, Mr. Styles.”

Harry rolls his eyes. It’s Ian on the phone. “What’s going on?” he says tersely.

“Um… so we figured out the stove issue, which is great…”

The light turns green. “Okay…?” Harry says, slightly annoyed.

“So… well– the stove company said that the shipment is gonna take a few weeks, which is gonna put the construction schedule behind since we can’t install the countertops until we put the stoves in, which means…” Harry sighs in disappointment, already knowing what’s coming. “Well, it means that the restaurant might not be ready for the opening date that we’d set.”

“Ian,” Harry’s knuckles are turning white around the steering wheel, and he’s using every cell in his body to keep his voice steady so that he doesn’t start yelling in front of y/n. “When I signed that contract with you, didn’t we agree it would be done in three months?”

“I– yes, it’s really unfortunate–” Ian stammers, but Harry cuts him off.

“I don’t want to hear fuckin’ excuses,” Harry bites. “We signed a contract.”

“Sir, I don’t know what to tell you,” Ian says casually.

“How about we start with the fact that this issue could’ve been completely avoided had you simply followed the plan that we had agreed upon?” Harry’s voice is steadily rising, an angry fire to his tone. “Or how much money you’ve already cost me from all the mistakes you’ve made? I signed a contract and I expect the deadline to be met. It’s far too late to push back the opening of the restaurant.”

“It’s out of my control–” Ian tries to explain, but Harry won’t hear it.

“Jesus christ, do I need to do everything for you?” Harry bursts. “Call the company and tell them the delivery is for Harry Styles! Figure it out with the investors, pay them extra! We will not be pushing the date back, not when we’ve already invested so much into it.” Harry hangs up the phone angrily and throws it into his lap. “Fucking hell,” he breathes angrily.

Y/n sits next to him quietly, her eyes wide. “Everything okay?” she asks timidly.

“S’fine,” he bristles tersely, pulling into his parking spot. He puts the car in park and gets out of the car, slamming the door behind him with such aggression that y/n winces for the car.

Scrambling behind him like a little puppy, she follows him into his penthouse. There’s an angry furrow in his brow as they ride up the elevator, and his lips are pressed together in a frustrated line as he types out a message on his phone. He storms into the kitchen without even glancing at y/n, and pours himself a glass of ice cold water to maybe help himself calm down.

Y/n stands shyly behind the kitchen counter, not saying anything but watching him quietly.

“Just a second, puppy,” he says, his tone impatient and clipped, pushing past her to head into his home office. He dials the number of one of his restaurant’s business partners on the phone, and spends nearly half an hour figuring out what they were going to do.

“I want a new fuckin’ contractor,” Harry rants.

His partner. Niall, gives out a hearty laugh, “I know mate, but don’t worry. I’ll figure it out for ya. I know the guys over there, I’ll give ‘em a ring and see if they can get your appliances sent over any quicker.”

“Thank you,” he mutters gratefully. Finally, there was someone who knew how to get shit done. He hangs up the phone and runs his fingers through his hair frustratedly. His headache is back and his neck and shoulders hurt from being so tense.

Y/n knocks on his office door, and he sighs heavily. “Not now, puppy, v’got to send some emails.”

She steps in, despite the fact that he’s dismissed her, with sad eyes and a pout on her lips. “If this is how it’s gonna be all night then… I’m just gonna go home.”

His eyes snap up. “What?”

“You’re working and being all… grumpy,” she says quietly. “So I’m gonna get an uber.”

“Y/n, don’t be like that.” He looks at her with an exasperated look. “Something important came up, v’got to deal with it.”

“I’m not trying to be like anything,” she shrugs. “You’re stressed out and you don’t wanna talk, so I feel like I’m just annoying you by being here.”

“Baby…” he sighs, rolling away from his desk and getting up to go stand in front of her. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest in a shy, almost protective manner, and she has her bag hanging off of her shoulder, fully prepared to leave. Standing in front of her, he can see the sadness in her eyes. “Don’t go, m’sorry.”

“I know you’re upset…” she whispers, looking down at the floor, “but that doesn’t give you the right to be snappy with me. It hurts my feelings.”

Oh, his precious girl, so sweet and sensitive. His heart breaks a little bit, knowing that he’d made her sad… he’d been so caught up in his own stress that he’d neglected her feelings. He knows that she was probably so excited to come over after having finished all her exams… and he knows that she’s sensitive. She gets teary eyed whenever someone uses a stern voice with her, cries for days if she ever gets yelled at. Of course it would hurt her when he pushes her aside and snaps at her to leave him alone.

He pulls her into his chest, “Sweetheart, you’re right, m’sorry. I shouldn’t be takin’ it out on you, you’ve done nothing but been sweet t’me all day.” She’d brought food for him when he was hungry, was cheerful and lovely on the car ride home, and had tried to talk to him when he was upset… only to get pushed away at the end of the night.

“I wanna stay, but not if you’re gonna be mean,” she says into his chest.

He presses a kiss to her hair, “no, m’done puppy. Not gonna be mean, promise. Please, stay?”

She looks up at him and smiles softly. “Okay,” she puckers her lips and leans up for a quick kiss. “Thank you.”

He smooths his hand over her hair, and rests his head atop her cheek, still hugging her close. She’s warm and smells sweet… holding her in his arms is all he wants to do for the rest of his life.

“How about I go take a shower while you send your emails, and then we can go to bed?” she suggests, pulling away.

He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. No more emails tonight, I can send them in the morning.” It’s late at night anyways, it wouldn’t make a difference if he sent them now or tomorrow.

“M’getting in that shower with you.”

+++

In the shower, y/n washes away all of Harry’s stress and worries. She lathers up the loofah with the rose scented body wash that she keeps in his shower, and rubbed it all over his chest and back and biceps. She even went so far as to lift his arms above his head and scrub his armpits for him, making Harry cackle at how silly she was.

Then, she took his yummy smelling shampoo and had him bend down so that she could wash his hair for him. She threaded her fingers through his hair and scratched at his scalp deliciously, scrubbing his hair as though he were getting spoiled at the salon. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as the foamy shampoo dripped down his forehead, but she always made sure to rinse the bubbles away before they got into his eyes.

They got out and dried themselves together, standing in front of Harry’s heater in their towels for a few minutes while y/n brushed her hair. He changed himself into only a pair of boxers, while y/n opted to skip on undergarments (it’s very important to let ur pussy breathe!!!), putting on only a pair of thin sleep shorts and one of Harry’s huge t-shirts.

“M’gonna give you a massage,” she tells Harry once they’re both changed, shoving him onto the bed. He chuckles to himself at her weak attempt to manhandle him, but complies easily, settling onto his stomach so that she could straddle his back. She squirts some lotion onto her hands and warms it up between her palms, then rubs it smoothly onto Harry’s broad and muscular back.

“Mm, thank you baby,” he groans. “So good t’me.”

It’s all innocent at first – y/n knows that Harry was stressed out and probably super tense, so she thought giving him a nice massage to work out the knots in his shoulders would be nice. But, of course, with Harry shirtless underneath her, it’s hard for her thoughts to stay completely pure.

Harry’s so strong and muscled… it’s so hot. He feels firm underneath her hands, her palms smoothing over the ridges and curves of the muscles in his toned back. His shoulders are broad and his biceps look huge, even without being flexed or anything. The skin of his back is warm and smooth… so soft and tan. Her mouth waters as she rubs her hands up and down his back.

Her fingers find his shoulders and she kneads them deeply, which makes Harry let out a loud groan. His shoulders are particularly tense, and her little fingers are rubbing the tight knots in them so nicely. “Harder baby,” he grunts, and she obliges. Her thumbs dig deep into the meat of his shoulders and rub in slow, painful circles.

She uses all her strength to massage him. He’s so built, every inch of his back covered with hard muscles, that it takes a lot of energy to really get in there. She has to put her entire weight into her hands and press deep onto his back. Luckily, the lotion made it easy for her to glide over his skin and knead his sore muscles. The groans that he lets out tell her which spots to focus on.

His eyes are shut, eyebrows furrowed with pleasure. It hurts so good. His cock has started to plump up a bit, twitching every time her delicate fingers knead a particularly painful knot in his back. She keeps rubbing him, digging her fingers into his muscles, and the pressure in his cock grows unbearable.

He flips himself around, unable to deal with it any longer. Y/n gasps at his sudden movement, then finds herself short of breath when she settles herself back down on his lap and feels how hard he is underneath her. Straddling his hips in nothing but her little, thin pair of sleep shorts, she can feel him… feels the curve of his cock, restrained in his boxers, and feels the ridge of his tip nudging against her clit. She’s sure that he can probably feel her pussy too, feel every fold and the tiny bud of her clit.

He smirks up at her when her little pussy flutters around nothing, twitching so delicately against his clothed cock. Her center feels hot, keeping him warm while she sits prettily atop him. “Keep going baby…” he says, voice low and dangerous. “M’arms hurt so much, can you rub ‘em for me?”

He pouts up at her, but it’s a mocking pout. He knows exactly what she’s thinking about, and it’s much more filthy than his innocent request for an arm massage.

Nonetheless, she squirts some more lotion on her hands and brings them down to his strong biceps. He’d been to the gym yesterday for arms, so he wasn’t lying when he said they were sore. But also, that means they’re particularly pumped today, firm and delicious… y/n just wants to bite them.

His hands rest on her hips while she rubs her palms up and down his arms, his thumbs tracing soft circles onto the skin of thigh where her shorts have ridden up. She looks like she’s intently focused on rubbing his arms, but really, she can’t stop thinking about the way his cock feels underneath her. He subtly grips her hips and presses her down harder onto the hard bulge in his pants, and lets out a strained breath through his nose. Y/n similarly feels her breath catch in her throat, her hands pausing momentarily as she flutters her eyes shut.

“Feels so good baby,” he murmurs when her hands migrate up to massage his chest, rubbing circles over his swallows and tracing over his butterfly delicately. It’s a not-so subtle innuendo to fuel the fire of the sexual tension burning between the two of them right now.

The hands on her hips start to slide upwards, under her shirt to rest on her warm tummy. He can see the soft peaks of her nipples poking through the shirt she’s wearing. “Baby… show me y’pretty tits, please?” he begs. He slides his hands even higher until his fingers graze the undersides of her breasts. “Had such a long day, I deserve a treat don’ I?”

“Y-yeah,” she agrees softly, taking her shirt off and throwing it onto the floor. She’s left topless, her perky nipple peaking in the cold air of Harry’s bedroom, and her wet pussy pressed firmly to his hard cock.

She continues rubbing his chest with her tits out, and Harry takes it upon himself to do the same to her. He plays with her tits, holds them in his palms and rubs his thumbs over her hard nipples. Still, it’s not enough.

“Come closer, baby,” he murmurs lowly, guiding her forward. She inches forward slowly, back arching while holding herself up with her arms, until her boobs are hanging in front of Harry’s face.

He sticks his tongue out and leans up, attaching himself to her nipple and sucking it into his mouth gently. His tongue licks the soft bud gently, and he hums happily. “Mmm, baby, so nice to me,” he mutters, switching to her other nipple, “Lettin’ daddy play with your pretty tits ‘cos I had a long day.” Hand engulfs the breast that he’d just hand in his mouth, palming it gently while his tongue plays with the other. His teeth skim her soft skin gently, and he starts sucking. Each purse of his lip and pass of his tongue sends a shock straight down to y/n’s center, and she’s absolutely, totally drenched. Her heart is beating erratically in her chest, and she can’t help herself before grinding herself down.

Since she’s lifted herself up to align her tits with Harry’s face, she’s no longer sitting on his bulge, but instead now sitting on the butterfly painted on his abdomen. She presses herself onto his abs, soothing the dull ache that comes each time he hums around her breast.

Her boobs are so plump and plushy, dangling in front of his mouth and covered in his spit. His hands grope her chest sensually, pushing her breasts into his face and letting himself indulge like a teenage boy. He lets them bounce on his face, skimming his lips against them then pulling himself back, teasing himself. He nudges his nose against them, and they jiggle prettily right in front of his face. God, he’s making himself so hard, playing with her tits like this, having them all up in his face. All he can see is her skin, the roundness of her breasts, the soft bud of her nipples. No matter which way he turns his head, he makes contact with her, her nipples skimming his cheeks or his lips dancing against her sideboob.

“Jus-” she gasps when he takes her boob back between his lips and sucks, tongue curling around her nipple, “Jus’ wanna make you happy daddy.”

“Doing so good baby, taking caring of me so well,” he murmurs, barely moving his lips from her skin before reattaching to her areola. “You know what would make daddy so happy?”

“W-what?” she whimpers, pushing her clit down against his hard abs.

“If you got on my cock and got yourself off. Could you do that for me, puppy?”

She nods eagerly and shuffles herself down, shoving Harry’s briefs down. His cock bounces up and slaps against his stomach, the tip completely slick with his own precum and arousal. She doesn’t even bother warming herself or Harry up – the massage and his little play session had gotten both of them 100% ready.

She doesn’t take her sleep shorts off, genuinely too excited to stuff herself full of his cock. Grabbing him by the shaft, she hovers right over his hips and slowly guides him into her dripping cunt. The slide in is easy, absolutely no resistance from how wet she is, and she’s able to bottom out on the first go.

Her hands rest on his chest to support herself, and she starts to lift her hips, up and down, skin meeting skin with every drop down. Her nails dig into his flesh, and it hurts just as good as her massage had. She’s riding him like she never has before – usually she’s a bit of a princess, mostly grinding her clit down and rubbing herself on his cock slowly until her thighs start to burn and she whines for Harry to take over.

Now though, with the way he’d teased her all nice, she’s bouncing on his cock properly, using all her strength to pull herself all the way up, then drop back down. She sets a messy pace for herself, but it doesn’t matter. He’s hitting all the right spots in her, and that’s all she care about.

Harry lies on his back in bliss, her pussy absolute heaven around his cock. Her messy pace and high bounces have her tits jiggling, and Harry pushes himself up onto his elbows to get a better view. “Fuck, puppy, you’re an angel.”

He brings a hand down to rub her at her clit, fingers rubbing tight circles as she grinds herself on him. “Gonna cum baby,” he groans, “Are you close?”

She whines out, and nods messily, eyes shut as she keeps herself going.

Harry throws his head back, and shuts his eyes, rubbing her clit faster and faster until she’s cumming, clenching around his cock and squeezing him so tightly. His vision goes white his ears start to ring, and he’s in absolute heaven.

Y/n collapses onto his chest, and he spurts out long streaks of cum into her warm pussy, balls clenching with every release and his hips twitching upwards, trying to get as deep into her as he possibly can. She lays on top of him heavily, breathing hard with rosy cheeks and a glistening forehead from how hard she’d worked to get them both to their end.

He pulls her up for a kiss. What had he even been stressed about, again?

+++

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2K notes · View notes

semisolidmind · 8 months ago

Note

Just out of curiosity, would or has angel ever brought it up? The inevitability of them dying that is. I feel like its easy to guess that they’d try and set some sort of plan for the toys survival even when they’re long gone.

And idk i find that bitterly sweet. And maybe slightly morbid. That even after death they’d still worry over their little family. And to be honest I’d say it’s reasonable to think that Angel would be worried over that possibility too.

Gosh that’s a whole other form of love that gets me sad ToT the fact a person cares that much for you that they’re worried and want to do something at least to make their loved ones lives easier even when they’re gone.

Anyhow that’s gonna be one awkward talk. But probably one out of genuine fear and worry.

yeah, it's kinda sad to think about, but the toys know deep down that y/n isn't going to live forever. they really don't want to think about it.

but y/n does have a plan, or at least something like it. maybe they set up their will so that poppy, being the only one with a "human" name, is the inheritor of the house and land. or maybe y/n makes a deal to give protected nature reserve/historical buliding status to their property (cause the house is over 100 years old or something). idk, some way of ensuring the toys get to keep their home without being bothered.

i think y/n would leave a booklet of written instructions on how to operate certain house systems; how to fix the electricity, how to fix and operate the generator, how to fix plumbing, how to store food in the cellar, how to prepare food (a few cookbooks), and who to call for emergency food delivery. maybe y/n would become friends with the folks at the nearest grocery store and set up a plan for them to deliver food to the house, and to receive payment in an envelope while y/n isn't there.

they toys will have to learn to live without them, but their angel won't leave them without a little help.

#ooof ouughhggf i dont wanna think about yn dying anymore

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honeyhotteoks · 1 year ago

Text

this night together - chapter nine (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter nine: too little too late

chapter summary: you probably would have preferred the cold shoulder. yunho and mingi find out about your heat, and things get harder.

warnings: this chapter is a pain train. no other warnings except angst and consistent references to heat and all that goes with that.

notes: i'm SO glad you all enjoyed chapter eight!! it was a fun one. please enjoy the moment many of you have been waiting for..... yungi's return and everything that comes with that. good luck because oof our y/n is going through it.

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 6.3k

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3

You expect to see them immediately when you walk into the studio a little early on Monday but it’s painfully empty. The back office door is shut and locked tight, so you know Yunho hasn’t been in yet and if he’s not here, neither is Mingi. It feels familiar, and you’re starting to wonder if every heat is going to end with them throwing a tantrum.

“You just going to stand there?” Wooyoung’s voice nearly knocks you sideways and you jump in your shoes.

“Don’t do that!” You spin on your heel and smack his shoulder.

“You’re literally staring at a door,” Wooyoung levels you with a look, “I’m trying to pull you back down to reality so you can make it through this stupid day,”

“Fine,” You sigh, “I guess… I don’t know, do I look okay?”

He rolls his eyes, “You know you do,”

“I just don’t want,” You start but the sound of the heavy back door to the studio startles you once again and your heart lands squarely in your throat when you see them.

They barely look at you. A swift, fast glance, just enough for you to know they’ve seen you. Your hands suddenly feel slick and clammy and your stomach starts churning immediately.

“Hey,” Wooyoung steps around you to grab their attention and break the sudden awkward tension in the hall, “did anyone ever call to get the lights in Studio 3 fixed?”

Yunho blinks, almost confused by his words but then he recovers, “Uh, no, I thought they were fixed already,”

“Out again,” Wooyoung shakes his head, “I think it’s electrical if the bulbs keep blowing,”

Mingi listens for a moment, but the moment he’s sure this conversation has nothing for him he simply says, “I’ll catch you guys later,” and then he’s pushing past the two of them to cut down the hallway.

He doesn’t look at you at all.

Yunho watches him go and then refocuses on Wooyoung, “I’ll call someone,” he says, “is it the whole back panel again?”

“I’ll show you,” Wooyoung gestures down the hall, throwing a fast glance at you that communicates so much with just one flick of his eyes - Don’t follow, you’re welcome, you owe me.

As Yunho turns away from you to follow Wooyoung down the hallway you mouth a thank you and watch them go. The cold shoulder you can deal with, you’re almost too practiced with that at this point, so at least you can breathe a little easier and get back to work.

You bottle it all right back up, and even though the day has been terrible and long and awkward, you know that San’s right. It’s your studio too. You’ve missed things being out for your leave and you have to catch up quickly to stay an unshakeable member of this group. All you have to do is focus on the work.

You know you probably have to talk to them at some point, but you really didn’t think it would be today of all days. You thought they’d go back to the way it was before, an entire day of their tense glances communicated that clearly. But suddenly Mingi’s in front of you while you’re tucked up on the computer in the corner of one of the studios rewatching a cut of today’s practice and you know it’s going to be now, now or never.

“So, you’re good?” He asks suddenly, a little starting since you had expected him to just pass you by without a word, just like the rest of the day behind you.

“What?” You manage, swiveling around in your chair.

“You’re good?” He asks again, but his face is blank, passive.

You open your mouth to answer but Yunho’s voice from the side has your head snapping towards it.

“Mingi,” Yunho’s voice is firm, “let’s go.”

“One sec,” Mingi doesn’t look away from you.

“I said let’s go,” Yunho shakes his head.

“Hey,” Mingi starts and then Yunho looks at you.

“Can you lock up if you’re not leaving?” He asks, jaw tightening as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

“Sure,” You manage.

“Mingi, let’s go.” Yunho’s attention leaves you instantly, and you’ve never felt more invisible to him.

“Bro,” Mingi shakes his head, “can you fuck off for one second?”

“No, I’m getting in the car, do you want a ride or not?” Yunho’s jaw jumps in frustration.

Mingi mutters something under his breath and then meets your eyes again, “y/n,”

“Yeah?” You’re so overwhelmingly confused.

“I said, are you good?”

“Why wouldn’t I be good?” Your brows draw together.

Mingi shuts his mouth tightly, his hands forming loose fists and then he nods once, “Fine,”

“What’s going on with you two?” Your eyes dart between them, the anger in the room so palpable. They’ve been cold, they’ve been passive, but they’ve never, ever been angry with you. Not like this.

There’s a long beat of silence and then finally Yunho speaks, “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“You disappear for three days,” Yunho drops his gym bag and looks to you, “and you can’t even answer a single fucking text message, and you want to know what’s going on with us?”

Your stomach clenches hard, his dark eyes boring into you now and you need him to look away. “I was on heat leave,” You say clearly, “you got the paperwork, I know you did.”

They’re both silent.

“Look,” You sigh, and it’s already harder to maintain the wall than you thought it would be, “I’m sorry I didn’t text you back, that was shitty, but I was a little preoccupied,”

Yunho grimaces.

“Yunho, jesus,” You push yourself up off the chair and take a few steps towards them, “I don’t know what you want from me,”

“We were worried,” Mingi offers, and his voice is still low and firm, but his words at least are a little kinder.

“Well, I appreciate that, but I was fine.”

Yunho huffs, and you can almost see him fighting an eye roll. Anger bubbles inside you at their entitlement over you and your time and you can’t stop your mouth or your hot head now.

“Seriously,” You square your shoulders towards him, “Yunho, we’re friends so I feel like I can say this, but you’re acting like an asshole right now.”

“I’m acting like an asshole?” His voice gets sharp at the end, anger radiating in him.

“Yes!” You push farther into his space, “Sharing a heat together doesn’t mean I owe you something,”

His jaw jumps at your words.

“No one’s saying that,” Mingi cuts in immediately, physically pushing between you both and holding his hands up.

“Tell that to him,” You nod towards Yunho.

Yunho stays silent.

Mingi keeps his hands up, “Listen,” he catches your eyes, “no one’s angry. We just didn’t hear from you for three days, we didn’t know if you were somewhere safe. That’s all.”

“Well, I was,” You assure him, “I had everything handled, I’m back on my suppressants,”

“I know,” Mingi nods, and you suppose he would be able to tell, with your scent dampened.

“What about onboarding?” Yunho pipes in and you crane around Mingi to see him. His cheeks are flushed pink, and you can see how frustrated he is, but he tries to ask this question a bit more softly.

“What about it?” You give him one more chance, just one.

Yunho clears his throat and says again, “Onboarding. Mingi said it can be a lot, like before,”

“I had it covered,” You assure him.

“I just thought,” Yunho shifts from foot to foot, trying to find his words, “I thought maybe if it was as hard as before you’d be out of it, and I, I don’t know,”

You want to be mad at him, you really do, but that part of his fear makes sense to you. When you think about your time with them and how much you don’t quite remember perfectly, how hard it was to make it home, you get it.

“Honestly,” You exhale, relaxing the tension a bit, “I am sorry I didn’t text you back. I can understand why you were worried,”

His shoulders relax with yours, “I’m sorry too,”

You can’t say it’s okay, but you nod, glancing up to Mingi who’s seemed to soften up a bit too. There’s a long beat between you and finally Mingi asks, “So, we’re good?”

“Yeah,” You nod, “we’re good,”

Yunho nods and agrees, “I am really sorry, I really was just worried about you,”

“I know,” You nod, “I think I should have just texted you, but I didn’t know what to say,”

“Yeah,” Mingi laughs a little, just a huff and he runs his hand through his short hair, “that’s fair,”

You smile too and press your hands to your cheeks for a little cool relief, letting out a long sigh as the tension starts to release. It could end here, they could say goodbye and goodnight and you could finish up and then it would be over, but when Yunho shifts and glances between the two of you, you know immediately it won’t be so simple.

“Well,” Yunho clears his throat, “next time if you’d rather not be alone, you know, I think we’ve done pretty good at staying friends,”

“Oh,” Your heart feels like it might just fall straight out of your chest, “Yunho, I,”

“It was weird for a couple of weeks,” He adds, “but,”

You know you just have to say it, you have to get it out of your mouth before you can’t, and the words bubble up sharp and sudden, “I wasn’t alone,”

“You weren’t?” Mingi’s brows shoot up.

Yunho falls silent, ears running dark pink.

“No,” You shake your head, “I wasn’t,”

“Of course you weren’t,” Yunho manages, “sorry, that was… I don’t know why I assumed,”

“Probably because I told you that’s what I normally do,” You soften, “so I understand why you were worried, but I’m telling you that I was fine, taken care of,”

He asks it like he can’t help himself, the word falling right off his tongue, “Who?”

You take a half step back, shaking your head, “Yunho, no,”

“Why not? We’re friends,” Mingi rationalizes.

They suddenly look so much like jealous lovers you can’t breathe. Something deep in your gut must have been right all along about them, and you don’t know why you can’t stop making this same mistake over and over again. Your biology must really want you to fall for a guy like this but as harsh as the twist in your gut feels, you push it back, refusing to submit.

“No,” You turn on your heel, “I’m leaving,”

Hands on your arms pull you back and twist you around in Mingi’s hold, “Fuck,” he says, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, that was so out of line,”

“You don’t get to ask, okay?” You push him off, putting a foot of distance between you.

“I know that, we know that,” Mingi nods, holding your gaze and trying to diffuse whatever this conversation has become, “it was stupid, forget it,”

Yunho moves closer, stopping by Mingi’s side to give you the same distance, “Completely stupid, I’m sorry,”

You’re already so sick of them apologizing, but you swallow tightly and try to let it go, “Okay,”

“Only,” Yunho pauses, debating on whether or not he should say this and your breath catches in your throat, “only, why didn’t you call us?”

“What?” You can barely believe him.

“You don’t have to tell us anything,” Yunho says, looking quickly at Mingi who nods, “I just… I thought you would have called us, and when I saw the paperwork and you didn’t answer I thought maybe something happened.”

The stretching silence between you is crushing you. A flare of anger bubbles in your belly, “You said my heat before was a one time thing.”

“I never said that.”

“You did,” You shake your head, and now you just can’t stop the words, “and you know what, Yunho? Maybe this wouldn’t have been so hard and confusing if you didn’t treat me like I was invisible for weeks after we had sex,”

“You were avoiding me too,” His tongue is quick when he’s angry and you can almost see the regret in his eyes but he doubles down, “both of us.”

“I’m not going to listen to this,” You cheeks flare with angry blush, “I’m done. We work together, that’s it. I don’t know what you want from me, I’ll get whiplash if you keep-”

Your words die on your tongue, your back connecting with the hard studio wall behind you. You don’t see Mingi coming, your eyes steady on Yunho and you’re about to throw up your hands and leave again when Mingi collides into you, his lips on yours.

“Mingi!” You squeak against his mouth.

“Please,” He pleads, shaking his head.

His body feels so good you might lose your mind entirely. His plush mouth stays on yours, tongue dipping between your lips to flick along yours. His scent envelops you, his hot hands holding you against him, and you melt into him as your body responds to him. He kisses like you’re his only lifeline, messy and hungry and pouring desperation into you ounce by ounce. Your hand tightens on his back. He hitches your leg up onto his hip, pressing your body open for him to slot between your legs.

Your eyes stay shut as he kisses his way down your jaw, nipping along your skin until his mouth is on your throat, ghosting softly over your pulsepoint. Your mind is spinning, flooded hot, everything falling away and then it all stops.

Mingi stiffens, body locking up and you hear him take a deep inhale of breath. He rocks back away from you, “Seonghwa?”

“What?” Yunho’s voice re-enters the mix.

Mingi steps away from you and you brace your body against the wall, finding your feet under you and trying to catch your breath, “Don’t,”

“I’m right,” Mingi’s face knits up in confusion, his fists tighten, “fuck,”

Yunho looks stricken.

“You slept with Seonghwa?” Mingi repeats.

“Don’t,” You repeat, anger curling inside you and you push off the wall, “we’re friends and maybe I should have texted you, but that’s all we are, you made that perfectly fucking clear after my heat. You don’t get to treat me like I cheated or try to mark your fucking territory,” You scrub your hand across your throat where Mingi kissed you, where he let his tongue linger.

“We’re not together,” You reiterate, “we’re not in love, or soulmates, or scent matches, or whatever the fuck else people say. We had sex, that’s it.”

The words are out there, dropped between you like lead and you realize coldly somewhere in the back of your mind, you can never take that back.

Yunho and Mingi stand stock still at the grenade dropped between you, but then Yunho shifts forwards one step with a tight inhalation of breath.

“That’s not all it was for me,” He manages, and when you meet his eyes your resolve nearly, nearly crumbles.

“Whatever you feel for me isn’t real, it’s biology,” You shake your head, trying to catch your breath and keep your words straight. If they loved you before they would have come to you then, you just have to hold onto that truth.

“Don’t tell me what I feel,” Yunho looks away from you, his hands tight, “don’t patronize me.”

“This is why we should have never,” You shake your head, looking at Mingi like you might see a scrap of reason in his eyes, but you see nothing, pure passive inattention like he’s shut down and left the conversation.

“y/n,” Yunho shakes his head, “I’m not some lovesick virgin,”

“I know that,” You sigh, “I didn’t mean,”

“You did,” Yunho interrupts, “and if you don’t feel the same about us, just say it.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You feel like you’ve entered an entirely different narrative, “You said you wanted to be friends, isn’t that what we are?”

“Friends don’t kiss like that,” Mingi admits gruffly.

“You kissed me,” You manage.

“y/n,” Mingi says softly, “I felt it, the way you kissed me back, touched me… there’s something there,”

“Is that what this is about?” Your jaw tightens, “You think I’m yours?”

Mingi’s jaw snaps shut, muscles jumping.

Yunho shakes his head, bringing you back to his eyes, “No,” he sighs, “but,”

“But what?” You won’t cry, not here, “You’re perfectly fine treating me like I’m invisible until another alpha gets a little too close? I’m a person! A whole entire person, I’m not an omega for you to… to…”

“I know that!” Yunho exclaims, “I like you. We like you, it has nothing to do with designation,”

“That’s the most naive sentence I’ve ever heard,” You take a step back, away, closer to the mirrored wall, “if that were true why didn’t you say anything weeks ago?”

“I didn’t know then,” He insists, looking to Mingi for help but finding none in his vacant eyes.

“That’s what I’m saying,” You sigh, exasperated, “you’re just realizing it now? Right when I spend my heat with another alpha? You’re confused.”

“It’s not confusion,” Mingi says simply, “we’re not stupid.”

“So, you both have feelings for me? Is that what you’re saying?” You bite back, and you clench your fist tight. You won’t cry.

They say nothing, silence filling the room like smoke and you need to get out.

“After we spent that time together,” You take a steadying breath, “I missed you both so much it hurt. All the time. I would convince myself not to come to your place and knock on the door and… and I don’t know what I wanted. I thought about you all the time, and the things you said and did for me. I missed you so much it made me sick,”

“Then,” Yunho starts, his voice small but you shake your head.

“But you didn’t want me,” You insist, “you spent weeks making sure I knew it. Every day you wouldn’t look at me, you wouldn’t talk to me, I’ve never felt so small.”

Mingi’s eyes cloud and he drops his head.

“And it was hard, but the things I felt for you went away,” You press, despite the tightness in your chest, “with a little time and space, it went away. I know you both care about me, and I care about you, but you don’t love me.”

“I don’t accept that,” Yunho shakes his head, moving forwards before you can process it, his arms around you as he tucks you into his chest, “how can you say that when this feels the way it does?”

Your head throbs with the scent of him, washing through you and making your limbs go soft and your heartbeat slow to a stutter instead of a pounding thump, but your brain clicks back into place and you wriggle in his arms, “Let me go,”

He leans away, cupping your cheek in his hand to draw your face up to his gaze, “Don’t you?” He manages, voice cracking gently.

You’re dizzy, mind flooded and confused, but you try, “I don’t,”

His thumb strokes a gentle line over your cheekbone, shifting just a little closer, “y/n,”

“Yunho,” You manage, your voice shaking as you try to stay level, “if you kiss me now, there’s nothing for us.”

His brow creases as he studies your eyes, exhaling an unsteady breath.

“I’ll go, I’ll find another studio.” You grip your hand tight and let your nails dig into your soft palm, “I need you to let me go, please, let me go,”

His arms fall away, and he takes two sizable steps back, running a hand through his hair, “After everything, that’s it?”

“It has to be,” Your eyes feel prickly, “I’ve moved on. I need you both to do the same. Find someone else, another omega. I know you think you want me, but it’s just your alphas talking. And maybe we could have been more than this, but you hurt me, you both did, and I’ve moved on.”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Mingi manages.

“No,” You shake your head, “you shouldn’t have.”

“I’m sorry,” His voice is small.

“This,” Yunho tries to say something, but his voice is thick with emotion and he clears his throat, words dying on his lips.

“I’m sorry too,” You finally add, “and I thought we could go back to being friends, but this, it hurts too much.”

“What do we do?” Yunho asks, voice hollow.

“I need some space,” You swallow tightly, “we’ll do the work, but that’s it. If we ever have a shot at being friends someday, at feeling like this isn’t always there… that’s what I need, and maybe we can fix this.”

“Okay,” Mingi says.

“Tour,” Yunho takes a deep breath, and you realize now that he has tears flooding his eyes that he’s doing his best to blink away, “we’ll be gone for months,”

He’s right, in a matter of weeks they’ll be gone with a small group of the BB Trippin dance crew to Europe. You have your focus here with the newly debuting group alongside Dahan and Yujin, but they don’t, they’re leaving with New World and it would be almost three full months until they’d be back in Korea.

“Good,” You breathe, ignoring the pit forming in your stomach at the thought of not seeing them, “then let’s just get through the next few weeks, but after that you go. Don’t text me, don’t call me, just… move on.”

Silence stretches, but Yunho nods.

If you stay here for one more minute you’re going to cry, “I have to go,”

He nods again.

There’s more to say, you can feel it, but you can’t do it now and you have to push yourself to get out the door. You push past them as quickly as you can, eyes on the door in front of you, but Yunho follows behind and catches you once more in the hall.

“y/n,” He doesn’t touch you, but calls after you in the hall, but you don’t turn around you can’t. If you look at him one more time you’ll cry, you’ll go back, you’ll throw all the things you said to the side just to feel his arms around you one more time or Mingi’s lips on yours and you can’t. You have to be better than this, for yourself.

You stop though and turn your head just a little to let him know you’re listening.

“I’m,” His voice tightens and hitches, “I’m really fucking sorry we lost you,”

Hot tears overflow at his words, spilling over down your cheeks and you drop your head and nod. You grip your hands tighter and steady yourself and hope to god that your voice will hold up, “Me too,”

He takes a tight, wet inhale and you have to move, one more second in this hallway and you’ll want nothing more than to comfort him, to soothe your alpha and smooth this moment over, but the latent thought of him as yours strikes panic in your chest and you push forward down the hall.

You round the corner at the end by the office, and the image of him coming out of the doorway that first night won’t leave you alone, the way he softened when he saw you in heat, the way he took you in his arms.

You stifle a sob with your hand over your lips, and then you’re running. Out of here, away from this, and you don’t know where you’re going until you get there, every step a blur.

You knock fast on San’s door, and you feel bad about crashing their night, but you can barely breathe and you need to see a friendly face or you just might fall apart. You had gotten your tears under control on your way over, out of sheer embarrassment that you were crying in the middle of the street, but tightness gathers in your throat now as you wait for an answer to the door and pins prick the back of your eyes.

You hear shuffling on the opposite side of the door, a hand on the knob, and tears spill over already.

San’s smiling when he opens the door, looking over his shoulder back into the main living space and finishing saying something to Wooyoung who’s inside, and your breath hitches.

His eyes settle on you, “y/n?” His face falls as he sees your tears, “What?”

“S-San,” Your tears rush faster, your words cut off in a sob and you launch yourself forwards to collide with his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder, sobs wracking yours.

“Hey, hey, hey,” He stumbles back, wrapping his arms around you, “what’s going on?”

“y/n’s here?” Wooyoung’s voice comes from the side and you can’t stop yourself from crying harder.

“I need you to breathe,” San soothes you, his voice low, “I need you to tell me what happened,”

You shake your head into his neck, hiccuping as you do.

“Are you hurt?” He presses, one of his hands sliding up your sides to search your body, “I need you to talk to me,”

You drag in a shaky breath, but Wooyoung sees you now and jumps forwards, “Is she hurt?”

“Woo,” San interrupts him, “hang on, okay, just,”

“I’m,” You clear your throat, “I’m not hurt,”

San exhales heavily, relieved at your words and nods, cupping the back of your head, “Alright, just breathe,”

“What the hell happened?” Wooyoung says.

“I know as much as you do,” San says, “just grab her stuff and let’s get inside,”

“Yeah,” You hear Wooyoung moving, picking up your bag from the floor outside his apartment door, and then you hear it click shut.

“y/n,” San tries again as you try to get your breathing under control, “can you tell me what happened?”

“I t-talked to Yunho and Mingi,” You murmur wetly into his shirt.

“What the fuck did those idiots do?” Wooyoung’s hand settles between your shoulder blades as he shifts closer to try and catch your eyes.

“It’s a mess,” You manage.

“Woo,” San says softly, “get her a glass of water,”

“But,” Wooyoung starts.

“Go.” San insists.

Wooyoung’s hand leaves you.

“y/n,” San says, “come inside and sit down,”

You peel yourself away from him, covering your face immediately as tears continue to roll down your cheeks, but San steers you inside with a warm arm until you’re sinking down onto the couch.

“Water,” Wooyoung says, holding an icy cold glass in his hand and taking his spot on the extended length of the sectional so he can angle towards you and see your face, “drink this,”

He presses the glass into your hands and you take a shaky sip, the cold shocking your brain a little as you try to get a little more down.

San tugs the coffee table a little closer and takes a seat on the wood top and then leans forward to catch your eyes, elbows resting on his knees, “Can you tell us what happened?”

You sigh deeply and then recover your breath, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater, “They know,”

“About this weekend?” San surmises.

“Just Seonghwa,” You clarify, taking another sip of water, “they were so angry, I didn't want to tell them the rest,”

“Fucking assholes,” Wooyoung curses, his jaw tightening as he looks away.

“What else?” San’s voice is gentle, so unlike confident alpha tone you had gotten used to, “You can tell us,”

“They… I mean, Yunho… he said that they,” The words get jumbled in your mind as you flash back to the studio room, “it’s all so fucked, they’re acting like this is…”

“Babe,” Wooyoung plucks the glass from your hands and passes it to San, returning his hands to yours so he can steady your shakes, “you’re not making a lot of sense, and I’m about two seconds from driving over to their place and castrating them. I need you to please tell me they didn’t do anything stupid,”

“Youngie,” San sighs, exasperated.

You shake your head, “No,” you manage, “they have feelings for me, they said… when they found out about my heat they were so…”

“Now?” Wooyoung’s eyebrows go high, “Now they have feelings for you?”

“That’s basically what I said,” Your lips turn up in the smallest smile.

“What else?” San cuts through the commentary.

“If they had said something, anything weeks ago,” You trail off.

“They didn’t though,” San reminds you, “and that’s on them. Not on you.”

“So you fought?” Wooyoung surmises.

You wipe your eyes again and nod, “It was awful,”

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung takes your hands in his, smoothing his thumbs over the back of your knuckles, “We all knew they might be upset, we shouldn’t have left you alone,”

“I handled it,” You shake your head, the telltale feeling of a migraine coming on in the back of your skull from how many tears you’ve shed, “I… just - I don’t know why this is so hard,”

San shifts forwards, cupping your cheek in his hand and soothing you, “How about you stay over tonight? We can order some takeout and just forget about this for now,”

“I’ve got soju if you need a drink,” Wooyoung adds, “whatever you need, we’re here,”

“I just want to know what to do,” You push San’s hands away and drag your fingers through your hair, “it shouldn’t be this hard,”

“How did you leave it?” Wooyoung asks gently, hand on your knee.

Yunho’s words in the hallway strike back through your chest, but you shake your head, “Kind of terribly,”

“Okay,” He prompts you for a little more.

“I told them to go on tour and to not contact me so we can get some space,” You say it in a single breath and then you duck your head in your hands again.

“Damn,” Wooyoung grimaces.

“I know,” You sniff back fresh tears, “maybe I should have stayed, but, I just… I couldn’t,”

“y/n,” San pulls your hands down and takes them in his, smoothing his thumbs over the soft hollows of your palms, “you did the right thing. Space is good,”

“Is it?” You said it, and in the moment you believed it, but months without speaking to them feels like torture.

“It’s good,” He nods, wiping away your tears, “you need time to figure out how you feel and they need time to do the same. You’re never going to be able to get it if you’re working on top of each other every day,”

You let San’s words sink in and you know he’s right. All of the talking and the not talking with them up to this point had just left your relationship a jumbled mess. Time away could fix this. You knew it deep in your gut in the studio as you backed out the door and you know it now.

With a deep breath you scrub your hands under your eyes to clear away the last remnants of tears and any smudged mascara and you nod, “Woo,” you face him, “where’s that soju?”

“On it,” He grins, “I know exactly what you need,”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Wooyoung hops up and heads for San’s kitchen, “Beer, soju, and junk food. I’m making chapagetti,”

You groan, knowing exactly what your body is going to feel like tomorrow.

“At least put some protein on it,” San calls back, “for the love of god,”

“Sannie,” Wooyoung says, his head clearly in the fridge at the muffled tone, “just let me work my magic,”

“Mhm,” San shakes his head.

“I’m going to be so hungover tomorrow aren’t I?”

“Definitely,” San laughs, “but you can crash here, we’ll take care of you.”

You nod, knowing they absolutely will.

When Wooyoung hands you the cold glass of beer and the shot you clink your glass with him and knock it back in sync and for a little while you put it all out of your mind.

It isn’t until later, in the safe darkness of San’s bedroom with your best friends on either side of you, that you feel like the words might make it out of your mouth without it all ending around you. The alcohol in your system has started to dissipate, leaving you exhausted and a little heavy feeling, but your thoughts are starting to stitch back together and you just have to tell them.

You’re snuggled tight to Wooyoung’s chest, your forehead pressed to his sternum, San behind you but not really touching you, just laying on his back and staying close enough to give you the comfort of another body. You can’t stop replaying it, seeing them when they realized you had been with not just someone else but someone they knew.

You don’t know what possesses you, but in the darkness you murmur, “Mingi kissed me,”

Wooyoung’s breathing hitches for just a moment as he registers your words, but he recovers cleanly, his fingers just running over your hair again and again, “When?”

“Tonight,” You shift, pushing yourself to lie on your back between the two of them, “I think he was trying to show me he meant it,”

They let your words sit there for a moment, and then Wooyoung turns to look at you, “How do you feel about it?”

“Stupid,” You exhale, answering honestly, “really fucking stupid,”

“Why?” San props up on one arm, hand on his cheek and brow furrowed as he looks down at you.

You feel the outline of his mouth on yours again, his hands and how they held you, how much he poured into one moment just to get you to understand. “Because,” You answer, “all I could think about was how much I missed him,”

“y/n,” Wooyoung murmurs, “do you think they meant it? That their feelings are real?”

“Maybe,” You say, “but the timing,”

“Yeah,”

“And besides,” You shake your head, “I said some things I shouldn’t have,”

“Like?” San asks.

“I told them they fucked it up,” You blink back tears, “and that we weren’t soulmates and that they’re wrong,”

“Oh,” San says, “that’s direct,”

“I know,” You groan, dropping your hands over your eyes, “I was just so angry,”

“Space will be good then,” Wooyoung offers, “you all need a breather.”

“There’s no easy way to work together when that’s how you left it,” San points out, “so time away gives you all a chance to rethink some things and get some clarity,”

“What if,” The words die in your throat.

“What?” San nudges you.

“What if they come back and nothing’s fixed,” You sigh, “what if it’s worse?”

“You won’t know it until it happens,” San takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together, “you can’t control everything, y/n, sometimes you just have to let things work out.”

You nod, and then you ask the question you’ve been afraid of since you walked out the studio door, “Should I have just stayed? If… if they do have feelings for me, and they’re real, should I have just stayed?”

“It would have been easier,” Wooyoung murmurs, “but babe, you’d still have the same questions,”

“Yeah,” You breathe, stomach in knots.

“Tour is soon,” San reminds you, “you got through weeks of the cold shoulder last time, you can do this,”

You nod.

“It’s late,” Wooyoung comments.

“I know,” You murmur.

“It’s going to be okay,” San says, “I know it will.”

“You’re right,” You breathe, “I just think it shouldn’t be this hard, if we were meant to work out, shouldn’t it be easier than this?”

They’re quiet for a moment and then San sighs, “Probably,”

Wooyoung turns and looks at him, his lips closing before he shrugs and rolls towards you, snuggling up to your side.

“What?” You nudge him, reading through his silence.

“Nothing,” He says.

“Woo,” You nudge him harder.

“I just think you shouldn’t close any doors,”

“Mm,”

“I’m just saying,” He wraps an arm around your middle, “take the break from them, see how you feel later. You’re overthinking this,”

San drags his thumb over your knuckles and Wooyoung shifts closer, resting his head on your shoulder. The quiet stretches around you as you take in his words. He might be right, but you can’t think about that now. Not with the day you’ve had and the headache behind your eyes.

The fight plays over and over again in your mind every time you close your eyes, a loop of Mingi’s mouth on yours and Yunho’s eyes shining with tears. The feeling of their hands on you, begging you to stay. The look on their faces when they realized you had sought out another alpha for your heat, and not just any, but one of their best friends. You wonder what might have changed had you texted them back, who you might have met at the studio today instead.

That’s not all it was for me.

A little piece of you wishes you could take back everything you said.

#honeyhotteoks fics #honeyhotteoks updates #this night together fic #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #yungi x reader #yunho #mingi #ateez fic #ateez series #ateez ff

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repentarium · 1 year ago

Text

a waste of paint

read on ao3

“Just do your middle finger, Stevie, it’ll be, like, punk rock.”

“Right, because he is a beacon to anarchists all over the state of Indiana.” Max rolls her eyes, but Eddie is already tossing a tiny bottle to Steve. He tosses it back without looking at it.

“You’re being a real spoilsport.” Eddie tsks at him and walks on his knees to sit at Steve’s feet. After a brief tug of war, he’s got Steve’s left hand secured and is using his teeth to unscrew the top of the bottle.

“Waste of paint, man. I’m just gonna scrub it off.”

Eddie frowns at him smally, a tug down at the corners like he’s Thinking, like maybe he’s gonna shuffle back over to the girls, and Steve changes his mind with a sigh and shoves his hand closer to Eddie.

El and Max are still over near the coffee table. Max is painting something rich and blue onto El’s fingertips and they’re chatting casually. Steve thinks it’s important they have this, something a little normal. El’s hair has grown out some since spring break, enough that she’s clipped a piece of bright plastic into it to keep it from falling across her face. She gets these headaches sometimes, and Max has glasses to help with her vision and a walking cast still on her left leg, but they’re here and they’re okay and they’re painting their nails.

By the time he looks back down at Eddie, he’s finished a layer of golden yellow paint and his lips are pursed to blow gently across it. He looks up at him through his lashes and catches Steve looking back and smiles, and every part of Steve’s body is like electric-shock levels of tense.

And look, that’s normal , at least lately, at least for Steve. Normal to have to pull your eyes away from your pal, then look back as he starts painting again, the tip of his tongue poking at the corner of his lips just so in concentration.

All on the up and up, very above the board and even boring, maybe. A normal bodily reaction. Not a big deal. Cool as a cucumber.

He’s talked to Robin about it - well, he’s talked around it in Robin’s general direction, he hasn’t jumped off the diving board per se, which is fine because there’s nothing weird here. Anyway, he told Robin that he thought Eddie was really cool is what happened if you want to know the exact details, and Robin said ‘Yeah, I think so too!’. So that was like proof that it was normal, you know. Everyone thought Eddie was cool.

Steve is a liar. He is lying to himself. He does that sometimes, and he’s trying to get better about it, but it’s easier to not understand something than to dig into all the messy feelings. So the nail polish? He could have removed it, he maybe should have, but it’s like a physical something-or-other, and looking at it, or catching it on accident from the corner of his eye, gives him that same electric jolt he gets when he catches Eddie looking at him from across the room, or when he realizes the bell over the Family Video door ringing is actually heralding his loitering presence.

Anyway, he’s a liar, mostly to himself, mostly for convenience, but this whole nail polish thing is wrecking it, it’s making it harder and harder to lie about it, even in the comfort of his own thoughts.

He went on a few dates with Marie Thomas the summer before sophomore year, and she was like a vampire. She’d latch onto his throat and chew and it wasn’t like he wasn’t into it, but the real secret thrill was that he’d then catch the little bruises she left on his neck when he passed by the mirror. He hadn’t really thought he should cover it up, didn’t get why it was weird or whatever until Carol noticed on a Monday and started calling him a slut. He’d just liked that it was a physical and visual reminder that he had felt something, that he’d had a connection with another person. He liked pressing his thumb against a bruise and feeling the little bit of pain and he liked the way the purple bled out past the collar of his shirt as it healed. He and Marie didn’t last much into the school year, but he thought about the bruises sometimes.

So looking at the yellow of the polish on his finger for the next few days and feeling that same thrill, like some kind of weird neon sign that flashed and told him ‘Eddie was kneeling at your feet the other day, remember? He was looking up with big eyes through his bangs and blowing gently on your finger and he was real and it happened’ as if some sort of hot and heavy backseat-at-the-drive-in action happened when it was truly something boring in a room full of people in his mom’s living room?

It’s almost the same thing, really, and that feeling makes it harder to lie .

By the time the golden-sunshine-yellow paint is chipping off the tip of his finger, he’s spiraling into a real conundrum of truths. It’s a Wednesday, and he is late to pick up Robin for work because he honestly truthfully spent ten minutes looking at the fresh chip in his paint. He’d been wondering if that was Eddie’s little bottle, if he’d had yellow fingertips like this before, or if this was from the girls’ collection. He’d been wondering if, if he went to the trailer park, Eddie would give him a touch up. If he’d sit at his knees while he did, or if they’d sit across from each other on his bed at the new government trailer, legs crossed and hands held like highschool girls holding a seance.

It took the phone ringing to shake him out of it, Robin yelling at him for not being there yet.

So it was toeing into his shoes, snatching his keys off the counter, and speeding to Robin’s and then to open the store. Busy with his body but his brain still whirring around with honest-to-god honesty. He liked Eddie, sure, but he also likes Eddie, the way he’d liked Marie Thomas or Nancy Wheeler or any of the girls he’d gotten handsy with. Pants feelings.

And, maybe scarier, heart feelings. His terrible idiot of a heart whispers to him about how brave Eddie actually was and how kind he actually was and how good he actually was, how he treated the kids and how he nearly died to save the town that hated him and how he’d carefully held his hand and taken the time to do two coats of paint and to blow across the tip so that the sunny color looked Just Right and smooth even though Steve had (out of his mind, maybe) said he’d just wash it off. Like he’d been painting something special, maybe one of the tiny creatures for his game, instead of an ungrateful little jerk of a guy.

It all has him itchy, tapping one hand on the counter and staring at the other, the truthy yellow of it all, while Robin complains about the shitty movie she’d chosen to throw on the tv. He knows that she knows that he’s in his head about something, they basically share the same head, and he’s grateful she’s keeping it light and surface level so he can dwell and hiccup over all the sticky stuff.

The bell over the door rings, and Steve’s head snaps up (with hope, he recognizes the fluttery little wings of it and it’s like a carrier pigeon with a notarized message, the contents inside enough to make him gulp) and of course it’s Eddie, he’s always around, especially on Wednesdays when the store is at its emptiest. Steve swallows again when he sees him, forces out a ‘Hey, man!’ and holds his hands steady on the counter, palms to the glass.

Eddie looks good, of course he does, eyes and teeth bright and sparkling and his hair backlit by the late morning light so it’s like a halo. He’s fizzy with energy, like he always is, and he comes up to lean against the counter directly across from Steve. Close, like always. In Steve’s personal space, like always .

“Hey yourself, man .” Eddie smiles at him and raps his knuckles against the glass.

“Thank GOD you’re here, Munson, my brain is leaking out of my ears and Steve has been brooding and just so boring all morning.”

“Unfortunately, my dear Buckley, I’m on a mission today. I’ve gotta go out of town to get something for Wayne’s truck, so I can’t stay. Just wanted to check in with my adoring masses, a tough tour, you know how it is.” He raps again, and Steve’s eyes fall to their hands, Eddie’s rings clacking together and Steve’s sweaty palms pressed into the glass just an inch or so away. “Broody, huh? Run out of your fancy-boy hair gel?”

Eddie frowns with pomp and drama and tucks his head down to make Steve look into his eyes, and he’s looking through his lashes again, just like when he was painting his nails. It makes him clear his throat, and clear it again, and think about Marie’s bruise on his neck, wonder if Eddie would bruise him like that, if he would rather Steve mark him up, and then he’s looking at the long line of his neck and the way it slides into the curve of his shoulder before it disappears into the stretched-out collar of his once-black shirt. He clears his throat again , and then, as if Eddie can read his mind (God no, please), he looks down at Steve’s hand and taps at the nail polish.

“You need a touch-up, Stevie, that yellow is just falling apart. It’s called Sun Day, you know, that color. Two words: Sun Day.”

Steve hums at him and looks back at his hands again. Feels the ghost of the little tap he’d touched against his nail.

“ Anyway , my friends and fellow freaks, I am a little overdue on this old thing.” He struggles into some hidden pocket under the flannel tied around his waist, turning his shoulders enough that Steve feels like whatever spell he’d cast is maybe broken and he can breathe again.

He presses the plastic case onto the counter with what Steve just knows he thinks is his most winningest grin, but it only works because it’s created this silly stretched-out grimace that Steve finds charming, okay, it’s silly and it’s charming.

“Fine! Okay, fine, you got it, what fees?” Steve shakes his head at him, one hand finally lifting from the counter to run through his hair and the other finding home on his own hip. He hopes there isn’t some sort of sweaty mark on the counter but he can’t look to check without showing his cards.

“My everlasting thanks, sweet Stevie.” Eddie bows low and backs up a few steps, turns around as Robin says goodbye, taps the top of the door frame as he leaves and shoots a wink over his shoulder back at Steve. Steve stares too long, raises his hand in a wave after Eddie is already out of sight.

Robin is snapping up Eddie’s returned VHS to rewind it; you’d think with his friends cutting him so much slack with the rentals he’d be-kind-rewind them at least, but he never does, and the worst part is that Steve doesn’t even care. He’s fully complained to many a customer with his arms crossed pissily about rewinding their spoils, but for some reason Eddie’s disregard is just another Cool Thing about his Cool Guy Persona.

Something about that’s the final straw. When it crosses his mind, he crosses to the front of the store and flips the closed sign, locks the door, and turns off the display lights. By the time he’s turned around again, hands in his hair and his heart pounding in his throat, Robin is looking at him with an eyebrow raised. She doesn’t seem panicked, but Steve is starting to feel panicked, so he comes around the counter to lean next to Robin and then slides down to sit on the floor. It feels right. It feels even more right when Robin slides down the wall across from him and kicks her scuffed up Converse against his sneaker.

She’s quiet and watching him with big eyes. It’s uncanny.

He has a few false starts, big breaths and an open mouth before reeling in whatever he was going to say and snapping his jaw closed again.

Finally, after minutes of Robin just Looking and Steve floundering and feeling warm, he looks at his painted nail for courage and just spits it out.

“I like Eddie. Like I think I want to kiss him and hear about his day and touch his butt and stuff.”

“God,” says Robin, “of course you do. Have you seen the two of you dancing around each other? It’s like you pinball from middle school crush to old married couple and back again.”

Steve sputters. “You knew ? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Like that wouldn’t have totally freaked you out. You had to figure it out in your own time.” Steve would bet she thinks she looks wise, but to him she just looks constipated.

“Well so. So what do I do? What now?” He’s chewing on the skin of his thumb, not the one who is neighbors with the Sun Day, he’s got enough presence of mind for that .

“What do you mean?”

Steve sighs in frustration and then his hands are tugging at his hair again, elbows balanced on his knees. “Is he even. Does he. What if he doesn’t like me back? What if he does ?”

“Breathe, Steve. He definitely likes you, he just thinks you’re straight ‘cause of, you know.” She gestures vaguely at him.

“So did I.”

“Yeah, uh. Are you, like, freaking out?”

“I… don’t know. It snuck up on me. I just. He painted my fingernail.” Steve flips Robin off to show off the sad and chipped polish.

“Yeah you showed me. Multiple times.” She has a pretty unimpressed expression on her face for someone who is supposed to be helping him. “ That’s what made you realize you liked his dork ass?”

“I mean, it was a series of things, I guess. I don’t know.” He’s looking at his silly fingernail again. “He’s really good. Like better than anyone maybe.”

Robin is gawking at him. “That’s not how you talk about girls, Steve. You haven’t mentioned his boobies like, at all.”

Steve groans and slides sideways to lay on the floor, sprawled out and looking at the cobwebs fighting to cover the overhead lights. Gross.

“I’m sure his boobies are lovely, Robs, I just… wanna spend time with him, and listen to his weird stories and his weird music and look at his eyes when he talks about all the things he likes. And. Maybe he’ll like me like that too, you know? Like maybe he’ll feel the same way one day and I’ll be able to look at him and just know .”

“Ew, you suck, Steve.” But her face when he looks is soft and caring.

“Should I like. Talk to him? No. I don’t even know if he’s. You know.”

“You won’t know for sure until you talk to him, but I wouldn’t encourage you to talk to him if I didn’t think he was safe. And also like completely obsessed with you. But even if he wasn’t! He’s a good guy and he’s a good friend, you know. He’s not gonna be weird about it.”

“Hmm.”

Robin puts a hand on his knee and shakes it side to side. “Look at us ! You basically said you loved me and I’m still here, and we’re even closer than ever.”

Steve frowns at her, but he knows she’s right. Eddie’s a good guy, that’s the whole point.

“I guess I’m gonna talk to him.” Even saying it out loud to Robin like this makes him nauseous, makes his pulse pound, but she smiles at him in encouragement.

“Yes! A great idea. You can turn on the old Harrington Charm, maybe-”

A pounding at the closed door and a muffled voice interrupts her. They both scramble to their feet, and Steve sees old Mrs. Burke pressing her face to the door, talking through the glass and shielding her eyes from the glare.

“Coming!” Robin yells and darts to the door, lets her in and flips everything to open again.

“You’re supposed to be open!” Mrs. Burke gripes.

Steve mutters a ‘yeah, yeah’ and lets Robin take over. He’s usually fed to the Mad Old Lady Wolves but Robin loves him and lets him go sit in the breakroom for five minutes while she helps her find whatever romantic comedy she needs so badly.

That means he gets to sit on the ratty old sofa and stare at the walls and wring his hands because it sure doesn’t feel like it’s as easy as flipping on some sort of charm switch. He’s got indigestion thinking about it, actually.

And okay, the whole ‘King Steve “the Hair” Harrington, Master of Charm and Suavity’ was… a little bit of a farce, actually. It worked for him, but from an outside perspective, especially lately? Let’s just say it’s a little lackluster. Nancy told him one time, giggling in a way that didn’t hurt his feelings, that the reason he was charming was because he wasn’t charming, just sincere. That was after he successfully(?) charmed her with shotgunning the beer by the pool and before the big breakup, so that means something, right?

When the bell over the door rings again (Steve’s ears are trained to recognize it) he gets to barge out into the main room and say “Robin, do you really think I’m charming or are you joking?”

Luckily there’s no one in the store again, and he just finds Robin between the aisles pausing her restock to look at him with wide eyes.

“I’m being serious, I’m having a crisis.” he continues when she doesn’t immediately respond.

“Steve, buddy, I hate to be the one to tell you this. You’re a total dweeb.” It’s delivered with the gravitas of a doctor giving a horrible diagnosis, and it feels that way to Steve. “But!” she continues quickly when his face definitely flashes with the fall and the crash, “I have incredible news for you! I personally mean that as a term of endearment and, maybe even better, everyone you know is a dweeb, and ? Best of all? One Eddie Munson is maybe the biggest dweeb that’s ever existed”

Steve is still frowning. It’s kind of a lot to absorb, that the common perception of yourself is so… unsmooth.

“You’re very sweet, Steve, and everyone likes you. Well, mostly.” Robin stiffly pats his shoulder.

“Should I like, buy a leather jacket or something?”

“Steve it’s June. Also I don’t think you need to pull a Sandy Dee. Actually, please don’t. Just, you’ve got your whole… thing… and it’s maybe a little uptight? But it’s your thing ! You don’t wanna change for a person, you know, you’d tell me the same thing.”

“I want him to like me. Suddenly. Very badly.”

“That’s the nature of a crush, Steve-o. It’s evil.”

“I need to go lay down for a few days. Maybe this’ll blow over, like…” he thinks and snaps his fingers, “temporary insanity.”

“Oh, honey. It’s been a while I guess, what with the world always ending, but I don’t know if you can sleep this kinda thing off. You probably have to talk to him.”

He stands and stares and thinks while Robin putters around doing menial movie store tasks around him. It’s hard work, standing and staring and thinking, especially when he’s interrupted to take care of customers, so really it takes him the rest of the afternoon and all the way up through quitting time.

It’s like he blinks and he’s pulling into his driveway, no memory of dropping Robin off. He shakes himself and turns the engine off, stumbles up his steps and through the front doors with legs that feel asleep and a brain that’s still all fogged up.

It’s not even an Eddie is a boy and this makes him Different kind of freak out; that’s not it at all, he’s somehow leapt straight past that like hurdles in track and is standing facing a brick wall of but he’s Good and maybe you Don’t Deserve This .

Steve knows he’s a lot, see, and he falls hard and fast, and Eddie is fun and light and not weighed down with all the guilt and anxiety and bullshit Steve’s dealing with; Eddie has his band and his game and his friends and he’s going to community college and working part time at a garage in town and figuring his shit out. Steve is working at Family Video (still), floundering his 20s away with no hopes or dreams or friends older than teens, and he also almost got a significant percentage of them, including Eddie , killed. Very recently, actually.

Like Eddie is a glowing light and Steve is a cold dark box that puts lights out. Like he’s become his shitty, empty house.

He’s still standing in his dark entryway, breath kicking up into something that’s sure to be a real doozy of a panic attack, when there’s a firm and rhythmic knock at the front door. He eyes the bat leaning against the wall (in case of emergencies), then flicks on the lights and opens the doors to find Eddie standing there, arms weighed down with bags and a hand raised to knock again.

“Hey Stevie!”

“H-hey? Hey, Eddie! What’s, um. What’s going on?” He tries to channel coolness, suavity, leans against the wall next to the open door and doesn’t almost fall.

Eddie pushes past Steve without being invited in, typical behavior, and slides his wares onto the counter in the kitchen.

“I brought us a feast.”

“A feast?” Steve’s stomach grumbles, reminds him he skipped breakfast and lunch, only split marked-out snacks with Robin all day. “What’s the occasion?”

“Kinda you are.” Eddie is unloading takeout containers from what smells like some Italian place.

“I’m… confused.”

“Your birthday!”

“It’s definitely not my birthday, Eddie.”

“No, but we’re celebrating it today because I don’t know when it is.”

“That doesn’t make, like, any sense, man, my birthday was in April.”

“No, that’s perfect! I was probably recovering from the whole near-death then, so. Birthday.” He grins cheesily at him and Steve feels like all of his insides are scrambling to leave his body via a new pathway up his throat. “I hope you like pasta!”

“I love pasta.” Steve manages to mumble, and his feet move him towards Eddie on their own, his eyes snoop on their own, his hands pull out a stool on their own. It’s like he’s haunting his own body. Eddie is mumbling song lyrics and pulling out plates and dishing out pasta and salad like he belongs in his kitchen, like he’s more at home there than Steve has pretty much ever felt, and that combined with his day of Thinking and the snare of the stupid yellow polish on his nail that has him still feeling breathless when he says, watery and all in a jumble: “Eddie I think I really like you. Please don’t make fun of me.”

He feels the panic on his own face as he just pauses. He didn’t mean to just say that, and now Eddie’s stopped, still as hell and facing away from him, carton of breadsticks lowered to the counter. He tries to school his face (cool, suave) as Eddie slowly, so slowly, turns around and leans against the edge of the counter, as he crosses his arms in front of him, but he just knows he looks like he’s seen a ghost or like he’s on fire because he still kinda feels that way.

“You okay Stevie? You look a little. Well, you look a little freaked out.”

“I just, ah. I just mean.” He sinks fully into the stool, grateful it has a back to catch him because otherwise he’d end up on the floor for sure. His knees are basically on strike. He’s so warm. He keeps clearing his throat.

Eddie is still looking at him with worry making the line between his brows creep below his bangs. He turns again to run some water into a glass and slide it across the island to Steve, who grabs it and makes himself sip mostly for something to do with his hands. But now Eddie is leaning across the whole island, pushed up onto his toes for sure, pushing into Steve’s space just enough that he knows he’s blushing. It makes him feel ridiculous because this is just Eddie, his friend, one of his best friends. Eddie who, god bless him, has never had a firm grasp on personal space and it’s never really been an issue before right exactly now.

Steve’s talking into the glass and avoiding Eddie’s eyes when he says, “I mean. It’s. I don’t think. I just. You don’t have to say anything. I’m, like, working through something.”

“Hmm. Did you mean it, Steve?”

Steve gulps again. “Yeah. Yeah, I did, I mean. I do. Like you. Like more than a normal amount. And it’s okay if you don’t, and I’m sorry if that’s not…”

“Stevie, breathe.”

Steve can hear the chuckle in his voice and it finally makes him look up, which was a terrible idea, actually, because now he’s stuck again, caught on looking into Eddie’s stupid beautiful eyes as he laughs at him. “Please don’t laugh at me. This is. A lot.” Steve feels small and tiny and miniscule and he wants to go hide under the covers like when he was a kid and his parents were yelling.

“Sweetheart. I am not laughing at you.” Eddie’s voice is firm through the grin that’s still there, and he reaches out slowly like Steve is a startled horse and lightly - lightly - touches the side of his face. It’s like walking through a spider web in the park if the spider web was cotton candy instead. “Oh my god. Steve Harrington, you’re such a dweeb.”

“That’s what they say.”

Slowly, to keep from startling him any more, he’s sure, Eddie leans further across the island, hand still on Steve’s face, and presses a gentle, feather-soft kiss against his lips. It’s nothing, really, not even close to the kinds of kisses that led to hands or bruises, but it’s like fireworks catching on all his nerves and he can feel all his hair stand up. It’s like superpowers and swimming and drowning, and he knows a little about all that.

Before he can get his brain on the same channel, Eddie is pulling away with a soft pat to Steve’s cheek. Steve makes a very sad noise at the back of his throat and he knows he’s pouting but Eddie has turned away already, is humming again and grabbing plates and saying “Let’s eat some pasta, babe. I’m starving.”

He watches as Eddie grabs plates, balances a box of breadsticks on an arm, asks him to grab the Cokes. Steve grabs the bottles on autopilot, cracks the caps open on the counter the way his mother would kill him for, and follows Eddie into the living room where he’s seated on the sofa, plate in his lap and pasta in his mouth.

He’s got a numb almost-feeling as he clinks a Coke down in front of Eddie and takes his plate, sits stiffly. His brain is sloshing around as he eats his spaghetti.

“How are you normal?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows over his Coke bottle. “No one has ever asked me that before.”

“I just mean. I guess I don’t know what to think. Usually people say something when you say you, well. Say you have feelings for them. Or…”

Eddie puts all his things down on the coffee table, no coasters, and curls his legs up onto the couch.

“Stevie, I’m sittin’ right here with you. You don’t have to say or do anything, you know? I’m here, and I’m not goin’ anywhere. We can eat dinner, we can talk about it.” He shrugs a shoulder, totally not bothered.

They’re words, just words, and they shouldn’t strike him so hard, but his face feels warm and he still feels like his brain is spinning around, like he’s at sea. Eddie frowns at him. He seems to see how lost he is suddenly because in the next breath he’s taking everything away from Steve to put it next to his own stuff. He grabs his hands and tells him to breathe. “Oh. Yeah. Okay.”

“You are freaking out. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m fine, I’m just.”

“It’s okay not to be fine. I think you’ve given this all a little more thought than I thought.”

“I’m serious, I was serious. I even told Robin. I think I, well, I know… I like you a lot. Like in a way I don’t usually like guys.”

“Oh. Wow.” Eddie is looking at him, and now he looks like he’s seen a ghost. Hands gripped, seance-style. “Okay, I’m not gonna lie, Stevie, I kinda thought you were just trying to say I was your… pal.”

“So you kissed me on the lips.”

“Pals kiss! And okay, cards on the table I guess, I know I feel a certain way about you , that’s not news to me. I wanted to do that for years, since even before you saved my life. I just don’t exactly expect any kind of… reciprocity.”

“Like?”

“Like you’re not gonna look at me and see me the way I see you .” By the end of the sentence his voice has fallen to a whisper.

And, well. Now Eddie is looking away and blushing and Steve feels a little more balanced, feels like this is something he can participate in. Not so much confidence, but familiarity, a comfortable sweater. “It depends how you see me, I guess, but I’m a little obsessed with you.”

Eddie lets out a loud laugh in surprise and tries to pull his hands back but Steve flips them around so he’s grabbing Eddie’s hands and keeping them safe. It’s like holding small birds.

“No, stop. I mean it.” He’s picking up steam, pulling out the things he was turning over in his head all day. He mirrors Eddie, knees touching knees. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Robin’s tired of hearing about it. Being around you is easy, you make things easy, like it gets quiet even though you’re loud as hell.”

“Shut up, man.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re not like, joking with me right? Because that happened sometimes in the hallowed halls of Hawkins High and gotta tell ya, not a fan. I’m not a good fighter and I like you too much to wanna hit you but I would be very sad , and-”

“Eddie, it’s not a joke.”

“-like, I just wanted to bring you dinner because it looked like you were having a bad day and we all know how that goes, and this is all feeling very weird actually-”

“You were so cool a minute ago, it made me think I was losing it-”

“-maybe I got into a horrible car accident and died and this is like the last firing of my synapses or whatever.”

“-but this is actually more of an Eddie response. Is this okay?” Steve is ecstatic, actually, this is going so well, way better than he thought, and he can feel the smile on his face as he reels Eddie in closer to him, as he plans to redo that kiss in the kitchen.

“God, yes.” Eddie laughs, and then he shuts up as Steve presses his lips against his.

And okay, it’s more teeth than it should be, what with all the smiling, and it’s a little garlicky from the pasta, but it’s Good in the way that all first kisses are but it’s Better because it’s with Eddie.

By the time they get back to their pasta it’s cold but they’re still smiling and the little worried line between Eddie’s brows is gone completely.

They’re laughing as they eat, and they’re laughing as they clean up, and they’re laughing as Steve stops Eddie at the door to pull him into another kiss, and it’s easy .

When he goes to bed that night, he runs his thumb over the chipped yellow polish in the dark and he thinks wow, Robin was right , and he thinks oh no, Robin is going to be so annoying , but he falls asleep with a smile anyway. He has incredible dreams for a change, dreams where everything is all Sun Day Golden Yellow and cotton-candy-sweet and he has this dork of a guy next to him holding his hand.

It’s all pretty punk rock.

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i have been on several work trips and am in the process of moving so i have been s l a c k i n g, esp here and on my longer fics, but i haven't abandoned them! This is an older short lil story i edited and posted when i couldn't sleep

xoxo

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #mine

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