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pathologicalreid · 1 day ago

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prisoner | s.r.

in which you and Spencer conduct a custodial interview with a serial killer - Spencer's first since he was released

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: post prison reid, fwb but also mutual pining, serial killers, prison, panic attack, chiromancy word count: 3.66k a/n: i originally came up with this idea in 2023 😭 😭 it's about time i finished it lol. definitely suffers from exposition overload but i don't caaaaare.

Fourteen times.

You had asked him fourteen times if he thought he was going to be okay doing the custodial interview. No one else was available to do it, but you still had your reservations. Sending Spencer to a prison felt wrong, even if he wasn’t on the inside of the bars anymore.

Without telling him the reason, Emily elected to send you with him to the facility, she said it was because you had never done one before, but you knew it was deeper than that. “How many victims?” You asked, not taking your eyes off the road as you drove to the destination.

“Eight,” Spencer answered, looking through the case file. The killer had asked for the interview, hoping to be transferred to a minimum-security facility. The odds weren’t good, but you needed to oblige the request even if it wouldn’t prove successful.

You hummed, turning down the road, you pulled up to the security station. Presenting your credentials to the guard, he lifted the gate for you, and you found your reserved parking. “Do you want to take the lead?” You asked him, trying to gauge how he was doing.

Nodding, Spencer got out of the SUV. You shut off the engine and followed suit. “Unless it doesn’t seem like he’s responding to me, I’d rather not present him with someone who fits in with his victim pool.”

“And they say chivalry is dead,” you said sardonically, grabbing your bag from the backseat before locking the car and following Spencer inside.

The two of you went through security, locking up your weapons and going through metal detectors. It wasn’t until you went inside the first gate that you noticed it; Spencer was fiddling with the belt loop of his slacks. “I can feel you staring,” he whispered so only you could hear. You watched his posture relax when the gate buzzed and opened in front of him.

You smiled softly, “I can see you fidgeting,” you responded. At work, the two of you were merely coworkers who knew each other really well, so you couldn’t just reach out and take his hand. Not that you’d want to, in a prison full of serial killers.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, implying that he wasn’t right now. The smile fell off your face as the two of you followed the guard into the warden’s office.

At the sight of you, the warden stood and smiled, “You must be Agents Y/L/N and Reid, thank you for making the trip down here.”

Raising your eyebrows, you reach out your hand for the warden to shake, “He’s Dr. Reid, actually.” You corrected, seeing as Spencer didn’t seem to have noticed.

“Ah, my apologies, Dr. Reid,” he responded kindly, gesturing for the two of you to follow him.

Spencer gently brushed your hand as you followed the warden. It was so subtle that someone else could’ve brushed it off as an accident, but Spencer Reid never did anything without purpose.

“Marshal Lukins is the most prolific killer we’ve had in my time here, we aren’t expecting anything to come of this, but you know as well as I do that we have to humor the psychos,” Warden McCall told you, stopping in front of a gate and calling out for it to be opened.

You raised your eyebrows, deciding against telling the warden that Lukins profiled as a sociopath, not a psychopath. “How’s his behavior been here?”

The warden shrugged, “He won’t be winning any merit badges any time soon, that’s for sure. Spends most of his time in solitary, really.”

“His file said he had gotten into an altercation with another prisoner, what was that about?” Spencer asked.

McCall cleared his throat, “turf war. You know, prison gangs can get rowdy. Especially when they find out the feds are coming.”

You raised your eyebrows, grateful you couldn’t see Spencer’s expression. “Oh, yeah,” he said quietly.

Then you were in front of a serial killer, someone who had been put away years ago, but the way he looked at you sent shivers down your spine. “Marshal Lukins?” You confirmed.

“Why hello, pretty lady,” Lukins responded, rising from the chair. His legs were chained to the ground, but his hands were free.

Behind you, Spencer cleared his throat, “Sit down,” he ordered. Taking a tone of authority that you weren’t sure you’d ever heard from him.

Taking your seat across from Lukins, you looked him in the eyes, “You may call me Agent Y/L/N.”

Your interviewee shrugged, “I’ll call you whatever I want in my mind later.”

Ignoring the hairs that stood up on the back of your neck, you rolled your eyes at the skeevy pervert. “If you want to be transferred, you’re not making a very good first impression,” Spencer intervened, likely aware of your discomfort.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first criminal to make a pass at you, and in your line of work, it likely wouldn’t be the last.

“I’m not much worried about first impressions, people usually have a first opinion about me before they even hear my voice,” he responded, leaning back in the chair.

You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from responding, yeah, that happens when you murder eight women. “What would you rather our opinion of you be? That you’re misunderstood? Did you find god in prison, Marshal?” You asked him.

He leaned over the table ever so slightly, yellowed teeth flashing beneath the fluorescent light that hung above the interrogation table, “Would you like me to show him to you?”

Raising your eyebrows, you maintained a bored disposition while flipping open your files, “No.”

With custodials like this, you weren’t allowed to have photos in your files. Lukins was a sexual sadist, and the profile that Aaron Hotchner had put together was damning, describing the man in front of you to a T. He even got the age correct, right down to the receding hairline. Even though Lukins was in prison, you’d never provide him with visual aids to relive his crimes.

“Why did you request this interview if you weren’t interested in playing nice?” Spencer asked, setting his own files on the table in front of him, but he refrained from opening them. He managed to memorize their contents on the drive from Quantico, enabling him to weaponize his memory.

Lukins put his hands up in mock surrender, “I was hoping they’d send me someone nice to look at, make a good conversation with, and boy am I glad I took that chance.”

Spencer clasped his hands together and set them on the steel table, “Thank you,” he responded, keeping himself stone-faced in the presence of the killer.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the criminal in front of you snapped, jutting his chin in your direction.

Bored, your partner spoke up again, “Yes, you are,” he corrected. You were unable to communicate with Spencer without tipping off Lukins, so you let him continue, trusting that he knew where he was going with this. “In your trial, you said all of your victims were your sheep,” Spencer recalled from the file, “Is that why you shaved their heads before gutting them?”

Lukins scoffed, bored easily within the confines of the interview, “My sheep were my friends, but every sheep needs a wolf. Isn’t that right, Bo Peep?” He asked you, meeting your gaze despite the fact that Spencer all but told him not to engage with you.

You narrowed your gaze at him, tilting your head innocently, “Would you have let me be one of your sheep?”

He gave you a look that made you feel like you needed a shower, “You would’ve been a nice addition, could’ve rounded out my numbers.”

He reached out a hand, trying to take a piece of your hair between his grimy fingers, but you stood up quickly, stepping back from the table and almost tripping over your chair in response.

A few prison guards came in at the sudden movement, and Spencer had a vice-like grip on Lukins’ wrist, keeping him away from you. Tossing his arm back at him, Spencer glared at the killer, “No touching,” he instructed, looking back at you to check-in. He opened the door to the room, ushering you out before looking at the guards, “I want him in cuffs.”

With a hand on the small of your back, Spencer herded you to the private space that the two of you were expected to inhabit for the day. “Hey,” you spoke to him once the door was shut behind you.

Spencer was filled to the brim with nervous energy, shaking out his hands in an attempt to expel his nerves, “We should just go back to Quantico.” He shook his head, brown curls fanning out around his face, “There’s no way he can tell us anything that will get us to endorse his transfer.”

Watching him like this made your chest ache, and you had no idea what to do with that emotion. Your relationship with Spencer was strictly horizontal—usually—and you found yourself floundering when it came to how to act outside of bed. You wanted to take his hand, desperate to run your fingers over his knuckles and find the familiar callus from where his pencil rests on his finger, but you just couldn’t get yourself to reach out.

You hadn’t known Spencer before he was arrested in Mexico, but you made your mark on him without ever letting him lay his eyes on you. You sent letters to him along with the rest of the team, refraining from talking about cases and instead choosing to use your letters as a personal diary, chronicling your first three months with the Behavioral Analysis Unit with your prison pen pal. Periodically, you put money in his commissary account, despite the rest of the team telling you that you shouldn’t feel inclined to.

Pressing your lips into a thin line, your eyes tracked his pacing in the conference room before you started to voice your concern, “We have to go back in, Reid.” You grabbed a water bottle from the counter and twisted the cap off before handing it to him.

He took the water begrudgingly, glaring at you as he did so, “Why do we have to go back in, exactly?” After taking a sip of the water, he handed it to you so you could have some. You could’ve grabbed your own, but surely this was quicker.

“Lukins said I would’ve rounded out his numbers,” you told him, nervously fiddling with the cap of the water bottle as you waited for him to get it.

Spencer adjusted his tie, pulling the silk fabric further from his neck, “Yeah, I heard him.” It bothered him, the slightest implication that you were endangered in that interview room put him on edge, but all you could do was sit down and watch him.

You sighed, “We only have a record of eight victims. We don’t know what he’s rounding to, but that’s at least two more bodies that we don’t know about.” Lukins could be rounding up to ten, which would be the closest option, or you were looking at the possibility of a considerably higher body count. Your fear was that he would use those additional kills as a bartering tool to get a transfer.

He stopped in his tracks while he processed what you were telling him. Spencer turned to you, lips parted before he nodded, eventually agreeing with you even if it pained him to do so. “We should call Emily and let her know what’s going on,” he told you, taking a seat across from you and placing his head in his hands. “I’m gonna step outside for a second,” he said, getting up just as quickly as he took a seat and swinging the door open, leaving you alone in the conference room.

Holding your tongue, you stopped yourself from voicing your approval, even though you did think some fresh air would be good for him. Instead, you watched the door click shut before fishing your phone out of your pocket, tapping on Emily’s contact before bringing the phone to your ear.

“How’s it going?” Emily asked you as soon as she answered, and you couldn’t help but picture your unit chief waiting by her phone, hoping to hear from you or Spencer.

You sighed, inadvertently cluing her into how the custodial interview was going, “We might have a problem,” you told her. Continuing on to explain what had happened between you and Marshal Lukins, all the way up through your discovery that he might have a higher victim count.

Prentiss clicked her tongue on the other end of the line, “What does Spencer think?”

The question didn’t come as a surprise to you, neither did the fact that her inflection told you that she was sneakily trying to ask you how Spencer was. Wiping your free palm along the fabric of your pants, you leaned against the table, “Reid thinks Lukins is out for blood.” You opened your mouth to continue but were interrupted by an alarm being tripped, your head snapped up as lights started to flash on the walls.

“What’s going on?” Emily questioned you over the phone, but you could barely hear her over the blare of the alarm, a low-pitched buzzing sound that made your brain feel like it was vibrating within your skull.

Clambering to your feet, you grabbed your water bottle and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you as you looked aimlessly around the prison for someone who could offer you an explanation. “I’ve gotta go,” you blurted into the receiver, stuffing your phone in your pocket and making your way to the front of the prison, ignoring the men who shouted at you from behind bars.

You looked down the walkway, watching as the failsafe on the doors was triggered and they slowly started to shut, triggering you to try and make a run for it. “Y/N,” Spencer called out your name, picking up his own pace from the opposite direction.

It didn’t take you long to realize that you weren’t going to make it, skidding to a halt as the bars clicked shut in front of you. You weren’t scared until you watched Spencer pull at the door, frantically trying to slide it open, “Reid,” you said his name, trying to get his attention. “Reid,” you shouted that time, trying to make sure he heard you over the alarm.

He didn’t pause to look at you, he simply continued to pull at the bars.

“Spence,” you said desperately, and that time his eyes snapped to yours. Wide brown eyes bore into yours as you placed one of your hands on his, both of them encircling the bar. “It’s not going to open,” you reminded him. A fact he was well aware of but didn’t want to acknowledge.

Silently, he leaned back into the wall, sliding down the side of it and looking up at the ceiling, pulling at his tie again, this time taking it all the way off. “It’s a lockdown,” he panted helplessly, “They’re in a lockdown.”

You nodded softly, having drawn that conclusion on your own, “It’s okay,” you told him softly, reaching through the bars and taking one of his hands in yours. “You’re alright, Spence,” you continued, your tone bordering on a coo.

He pulled his knees to his chest and slung his free arm over his legs, hugging himself.

It broke your heart to watch him like this. You pointed in the direction he came from, “Look. Hey, you could be free to leave, I’m the one who’s locked in,” you told him, highlighting the fact that the bars were blocking you, but Spencer could make his way back to the entryway.

“Not helping,” he told you, his voice almost a gasp as he tried to regulate his breathing.

Your shoulder’s slumped forward slightly, “I’m sorry. What can I do?”

Spencer just shook his head, squeezing your hand in response when you started sweeping your thumb over his knuckles. You ignored the buzzing of your phone in your pocket as you watched him, completely focused on making sure he was okay before you did anything else.

With your free hand, you grabbed the water bottle that you took from the conference room and slipped it through the bars. “Here, take this,” you murmured, setting it on the ground next to him when he didn’t take the bottle from you.

He visibly relaxed when the alarm stopped going off, but the lights were still flashing, which offered somewhat of an explanation as to why the door hadn’t opened yet.

You fiddled with his hand, opening up his palm and tracing the lines on his hand with your index finger, “Have you ever had your palm read?” You asked him, twisting your head to get a better look at it.

He looked at you, the panicked look in his eyes had subsided, promptly replaced with incredulity, “When have I ever struck you as the kind of person who would get my palm read?”

Shrugging, you slowly traced his love line, “You like Halloween, I thought maybe you’d let your curiosity get the best of you.” Although you supposed if Spencer really wanted to have his palm read, he’d just do it yourself. “When I was in college, my summer job was reading palms in a booth at an amusement park,” you informed him.

Spencer chuckled at your revelation, and the sound made your heart sing, “That is… oddly endearing.”

Nodding, you looked at his hand again, “Chiromancy says men were born with their left hand, and their right is what they accumulate throughout life,” you told him softly, sliding your other hand through the bar.

“Actually, I was born with both of my hands,” Spencer responded, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, studying his left hand intently, “You have water hands,” you said, showing him his own palm as if he’d never seen it before.

Spencer raised his eyebrows at you, “Well, now you’re just making things up,” he openly teased you that time, but he didn’t pull his hand away.

Humming, you furrowed your brows and pointed at his hand, “This is your head line,” you explained. “See how it’s long and straight? It sort of tapers off before the end of your palm—that means you tend to think realistically.”

“I could’ve told you that,” he challenged, but his eyes were following along as you pointed at his palm.

You shook your head and sighed, “Here’s your life line,” you said, pointing to a different line and tracing it with your fingertip. “It’s straight and goes down to the edge of your palm, which means you’re cautious about relationships,” you continued softly, leaning your head against one of the bars of the door.

He was silent after that one, briefly taking his bottom lip between his teeth and looking down at his hand. You could tell that even though he didn’t quite believe what you were saying, he was perfectly fine with humoring you.

“This is your fate line,” you told him, entirely expecting to lose him the moment you began discussing fate. “It’s broken down the middle and curved in different directions, and that means you’re prone to a lot of changes in life. Changes influenced by external forces.”

Gently, Spencer pulled his hand away from yours, flexing his hand before looking down at it, “You’ve officially lost me.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up, “I’m surprised you lasted this long.” Just long enough apparently, the doors buzzed soon after, and you withdrew your hands from the slots as the bars slid into a hole in the wall.

Spencer got up first, dusting off his hands before he extended a hand to help you up. Your hand lingered in his for just a moment too long, the exchange oddly intimate for the two of you before his arms dropped to his side, “Thank you,” he murmured, a shy smile on his face.

Shrugging, you crossed your arms in front of your stomach, “There’s nothing to thank, Reid.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that it was disappointment that flashed across his face at your reply.

The warden had rather unceremoniously asked the two of you to leave, citing security concerns and letting you know that he’d be in contact with Emily to reschedule. Emily had called you six times during the lockdown, but you’d texted her once everything was clear.

Which left you heading back to the SUV with Spencer, there were prisoners out in the yard, so he walked on the inside, blocking your body from the view of the inmates. “Are you alright?” You asked him, feeling more free to inquire now that you were in the open air.

He nodded, “I’m fine, I just really wasn’t expecting something like that to happen when I asked Emily to send me on this custodial.”

Your footsteps faltered at his words, “You asked to go on this custodial?”

Spencer frowned, “I was on this case originally ten years ago, so I asked Emily to let me go.”

“And she said yes?” You asked incredulously.

Spencer opened the back door for you to place your bag in, “Not initially, but eventually she realized that I’d be her only option if she wanted to get it done today.” He shut the door and shoved his hands in his pockets, “It’s a lot earlier than I thought we’d be getting back, do you want to stop and get lunch on the way back to Quantico?”

Your eyes went wide and you were grateful that he couldn’t see your expression, “Uh, sure. Why not?”

“Perfect,” he said, “Maybe I can get you to tell me why you avoided reading my love line.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #written by margot #margotober #angstober

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reidmania · 3 days ago

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love letters | s.reid

summary; when you miss spencer while he is away on a case, you re-read all the love letters he has written you over the course of your relationship

warnings; established relationships, mentions case but doesnt go into detail, fem reader, reader is not a coffee drinker, fluff fluff fluff

an; fic six!! this is just pure fluff tbh. also can we appreciate the colouring on this fic. ITS SO PERFECT PRETTU PERFECT.

You’re lying on the bed that feels too big without him, your fingers idly tracing the edge of a soft, worn piece of paper. The clock beside you reads 2:12 a.m., and you can’t shake the emptiness settling over you as you stare at the ceiling, too awake to sleep and too tired to do anything else. Spencer’s been away for three days now, and every hour without him feels like it stretches on and on, the silence heavier than you’d ever thought silence could be.

Your eyes drift back to the drawer beside your bed, a drawer he never opens, but where you keep something he would recognize instantly. Tucked away are letters, dozens of them, each one a quiet reminder of him. They’re notes, really—not grand declarations, not epic poems. Just little reminders he’s left you over time, slipped into coat pockets or left folded on your pillow. You hadn’t intended to save them all, but now, having them close is the only thing keeping you grounded while he’s away.

You open the drawer and pull out the little bundle tied with a piece of twine. Your heart swells as you untie it, gently unfolding the first note. It’s one of your favorites, written on a torn scrap of notebook paper, one corner crinkled from a drop of coffee. Spencer had left it on your kitchen counter before heading out to work, months ago.

“If I could leave you notes all over the world, I would. But for now, just look outside—it’s raining, and I know that makes you feel calm. I’ll be home before the storm’s over. – S”

You smile, remembering that day. You’d found the note just before noticing the rain falling in gentle streams outside your window, and you’d waited with a blanket by the window, watching the clouds until he came back, just like he’d promised. He always knew how to turn your little quirks into anchors.

Setting that note aside, you reach for another. This one’s written on the back of a receipt from the bookshop downtown. It’s short and scrawled in his neat handwriting.

“You pick up this book as if it’s a friend you haven’t seen in years. It’s beautiful to watch. Don’t forget to mark your place in the story—I want to hear what you think. – S”

You laugh to yourself, remembering how he’d tucked it into the back of the book after you bought it. He hadn’t let you see it until you found it yourself one night, and the memory of the way he’d watched you read that note makes your heart ache just a little more.

You lie back against the pillows, shifting so you’re curled around his side of the bed. It’s silly, maybe, reading these notes over and over. But as you go through them, each one reminds you how much he loves you, how he notices things about you that you hadn’t even noticed about yourself. His love is a quiet kind, a series of small gestures and words, but somehow, it feels bigger than anything else you’ve known.

Another note catches your eye. This one’s on a tiny sticky note, a bright yellow square you’d found on your mirror one morning.

“You make coffee exactly how I like it, even when you don’t drink it. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that for me before. I’m lucky. – S”

You can still remember the warmth of his hand over yours when he found you reading it, how he hadn’t needed to say anything else.

The letters become a timeline of your relationship, a way to measure time not by dates but by memories, by little notes that remind you of the person you are when you’re with him. Each one has a tiny piece of his heart tucked into it, a small reminder that he’s with you even when he’s halfway across the country.

You read through a few more, feeling your eyes grow heavy but not wanting to close them. There’s something grounding about seeing his words, knowing that he took the time to write these little messages just for you. In a way, it makes the ache of missing him almost bearable, makes you feel connected to him in a way that’s both heartbreaking and comforting.

You’ve just set down the last one, a note he left in the middle of a crossword puzzle—“How do you always know the words I can’t think of? I love you.”—when your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

It’s him.

You answer on the first ring, not even caring if he’ll be able to hear the lingering sleepiness in your voice. “Spencer?” you say, unable to help the warmth in your tone.

“Did I wake you?” His voice is soft, low, and there’s a hint of worry in it.

“Not really. I couldn’t sleep,” you reply. There’s a beat of silence before you add, “I was reading some of your notes.”

The smile in his voice is unmistakable. “You kept those?”

“All of them.” You can practically feel his surprise through the line. “It helps. You know, with you being away.”

He hums softly, a sound you know means he’s thinking. “Do you have a favourite?”

There’s a hundred favourites, but you know the answer without hesitating. “The one on the mirror, about the coffee. I don’t think anyone’s ever noticed something like that before.”

The line goes quiet for a moment, but you know he’s smiling. “I think about those little things a lot,” he admits. “I keep thinking about how much I miss you. I know I’ll be back in a few days, but it doesn’t stop me from wishing it was sooner.”

Your heart tightens, and you can’t help but imagine him sitting in some unfamiliar hotel room, thinking of you just as much as you’re thinking of him. “I miss you, too,” you whisper, barely able to keep your voice steady.

There’s another pause, the comforting kind, where neither of you needs to say anything. It’s enough just to be together, even like this.

“Do you want to hear about the case?” he asks gently, as if he’s afraid you’ll say no. You do, because it’s part of him, and you always want to know. So he tells you, his voice a familiar comfort in the dark, weaving through the details with that measured precision he’s so good at. You listen, nodding at the right places, even though he can’t see you, letting his words settle over you like a lullaby.

When he’s finished, there’s a soft exhale on the other end of the line. “Do you have any notes for me?” he asks, the hint of a tease in his voice.

“I could think of a few,” you say with a smile, glancing down at the scattered pages on your bed. “Maybe a sticky note on your phone: ‘Call your girlfriend as soon as the plane lands.’”

You can hear his smile widen. “I think I can manage that.” His voice softens, the words almost like a whisper. “I’ll keep leaving them, you know. Notes, I mean. Just in case.”

“In case of what?”

“In case you ever need a reminder. That I love you. That I notice the little things. That I’ll be there, even if it takes a while.”

You’re quiet, just for a moment, because the words stick in your throat. He always knows how to get to the heart of things, how to make you feel so understood. “I don’t need a reminder for that,” you say. “But I’ll still read them every time I miss you.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’ve written so many,” he murmurs, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. “Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be home before you know it.”

You nod, letting your eyes close. “I love you, Spencer.”

“I love you, too,” he replies, his voice like a gentle embrace over the line. “Sleep well.”

The call ends, but you hold the phone to your chest, listening to the quiet in your room. For the first time in days, it doesn’t feel lonely. Spencer may be miles away, but his words are here, resting against your heart, waiting for you in every corner of every room.

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 day ago

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5 acts

words: 2k

warnings: soft!rafe, very fluffy, insecurity from rafe, reader is described as having curly hair, established relationship, brief nudity but very sfw (reader is topless while getting a massage but no descriptions)

5 acts of service to spark romance between you and your partner

make their morning easier: make them breakfast, or their coffee just as they like it

take care of their vehicle: get it washed, filled, and oil changed if needed. it'll feel like a weight off their shoulders

organize something meaningful for them: go through an old photo album or set up a space in the home that caters to them

pamper them after a long day: draw a bath, brush their hair, give them a massage

set up their favorite movie night: get their favorite snacks, light some candles, and turn a simple movie night into a romantic evening

rafe frowns as he reads over the list again.

“baby!” your voice rings out, and he's quick to jump to his feet and rush down the stairs.

“oh!” you stop as he lands on the hardwood in front of you. “you came down so quickly.” you giggle. “i was just going to tell you dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.”

“ill get the table set up.” rafe leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving you to look at him in confusion as he walks away, a certain amount of pep in his step you're not used to seeing.

you get even more suspicious when you bring the dish into the dining room and see that rafe has a candle lit.

“is there a special occasion i forgot about?” you question as rafe pulls your chair out for you.

“nope, just treating my girl.” rafe swallows thickly, surprised and disappointed in himself that you're already noticing his change in behavior.

it all started last weekend when rafe overheard you talking to your girlfriends about love languages. he didn't mean to eavesdrop, truly, but he found himself quickly locked in when you said yours was acts of service and quality time, but that you couldn't think of any acts of service rafe has done recently.

you didn't sound that upset about it, and even immediately clarified that rafe makes up for it in other ways and you weren't even sure what he could do for you, but rafe was determined to change the tides of your relationship.

act 1

rafe shuts his alarm off quickly before looking over at you, making sure the beeping didn't wake you up as well.

he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees your eyes are still closed before carefully sliding out of bed and tiptoeing out of the room.

rafe makes it to the kitchen keeping his steps quiet as he looks around at the various cabinets. he's not sure where to start, so he begins with unloading the dishwasher and putting everything away, when he opens up a cabinet to see the waffle maker and an idea sparks.

rafe opens up the pantry, stepping in to find the mix as well as anything else he might need for the breakfast, and just like that, rafes plan sets into motion.

he makes a stack of waffles, but not before turning on the coffee machine so you can wake up to a fresh brew. he makes a good portion of eggs for you to split before checking the clock, figuring it's about time to check to see if you're awake.

rafe pours your coffee in your favorite tumbler before adding ice and syrup, smiling at himself for remembering just how you like it.

rafe is about to head out of the kitchen when he hears your footsteps coming down the stairs.

“good morning ba-”

“oh my god, im so late for my nail appointment, why didn't you wake me up?” you squeal, grabbing your purse and adjusting the outfit you threw on quickly.

“i didn-”

“i got to leave, like right now, sorry babe.” you run up to rafe and press a quick kiss to his lips, about to rush away when you realize the two plates of breakfast.

“it's okay.” rafe shakes his head. “i'll make you breakfast a different day. forgot you had a nail appointment. but here-” rafe grabs the tumbler and thrusts it into your hand. “at least take the coffee i made you.”

rafe can see the conflicting emotions going on inside your head.

“hey.” he says softly. “it's okay. go. you and i both know how ridiculous those late fees are.”

“okay.” you nod, pouting and looking back at the plates as you leave.

act 2

“do you have any plans today?” rafe asks, brushing your hair away from your face.

“nope. just hanging with you.” you smile up at him, snuggling closer to his side, not yet ready to leave the bed when rafe is keeping you so warm, occasionally pressing kisses to your face.

“im gonna go take your car to get it serviced.” rafe says. “since you don't have anything going on.”

“oh.” you hum. “okay.” you were secretly hoping you could just have a lazy day in bed with rafe, maybe even force him to watch some trashy reality tv, knowing it'll only take a couple minutes for him to get fully invested in whatever drama starts up between the couples.

“you stay in bed though.” rafe smiles at you, sliding out from under the covers, leaving you to pull the blanket tighter around yourself and inhale his fleeting scent.

rafe heads down the stairs, a pep in his step at getting this task done for you. he grabs your keys before heading out the door, taking it to the service center first for an oil change. it's not very dirty on the inside, but rafe decides he'll still vacuum the inside after taking it through the wash.

you really only use your car when rafe is gone or you have an appointment, so it doesn't get used often.

rafe finishes everything he wants to get done for you, filling up your tank before driving back home.

rafe is whistling and happy as he returns home and heads back up the stairs, and just like he expects, you're still in bed, but sat up, watching the television.

“hey baby.” your smile widens as you see him. “i missed you so much.”

“sorry, doll.” rafe changes quickly before climbing into the bed. “but i got everything done on your car.”

“thanks.” you hum. “really appreciate it.” you press your face into his chest, throwing one leg over his hips as you return to a lying position, no longer caring about what's on the tv now that you've got your boyfriend back.

“you don't have anything else you wanna get done today, do you?” you ask. “i thought we'd have all day together.”

rafe sighs as he looks at the clock, realizing just how long it took him to service your vehicle. “well, we have the rest of the day at least.”

act 3

“um, rafe?” you call out as you open up a drawer in your closet, expecting to see the tangled mess of necklaces and earrings just as you left it.

“honey?” rafe walks into your bedroom before realizing you’re in the closet.

“where’d all my jewelry go?” you ask confused.

“oh, i organized it for you.” rafe moves to the drawers, sliding open the two underneath to reveal jewelry displays and every piece neatly put away. “i also got you a display for your favorite necklaces but i wanted you to choose what ones go up there.”

“where at?” you ask, noticing the necklace rafe got you for your first anniversary in missing from the drawer.

rafe doesn’t respond with his words, taking your hand and guiding you out of the closet and into the main bedroom, where you notice the necklace stand shaped like a tree with two chains already hanging from them.

“oh my gosh, whats this?” you squeal, pulling the new necklace off the stand, admiring the diamonds that glitter back at you in the shape of an r.

“for you, baby.” rafe kisses your cheek.

“what has gotten into you?” you ask, but before rafe can worry too much about you figuring out he’s following a guide on how to treat you better, you turn and pull your hair off your neck for him to slot the necklace on.

act 4

“oh right there!” you moan out as rafe rubs at your back, hands smoothing up and down against your skin, gently kneading into your muscles as he does.

“love pampering you baby.” rafe leans down to press a kiss against your shoulder blade.

“you’re so sweet.” you smile and turn your head. “i’m gonna have to make it up to you.”

“you already treat me better than i deserve.”

you frown and turn over onto your stomach, bringing the blanket with you to keep your chest covered. “not true. you’re an amazing boyfriend.”

“thanks, doll.” rafe doesn’t want you to worry about his insecurities in this moment, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “stay there.”

you get comfortable on your back, eyes sliding shut as rafe starts some gentle music. it flows from the speakers as rafe hums along to the instrumental version of a popular song, grabbing your hairbrush from off the dresser.

you are only vaguely aware of rafes movements, when suddenly a hand is placed on the top of your head, massaging against your scalp that has you moaning out again.

you hear rafe chuckle at your reaction, the sides of your lips also quirking up, when you suddenly feel a hairbrush running through your strands.

you scrunch your face up and give it a moment, hoping rafe would stop when he suddenly brushes through a tangle, making you cry out.

“shit.” rafe drops the brush with a clatter onto the hardwood. “im sorry.”

you can hear the defeat in rafes voice and you turn over onto your stomach to face him, frowning. “baby? whats wrong?”

“i just can’t do anything right. i try to make you breakfast, you have to leave. i take your car to be serviced, and i miss out and spending time with you. i can’t even brush your hair all romantically like the guide said.”

“guide?” you question, grabbing your shirt and putting it back on as you pull rafe up to sit on the bed next to you.

“i… i read something online. about acts of service you can do for your partner. i just want to be a good boyfriend.”

you don’t mean to, but a laugh falls from your lips. “rafe, that’s ridiculous. you’re already the best boyfriend without even trying. did i say or do something to make you feel like you needed to try harder?”

“no-” rafe sighs, knowing he has to admit it. “i just heard you talking with your friend about love languages. i’m trying to make it up to you.”

“and the guide told you to brush my hair?” you scoff. “im guessing whoever wrote that did not have curls.”

“you're probably right.” rafe lets a smile come to his face.

“i love you for you, not because of the things you do for me. besides, you do enough without even trying or following some guide. you take out the trash, you stock up on my favorite treats, you get me anything i want whenever i feel the slightest bit ill.”

“so… you don’t want me to do the last thing on the guide?”

“depends what it is.” you shrug. “if it involves you leaving and doing something for me, then absolutely not. or at least you can take me with you.”

“i set up a romantic movie night in the living room.”

“that sounds much better for both of us than you brushing my hair.” you giggle.

act 5

you tuck yourself further into rafes side, smiling as your favorite scene finishes, turning your attention to rafe.

“thank you for doing all this for me.” you whisper, keeping your voice soft. “i love you so much.”

“i love you.” rafe says earnestly, ducking his head to press a kiss against the top of your head, but you’re quick to reposition so your lips can meet.

“now we have to figure out your love language so i can do things for you.” you tell rafe.

“my love language is you.” rafe says, squeezing you tightly. “my everything is you.”

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @cameronswiftie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0

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moonstruckme · 2 days ago

Note

I loved ur story of Remus snapping at reader before the full moon! What about one with James May be he had a bad day or just get yelled at by coach during practice or whatever reason u want to choose and basically like angsty fluff on how he snaps at reader and she's just shocked and hurt

Thank you for requesting lovely!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 564 words

“James!” You knock on the bathroom door. “We have to go!”

Sirius and Remus will already be at the cinema by now. James had come home later than usual from practice, and you’d hurried him into the shower to rinse the sweat and dirt off himself so you can both leave. He usually only takes about five minutes to shower, but this one seems to be dragging on.

“I’m almost done,” he calls back.

“Hurry,” you urge.

The shower shuts off. You quickly riffle through his drawers for something to wear, going into the bathroom where he’s toweling off. It must have been a long practice; he looks more worn out than usual, his movements slow with exhaustion.

“Is this sweatshirt good?”

“Yeah.” James scrubs the towel over his hair. “Thanks.”

You fight not to tap your fingernails on the counter as you watch him continue to dry off before reaching for the clothes.

“James,” you plead.

“Relax, angel. It’s not a big deal if we’re late.”

“It starts in five minutes!”

“There are still the previews.”

“I know.” You heave a sigh. You’re still getting to know James’ friends, and the thought of them waiting on you makes you antsy. “But Sirius and Remus are saving our seats.”

“They’ll be fine.”

“Can you just hurry?”

“Give me a minute.” James' voice goes sharp. It’s like being dunked in cold water. Your heart speeds up and your breath seems to freeze in your lungs.

He puts a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say automatically.

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have snapped.” James rubs his thumb up his forehead like his head is hurting him. “I just need a minute.”

“Okay,” you agree softly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why being late makes me so anxious. It’s not your fault practice ran long or whatever.”

“It’s…” He blows out a breath. “It didn’t run long. Coach had me stay after so he could yell at me.”

You feel yourself frown. “He yelled at you?”

“It’s sports, sweetheart. Yelling is part of it.”

“Yeah, but…not with you. You’re not one of those guys.” In your mind, it’s simple. James doesn’t yell, so he shouldn’t get yelled at. Everyone ought to know that.

James gives you a feeble smile. “I dunno, I did just yell at you.”

“That wasn’t really yelling.” You move towards him, wrapping him up in a hug. His hair is still damp enough that the ends drip water onto your head. “Anyway, I yelled at you first.”

“That wasn’t yelling, either.” James lets his arms rest heavily around your shoulders. “It was only a bit shrill.”

You know he’s trying to joke with you, but you only feel worse. You squeeze him tightly. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “We don’t have to go.”

“I still want to if you do. It would be nice to get out of the house.”

“Okay. But you should take a minute first. We can be late.”

“Thanks, lovie.” James presses his lips to your head. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. It wasn’t nice.”

“I wasn’t talking to you very nicely, either,” you admit.

“Even so. If I ever talk to you like that again, give me a slap across the face, would you?”

“I won’t.” You squish your cheek to his front. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

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moonjxsung · 3 days ago

Text

Kinktober Day 27: Studio Sex

[kinktober masterlist.]

🔞 warning: smut below! mdni.

pairing: Bang Chan x reader

•

“Try it again, from the top this time.”

Chan lets out a heavy sigh, adjusting the black headphones he wears over his ears, as he listens for the beat. It chimes in the same way it has for the past hour you’ve been here, the downbeat of a drum echoing almost too loudly. The metronome starts up at the same time, clicking repeatedly like the second hands on the clock do. He glances at the time before he begins- this session was supposed to be over nearly 45 minutes ago. And then he sings into the microphone to the catchy tune, repeating the lyrics he knows by heart now, despite only having the sheet music for less than a day.

“Cut,” you say to him, chewing on the cap of your plastic ballpoint pen. “There’s something missing.”

“Well I’m not doing it again,” Chan huffs, cupping his hands around the headphones and removing them. He balances them on the music stand, pivoting around to gather his belongings, before exiting the recording booth once more.

“It sounds incomplete,” you voice. “We need something on the downbeat.”

“Not for the second chorus,” he replies frustratedly. “I told you a million times, that’s only for the first one.”

“But every time you pause, it sounds strange.”

“Then let it sound strange,” Chan finishes. A silence overtakes the room when he finishes speaking, his head hanging in shame you avert his gaze. He parts his lips to say something, before shaking his head, hoping you’ll break the silence first.

“You know,” you say to him quietly. “Of all the people I work with, you’re by far the most stubborn.”

“Yeah?” He scoffs, an irate expression in his tone. “Maybe we just have creative differences, then. I can’t say I’ve ever worked with someone as demanding as you.”

“Then find somebody else,” you reply, standing up from your swivel chair. “I’m done here.”

“Good.”

“Great!” You exclaim, gathering a stack of papers. “Good luck trying to find someone else with this late notice.”

Chan thinks it over momentarily, stopping to glance over his shoulder in your direction. He thinks of the song, and all the verses that remain unfinished, and about how he’ll be tasked with arranging the entirety of it in your absence. Which he could do- if he wasn’t already drowning in choreography lessons and meetings for the remainder of the month.

“Fine,” Chan says finally. “We can try it a different way. He cocks his head in the direction of the studio, gesturing to the door.

“Alright,” Chan voices plainly. “I’ll meet you in there.”

He’s the first to enter the recording booth again, slinging his bag off his shoulder and crossing his arms in front of the music stand that still houses a stack of sheet music. You trail in after him reluctantly, shutting the door behind you and doing your best to avert his gaze, before he begins to speak.

“Tell me what you suggest,” he says, shrugging in the direction of the stand. “And we can try that.”

“You need vocals on the downbeat,” you reply, pulling a ballpoint pen out from behind your ear and making a mark on the paper. “Something to lead into the chorus.”

Chan cocks his head as if in deep thought, and then he nods, thinking over your words briefly.

“I’ll get someone with a deeper voice to add something,” he says finally. “So that at least it’s different from my verse in the first chorus.”

He scribbles something out on the sheet music, making a note to add an alternate set of vocals where you’d suggested. And then he caps the ballpoint pen once more, before turning to you again.

“Anything else you want to suggest?” Chan queries, thumbing over the pen cap. His chest rises and falls with every annoyed breath he takes, trying his best not to make some snarky quip at you for keeping him so long.

“That’s it,” you say simply. “You’re free to go. I’m gonna stay here and get some work done.”

Chan observes as you assume a spot on one of the stools, peeling off your hoodie and slinging it over the music stand. You remain in just a thin white tank top, shuffling through your bag for your laptop, as he stays standing behind you.

“You’re… gonna stay here?” Chan asks, swallowing a lump in his throat. He can’t seem to avert his gaze from your top, his eyes scanning your chest, as you balance in the crook of your elbow.

“Yeah,” you reply, giving him a confused look. “I always stay after hours.”

“I could bring you dinner,” he blurts out suddenly, earning another confused look from you.

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When he doesn’t reply, you look up to catch him staring at you a little too intently. His expression softens when he pulls up a stool next to you, letting out an exasperated sigh, before speaking.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Chan voices. “I know we have our creative differences. But I don’t mean to come off as such a jerk.”

“Yeah, well, you do. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Your gaze finally meets his, well aware of how close he’s sitting to you now. His gaze flickers from your eyes, down to your lips, and back up again, swallowing nervously as he looks for the words to say.

“Let me make it up to you,” Chan says in a voice just above a whisper. He doesn’t wait for a response this time, simply leaning in to gauge your reaction. And when you don’t back away from him, leaning in as though he might indulge you in a secret, or some heartfelt apology.

“How, exactly?” You ask, a hint of teasing in your tone. And you’re not sure what exactly you’re expecting- but it’s certainly a surprise when he leans in to press his lips against yours, indulging you in a sweet, yet desperate kiss, before pulling away once more.

“What was that?” You say instinctively, not taking your gaze off his.

“I don’t know, I’m sorry-”

“Do it again,” you interject, and Chan’s lips pull into a smirk when he leans in again to kiss you a second time, this time much rougher than the first. His hands snake down to your waist, pulling you closer to him, and then you pull away breathlessly, as Chan’s brows furrow in confusion.

“What is it?” He asks, trying to steady his ragged breathing.

“I don’t know. It’s just…what if somebody sees us?”

Realistically, you know nobody is typically around the studio after hours like this- except for you, and sometimes Chan. But he stands up anyway, making his way to the studio door and peering out the glass window.

“The door’s locked,” Chan says, nodding in the direction of the door across the room. He reaches out to lock the door to the recording booth, too. And then he turns to look at you again when you make your way over to stand beside him.

Chan doesn’t say anything when you lean back against the glass window, folding your arms behind your back while you wait for him to make another move. And then he presses a hand to the glass above your standing figure, leaning down to graze his lips over yours.

“See?” Chan questions in a voice just above a whisper. “Nobody’s around.”

And then he kisses you, his muscular stature towering over yours as you wrap two arms around him and pull him even closer to you. The thought crosses your mind briefly, that this is the last thing you would’ve expected from the evening, having started off on the wrong foot since his arrival today. But you’re not mad about the way he snakes his arms down to caress the small of your back. And you especially can’t protest when his hands find their way to your thighs, where he hoists you up into his arms with ease, your legs wrapping around his lower back as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

He ruts against you as his kisses turn rougher, the clear erection he sports beneath his sweatpants grazing your upper thighs with every slight movement. As he kisses you, he nibbles down the convex of your throat, leaving a generous trail of bruises as his heavy breaths swirl against your flesh. His labored breathing implies every desire to take you right here in the studio, and when his fingers trail along the waistband of his gray sweatpants, your heartbeat quickens in anticipation.

“Is this okay?” He asks, tugging his pants down to free his erection. His bulge pitches eagerly against his boxers as he awaits a reply, one hand trailing gently along the waistband of your shorts.

“Yes,” you breathe back, using one hand to skillfully unbutton your shorts and tug them down. He assists you in the process, letting them pool around your ankles, before looping one finger in the waistband of your panties to tug those down, too.

Once undressed, Chan frees his cock from his boxers, and you glance down briefly, your eyes widening at the sight. He’s much bigger than you’d anticipated, a bead of precum formed at his tip, as he wraps one hand around his base to stroke himself. His lips reattach to yours, stifled gasps making their way into your parted lips, as he guides himself against your entrance to position himself.

He doesn’t guide his cock inside just yet- instead, he rubs his moistened flesh along your aching clit in gentle back and forth motions, earning a fervent moan from you, as you wrap your legs tighter around him. He seems to hold his breath when he spreads your legs a little wider for him, and then he lets out a heavy groan when he finally pushes himself into you, slipping in with ease until he’s entirely bottomed out inside of you.

Your legs tremble when you feel the rhythmic pulse of his cock grazing your flesh, his lips pressing against yours desperately to stifle your almost pained gasps. And when your gasps quickly transition to moans, he begins to move finally, the pads of his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, as he thrusts into you with passionate movements.

“You like that?” Chan questions, earning an affirmative nod from you, whose lips part in overwhelming pleasure. Your nails dig into his back over his thin white t-shirt, and you can feel his broad back muscles tense beneath his shirt as he works himself in and out of you.

For a moment, all that fills the room are the sounds of his heavy grunts as he fucks you, and the fluid sounds of your tongues swirling against each other, a string of drool connecting to your lips when he pulls away momentarily. His fingers dip into your flesh deeper as he hoists you a little higher into his arms, the erotic sight of his protruding arm veins sending a chill down your spine when you take note of how effortlessly he carries you in his strong grasp.

An ebony strand of hair falls into his face, moistened by the beads of sweat that accumulate along his chiseled features, and you reach up to tuck it out of the way, placing a gentle kiss along his jawline.

“Is it okay if I admit I’ve been picturing you like this for the past hour?” Chan questions through labored breaths, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. His thrusts slow a little as he speaks, and you smile in response, kissing him softly before speaking.

“It’s only okay because I’ve been fantasizing about it, too.”

“Yeah?” Chan questions, wincing slightly when he feels his cock twitch inside of you. “What do you say we give this another try?”

You chuckle softly again, your walls contracting around his cock as he speaks, earning another groan from him.

“Give what a try?”

“Us,” Chan clarifies, nearing your parted lips to graze them gently with his own. “This. Let me take you out to dinner.”

“Why should I say yes?” You tease, and Chan practically interrupts you, a whimper escaping his lips.

“Because I’m about to finish inside of you,” he says, maintaining a serious expression on his face, as his thrusts pick up speed again.

You don’t reply this time, your eyebrows arched up in pleasure as he continues to fuck you, a loud squelching noise filling the studio space around you. It’s a lewd contrast to the repetitive tune that’s filled it for the past hour, and your nails dig into the shirt on his back when he grazes your cervix with every harsh thrust now, a string of cusses escaping his lips.

“Fuck,” he chants, his hands gripping the curves of your ass. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you so fucking good.”

You try to respond, practically unable to, as his lips find yours between his groans. And then he throws his head back in a blissful state of pleasure, his moans turning to whimpers as he fucks you through his orgasm, his hot load filling you and trickling down onto your upper thighs. The warmth of his cum triggers your own release, as your walls caress his girth, a series of pornographic moans filling the space when he begins to slow his thrusts.

It’s still several minutes before Chan finally pulls out of you again, as you both attempt to catch your breath, covered in a sheen layer of sweat and panting heavily. When he’s effectively pulled out again, he loosens his grasp of you, allowing you to find your balance on the carpeted floor, as you fish around for your clothes.

It’s silent as he dresses himself, pulling on his now stained sweatpants and adjusting the waistband of his cum-stained boxers. And then he chuckles lightly, before speaking again.

“So what do you say?” Chan asks, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

“About what?”

“About this,” he clarifies again. “Let me take you out to dinner.”

You begin to say something, but then you don’t, simply dressing yourself fully and reaching for your bag again. Chan’s heartbeat quickens in his chest when he comes to the realization that you appear to be exiting the studio, turning around to face him again, a small smile on your face.

“You know,” you say to him, rolling your eyes sarcastically. “If there’s one thing I’m happy you’re stubborn about, it’s this.”

His lips pull into a satisfied smile, fidgeting with the string on his sweatpants, as he ponders a response.

“Get your song done,” you tell him, gesturing to the sheet music on the stand still. “And I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.”

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harunayuuka2060 · 1 day ago

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Malleus: LeBlanche, could you please do me a favor and stay with my child whenever you see them alone?

Neige: Of course, but... Are you asking me because MC has a boyfriend in your school?

Malleus: ...

Malleus: Did my child introduce Bucchi as their boyfriend?

Neige: *giggles* Yes, they did.

Neige: A few of my classmates showed interest, but MC rejected them right away.

Idia: Why don't you ask Ruggie to accompany you here instead?

Idia: Are you not worried he would be jealous?

MC: ...

Idia: ...

Idia: What?

MC: *chuckles* I don’t believe anyone would have an issue with you, Idia, especially not someone who’s in a relationship.

Idia: ...

Idia: That's lowkey saying I'm not a jealousy material.

MC: *smiles* No offense.

Idia: ...

Idia: *rolls eyes*

Ortho: *likes that his brother is starting to get along with MC*

Epel: Hey, Ortho. How many activities have you completed?

Ortho: 8/10. We're almost done.

Epel: Damn. I wish I was in the same group as you and MC.

Ortho: Why?

Epel: I got teamed up with Ace and Floyd-senpai.

Ortho: ...

Ortho: *troubled smile* Good luck, Epel Felmier.

Epel: Haha...

Ruggie: ...

Malleus: ...

Ruggie: Um, I need to go back to my group-

Malleus: You're not going anywhere.

Ruggie: ...

Lilia: *chuckles* Please do us a favor and bond with your father-in-law.

Sebek: Consider yourself lucky, human!

Ruggie: What-

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst idia #twst ortho #twst ruggie #twst malleus #twst neige #twst epel #twst a life reclaimed random moments

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sanguinesmi1e · 2 days ago

Text

Constantine was quietly freaking out. He couldn’t be sure, but he suspected that the ghost who had turned itself into a cute little tatzelwurm to avoid answering questions might be something far beyond his capabilities to deal with. Everything it said and did suggested it was way outside his scope of experience. While Tim used a shoelace to play with it like a rambunctious kitten, John mentally catalogued the things that threatened to give him a panic attack:

Before the ghost even arrived, the blinding power flowing through his spell array nearly knocked him flat. It had felt like being swatted in the eyeballs by an eldritch god.

The ghost appeared in human form, fully alive, before being transformed by the summoning magic. John had only ever heard whispers of legends about a being who could do such a thing. The legends were vague and grandiose, but some epithets included The One Who Walks Between, He Who Straddles Life and Death, Twilight Walker, Shroud Danger Child, and The Halver.

The ghost could not only see his soul at a glance, it could perceive all the damage he had done making deals with demons.

The ghost implied it was on casual, friendly terms with the Ancient of Time aka Chronos, Kala, Father Time, etc. And that it had altered the timeline at least once already.

It could age. Despite what the ghost said, only Neverborn should be able to age. The dead were static, and given the death that he could feel sustaining the portal, this ghost had definitely died.

It was brilliant enough to pinpoint a weakness and successfully distract Tim by transforming into a shape that could manipulate his protective instincts. John did not want to admit that he also felt protective of the cute little blighter.

It had hopped out of the summoning circle as if it were just chalk scribbles, despite John working in some of his most powerful containment spells as a matter of what he had thought was excessive precaution.

Shite, the list had already reached seven items. The tatzelwurm (had Drake really just named the thing Little Baby Man?) glared at him and called him “Gross!”

“Seriously!? This cloaking spell should be more than sufficient.” John grumbled. “Did it really have no effect?” If so, that was gonna be item number eight.

Little Baby Man tilted his head. “It worked.” Then he huffed with amusement.

Thank fuck for small blessings.

A quickly muttered spell turned his burning cigarette into a makeshift sort of laser pointer, and Constantine distracted Little Baby Man while he tried to think of what to do next.

“Hey kid, this is a problem.” He kept his voice low, and watched to see if the tatzelwurm appeared to pay any attention to him. It dedicated all its attention to the glowing dot, and ignored the two men.

“I assume this isn’t the normal direction your interrogations go.” Drake wound his shoelace around his hand and pocketed it. “It’s certainly a first for me.”

“Ditto, in so many ways.”

“Any idea what to do now?”

“We should probably return him where he came from, and wait for Zatanna to get back from wherever she’s disappeared to now.” John would really like a second opinion. He would also like to dump this mess in someone else’s lap and be on his way.

Although to be fair, watching the tatzelwurm careen around after his lazer dot was actually pretty fun. Not that he’d ever admit it. Still, the creature was done answering questions and John wasn’t prepared to bind the thing because he didn’t think he’d need to pack the tools to bind an eldritch god when Batman called him to do a “quick consult.”

Danny couldn’t remember the last time he had this much fun. The CEO person played with him! He did feel a bit bad for hurting his foot, but it was difficult to dwell on regrets or worries when he could attack the string instead. And now there was a red dot to chase! It was very fast and sneaky, but he was faster and sneakier.

Is this what Paulina felt like when she wished herself to be a giant chibi version of herself to be loved and worshipped by everyone? Because he felt adorable. And fierce. He was going to kill that red dot so hard when he finally sunk his claws in it!

Frustratingly, it seemed to also have intangibility powers. Well, Danny knew what to do about that! He concentrated ectoplasm into his paw and bapped it down hard on the dot. This scorched the floor a bit, but when he lifted his paw, the red dot was skewered on one of his claws. It tried to tug away, but he clung tight. Apparently its size belied its strength, because it started to drag him across the floor.

Danny tried to release the dot, but his claw was firmly snagged, so he resigned himself to being dragged back into the chalk circle. He tingled a bit as he crossed the perimeter, but it wasn’t a bad sensation, just a little odd. Then a portal opened up and pulled him through the water filled tube snake toy sensation in reverse and ugh! Just as bad the second time, if not worse.

The spell spat him out in human form under the Specter Speeder. Or rather, it ejected him at speed so he smacked into the bottom of the Speeder before falling back to the ground with a heavy thud. Thankfully he didn’t crack his head against the concrete, but he still couldn’t stifle a pained groan.

A firm hand wrapped around Danny’s ankle and dragged him out, and he found himself staring up at Drake and Constantine for the third time that day.

“Uh, hi,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I suppose I have some explaining to do.”

Being able to create ghost portals would come in real handy right about now. Maybe he should just commit some arson and let these two deal with escaping the basement on their own.

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 (you're here)

Full fic on Ao3

Art of LBM

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #timothy drake wayne #tim drake #tim drake wayne #red robin #john constantine #A Round Door Like a Porthole[comma] Lazarus Green #the whole thing is on Ao3 #lbm #lbm danny #little baby man #lbm is a tatzelwurm #fanfic #dp x dc fanfic

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leonw4nter · 3 days ago

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A Soft Spot for You

RE2R!Leon x F!Reader

Your phone buzzes into life, the once dark screen illuminated to a caller ID interface. The insistence of your persistent ringtone has you picking up your phone to check out who could be calling, though you have a clear idea of who could be the caller. The incoming phone call reintroduces noise into your home, as silence has long filled in the space when Leon had left hours ago to have drinks with friends and coworkers back at the police station. He initially planned on politely declining the offer, intending to stay at home with you as he is a homebody at heart, but your unrelenting attempts at getting him to go made him cave in. Besides, this would be a great opportunity to interact with his friends and make new memories. Your boyfriend’s smile commands your heart to take flight, even through a contact photo; his grin wide and warm, eyes squinted into joyful crescents, as he holds a bouquet of flowers close to his chest in his graduation from the police academy.

“Baby?” you ask as you hold your phone up to your cheek. You hear faint giggling, mumbling, some shuffling, and an unfamiliar male voice talking to some other person. “Hello? Who am I talking to?”

You hear some more shushing before someone finally responds to you. “Hi, I’m Chris. I’m Leon’s friend and he’s had one too many drinks tonight. He needs to be picked up, he can’t head home like this.” You’ve seen Chris before when you visited the station to get Leon cups of coffee when he had to stay in for a night shift, a tall man with exceptionally amazing arms and a neat Ivy League haircut.

“Baaabyy?” Someone drawls but this time his voice is familiar. It’s Leon and judging from the hiccup and giggle that followed, he must be a lot more plastered than Chris is describing. “I’m soooo hiccup dizzy…”

“He’s going to puke!” Chris says in an alarmed tone. “Jill, help him to the toilet! It’s going to smell like unwashed ass in here if he hurls!”

“Jill?” You ask.

“She’s a coworker,” he clarifies. “You better get here quick, he’s a mess. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him while we wait for you. Here’s the address but call me again in case you’re confused–”

“I loooove you!” Leon’s voice distantly calls out, probably done puking.

“I love you too,” you say before hanging up. You set your phone down to gather what you need: coat, shoes, purse, some plastic bags, and your ID. With your things ready, you leave the comforting warmth of your home and head out to find a taxi.

Finding a cab wasn’t too difficult so you got on the first one that you saw and gave the driver the address that Chris sent. The driver seemed familiar with the place so you told Chris that you’d get there in a few. Instead of acknowledging the message you sent, he sent what seemed to be several photos and videos combined. ‘You’re gonna want to watch these,’ he followed up. In all the attachments he sent, Leon’s hair was messy and sticking out; his eyelids were droopy, cheeks and ears the reddest you’ve ever seen them, his black shirt no longer wrinkle-free with his dark teal jacket dangling off of his forearms. In one (blurry) image, he’s bent over on a toilet as Jill pats his back; there appears to be a creasing frown on her face, probably from the smell in a cramped space. In another image, he’s sprawled out on a couch in what would be impossible for sober Leon to get into. In a video you clicked by random, he’s looking around for a marker.

“Dude, what?” Chris says from behind the camera. “I told you, there’s no markers in here.”

“Need to hiccup write… her name on… on my hiccup arm… can’t let anyone g-get to me…”

“This kid’s going places,” Jill mumbles from somewhere.

The next video is shakier, as Chris is now somehow chasing Leon. You don’t understand the flurry of movement until you catch a glimpse of Leon chugging a bottle of Smirnoff Ice, much to the horror of a middle-aged man nursing his beer in the corner.

“Barry, what do we do?” Chris asks, catching his breath. “How is he faster when he’s drunk?! That doesn’t make sense!”

You’re giggling hard now, a hand clasped over your mouth as you try to keep yourself silent inside the car. There’s tears brimming your eyes as you rewatch the video over and over again, a snort escaping your mouth which prompts the driver to look at you dead in the eye through the rear view mirror for a moment. In the last one that you click, your boyfriend is now leaning his forehead against Chris’ shoulder as he mumbles to himself.

“Angels, they’re– hic– real because I… have a girlfriend,” he begins.

“Mhm,” Chris follows.

“I think she can probably heal… sick puppies,” he adds. “I dunno… I– hic– love her sooooo much. My name’s jus’ a word… but hiccup when she says it, it’s like… it’s like–hic– the law… right, Chris?”

“Right.”

“hiccup she looks at me! Like… I’m her hero, or somethin’. She has hiccup the option to hiccup choose other men… but she picks me! Me, Chris!”

“She did,” Chris affirms and Leon giggles, shaking his head before another hiccup shakes his frame.

As he slurs nearly poetic nonsense, you find yourself oddly charmed by his drunk sincerity. You watch other videos, embarrassed yet undeniably touched by how aggressively passionate Leon can get while talking about you. To you, it’s unbelievable how much more adoration Leon can have when he’s drunk as he’s already so full of it when he’s sober.

“I miss my girlfriend, man.”

“You just saw her hours ago and you’ll see her again when you get home.”

“Love ‘er sooooo much hiccup I want… I want… I want hiccup a hug.”

“Okay, c’mere bud–”

“Noooo. Not from you, I want a hug from her.”

You giggle at the other pictures and videos, the trickster side in you wanting to show these to Leon at breakfast as he nurses a killer hangover. You send three sobbing emojis in response to the clips, finding them hilarious. You assumed that Leon would be the sleepy drunk type of person, dozing off in the corner once he’s had too much, but it appears that he’s the talkative type.

You get there and see that it is mostly empty, save for a few people that you recognized in the video. Chris gives you a nod and leads you to Leon, who is now being prompted to drink a tall glass of water.

“I’m so sorry for how he’s acting,” you sheepishly say as you help Leon stand up. “I’m sure he was so annoying.”

“Good to see the rookie’s treating his girl right,” Jill comments with a smirk. “He wouldn’t stop rambling on about you but it was sweet to be honest.”

“The station’s going to love this,” Chris grins. “We’re never going to let him live this down.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

On the quiet ride home, he clung to your arm with both his hands as he rested his temple against your shoulder. Upon arriving home, you first sit him down and undo the laces of his sneakers as he tries to fight off sleep and keep a conversation with you going. You give him another glass of water, encouraging him to finish it before taking his jacket off of his warm body.

“Somethin’ you wanna say?” You gently prod as he stares up at you, pupils inky and wide.

“You’re making me nervous,” he admits as the flush of his cheeks grow bolder. “You’re very… beautiful.” His actions are reminiscent of a teenage boy gushing about his out-of-league crush.

“Thank you baby,” you say with a wink. His eyes widen and his breath catches in his throat before he clears his throat and tries to look composed.

You help him to the bathroom to get him cleaned up before ending the night. Brushing his teeth proved to be cumbersome but it would lessen the taste of alcohol and vomit. You wipe him as much as you can before you bring him to bed, changing his clothes before tucking him in.

“Pills,” you mumble to yourself as you walk over to your side but your boyfriend, confused and teetering between sleep and consciousness, holds on to your wrist.

“Don’t go,” he softly pleads.

“Huh?” you ask. “I was just going to get some pills and water for when you get up.”

Far too drowsy to properly respond, he unwraps his fingers from where he held you and you get to fetch him what his hungover self will need tomorrow. You walk back into the room and set them down on his side before climbing into the sheets and snuggling up to him, the alcohol in his body making him a lot more warm.

────────────────────────────────────────────��────────

A quiet yet unmistakable sound of a groan comes from your bedroom, signaling that he’s awake. You walk inside, greeting him a chirpy good morning.

“What happened…” he asks, rubbing his forehead.

“You had too much to drink last night, “ you say. “Did you take the pills already?”

“Yeah. I feel like I got hit by a truck,” he adds.

“Well, breakfast would make you feel so much better. There’s some ready in the kitchen.”

He quietly heads over to the dining table, taking his seat and adding his serving of food onto his plate. After a few moments of silently chewing, you ask him something you’ve been wondering since you’ve woken up.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” You ask.

“No, not really. I’m never drinking ever again... my head hurts so bad,” he responds.

“You’re going to want to see this,” you say with a wicked grin as you show him the pictures and videos from last night. “I think these will jog your memory a bit.”

He’s baffled at first, confused by what he’s made to watch until his eyes widened, mortified and embarrassed at seeing himself.

“They’re never going to let me live this down as a rookie,” he says as he hides his face in his shirt.

NOTE - I was supposed to upload this last night but unfortunately my laptop died and my charger was downstairs but here it is anyway :3 this fic is inspired by "Soft Spot" by Keshi, I really love the song and have been looping it ever since I started working on it. Also this fic is another simultaneous writing project like the one before this and I worked on it within an hour at like... 1 AM coz I just got this sudden burst of creativity right before I was about to sleep. I'll try to write for other versions of Leon coz I've been writing for RE2!Leon so much 😭 Also to my smut writer mutuals or anyone who writes smut that came across this, feel free to drop any advice in my messages coz I wanna write smut (on a separate blog) but I feel so awkward typing it out LMAOAOA. Anyway, that's all <3 thank you for reading my ficsss!!!!!! I <3333333 UUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers (the ones with the heart and stars) are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy fluff #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 2 remake #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #fluff #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #re2 #resident evil 2 #re2r #re2 remake #biohazard #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x you

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azrielbrainrot · 2 days ago

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Teasing Touches

Pairing: Cassian x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Wing Play

Description: Cassian let's you play with his wings.

Warnings: Smut, wing play, dry humping (but with no clothes?), dirty talk, sub cass, cum eating, implied oral sex

Word Count: 1,4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Kinktober 2024 Mastelist

Cassian's hips ground up into your cunt for the millionth time tonight, his bare cock spreading your folds as he moved, strong hands holding onto your hips tightly as he did his best to fight back his instincts and stay still. His entire body was shaking under yours, brows furrowed and lips parted as he lay on the bed before you, and all you've done is run your finger down his wing.

“You need to be careful, sweetheart,” he breathes out through a clenched jaw.

“I'm not hurting you, am I?”

“No, but you know our instincts tell us to-”

“Right,” you interrupt, leaning down to suck a mark onto his chest as you caress the leathery texture of his wing again, running your finger down a line of cartilage.

“Fuck, you're a menace.”

When you asked him to let you touch his wings, it hadn't been your intention to pin him down and tease him like this, but having the famed warrior laid out before you, completely naked as you played with him, was certainly giving you a high you couldn't even begin to explain, every groan and whimper that escaped past his lips traveling straight to your core.

“I know you won't hurt me, Cass,” you murmured against his skin, circling one of his nipples with your tongue while your fingers wandered over the expanse of his wing, taking note of all the places that had him trembling under you, reveling in the feeling of his abs spasming against your torso. “You're too good to me.”

His wings twitch at the praise, a sigh pushing past his parted lips as he lays his head back against the mattress with closed eyes. Cassian could easily overpower or even hurt you if he wanted to, but the fact that he trusted you enough to let you do this, knowing what it meant for an Illyrian male, made your chest feel a bit tight, which is exactly why you wanted to make him cum so hard every other thought escaped his mind.

You had never been with any winged fae before, and Cassian barely gave you any clues on what to do, leaving you to your own devices as you touched and prodded at his wings, trying to find the most pleasurable spots. This hadn't exactly been planned either or you would have tried to get some information out of Rhys so you could be somewhat prepared.

It seemed they weren't exaggerating when they said their wings were extremely sensitive though since everywhere you touched prompted some sort of reaction out of him, whether it be a simple harsh breath, or a needy moan accompanied by a shudder or his hips moving to press his cock up into you.

“You could at least let me fuck you.”

“Think I'd rather watch you cum like this,” you taunt, smirking at the way his eyebrows furrowed together, whatever protest he was coming up with dying on his throat, turning into a drawn out moan when you scraped your nail over the bone connected to his talon.

The more you caressed that same spot, running your finger up and down, the more certain you were that it was as sensitive as your clit, the way he trembled and struggled to keep his wing in place enough to let you know there's exactly where you should be touching him. You start moving with him slowly as well, one of your hands holding onto his waist as you roll your hips against his, some moans of your own escaping as you fully take the sight in front of you.

“You look so pretty,” you breathe out, unable to keep your eyes off the way his cock moved along your cunt, a clear liquid leaking from the tip and wetting his skin as his hard-earned muscles spasmed with each touch of your fingers. “This is all for me, right?”

Cassian lets out a delicious moan in lieu of an answer, a needy sound coming from deep within his chest, grinding up into you even harder, eyes entranced by the way your body moved in tandem with his, looking up at you like you were a Goddess.

“Answer me, baby.” You didn't know where all of this was coming from, but you needed to hear how affected he was, needed to hear him fall apart at your touch. You started applying more pressure onto him, moving your finger upward as far as you could reach, circling the base of the talon sitting on top of his wing, humming when a shudder ran through him. “Come on, use your words.”

The feared general's gaze meets yours when you begin slowing down, a pleading look in his heavy lidded hazel eyes, hair stuck to his forehead as sweat covers his skin, making him glow under the light - truly a mesmerizing sight. It was almost unbelievable that you had managed to reduce this hulking male, easily over twice your size, to begging.

“All yours, I'm all yours,” he manages between pants and whimpers, “don't stop, please.”

“I wouldn't dream of it, not when you're doing so good for me,” you promise, leaning down to drop a kiss over his delicate wing, tracing a thin piece of cartilage with your tongue as best as you could given the awkward angle.

“Fuck, I'm so close,” he whimpers out, his entire body trembling under you. “Please.”

His choked groans and mewls echoed around the room, as did the squelching sounds your sopping cunt made with every thrust of his hips. Gods, you don't remember the last time you had been this wet, and he hadn't even truly touched you.

If it weren't for the entrancing picture he painted as he let out whimpers of your name, trembling at every little touch of your fingers and tongue, you might have given in to his begging earlier and let him fuck you. Your cunt kept clenching around nothing at the feeling of his throbbing cock, knowing how well he stretched you out, but this wasn't about you.

“Let it all out.” Allowing him to take control of his thrusts, grinding into you at a maddening pace, you keep stroking the talon as if it were the head of his cock, thumbing at the tip and running down to where it met the membrane covering his wings, still licking and sucking at the leathery texture, pleasure spreading through your body at the effect you had on him and the way his thick cock kept rubbing against your clit. “Wanna watch you cum for me.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, lips brushing the leathery membrane as you did, he's letting go just like you asked, cumming with a loud call of your name, wings shaking so much that you're forced to pull your mouth away, just in time to see the way he lets out rope after rope of cum all over his torso, head thrown back over the mattress, leaving the column of his neck on full display.

Your hand only abandons his wing when his cock is spent and his hips stop moving against yours, biting back a chuckle when he pulls his wings closer to his body and away from your teasing touch immediately. Without anything else to do as he catches his breath, you hold onto his waist, a finger reaching to spread his cum around, making an even bigger mess of him.

Unfortunately for him, an idea pops into your mind as you do, a shiver running up your spine at the thought. It would be such a shame to waste all of this, and you were starting to miss the way he trembled under you, the sweet sounds that pushed past his lips.

“Good boy,” you murmur, sucking your cum covered finger into your mouth. “You came so much for me.”

Cassian opens his eyes at last, watching you suspiciously. He knew you better than anyone after all, and as you smirked up at him he knew you were far from being done. Lifting yourself off him, you scooch back until you're laying between his legs, ignoring the questioning calls of your name as you lean down and lick a stripe over his still half hard cock, cooing at the way it twitches under your tongue and the whimper he lets out.

“You let out all of this for me so it's only fair I clean it up, right?”

#cassian x reader #cassian smut #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian fanfic #cassian acotar #acotar x reader #acotar smut #acotar fanfiction #acotar kinktober

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 days ago

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Through The Façade ~ MYG [MATURE WARNING]

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 7.2K

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅ GENRE: arranged marriage, TRIGGER WARNING MENTIONS OF ABUSE FROM FATHER, BEING HIT IN ONE SCENE PLEASE DONT READ IF IT’LL TRIGGER YOU, T MINORS DNI!!! yoongi being a simp for reader, forgiveness, fluffy ending, smut,

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - October 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

The ceremony had been flawless, beautiful and absoutelyly flawless. Everythign had been planned out perfectly by your father and it was meticulously orchestrated and over the top. Done to display of wealth and elegance, the union of two powerful chaebol families, something you had begged your father not to do but, did he listen? No. You'd wanted something small, just you and Yoongi's family since th two of you didn't know each other but it was all pushed aside.

Your wants weren't important despite it being your wedding and you were mostly ignored and your mother and father planned the whole affiar. The guests were a sea of familiar faces, but none of them mattered, you hardly knew any of them by name and they mostly referred to you as "Yoongi's wife" or "Mr YLN's daughter" No one was there for you. Your hands had trembled through the entire ceremony, the weight of the vows, the cameras, and the expectations crushing you it felt like there were a million pairs of eyes focused on you. But now, behind the closed door of the changing room, you could finally breathe.

You exhaled, leaning against the vanity, your fingers gripping the edge tightly. The dress you were wearing was something your mother had picked, a huge puffy thing to display your wealth. If it was your choice you would have gone for something elegant and small, plain...simple. Nothing like this. The money would have gone to something much better.

The soft hum of the celebration continued outside, muffled by the heavy door, but the isolation here was a brief relief. You didn't want to go out there and plaster on the fake facade you'd mastered over the years, you just wanted time to yourself, time to breathe.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and you stiffened, no one was supposed to come back here and you panicked wondering if your father had come to hand out one of his speeches to you reminding you not to fuck everything up.

In the mirror, you saw Yoongi enter the room, his expression hardened, his sharp features set in a grim line. Swallowin the lump in your throat you stood up straight and brushed down the dress, trying to make it look as if you were just reaplying your make up.

Your father told you that Yoongi iked his women pretty and silent and that was exactly what you were trying to be. The perfect wife for the perfecg man. He closed the door behind him with a resounding click, the finality of the sound sending a chill down your spine.

He said nothing at first, just stood there with his arms crossed, eyes scanning over you as if appraising something he already disliked. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. How did he already hate you? You'd barely uttered a word except for the vows and you wanted things to be smooth between you both,

“Hey...Do you need something? I think I have emerency snakcs in my back if you're hungry,” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. It felt strange—awkward—to address him, to speak to him without your father present was even weirder. You were a little stunned that your dad was even allowing it in the first place since usually he hated you speaking out of turn. But yoongi was your husband now, sooner or later you'd be left alone but even still, he felt like a stranger. Yoongi scoffed, shaking his head as he looked you up and down.

“Do I need something?” he echoed mockingly.

“I need to understand how the hell I got roped into this. But I guess that’s obvious, isn’t it?” He didn’t wait for your answer before taking a step closer, his movements sharp with frustration.

“This whole thing—it’s a farce. A business deal. And you—" He gestured toward you with disdain.

“You’re the perfect little pawn, aren’t you? Just like everyone said you would be.” You frowned, trying to process his sudden hostility. You thought all of this had been planned between both of your families, that his side wanted this just as much as you,

“What are you talking about? Dad said-”

“Dad said what? Do you think I seriously want to be with you?” His voice was icy, his eyes narrowed in accusation. His gaze felt like tiny daggers in your chest as you stared back at him, you did your best to appear confident.

“You think I don’t know about you? Your reputation? The tabloids have painted a very clear picture. Daddy’s little princess, spoiled beyond belief, doing nothing but spending money and making headlines. Everyone knows you’re shallow and selfish.” His words cut deep, sharper than you expected. You had spent years ignoring the rumours, the gossip, and the false stories about your life, but hearing it from him—your husband, who didn’t know you—made it hurt in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You straightened up, keeping your tone as calm as you could manage. No one was supposed to listen to what the tabloids said, if they did you would have had six kids and been married years ago according to those liars in the media.

“You’re basing your opinion of me on tabloid gossip?” Your voice shook ever so slightly but you weren't going to back down from this. He gave a short, bitter laugh.

“Why wouldn’t I? Everything about you screams entitled. Look at this wedding! The dress, the flowers, the venue. You’re playing the role perfectly, aren’t you? The helpless daughter of a chaebol, marrying for convenience.” Your heart pounded in your chest, each word stoking a fire of resentment inside you. You had been pushed into this marriage just as much as he had, and you’d done everything to survive under the weight of your family’s demands. But now, being judged for it without a chance to defend yourself—it was too much.

“I didn’t ask for this either,” you shot back, your voice rising as anger began to seep through.

“Do you think I wanted to be paraded around like a prize horse? Do you think I enjoy being talked about like I’m just some shallow, spoiled girl? You think I wanted some big fuckin bullshit wedding?!” You slapped your hand over your mouth realising you'd overstepped a little but Yoongi’s expression remained cold, but you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, a little surprise.

“You don't know me,” you continued, stepping toward him, your hands trembling at your sides. You'd never stood up to anyone in your life but you were going to damned if you would let this bullshit with him continue,

“You’re judging me based on rumors. Headlines written by people who don’t know the first thing about my life.”

“Oh, I think I know enough,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp.

“People like you don’t have to try. You’ve never worked a day in your life, and you wouldn’t know what hardship looks like if it slapped you in the face.” His words were like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you felt your resolve falter. But you quickly steeled yourself, if he wanted a fight, you weren’t going to back down.

“And what about you?” you snapped, your voice louder now, almost echoing in the small room.

“You think you’re any different? You’re standing here in a tuxedo that costs more than most people make in a year, and you have the nerve to talk about hardship? You don’t know anything about my life, Yoongi.” He clenched his jaw, clearly not expecting you to defend yourself. The silence between you stretched for a long moment, filled with tension. He stared at you, his eyes hard and unreadable, as if he were trying to find some crack in your words, something to validate his preconceptions.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he finally said, his voice quieter now but still laced with bitterness.

“I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be tied down to someone who doesn’t care about anything but herself.” Your breath hitched in your throat. You knew this was an arranged marriage, but hearing him say it out loud...that he really didn’t want this. He really didn’t want you, it killed you a little inside.

Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall, you weren't goign to give him the satisifcation of knowing that he broke you.

“You think I wanted this either?” you whispered, refusing to look in his direction,

“You think I wanted to marry someone who hated me before even knowing me?” He didn’t respond, and for a moment, the silence between you felt unbearable. The weight of the situation pressed down on you both—two people forced into a marriage neither of you wanted, bound by family expectations and years of societal pressure.

“I don’t care what you think of me,” you said, breaking the silence. Your voice was a little stronger this time as you stared over in his direction, an iron will plastered across your face,

“But lest you suffer vertigo from your moral highground but acting like you’re any different. We’re both stuck in this, whether we like it or not.” Yoongi’s eyes flickered showing, guilt? It was impossible to tell, but he said nothing, simply standing there as if he were battling some inner turmoil.

"Photo time!" Someone called from the door and you picked up the bottom of your dress, walking past your husband and going to join the rest of the party. Falling back into the "pretty princess" routine you'd mastered over the years.

Weeks had passed since the wedding, and the tension between you and Yoongi remained thick and unresolved. The two of you shared his penthouse apartment but you made sure to avoid each other at all costs. While he was working you moved freely around the place, doing all of your hobbies and enjoying the piece but when he was home you were gone. The whole place was silently, so quiet the staff were almost scared to move around.

Yoongi wasn't stupid though, on the days he didn't work you had made a habit of disappearing from the apartment for hours, sometimes entire evenings. Every time you came back, you barely spoke to him, retreating to your own space, keeping your distance. He couldn’t tell if it was resentment or something else, but it gnawed at him. He thought he'd wanted it, the silence. The peace.

It was everything he'd known for years but it felt weird having you live there and no speaking to each other besides "goodnight" if you happened to bump into each other. Or asking if the other one had eaten yet.

One night, after you'd left without a word again, Yoongi finally had enough. His frustration had been simmering for days, and the mystery surrounding your late-night absences only fueled his suspicions. He grabbed his keys, following the trail you'd left behind.

It wasn’t difficult to follow you—he had resources, after all, and within the hour, he found himself parked outside a grand building, far from the world of nightclubs or lavish parties he'd expected. A charity auction?

His brows furrowed in confusion. He stepped out of the car, slipping inside unnoticed, staying in the shadows as he tried to make sense of what was going on.

When he saw you sneaking out he figurd you were going to meet some secret fling or friends but this wasn't what he was expecting at all...or even close to it.

The room was filled with elegantly dressed people, sipping champagne and mingling beneath chandeliers. You were at the center of it all, standing near the stage, smiling warmly as you chatted with guests. Yoongi watched, his eyes narrowing as he tried to reconcile the on the stage with the image he had of you in his mind. This wasn't anything like he'd been expecting when he saw tabloid photos of you leaving hotels.

"She's lovely, isn’t she?" A voice to his left caught him off guard. He turned to see an elderly woman, smiling fondly as she looked in your direction.

"Excuse me?" Yoongi asked, masking his confusion. The lady moved closer to him and smiled as she eaned on her zimmer frame, Yoongi offered her his arm and she gladly took it.

"The young lady running the auction,” the woman said, nodding toward you, Yoongi glanced back at you. Taking in the stunning dress you were wearing that clung to every single part of your body showing him what he was missing out on by not being friendly with you.

“She’s been organizing this event for the past six years. Always so generous with her time and donations. We’re lucky to have someone like her supporting our cause.” Yoongi’s mind went blank for a second. Siz years?

"She organized this?" he asked, disbelief lacing his voice. He glanced around the room, it looked as if it had been done by professonals and this lady was telling him you'd done all of this?

"Oh yes,” the woman replied, her eyes shining with admiration.

“She’s quite the visionary. She plans for weeks, sometimes months on end before we host an event together," She chuckled softly as she took Yoongi toward a table, the two of them sitting down together and looking over at you. You were smiling brightly and speaking into the mircropphone, you looked...at peace here.

Here, you looked like someone who enjoyed what you were doing, as if you didn't have a single care but this charity in the world.

"She does? I thought she was a party princess." He grumbles a little and the lady scoffs,

"She plays her part well but she hates that shit," Yoongi laughed at the crude language coming from such a sweet old lady,

"She's smart, too. She always has new ideas to help raise funds for the shelter.” The woman paused, looking at Yoongi with curiosity, noting the wedding band on his finger.

“Are you a friend of hers?” Yoongi didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His mind was spinning as he watched you laugh softly with a group of guests, the warmth in your eyes, the genuine kindness in your smile.

"Husband," He whispered finally. Guilt gnawing at him as he realised everything he had assumed about you—your selfishness, your shallow nature—it all began to unravel in front of him. You weren’t the person the tabloids made you out to be, and certainly not the spoiled brat he had convinced himself you were.

“Excuse me,” Yoongi muttered, barely hearing the woman’s farewell as he made his way to the other side of the room, closer to where you stood. He stayed just out of sight, observing, listening to the way people spoke about you.

“She’s always been so generous,” another guest commented, her voice dripping with admiration.

“I don't know what we'd do without her... she’s so down to earth,” another person added. The guilt only further weighing him down,

“It’s rare, you know, for someone from her background to be so...genuine.” Yoongi’s chest tightened. He watched as you gracefully moved through the room, your laughter soft but infectious as you joked with the staff, thanking them for their hard work.

Maybe he could have brushed it off as you faking it but the thing was...You weren’t pretending. This was real.

He had been so quick to judge you, to believe the worst because it was easier than trying to understand. The facade you wore around him—cold, detached—wasn’t who you truly were. You had built walls around yourself, maybe because you had already sensed how much he disliked you from the start.

He hadn’t given you a chance.

After the auction wrapped up, Yoongi lingered outside, leaning against his car as he waited for you. The night was cool, the city lights flickering around him, but his mind was far from the usual chaos of his business world. He was lost in thought, contemplating every interaction the two of you had shared since the wedding.

Finally around 2 in the morning, you emerged, bidding farewell to the remaining staff, your posture relaxed but clearly exhausted. He'd heard someone talking that you stayed behind to make sure they didn't need any extra hands and he...loved...that about you.

You didn’t see him at first, not until you were halfway to your cab, your heels in your hand ready to drop into your bed but when your eyes landed on him, your steps faltered.

"Yoongi?" you asked, surprise lacing your voice. You looked around nervously, did you have a plan and not realise?

“What are you doing here?” He straightened up, stuffing his hands in his pockets, his usual guarded expression still in place, but something in his eyes had softened.

“I got worried and I followed you.” You blinked, confusion crossing your face. Worried?

"Worried? You followed me?" He nodded, unsure how to explain the storm of emotions brewing inside him. He didn't even know where to start with anything he was thinking or feeling right now.

“You’ve been disappearing a lot,” he said simply, shrugging his shoulders and then licking his lower lip.

“I wanted to know where you were going. I thought-”

"Thought I was cheating?" You were quick to cast a judgement on him like he had you and he didn't blame you for that. He sighed a little and you pressed your lips into a thin line, the warmth you’d shown all evening fading as your walls shot back up.

“I didn’t think you’d care about me disappearing,” you said, turning your gaze away, asking your cab to wait for you to finish talking, Yoongi felt a pang of guilt twist in his chest, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. You had every reason to think that. He’d given you nothing but disdain since the day you met.

"I didn’t know," he said quietly, taking a step toward you. You stared at him, your eyes on him the whole time as if you were waiting for him to try something.

“I didn’t know you were doing all of this.” You glanced at him, confusion still etched on your face. If you were doing this or if you weren't shouldn't have mattered to him.

“What does it matter?” He hesitated, the weight of his assumptions pressing down on him.

"Miss?" Your cab driver asked through the window, checking to see if you were okay and you glanced at him,

"I'm fine Romano, I'll be right there." You smiled sweetly at him and he went back to waiting. Yoongi looked at you,

“I was wrong about you,” he admitted, his voice low. “I’ve been wrong about a lot of things.” You didn’t respond, your eyes searching his as if trying to figure out if his words were genuine. The silence between you stretched, thick with unspoken feelings.

“I thought I knew who you were,” Yoongi continued, clearing his throat and sighing a little,

“but I didn’t. I’ve been... holding on to these stupid assumptions, believing the rumours, and I never gave you a chance.” You looked down at your feet, your fingers curling around the strap of your bag.

"You never asked," you said softly, the vulnerability in your voice catching him off guard. You hated that you sounded like this right now, but all you'd ever wanted out of this thing was someone to talk to...Someone to be the real you with.

Yoongi took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his guilt sink deeper.

"You're right. I didn’t ask. I just assumed. But tonight, seeing you like this..." He paused, searching for the right words. "You’re not who I thought you were.” You looked up at him, your expression still guarded but softer now.

“Who did you think I was?” You stared at him and watched as he exhaled slowly.

“Someone selfish. Someone shallow. I thought you were only interested in... whatever this marriage could bring you.” He shook his head, his voice tinged with regret. “But I was wrong. I see that now.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The city hummed around you, but in that moment, the world seemed quiet. Yoongi’s heart raced as he waited for you to say something—anything.

“I didn’t want this either,” you whispered, the weight of your own exhaustion clear in your tone.

“I didn’t want to be judged before I even had a chance...I thought maybe I'd be able to finally be myself around someone...not the prim and proper princess I'm forced to be.” Yoongi swallowed the lump in his throat. He had a lot to make up for, and he wasn’t sure how to do it. But standing here, watching the walls between you crack just a little, he knew he had to try.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice sincere. “For everything.” You looked at him, your gaze softening, and for the first time since you’d met, you allowed a small, genuine smile to grace your lips.

"I'll make it up to you?" he suggested and you bit your lip,

"Hmm,"

"Whatever it takes." He told you once he saw you were hesitating, he would do anything to make things right with you...To get the fresh start the two of you were going to need.

"A donation to the shelter." You said, folding your arms across your chest, you weren't only going to ask for that but you wanted to see how serious he was.

"Done."

"Come to charity events...actually donate to the thigns I'm doing. Not just for show." You'd asked your father for donations many times in the past but he would only pretend to donate.

"Done." He said with a smile, stepping closer to you, your chests pressing against each other as you looked at him,

"I want a dog."

"No." He mumbled, he wasn't a dog person.

"A cat?"

"Done." He smiled again,

"A ride home?" You whispered as he nodded at you,

"Done," he smiles turning back and opening the car door for you, gesturing for you to get inside.

"Thanks for waiting Romano," You went to get some money out but Yoongi shook his head, handing Romano triple what he would have gotten for taking you home and smiling at the man.

Months had passed since Yoongi first realized he’d been wrong about you. The chilly distance that had once separated you both had melted away completely, replaced by quiet, genuine affection. You laughed more around him now, and in return, he had softened in ways he hadn’t thought possible. He found himself caring for you, watching you with admiration in ways that were foreign but undeniably real.

The two of you were always arm in arm at events, photogrpahed going to your different charities. Yoongi told you he wanted to make sure you got proper coverage for them and arranged for the two of you to be seen at events. The charities were getting more and more attention which you were as well but you hadn't minded too much.

Tonight, he had decided to come home early to surprise you, he'd been working late every single night all week and he'd finally had enough. He'd told his assistant to cancel all meetings and he was heading home for the night. It had been a long day, but the thought of seeing you, sharing a quiet dinner or even you forcing him to watch trashing shows filled him with delight.

As he entered the house, he noticed something was off. You weren't sitting on the sofa greeting him, it was silent...Back to the same silence that had filled the penthouse months ago when you first got married and his stomach sank. Moving further into the apartment he went to find you, maybe you'd crashed on the sofa asleep or in bed? But as he headed toward the living room he heard a gruff, harsh voice cut through the air. Yoongi paused, his heart sinking as he realized the voice belonged to your father.

He edged closer, keeping out of sight, and listened.

“Enough with your excuses,” your father spat, his voice low but filled with venom. You flinched back from him and tried to talk but the words refused to come out,

“You need to hurry up and produce an heir, do you understand? This marriage was supposed to save us, but all you’ve done is play the perfect little wife, and for what? We need results, not your shit charity work.” Yoongi’s stomach churned with unease as the conversation continued, your voice soft but trembling as you tried to respond.

“I’m trying,” you whispered, “but I can’t just—"

“Trying isn’t good enough!” your father barked, cutting you off. You loved Yoongi, you'd fallen in love with him and you weren't just going to force him to make you pregnant. The two of you were taking your time together.

“Do you think this is some game? We’re on the verge of losing everything. Your husband may have his own fortune, but that’s not going to save us. You need to step up!”

"I love-"

"Love is a foolish game!" He screams in your face, making you whimper at him and shake your head. You weren't going to play this anymore.

"Open your fucking legs for him, that's all he wants! Let him fuck a shitty baby into you and do your job!"

"My job is to be a good wife! To lead my charities-" There was a loud crack, the unmistakable sound of a slap, followed by a sharp intake of breath—yours. Yoongi’s blood ran cold, his hands clenching into fists as he stormed toward the room. He could hear you whimper softly, the sound of it making his heart twist with rage.

In an instant, Yoongi was at the door, throwing it open with a force that startled both you and your father. Your hand was clutching your face,

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Yoongi’s voice was ice cold, his eyes blazing with fury as he stepped between you and your father. Your father straightened, the vein in his neck popping with anger at the interruption coming in.

“This is a family matter,” he growled. “You have no right to interfere.” Yoongi ignored him, his attention focused entirely on you. He was by your side in seconds, moving your hand and scanning your face for any sign of it hurting and you wincing was enough confirmation for him. His jaw tightened, his heart pounding with the urge to protect you from any further harm.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asked, his voice softening as he gently touched your arm. You nodded, though tears brimmed in your eyes, and Yoongi’s heart broke a little more.

“I’m fine, nothing I'm not used to,” you whispered, though the tremble in your voice betrayed you. Used to?! There was no way Yoongi was going to let this asshole anywhere near you ever agian, Yoongi turned back to your father, his expression hardening again.

“Get out,” he demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re not welcome here anymore.” Your father scoffed, stepping forward as if to challenge him, but Yoongi didn’t flinch. The cold authority in his gaze was enough to make anyone hesitate.

“This isn’t over,” your father spat, glaring between you and Yoongi. “You owe me—both of you.”

“No,” Yoongi said firmly, his hand tightening protectively around your arm. He wasn't going to let the piece of shit make you feel small,

“She doesn’t owe you anything.” Your father glared at him for a long moment before turning on his heel and storming out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. The echo of it reverberated through the halls, leaving behind a heavy silence.

Once he was gone, Yoongi turned to you, his eyes softening as he gently cupped your face, inspecting the damage. His thumb brushed over the spot where your father had hit you, careful not to press too hard.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice breaking. You'd done everything yo could to hide this side of your life from him,

“I didn’t want you to see that.” Yoongi shook his head, his expression filled with concern. The thought of you hiding this from him breaking his heart into a million pieces.

“You don’t have to apologize. None of this is your fault.” Tears slipped down your cheeks as you leaned into his touch.

“He’s been pressuring me for months,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. You knew it was all going to come out anyway and you hated the idea of Yoongi getting caught up in the middle of it all.

“He’s trying to cover up his bankruptcy, and he thinks... he thinks if I have a child, it will fix everything.” Yoongi felt a surge of protectiveness raise in him, the thought of you being used as some pawn in your father’s schemes igniting his anger all over again.

“That’s not going to happen,” he said firmly, his hand slipping down to grip yours.

“I won’t let him treat you like that. Not anymore.” You looked up at him, your eyes wide and vulnerable. You wanted to believe him but how were you supposed to get away when he was your dad?

“But... he’s my father. He’s desperate. I didn’t know what else to do.” Yoongi’s heart clenched at the sight of your pain. He could see how much this had been weighing on you, how you’d been carrying this burden alone. Guilt washed over him for not noticing sooner, for not realizing the extent of what you were dealing with.

“From now on, you don’t have to deal with this alone,” Yoongi promised, his voice low but steady. “I’ll keep you safe. No one—especially your father—will hurt you again.” You stared at him, a mix of relief and disbelief in your eyes.

“You’d do that for me?” Yoongi’s expression softened, his thumb brushing away the last of your tears.

“Of course. You’re my wife, I'd do anything for you,” he said simply before looking at you, biting his lip a little. “And I... I care about you.”

It was the first time he’d openly admitted it, and the weight of those words hung between you for a moment, settling in the space where uncertainty had once been.

You leaned into him, your head resting against his chest as you allowed yourself to finally breathe. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe. And Yoongi, with his arms wrapped around you, knew that he would do whatever it took to protect you—from your father, from the world, from anything that tried to hurt you.

In that moment, it wasn’t just a promise he made out of obligation. It was a promise he made because he had fallen for you—deeply and irrevocably.

Later that night, the two of you sat on the couch in the living room, the television softly flickering in front of you. The events of the day still weighed on both of your minds, but the comfort of Yoongi’s presence soothed the tension that had lingered. You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder, his arm draped protectively around you. It felt natural now, the closeness, as if this was always where you were meant to be—with him.

The TV played in the background, but neither of you were really paying attention. Your thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation with your father, the harsh words, and Yoongi’s unwavering defense of you. It had changed something between you two, bringing you even closer than before.

After a while, Yoongi shifted, turning his gaze from the screen to look down at you. His voice, low and soft, broke the comfortable silence.

“Can I ask you something?” You nodded, sensing the seriousness in his tone.

“Always." He hesitated for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. He didn't know how this conversation was going to go,

“Earlier, when your father was... pressuring you about having a child,” he began, his eyes searching yours. “Is that something you actually want? I mean... a baby—not just for him or an heir, but for us?” The question hung in the air, and you felt your heart skip a beat. It was a vulnerable thing to ask, especially after everything that had happened, but you could see the sincerity in his eyes. Yoongi wasn’t asking because of some external obligation; he was asking because he genuinely wanted to know how you felt.

You bit your lip, glancing away for a moment as you gathered your thoughts. Having a baby was something you'd always wanted, you wanted to raise your child to feel the love you'd wished you'd felt growing up.

“I’ve always wanted a family,” you admitted quietly. “But I didn’t want it to be because of... what my father wants. I want it to be because we want it. Because we’re ready.” Yoongi’s gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek, turning your face back to his.

“Do you want that with me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, laced with vulnerability. Your heart fluttered at his question, the weight of his words sinking in. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear him ask. It wasn’t just about an heir or fulfilling some family expectation. It was about the two of you—about building something real together.

“Yes,” you whispered, your eyes meeting his. “I do. I want that with you, Yoongi.” His expression shifted, a mixture of relief and lust. His thumb brushed across your cheek as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“I want that too,” he murmured, his voice deep and intimate.

The air between you grew heavier, charged with the intensity of the moment. Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss. It started as a soft and gentle but quickly turned into something more urgent, more passionate. Yoongi responded instantly, pulling you closer, his hands slipping around your waist as his lips moved against yours with a newfound hunger.

You let out a soft gasp as he deepened the kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair as he drew you into his lap. The warmth of his body against yours, the way his hands roamed over your back—it was overwhelming, intoxicating. Everything about him, the way he kissed you, the way he held you, spoke of desire, of a need that had been building between you for months.

Your hands moved to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips as he trailed kisses down the side of your neck, softly whimpers left your lips.

“Yoongi,” you whispered breathlessly, your head tilting back to give him more access. He groaned softly in response, his lips trailing back up to claim yours once again, he loved that you were so responsive to him.

"We can practice baby making," He whispers before continuing the kiss but it was deeper now, more insistent, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His hands roamed your body, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you.

Yoongi pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath heavy and ragged as he rested his forehead against yours.

“I want everything with you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “A family. A future. Everything.” Your heart swelled at his words, and without hesitation, you captured his lips again, pouring every bit of your emotion into the kiss. His hands gripped your hips, anchoring you to him as the intensity between you grew. You had never felt this way before—so completely consumed by someone else.

"T-Take me to our room?" You whispered as he looked at you, scanning your face to make sure you were sure about this.

"You've been through a lot tonight-"

"Yoongi, please." You begged, leaning down and kissing his soft skin, biting and sucking on his neck as he groaned, grinding you down against him as he nods at you.

It wasn't long until the two of you were naked and he had you laying beneath him on the bed, his eyes drinking in every inch of your skin as he felt his cock growing harder at the sight.

"You're so beautiful," He moans, sliding his fingers inside of you gently while rubbing your clit until you were gasping against him. Yoongi smirked, nibbling your earlobe and kissing down yout throat,

"Spread those legs for me, princess." he said. You whimper a little, spreading your legs and watching as your husbamd dropped to his knees between your legs. He lowered his head and began to tease you, kissing along the inside of your thigh and licking your folds before finally touching his tongue to your clit. You moaned loudly, your back arching from the bed as you whimpered at him.

"Y-yoongi," You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he continued to eat you out. Your whole body on fire as you whimpered, grinding against his face as he smirked. He continued to push his fingers into you, curling them against that one spot that made your mind blank,

"R-Right there!" You cry out, whimpering as you chased your orgasm. It didn't take long as you called out his name as you came.

Soon he started kissing up your body, your hand moved between you as you took his cock into your hand, pumping slowly as you watched his face. His eyes rolled back and he moaned softly,

"Princess,"

"I wanna make you feel good," You pouted at him but he shook his head at you, there was no way he would last and he wanted to fuck you. Tonight.

"Later...I wanna be inside you when I cum for you the first time," He moaned not caring how needy he sounded. You nod and spread your legs once more as he pushed the head of his cock into you, your head rolling back as he pushed all the way into you,

"So fucking wet," He moaned out, sliding in and out of you as your hands clucthed onto the sheets around you. He fucked into you slowly and sweetly, your lips finding each others as you kissed him deeply.

"Y-Yoongi," You moan out as he thrusts a little harder this time,

"I'm so deep inside of you," He moaned out, his voice like sandpaper. Ripples of pleasure wavered through your boody as you whimpered,

"Feels so fucking good," you cry out, your nails digging into his skin as he continued to fuck into you. He shifted a little, his cock hitting that spot that made you scream and you whimper,

"Y-Yoongi-"

"Me too," He moaned out as he continued to fuck into you. Your heart raced and your back arched off the beg, your fingers digging into his arms as your heels dug into his ass, sinking him deeper into you. You scream out as your orgasm hits you, clenching around him tightly as you whimpered,

"S-Shit! S-Shit!" He grunted as he bucked into you, cumming into you and holding you close to him. Your foreheads rested together as you caught your breath, gigging softly at him,

"I love you." You whispered to him, stroking some of the hair out of his face,

"I love you too princess."

You smiled softly, feeling the flutter of movement beneath your hand. The little kicks were a constant reminder of the new life growing inside you, not that you could ever forget with the constant needing to pee all of the time.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and you turned just as Yoongi entered the room. His eyes immediately softened when they landed on you, and he crossed the room to stand by your side, his arms wrapping around you from behind. His hand joined yours on your belly, fingers brushing over the spot where the baby had kicked moments before.

"Hey," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "How are my two favorite people doing?" You leaned back into his embrace, sighing contentedly.

"We're doing good. He’s been pretty active today." Yoongi smiled, his hand gently rubbing small circles over your stomach, kissing it softly before looking back at you.

"Already giving you a hard time, huh? Just like his mom." You laughed softly, turning your head to meet his gaze.

“Or like his dad,” you teased, earning a playful smirk from Yoongi.

For a moment, the two of you stood in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the closeness. Yoongi’s hand never left your belly, as if he was already in tune with the life growing inside you. His protectiveness, his love—it had only grown stronger with time.

“Can you believe it?” you whispered, your voice filled with awe. “In just a few months, we’re going to be parents.” Yoongi’s smile softened, his eyes brimming with excitement, he'd been over the moon when you told him you were expecting but he had baby proofed every single inch of the penthouse.

“I’ve been thinking about it every day,” he admitted, his voice low and full of affection. “It still feels a little surreal.” You turned in his arms, facing him fully.

“Are you ready for it?” His gaze met yours and he smiled at you.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” he said sincerely. “Especially with you by my side.” Tears pricked at your eyes, overwhelmed by how far you had both come. There was a time when you hadn’t been sure if things would ever feel this right. But now, standing here with Yoongi, your husband and soon-to-be father of your child, everything felt complete.

“I still think about my father sometimes,” you admitted softly, breaking the gentle silence. Since your fathers outburst Yoongi had made it clear he wasn't to be involved with anything the two of you were doing and he'd...back off. Something that had creeped you out and you'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop but he never showed up again.

“About how different things are without him in my life. It feels strange… but also freeing.” Yoongi’s expression darkened slightly, his jaw tightening at the mention of your father. He had tabs on him at all times to make sure he wasn't going to do anything to you again,

“He lost the right to be part of your life the moment he put his hands on you. I won’t let him come anywhere near you or our family.” You nodded, comforted by his unwavering protectiveness.

“I know. And I’m glad he’s not part of this. I don’t want our baby growing up under that kind of pressure.” Yoongi’s hand slipped from your waist to cradle your face, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek.

"Our child is going to grow up surrounded by love, not expectations or obligations,” he said firmly. “That’s all that matters now.” Your heart swelled with gratitude, tears welling in your eyes.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”

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munsonsmixtapes · 3 days ago

Text

Billy Still Doesn't Know

virgin!eddie x experienced!reader

summary: you and Eddie make up after that disasterous night and very quickly become friends with benefits. But problems arise when you starts to have feelings for the metal head. Billy quickly gets winds of your arrangement and decides to call the both of you out at Nancy's party.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) oral (m receiving) sub!eddie, dom!reader, exhibitionism, anal, public sex, Billy just generally being a dick and abusive, but that's not new, use of nicknames (baby, good boy, honeybee) hurt/comfort, mild violence, mention of an abortion, mention of reader's rough home life (verbal abuse)

100% inspired by the song “Scotty Doesn’t Know” by Lustra!

part one

You stare at the ceiling as you try to fall asleep, the events of the night running through your head on a continuous loop. Guilt is causing a pit in your stomach to form, bile rising in your throat as the look on Eddie’s face stays in your mind, making you feel even worse. It wasn’t his fault. He was trying to do what he had thought you had liked and you freaked out. You panicked.

No one had ever bothered to care about things like that when it came to you so when someone finally did, it felt weird. Foreign. Eddie wasn't the problem, that much you were sure of. It was all you. Letting Billy into your life had created so many problems for you, especially mentally so it made hanging out with anyone normal difficult.

You hadn't actually wanted to leave, but it was a trauma response, something you always did with Billy so it was just second nature when anything went wrong. And unlike Billy, Eddie just let you go. Why, though? Why didn't he chase after you? Why didn't he demand you to stay like Billy would have?

Because Eddie wasn't Billy. Not in the slightest. He let you go because he felt like he was the right thing to do and didn't want to cross your boundaries. You thought a part of you knew that but you still wished he had asked you to stay.

You wanted him to get on his knees, holding your hands in his as he pleaded, begging for you to stay the night. And he would have invited you into his room where the two of you would have cuddled in his bed for the rest of the night.

Now you were starting to feel like a bitch for how things had ended. Because what had Eddie done except be an absolute gentleman? And now you had hurt him so badly that he hadn't even called you before bed like he always did.

Your seat in the pre-calculus class that you share with Eddie is empty when he walks into first period. He’s internally panicking, but he plays it off as he sits in his assigned seat behind yours, pulling out the things he needs for the class, feeling his heart sink as he realizes that the events of the night before were so bad that he had made you not want to come to school.

And he feels horrible, that feeling in his gut gnawing, eating at him, the clenching feeling getting even tighter, almost as if a boa constrictor had been wrapping around his midsection. He swears he’s going to throw up, putting his hand over his mouth to try to hold it back, but then you walk into the room, looking a little worse for wear with your head down as you hurry to your seat before Ms. O'donnell started the class.

Eddie wasn’t paying attention to her, though, and neither were you. And you were clearly out of it because you hadn’t even noticed that he was staring at you, leaning over ever so slightly to the right so he could see your face.

“I’m sorry Mr. Munson,” he hears Ms. O’Donnell’s voice, and immediately turns in her direction, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s about to fall out of his chair. “Is my lesson boring you? Because clearly you seem to be very interested in Miss l/n.”

“No ma’am,” he shakes his head vigorously and doesn’t miss the way you slide down in your chair, pulling the hood of your hoodie up over your head in embarrassment. “Please, continue.”

Miss O’Donnell continues the lesson and neither you nor Eddie are paying her any attention. You both are in your own little worlds, still thinking about the night before. And if you’re being honest, you kind of hate how he’s acting like his usual self this morning.

You were half expecting him to apologize even though you know you don’t deserve it. What does he have to apologize for anyway? Being a total sweetheart? If anyone should be apologizing, it’s you. And there’s no way you’re going to do that because vulnerability terrifies you.

And you absolutely hate confrontation, hating having to put your feelings out there when you have a problem. You can still see your father yelling at you when you politely asked him to turn the TV volume down so you could sleep. You know that’s the reason why you are the way that you are. And hanging around Billy only made it worse, the similarities between the two men not lost on you.

And you know Eddie well enough to know that all he wants to do is put it all in the past. That’s what he’s done with the few spats that you’ve had and know that this isn’t any different. But he’s waiting for you to make the first move like he always does, because that’s just who he is. Eddie respects your boundaries and never wants to push, so that’s why this is getting to you.

Well, that and you’re so used to Billy being the one to blame that you want to pass it off to Eddie to make yourself feel better. Because if you don’t accept the blame then it’s not your fault and then you don’t have to carry your guilt around because let’s be honest, you have more than enough of that already.

But what you don’t know is that Eddie fully believes that he’s to blame, that he had pushed you too far. That you have every right to be mad at him for what he’s done. He just wants to apologize and for the two of you to be friends again, but he’s afraid that this isn’t something he can make up for with a song.

So he spends the entirety of first period trying to wrack his brain for some way to make it up to you even though he doesn’t think any of it will be good enough. And just when he thinks he has something, the bell rings and you rush out of class, moving too fast for him to even catch up.

He gets out the door and you’re already halfway down the hallway, hurrying to your next class that’s on the other side of the school. He won’t have time to catch up with you and go to his own class, so he decides he’ll just talk to you at lunch.

But you don’t sit with him. In fact, you’re not even in the cafeteria. He knows because he’s checking every five minutes, his eyes darting between all the doors and the lunch line, just to make sure he hasn’t missed you. He knows how crazy he looks, but everyone already thinks he is so that doesn’t bother him. All he cares about is finding you and telling you how sorry he is about last night.

You’re not in the cafeteria because you’re in the newsroom with Robin and Nancy. You owe it to yourself to have a little girl time and forget about all the boy drama that’s been surrounding you for quite some time. You’ve only recently gotten close to them and appreciated that they let you into their group no question.

They had been nothing but nice to you despite your reputation as a “mean girl” as that hadn’t been who you really were. It was just a facade that you had put on to push people out, and clearly it hadn’t worked as well as you had hoped.

They’d been for you when you complained about Billy and now they were trying to help you out with your situation with Eddie. They know how important he is to you and the both of you have become such important parts of the friend group and they hate to see either of you so upset, especially when it comes to being upset in regards to each other.

You didn’t give them all the details of what happened because you felt like it was giving too much information, but you definitely alluded to what had happened and how you had left and how horrible you felt about hurting Eddie and that you were afraid that he was mad at you.

“You know that Eddie is way too easy going to be mad at you,” Nancy told you as she rested her hand on top of yours. “And neither of you did anything wrong anyway. It’s all just a big misunderstanding. I’m sure if you talk to him about it and explain where you’re coming from, this whole mess will be fixed.”

You can always count on Nancy to give you good advice. You know she’s right, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to listen. You’re just going to thank her and then continue to avoid Eddie like the plague for the rest of the school year until the both of you graduate. It’s what’s for the best, you think, deciding that it just wasn’t meant to be.

“I don’t know why you bother, Nanc,” Robin rolls her eyes. “We all know she’s not going to listen to you and continue to ignore Eddie, running back to Billy as if last night never happened.”

You’ve always hated how well Robin can read you. Because she’s exactly right. Well, except for going back to Billy. You’ve been done with him for a while and now you’re finally going to rip off the band aid after school.

“No,” you deny. “I’m going to break things off with him after school.”

“What about Eddie?” God, you’re tired of talking about him. You were only doing so because they had brought him up. You just wanted to forget about him even though it was impossible for you to do so. The metal head had taken up your thoughts every single second of every day since you had started hanging out. So much so that you had even started imagining his face when Billy was fucking you, always so close to moaning his name. And now you’ve pushed him away.

“What about Eddie, Nancy? He doesn’t want to talk to me.” You’re shrinking into yourself and you know that you sound like a broken record, but you can’t help it.

“Alright,” Robin sighs, scooting her chair close to yours, looking you dead in the eyes, her own forming into a glare. “Since no one’s going to be honest with you, I will.”

“Go ahead,” you tell her, trying to show that you can handle it, but deep down, you’re terrified that she’s going to say something way out of pocket. That you’re going to have to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and cry afterwards.

“You left last night because people always leave you so you wanted a head start. You know Eddie won’t do that and that’s why you’re scared. Because he’s seen all your flaws and still wants to hang out with you. You’re not used to that.”

She’s right and your eyes widen as she speaks, realizing how well she had hit the nail on the head. You scoot out of your seat and storm out of the room, slamming the door behind you just as the bell rings, signaling the end of class.

Anger courses through you as you stomp to your locker at the end of the day. You’re supposed to catch a ride home with Nancy and Robin since Eddie’s usually your ride, but you decide to just take the bus since you don’t have your other options.

Well, you could if you stopped being so stubborn and actually talked about your feelings, but you can’t so you won’t. You want to be alone anyway, to drown your sorrows in a gallon of ice cream while you finally let yourself cry about everything.

You get to your locker as the doors at the end of the school burst open. You turn to see who it is and immediately bury your face into your locker, the door hiding your face as you do so. Go, could this day get any worse?

You hear Billy before you see him, his boots stomping down the hallway, getting closer and closer to you and you want nothing more than for the floor to swallow you whole. You know why he’s there and you really want to put off speaking to him. You’ve had far too much drama for the day and just want to go home.

“Baby,” he says with a smile and the nickname makes your skin crawl. You continue to grab your things from your locker and stuff them into your backpack as if he’s not there. And that pisses Billy off. He hates when you act like he doesn’t matter, especially when he’s been so generous as to give you his cock almost every night. You looking at him is the least he deserves.

“You didn’t call me after last night.” He moves around the door to stand behind you, his cock rubbing against your ass. That would normally work on you, but not today, not anymore. You’re done with him and need to finally tell him the truth. You can’t keep going back to him. He’s not good for you, but you’ve gotten addicted to the way he makes you feel. And once the high wears off, you’re left feeling gross and used and you don’t want to feel like that anymore.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Billy,” you respond and his hand slams against the locker, causing it to close, the rate at which it slams closed causing a breeze to move across your face. You pull your hand away in the knick of time and before you can get away, Billy grabs onto your face, squeezing your cheeks in his hand.

“You look at me when I’m talking to you, bitch,” he commands and you wince at the pain that he’s causing. You really wish that more people were around to witness what was happening, but the halls are empty since it’s the end of the day.

“Billy,” you say firmly, trying to get out of his grasp, but he just squeezes harder, that fire from yesterday filling his eyes again. “Let go.”

“No,” he spits. “You’re going to listen.” He steps closer so his face is only inches from yours and you’re more annoyed with him than anything. He doesn’t scare you anymore and you’re going to stand up to him for once and for all.

“No,” you finally push him off you.-

Eddie hurries down the hallway to the room where he hosts Hellfire, knowing that he’s last, but he’s relieved when no one’s waiting outside the door. Miss O’Donnell had found him after the bell had rung and reminded him that he was to report to her class after school the next day for tutoring. He’s so close to getting a passing grade, all he needs is to pass the test on Friday and he’s golden.

He’s smiling to himself about the whole thing when he turns to see that you’re talking to Billy. The knife twists and now he’s sick to his stomach as he watches the whole thing. It looks like you’re arguing. And he’s invested as soon as he sees you throw a key onto the floor and it lands right at Billy’s feet. Billy picks it up and if looks could kill, you’d be dead.

He can’t hear your conversation, but he just knows it’s ugly by the body language. He wants to help, take a punch for you to show you how much he cares for you, but he won’t. He doesn’t have the chance to because Dustin, Mike, and Lucas are standing behind him, waiting to be let inside.

“What is this?” Billy asks He knows what it is, but he wants you to say it. He wants to hear the words come from your mouth, because as soon as you say them, he’s not going to hook up with you anymore. The door will be closed and he’s gonna move another girl up to the list to take your coveted spot as his number three.

“You know what it is,” you say as you cross your arms over your chest. His blood is boiling now as he realizes what it means. This is so embarrassing to him. He’s always the one who cuts ties, not the other way around. He thought that you loved. That’s why he kept you around. You were just someone to boost his ego and do whatever he asked because you worshiped the ground he walked on.

He’s never loved you, he’s never loved anyone and he’s always made sure to remind you of that when you’ve done something nice for him, like doing the dishes when you knew it was his night to do so and he had forgotten, so focused on taking you to bed.

He owes you nothing and supposes that you owe him nothing in return, because deep down, this whole thing is strictly transactional. He knows that you can go fuck any guy he wants, but he’s nothing but a jealous man to his core so he’ll make sure he’s the only one who’s gotten inside you then turn right around and fuck some other girl within the same hour of having fucked you.

Billy pockets the key then steps forward again, his eyes narrowing into slits as he looks you up and down one last time. He doesn’t like the look on your face. He would have thought you’d be crying, begging him to take you back, but you just look unbothered, almost relieved.

“This is your last chance, bitch,” he says, pointing his finger in your face and you just stare at him with a nod. He then pushes past you, storming towards the door in a fit of rage, the door slamming behind him as he flees the school, heading to his car to figure who he’s going to replace you.

You’re crying now and Eddie’s watching, completely distracted by what’s going on, everything he was thinking about entirely abandoned in his brain to make space for you just like always. You stand there as sobs rake through you and he wants nothing more than to take you into his arms while he strokes your hair and tells you that everything is going to be okay.

“Eddie?” Dustin waves his hand in front of Eddie’s face, but he’s still dazed. He’s so focused on you that nothing else matters. Not even Hellfire, and the boys know just how important that is to him.

To the boys’ surprise, he just utters the words “Hellfire’s canceled today,” and before they can even process what he’s said, he’s taking off down the hallway to catch up with you as you’re heading to the doors. But he’s able to stop you before you get there, skidding to a stop in front of you.

Your sniffling stops as you look up at him, wiping away your tears as you take him in, his wide brown eyes and his mouth that’s slightly agape as he wracks his brain for something to say. He was so focused on preventing you from leaving that he wasn’t thinking about what he had to say.

You both stare at each other, waiting to see who makes the first move, both of you nervous as shit to be the first one to speak, so you say nothing, the halls eerily quiet without all the chatter of students or lockers and doors closing. It’s just the two of you and the rising tension sitting there between you, begging to be acknowledged.

You wouldn’t even know what to say. Your tongue is tied and the only thing you want to say you just can’t get yourself to. And to your surprise, Eddie is just as quiet. Just great, you’ve somehow managed to render the boy who never shuts the fuck up speechless.

He can tell that you’re thinking as he can practically see the gears turning. You’re always so in your head and he hates that for you. That you always overthink everything to the point where it all takes over your thoughts. He knows you’ve been thinking about what happened last night since it happened and he wants to get you out of your head. To make you understand that it’s not your fault. You had every right to act the way you did. He couldn’t be mad at you if he tried and he knows you know that so he has no idea why you’ve been avoiding like the goddamn plague.

The words are on the tip of his tongue and you can see it. His mouth opens to speak, but for some reason, you don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to talk about it, you just want to tell him that the whole thing is in the past and you can move on like it didn’t happen.

But when Eddie bites the bullet to speak, you just shake your head and hurry past him, but he catches your wrist before you can leave, pulling you to him as his hand rests on the small of your back. His hand reaches up to push some hair away from your face and then it cups your cheek, forcing you to look into his warm bambi eyes.

“Stay,” he whispers and all you can do is nod as your lips part. He licks his own and an “I’m sorry” tumbles from his lips. They’re said with purpose, emphasis on each word to show you how much he means them.

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m sorry Eddie. I fucked up and I-”

“Shh, honeybee,” he murmurs as his lips press to your forehead. “Just let me hold you, okay?”

All you can do is bury your face into his neck, tears streaming down your cheek once again. His hands move up and down your back in a comforting manner as he whispers nothing but soothing words in your ear, wanting to make sure that you know that happened last night is all in the past. He just wants to be there for you right now.

You pull back to look at him and his features are nothing but soft, a small smile kicking up at the corner of his mouth as he wipes away your tears before pulling you in for another hug, squeezing you tight, deciding that he’d hold you in his arms for the rest of his life it was possible so you’d never get hurt again.

“He’s such a fucking dick,” he mutters, his hands still rubbing lazy circles along your back. “God, I should have punched him when I had the chance.”

“Why would you do that?” You ask, your voice small. No one has ever done anything like that for you so you’re wondering why it’s Eddie who wants to be the one to defend your honor.

“Because I care about you,” he replies as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb moving back and forth along it gently.

“You do?”

“Of course I do, honey.” He’s laughing now, but not at you. It’s in disbelief because he can’t truly can’t believe that you don’t know that he’d take a bullet for you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him and just the mere thought of possibly losing you last night made him sick to his stomach. He needs you to know how he feels right now so that you’ll stay. That you’ll know that he values what the two of you have, his friendship with you meaning more to him than you’d ever know.

The nickname warms your heart and you’re so overwhelmed with feelings that you don’t fully realize what you’re doing until your lips are on his. Eddie gasps into your mouth but eventually melts into, his lips capturing yours and he’s somehow become a natural overnight, kissing you like he had been doing it all his life.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble over and over against his lips and he just shushes you, his lips slotting between yours again, his arms tightening around your waist to pull you even closer as yours wrap around his neck. He’s smiling against your lips because he really can’t believe he’s kissing you, let alone in the empty school hallway because most of the girls would laugh or even want to throw up at the mere thought of kissing him. But you’re not most girls, he supposes.

The kiss progressively gets more heated as his tongue flicks into your mouth as your fingers find their way into his hair and then suddenly, you’re in the boys bathroom, backing yourselves into a stall. As soon as you lock the door, Eddie presses you against it and you love the way he’s taking charge, this newfound confidence he has. But you don’t want him to feel like he has to do this just to make up for last night.

You push him away and quickly speak to quiet all of the fears you can see swirling around in his head just by the look on his face. Your hands are on his face so he has no choice but to look at you and for a second, you swear he’s going to cry.

“Let’s slow down, baby. Nice and slow, okay?” You ask and he nods. “Nope, none of that,” you shake your head. I’m not mad at you. I never was. It was all just some miscommunication.”

“Miscommunication?” He supposes that is the right word for the situation

“You think I’m mad at you and I think you’re mad at me, but that’s not the case. Let’s get something clear right now, alright?” You ask and he nods again. “I had a great time last night. Genuinely, and I’m not saying this just to make you feel better, alright? You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

His eyes widen at your confession as he wasn’t expecting it in the slightest. No fucking way. You have to be pulling his leg. But you wouldn’t lie to him, right? Especially not about that kind of thing. Holy shit, he’s really better than Billy? That man has slept with pretty much every woman in Hawkins and somehow Eddie has been the best you’ve ever had? If he was anything like Billy, he’d be rubbing it in his face.

“Wow,” Eddie nods, that dopey grin making its way upon his face and you want more than to pinch his cheeks because of how adorable he looks.

“It’s feeding your ego, isn’t it, baby?” You ask and his cheeks flush. In response, he just kisses you again, his tongue sliding into your mouth again as his hands slide up your shirt. You test the waters by wrapping your lips around it and giving it a rough suck and you feel your panties getting soaked as a whine escapes the back of his throat. God, what you would give to suck him off.

You can feel his cock getting hard against your crotch and quickly pull away, bringing your bottom lip between your lips as your gaze slowly moves down to where his dick is tenting in his pants.

“I can take care of that if you’d like,” you smile, putting on a flirtatious tone and Eddie nods enthusiastically.

“God, please,” he whines. You unzip his pants and pull them along with his underwear down to his ankles before getting on your knees. You look him in the eyes to make sure he’s okay and he nods enthusiastically.

You then take him into your mouth and swirl your tongue around the head, hollowing your cheeks as you give him a rough suck. Eddie’s hands press against the side of the stall as he lets out a loud moan.

Your hand wraps around the base as your other one grabs onto this thigh, holding him in place. His head leans back as his eyes shut tight, feeling pleasure that not even how penchant can give him.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he hisses as you take more of him into your mouth, letting your tongue moved up and down the shaft as you try to as much of him as you can.

He’s already close, you can feel it.

“Jesus Christ,” he whines as his knees start to buckle. You’re holding onto both of his legs now as you try to keep him steady. He hasn’t got that far to go as he needs his release.

He’s practically screaming as he reaches his orgasm, cum leaking into your mouth as someone bursts through the bathroom door. You can hear chatter coming from outside the stall, but you continue as Eddie freezes, putting his hand over his mouth to muffle yet another moan.

It’s Jason and his buddies, you can tell by their voices as you’ve hung out with them more times than you can count because they all seem to want to get into Billy’s weird little club.

“Well, look what we’ve got here, boys,” Jason laughs. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a blowie in action.” And in response to that, the rest of them start a commotion, banging on the door and jiggling the lock back and forth as they taunt you.

“C’mon out,” Andy laughs as he rattles the door and as the rest of them are taunting, Jason stands on the toilet in the stall next to yours to get a look at who’s behaving badly and he lets out a gasp as he takes in Eddie’s flushed cheeks.

You turn to Jason and glare and he lets out a laugh as the jokes just seem to write themselves. Eddie “the freak” Munson and Billy’s girl? Oh, it all was just too good.

You swallow and stand to your knees, still making eye contact with Jason as you get off your knees, pushing yourself against Eddie as he gets himself dressed, his cheeks fully bright red.

“Why don’t you take a picture, Carver?” You ask as you exit the stall and Eddie follows behind you once he’s dressed. “It’ll last longer.”

He just glares and goes to get off the toilet, but his foot slips and lands in the bowl, a string of curse words falling from his lips. You, Eddie, and the others hurry to see what’s happened and you can’t help but laugh at the sight before you.

“Well, isn’t karma just a bitch?” You shake your head. “I bet the rest of the team would love to hear about how you and your buddies are into voyeurism,” you wink as Jason pulls his foot out of the toilet, his shoe squelching as he hurries to grab some paper towels.

You follow and stand right next to him, not afraid to get in his face. Eddie is right up against you, using your as a shield and you don’t mind one bit. You love to protect him and love that he feels safe with you.

“And you’ll think of this when you want to tell Billy. And besides,” you shrug before moving over to the mirror, pulling a tube of lipstick from your backpack before applying the color to your lips then blot it out with your finger. “We wouldn’t want Chrissy to know about the Polaroids in your locker, would we?”

You can see that he’s violently angry and he raises his hand, but your grab hold of his wrist before it can touch you. You whip around, your lips twisting into a smirk as you bend his arm backwards.

“You can’t do shit and you want to know why? Because I have shit on not only you, but all of your boys here and the rest of the basketball team. So I would think about your actions very carefully. Because you walk around here like you’ve got the biggest dick but honestly, I think that’s just wishful thinking as I’ve unfortunately seen it and let’s just say it leaves a lot to be desired.”

You hold up your pinky and the rest of the boys all make a commotion at your size reference. They’re all cackling and you just smile as Jason seethes with anger, his cheeks burning red.

With that, you let his arm go and Jason and the rest of the guys file out of the bathroom, making sure to push past Eddie as they do so, calling him a freak as well as other names before they’re all out in the hallway, leaving the two of you alone.

You look at him and think he’s gonna shrink in on himself, but he’s just smiling at you like an idiot as he steps closer to you, his hands moving to rest on your hips.

“Eddie, I’m so-“ you go to apologize but his lips are on yours before you can.

“That’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he mumbles against yours lips. “God, I love when you take charge like that. It makes me-“ he pauses, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“Makes you what?” You ask and in response, he pulls you close and presses his bulge against your crotch, showing you exactly what he means. “Oh-“ you gasp and look into his eyes that are getting darker by the second.

“Why don’t we go back to your place and finish what we started last night, hm?”

“God, please,” he whines and you take him by the hand, leading him out to the parking lot where his van sits.

Eddie honestly can’t believe his luck as he hurries to open the passenger door for you. Shit, the prettiest girl in Hawkins wants to go back to his place and fuck him? He wants to know what he’s done in his past life in order to have deserved that.

You get into the van before he closes the door and you can’t help but notice the tension and how different it is. The van is filled with nothing but sexual tension when Eddie gets inside and you want nothing more than for him to take you right there, but you know he won’t, not in public.

You throw your backpack in the floorboard while Eddie’s ends up somewhere in the back before he starts the engine, pulling out of his space, speeding out of the parking lot and down the road.

He really wants to speed like always, but he’s got precious cargo, so he’s going to slow down just to be sure you’re safe. He reaches over and turns the dials of the radio up as a metal song you somewhat recognize comes on.

You must admit that it feels very weird to go back to being good friends as if last night hadn’t happened at all, but you’re grateful for it, hoping that now it can all be in the past so you can focus on the present. That seems to be what Eddie wants to do anyway. And you’re more than happy to oblige.

You still can’t believe that out of all of the women in Hawkins that you’re the one he wants to be his first. But then again, maybe you can. He’s told you on more than one occasion that he trusts you more than anyone and that he considers you to be his best friend.

To you, sex is sex, a meaningless transaction between two people that’s nothing but for the sole purpose of using each other for their bodies. But to Eddie, you know it’s much more than that. He wants his first time to mean something. You wanted the same thing for yourself, but all you got was a quick fuck in the backseat of Billy’s car and it was over before you could even process what was happening.

It was something you felt like you had to do in order to make Billy like you, so he’d keep you around. And he was always so selfish in bed, taking and taking from you, not even caring if you were enjoying yourself. It eventually got to the point where you started faking it and he was none the wiser since he was so caught up in his own pleasure.

Just from last night, though, you know what sex with Eddie will be different. He actually seems to care about what you like and had even been beating himself up because of how he had done too much too fast. You wanted to enjoy yourself, but ultimately, you wanted to make sure that this was a perfect first time for him.

The van pulls up the familiar trailer and Eddie grabs his backpack before hurrying to your side and helping you out of your seat. Hand in hand, you head into the trailer where Wayne is sitting at the table, eating what looks like an early dinner before he has to go to work.

Wayne has easily become a father figure to you since your parents aren’t really around and he treats you like you’re part of the family. Even though he doesn’t have a lot to give you since he’s always tight on money, he still reminds you that what’s his is yours. Because in his mind, this is your safe place, the spot you go to when you need to get away from your house. And he’s always there with a mug of his famous hot chocolate and a warm hug. If it’s especially bad, he’ll have Eddie run down to Family Video to rent your favorite movie so it’s ready when you show up.

He beams when you walk through the door before grabbing his jacket to head out the door. As he’s putting it on, you approach him, waiting until he’s done to pull him into a tight hug. His arms immediately wrap around you and he gives you a tight squeeze as you bury your face into his chest. It’s moments like these where you feel the most safe. Because being in Wayne’s arms takes away the nightmares. And you suppose like uncle like nephew because the same always happens with Eddie too.

“Well, you two kids have fun,” he says once you pull away, moving to ruffle Eddie’s hair. “I left some money for pizza on the counter. And don’t stay up too late, you hear me? You two still have school tomorrow.” That’s right. It’s only Monday.

With that, Wayne flees the trailer, leaving you and Eddie alone once again. Eddie heads into the kitchen to pick up the phone to call the pizza place and you stand next to him as he speaks, ordering the usual that you always share.

You look up at him as he wraps the cord around his hand, something he always does to stimulate his brain. And you love all of his cute little quirks like that. If it’s not the phone cord, he’s fiddling with his fingers, sometimes yours when you let him hold your hand when he’s particularly overwhelmed.

He’s not the guy everyone says he is, that much is true. People just don’t like that’s so unapologetically himself. He’s nothing but sweet and kind and you hate that everyone just jumps to conclusions because he plays a game with his friends.

You wish they could all see what you do, but you know they won’t. They’re all so stuck in their ways that they won’t even stop for a second to consider that maybe they’re in the wrong. But it doesn’t matter anyway because you kind of want him all to yourself.

Eddie hangs up the phone then looks at you, his mind wandering to all the things you could show him. And he wants you to. He wants so badly to finish off where you started off last night. After all, wasn’t that why you were there in the first place?

And before he can think too much about it, his lips are on yours as his hands grab onto whatever he can get to first and that happens to be your cheeks. It starts off soft and sweet but then he gets more rough with it, his hands sliding into your hair as they press into your scalp. He’s kissing you like he’s been doing it his whole life and you can’t help but get lost in him, the feeling of his lips on yours absolutely addicting.

You grab hold of his hands and he’s concerned about how much he likes feeling yours in his. They’re always soft and warm compared to his cool, rough ones. You’re giving him a look and he knows you have something important to say because you’ve got that look. The one that always means that you have something important to say.

But he doesn’t mind. In fact he likes it. He likes seeing this side of you, the side that’s not afraid to take charge, stealing exactly what it is that you want from him. You’re needy and hungry and goddamn are your lips addicting.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmur as your hands slide up his shirt. “And you’re such a good boy. Gonna be a good one for me tonight?” You ask as Eddie’s hands white knuckle the edge of the counter since he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Mhm,” he nods, too caught up in the way your tongue slides into his mouth. He remembers what you had done last night and wraps his tongue around it, giving it a rough suck that elicits a whine to fall from your lips.

He likes the way it sounds and you can tell because you can feel him harden slightly against you. You think he’s going to ask to take it to the next step, but he doesn’t, his lips finding yours again as your hands stay against his bare back, not roaming around like he wants them to.

And now you’re pulling him close to you, wrapping your arms around his neck as you’re backing out of the kitchen and towards his bedroom, closing the door behind you. Your hands are moving higher and higher as Eddie pulls away, lifting his arms so you can remove his shirt and you do, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside before you pull him to you again, taking his hands in yours and looking him in the eyes.

“If I do something you don’t like or you just want to stop, let me know. And on the opposite of that, if I do something you do like, don’t be afraid to make noise. In fact, the louder the better.”

“I understand,” he nods, threading your fingers together. “Thank you for making me feel good. That means a lot to me. And I’ll do whatever you want. This is just as much about you as it is about me.”

Your cheeks heat at his words, feeling your heart warm. You had only ever slept with one person and he never did what you wanted. So while Eddie’s words make you feel special, you can’t help but think about how foreign they sounded.

“You’re so sweet,” you smile, fighting back your tears as you pull him in for another kiss, this one more needy, more hungry than your others. He licks into your mouth and lets it roam around, wanting to taste every single inch of it, wanting to familiarize himself with it.

“Undress me,” you mumble against his lips and he pauses, pulling away from you as his eyes widen. The words have come out so naturally as if it was something you had asked him to do all the time. He saw you naked last night, but this is different. He hadn’t really been thinking about it, thinking more about how he was inside you and what he was supposed to do. He was really going to appreciate you now.

He feels nervous but excited as he raises his hands to the hem of your shirt, pulling up on it and you lift your arms so he can pull it over your head, revealing a black bra that he can’t stop staring at. He then pulls himself out of his trance and moves on to your jeans. You can see his hands shaking and you want nothing more than to pull him into a hug.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you say, bringing your hands up to rest on top of his. “C’mere,” you hold your arms out and he’s quick to pull you against him, his head resting on your chest while his arms wrap around your waist.

“There’s no need to be nervous, baby,” you tell him as you bring your hand up to stroke his hair the way you know he likes. “It’s just me.”

But that’s the thing, Eddie thinks. It’s just you. You’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and you can sleep with any guy you want, so why him? Why’s he so special? He’s got a lot of insecurity surrounded by not being wanted, so you wanting him…in this way, is making him feel out of place.

“Yeah, exactly,” he replies, pulling back to look at you. “It's you. You’re beautiful and could have any guy you want. So why me, y/n?” He’s pouting as he lowers his head and you want to kiss him stupid, to take him right there on his bed to show him just how much this means to you and that he’s not just someone you want to cross off a list.

You know he’s asking a genuine question, but you can’t help but laugh. You thought it was obvious. He’s your best friend and all you want to do is make him feel good. You want to tell him about how often you’ve thought about him in that way. That you’ve thought about him almost every time you’ve slept with Billy, just wishing that Eddie had taken his place

“You wanna know why I chose you?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his neck and he just nods. “Because you’re sweet,” you press a kiss to his cheek. “And kind.” His other cheek. “And adorable.” This one is pressed to his nose and he feels his cheeks flush with all of the compliments. “And not to mention stupidly hot.” The last kiss is for his lips and he quickly melts into you, his hands moving up to your bra as that was all the convincing he needed. He somehow unhooks it with ease then steps away so it can fall between the two of you.

When he takes your naked torso, he lets out a gasp at how absolutely breathtaking you look. He lets his eyes rake over you, stopping at your tits, really taking the time to check you out since he hadn’t last night. You’re definitely the most beautiful naked woman he’s seen, not that he’s seen as any in real life besides yours, but he’s still sure that he’s right.

“You can touch me, Eddie,” you assure him. “It’s okay. I know you want to.” And he does, so badly. So he slowly reaches up and brings his hands up to them, letting you fix them so they’re making the correct gesture.

His thumbs press against your nipples and you instruct him on what to do, moaning loudly as his thumbs move in circular motions, leaning into him as you do so. He’s getting harder against you, feeling himself progressively tenting in his jeans as more moans fall from your lips as he continues to work.

The whole thing feels foreign to him, but you just feel so good in his mouth that he wants to continue. He hasn’t been doing it for long, but he thinks he could easily do it for hours. Especially when you’re making such pretty sounds. And they sound even better in real life than they have in his dreams. You’re so loud and he’s absolutely eating it up.

“That’s it,” you moan. “Just like that-fuck.” Eddie doesn’t know what he’s doing, but the next thing he knows, his mouth is on your nipple, his tongue swirling around it he gives it a rough suck. “So you’ve got foreplay down for sure,” you tell him through labored breaths.

His movements continue, sucking on your nipple as his tongue flicks against it, but then he decides to test the waters by bringing it between his teeth and that seems to unleash something in you. You moan so loudly and he just knows you’re coming by the way you arch your back, your nails scratching down his as your head falls backwards, his name coming out of your mouth in the most hot way he’s ever heard.

He’s feeling cocky now as he’s successfully gotten you off. And he was able to do it with just his mouth so he thinks that has to mean something. He wonders if Billy’s ever done that, making you come so loudly even though he shouldn’t be comparing himself to him. Things with you and Billy are clearly over, so he doesn’t need to be thinking about him anymore. He’s no longer a threat anymore.

“Fuck, need you inside me,” you whine as you’re coming down from your orgasm. “Take off my pants. God, he’s bricked now and he finds himself needing to be inside you just as much as you do. So you’re both taking each other’s pants off, struggling to do so, so you take your own pants off until you’re both in your underwear.

And the next thing you know, you’re both fully naked and Eddie is lying flat on the bed, all ready for you as you move to straddle him, but you pause before you can get into position. He sees a concerned look on your face and he’s quick to sit up, grabbing hold of your hips as he sits up, a look of concern flashing across his face as he prepares to do whatever you need, whatever he can to make that furrow of your eyebrows to go away.

“What’s wrong, honeybee?” He asks as his fingers move up and down your back gently.

“We used my last condom last night, and obviously I didn’t think this was going to happen, so-” You cut yourself off as you chew on your bottom lips. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this nervous and it’s internally panicking. You’re usually so laid back about everything so he can’t understand why something like not having a condom is causing you to stress.

“We don’t have to use one,” he says and clearly that was the wrong answer by the way you look at him. You haven’t even done anything yet and he’s already fucked up again. But he’s willing to fix it. To do anything to see that pretty smile again.

“But what about-”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, his voice so soft and reassuring that you take a deep breath, trying so hard to match his energy. “It’s okay. I have one.” He leans over to his bedside table and pulls one out of the drawer and he sees you visibly relax as he presents it to you.

You open it and roll it onto him before topping him, the moan that falls from his lip sounding like music to your ears and you begin to ride him slow as his hips buck against yours at the same pace. Together, you move as one as you lean over him as your hands find his. You watch him come undone underneath you, grateful that it’s going much better than it did the night before.

“Fuck, honeybee,” he whines. “This is so much better than I was imagining.” He’s cringing as soon as the words leave his mouth, but all you can do is smile.

“Oh, so you’ve been imagining it?” You tease, but really, you’re nothing but flattered. That he’s been thinking about it in the way that you have. “Well that makes two of us.”

“All the time,” he tells you. “When I go to bed, in the shower, even in-” he’s cut off by an orgasm rolling through him and you watch in amazement, fascinated as you watch him come absolutely undone beneath you.

He’s a little embarrassed by how quickly he’s come, but you seem to be into it, encouraging him, talking him through it. And god does, this beat the nights where he has nothing but his lotion, sock and hand to keep him company. Now that he’s had the real thing, masturbation is never going to compare in his eyes.

“Yeah, just like that, baby. Such a good boy for me, hm?” You coo and he swears he’s going to all over again just by hearing that nickname. He eats it up every time.

Just when you’re going to make him come again, there’s a knock on the door, making the two of you pause. You had completely forgotten about the pizza as other things had taken over your mind. You let out a laugh then climb off Eddie before helping him sit up.

“I’ll get it,” you tell him as you throw on his boxers and t-shirt before standing in front of him. “Just make sure to save room for dessert,” you tell him before pressing a kiss to his lips and then you disappear into the hallway while Eddie hurries to dispose of the condom and clean himself up before he finds another pair of boxers and t-shirt.

Once he’s dressed, he sits on the bed feeling nothing but giddy as he’s actually had sex with his dream girl. He collapses onto his bed with a contented sigh as he waits for you to come back. A grin is plastered on his face as he stares up at the ceiling and he can still feel himself inside of you. He’s riding a high that drugs have never been able to give him and that orgasm was easily the best one he’s ever had.

You come back into the room looking like nothing but a dream and he’s looking at you like you’ve hung the moon as you set the pizza box on the bed along with two plates and bottles of water.

You hand Eddie a plate and he doesn’t think he’s ever been happier in his life. You’ve shared more meals together than you can count throughout your friendship but this one feels different. It feels more intimate, almost like you’re a couple but you’re clearly not. At least, that’s what Eddie keeps reminding himself.

You sit right next to him and Eddie can feel your warmth emanating off your body. And seeing you in his clothes is doing something to him. Why is he more nervous to sit next to you than he was to sleep with you? Maybe it’s because it’s brought you closer, makes him realize just how in love with you he is even though he knows his feelings aren’t reciprocated. And that’s perfectly fine with Eddie. He doesn’t care what you are to him as long as you’re in his life.

The two of you polish off the pizza then go for multiple rounds between Eddie’s sheets before you fall asleep in each other’s arms. Eddie’s convinced that’s the best sleep he’s ever gotten and he knows that’s just because you’re there. There’s something about you that always seems to calm the screams that always circle his mind when he’s alone or with anyone who’s not you.

And you sleep well too, deciding that you’ll be able to do so as long as you’re in his arms, and you intend to be for as long as he’ll have you. It’s not like your parents will notice or care anyway. They’re either out for the night or arguing so loud that you can’t focus on anything else. Eddie’s trailer is the one place where you feel like you can actually get some peace and quiet.

Ever since that night in Eddie’s trailer, the two of you have been fucking on any surface you can find. You’ve done it on his couch, the back of his van, the boys’ bathroom at school, the janitor’s closet, and even on the hellfire table when you had met up with him after the session. It’s all just a cycle and neither of you can seem to get enough, as one of you is always initiating it and it’s always obvious where it’s going.

And even though it’s only been almost a week, Eddie’s become a natural. He somehow always knows what you want and when you want it, giving it to you with no question. He knows where to touch and what to say, god is he good at the dirty talk. He may be shy in public, but as soon as it's just the two of you, he’s got a filthy mouth.

But even when you’re not sleeping together, you’re still attached at the hip wherever you go. If you’re at his trailer, you’re cuddled up on the couch and at school, you’re either walking hand in hand or have your arms wrapped around each other. And when you can’t see each other for whatever reason, you’re on the phone, yapping into the early hours of the morning when you’re definitely supposed to be asleep.

This is the happiest either of you have been and even though you don’t exactly know what you and Eddie are, you’re just happy to have him around because of how happy he makes you. You know that the elephant in the room should be addressed, but you’re terrified to have that conversation. You’ve already had it with Billy and look where that got you.

Eddie knows there’s something you’re not saying. He can see it in your mannerisms and even right on your face, but he doesn’t want to pry. He doesn’t want to get into your business because that’s yours. He doesn’t like to pry. But he wants to know what you’re thinking. He wants you to just come out and say it even though he can’t get himself to ask. So you both just dance around the subject since your bodies do all of the talking anyway.

You find yourselves in the back of Eddie’s van once again in the parking lot of the grocery store. You know how public it is, but that makes it even more exciting. You’re on all fours as he fucks you from behind, his cock pounding into you as one of his hands is massaging your tit. You’re facing the back so anyone could see pretty much all of you as they pass by, but it’s not like you’re looking anyway.

Your eyes are shut tight as continuous moans fall from your lips as Eddie’s encouraging you with the most filthy words. He’s slowly fitting all of himself inside you inch by inch and even though you feel like you’re going to be torn apart, you hardly mind. In fact, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“So good, Eddie, oh my god,” you whine.

“Yeah, you like that, honeybee?” He asks as his fingers dig into your hips. You like how he still uses your sweet nickname that always juxtaposes his dirty words. You don’t know where it came from, but it always seems to make your cold heart thaw just a little bit every time you hear it.

“More,” you moan. “Harder.” He hesitantly does as you ask and pounds into you even harder, a louder moan falling from your lips as he does so.

Billy pulls into the parking lot, muttering to himself about how he always has to do everything. Of course Susan just had to be out of pumpkin for a recipe and of course she sent him to the store because Neil can never get off his lazy ass and do anything for his wife.

He’s still muttering to himself about his shitty life when he sees a van rocking back and forth a few feet away. And because he’s a perv, he just has to see who’s getting it on in the grocery store parking lot. He recognizes the van, but he can’t figure out where from.

He approaches the back and peers in, feeling himself getting hard as he’s just thinking about seeing what he thinks he will. Whoever this chick is, she’s hot, and the way she comes makes him feel tight in his jeans. He’s seconds away from climbing in the van himself and taking over while he makes the bastard watch.

The girl looks familiar to him, though. He’s definitely seen her but he can’t quite pinpoint where. Maybe he’s fucked her? That seems likely considering he’s fucked pretty much all of the girls in Hawkins…and their moms. But then it all clicks in his brain as he sees you moan and now he’s angry, especially when he gets a glimpse of who’s behind you.

You and Munson?

He thinks he’s going to be sick as his hands slam against the van, causing both of you to jump. But he’s gone when you two look up, continuing what your doing. You’re reaching your orgasm and your moans are loud as your body starts to go limp.

You don’t mean to say it, the words just come out because of how overwhelmed with pleasure you are. It’s just three words, but they hold so much meaning, hold so much power.

“I love you,” you cry, and as soon as the words leave your mouth, you both pause, the sudden realization of what you’ve said washing over the two of you. Eddie’s quick to pull out and he grabs your shoulders and twists you around, pinning you to the floor of the van so he can see your face.

You think he’s going to make a run for it, but he just stays there, staring down at you with his pretty brown eyes. And then a smile kicks up at the corners of his mouth and now he’s full on grinning. You cover your face in embarrassment, wanting to take it all back, but he grabs hold of your hands and pins them to the floorboard so you can’t hide.

Eddie lowers himself down onto you and he pushes some of your sweaty hair away from your forehead, his grin faltering, but the smile is still very much there.

“I love you too, honeybee,” he replies as his lips find your cheek, then your other one, peppering your face in kisses as multiple “I love you’s” come from his mouth, the giggles coming from yours sounding like music to his ears. “I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you. But if we’re getting specific, it was that night we watched Carrie and you snuggled into my chest.”

“You’ve loved me that long?” You ask and he pecks your lips.

“I have,” he nods, his cheeks going pink as he lays his head on your chest while you run your fingers through his hair.

“I think I’ve loved you for a while, but I realized it when I left that night, thinking that you were mad at me and I realized how devastated I was to possibly not have you in my life.”

You feel your heart hammering in your chest as you confess to him, the feeling of vulnerability making you feel sick. But that all disappears when he leans up to look at you, resting his chin on your chest as he smiles up at you.

Eddie knows how scary you find sharing your feelings so he’s honored that you’re being honest with him. That you value him so much that you feel like you can tell him what you’d never want to tell anyone else. And that just shows just how much you value him as a person.

“Wow,” he replies with a smile.

“And I was thinking…that if you’re up for it…we could go to Nancy’s party tomorrow night. As a couple.”

Eddie’s smile grows even wider as he pins you to the floor one more time, peppering your face in kisses again, your laugh even louder this time.

“I’d love to,” he says as his lips find yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he smiles into the kiss. And the two of you stay like that for a while, until your lips are kiss-bitten and he lays his head on your chest again, thinking to himself that he’s finally done something right in his.

“The blue one,” Eddie says as you hold up two dresses for him to choose. He’s lying on your bed as you get ready for the party, staring at you with so much love, completely enthralled by your routine.

“That’s the one I wanted you to pick,” you reply as you pull it off the hanger and throw it over your head. Eddie is quick to stand behind you and he zips up your dress, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he does so.

“You look beautiful,” he says. “But you know where it would look even better?” He asks, his lips right by the shell of your ear. “On the floor,” he whispers and his hot breath sends a chill up your spine. “We could stay in,” he presses another kiss to your shoulder, moving up to your neck.

“Eddie,” you laugh and turn around so you’re facing him, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands rested on your waist. “We have to go,” you tell him. “I promised Nancy.”

“Alright,” he sighs. “But you owe me after.”

“Of course I do,” you nod and press a kiss to his lips before you grab your shoes and let him lead you out to his van.

Everyone’s already at Nancy’s when the two of you show up and Eddie squeezes your hand as you pull him through the crowd, pressing his body against your back as he’s suddenly nervous again. He had hyped himself up the whole way there, but now he’s feeling like his shy self and is trying so hard to resist the urge to lock himself in the bathroom the whole night.

You’re the only reason why he’s even there. He can’t say no to your pretty face even though parties are the bane of his existence. Well, he doesn’t know that for sure since he’s never actually been to one that wasn’t hosted by someone in Hellfire. But they’re not really his thing. He hates the loud music and all of the chatter gets into his head and drives him crazy.

But he’s there for you. Because he loves you so much that he’ll do whatever you ask. And he saw how happy you were when you were getting ready and there was no way he was going to disappoint you.

So he lets you pull him into the living room where the host of the evening is conversing with Robin. You pull Eddie over to them with a smile and theirs match yours once they spot you.

“There she is,” Nancy says as she pulls you into a hug and Robin follows. “And it looks like I owe Robin five dollars.”

“Why do you owe her money?” You ask and she and Robin giggle.

“She bet me that you’d bring Eddie. But I only owe her if the two of you are together.”

“We are,” you confirm and you and Eddie are wearing matching grins. As shy as he is, he wants the world to know that he’s your boyfriend so he doesn’t mind in the slightest that you’re telling your friends. In fact, he prefers it. It means that you feel so secure in your relationship that you want to tell people about it.

“Good, because I owe Steve,” Robin replies and Nancy’s quick to elbow her in the stomach.

“What she means is that we’re happy for you guys. It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it, Rob?”

That makes you wonder how obvious the two of you have been and how neither of you saw it. But you can see where they’re coming from as you’ve always been very close to Eddie, both emotionally and physical.

“It sure has,” you hear a voice behind you and feel your skin crawl as you know exactly who it is. You don’t want to turn around, but force yourself, making sure that your mind isn’t playing tricks on you. You have to confirm that you’re not in some sort of fucked up nightmare.

You gasp when you see Billy standing a few feet away, slowly making his way closer as one arm holds onto a girl’s waist and his other hand is holding a cigarette that he’s putting to his lips. He takes a drag and blows it into the air. You grab hold of Eddie’s hand and squeeze it as Billy approaches, blinking a few times and even going as far as pinching yourself to be positive that he was actually there.

“So you two, huh?” He asks, referring to the both of you with his cigarette. “So it looks like you got my sloppy seconds. That’s fine. She’s damaged goods anyway.”

By the way he’s speaking, you can tell he’s drunk, so much so that you can smell it on him even with him standing so far away. You can see how angry Eddie is already getting out of the corner of your eye.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” He asks as he removes his arm from the girl, slightly pushing her aside as he puts his cigarette out on the mantle above the fireplace. “Better be careful, Munson. She might try to baby trap you.”

That’s a low fucking blow and Billy knows it. He knows how to hit you right where it hurts and he can see it’s worked as horror flashes across your face. Good, that will show you for leaving him.

You remember it all so vividly, the flashbacks coming back to you in full force. It hits you all so hard that you have to hold onto Eddie as you try to shake it out of your head, but you can’t.

“I have a surprise for you,” you tell Billy as you hold up the test for him to see. You think he’s going to jump for joy, but you guess you should have known better as he steps closer to you, anger evident on his face.

“What the fuck is that?” He asks as he points to the test.

“It’s a test,” you reply, your smile faltering, your voice getting smaller.

“Yeah,” he spits. “A positive one and there’s no fucking way I’m having a baby.”

“Well, you don’t have to. I can raise it on my own.” Before you can turn away from him, he grabs onto your wrist and squeezes it until you’re wincing.

“Yeah, that’s not fucking happening. I don’t need people finding out that I fathered a child and I most certainly don’t need that little fucker trying to find me when it gets older.” He lets go of your hand then takes the tests and throws it in the trash before turning back to you. “We’re getting rid of it and you’re not going to tell anyone, got it?”

“Y/n…what’s he talking about?” Eddie asks as he steadies you and you’re not ready to tell him the truth.

“Tell him, y/n,” Billy commands. “Tell him about how you were so hellbent on having a baby that you tricked me into it.”

“I didn’t trick you,” you correct, shaking off the nervousness in your voice. “It’s not my fault you never wear a condom and didn’t pull out in time.”

You’ve got an audience now and you want the floor to swallow you whole while Billy is eating up the attention. That’s the whole reason why he’s there. He just wants to put on a show, to make you regret what you’ve done. Because if Billy can’t be happy, no one can.

You feel like you’re going to throw up and have to step closer to Eddie to make yourself feel more comfortable. You want to leave but know you can’t, because then Billy will win and you can’t have that. You want to be the champion this time.

“Well it doesn’t matter anymore,” Billy chuckles as he grabs a cup from some girl’s hand then downs it before throwing it to the side. He then takes a few strides until he’s standing in front of you. “Because the little thing doesn’t exist anymore, does it?” He asks and you’re so pulled into the flashback that you don’t hear everyone gasp as he makes the revelation.

All of a sudden, you’re thrown back in the waiting room where you had to sit alone, unbeknownst to you that Billy was fucking some other girl right after dropping you off. He was making you get rid of the baby that you wanted and he didn’t even have the decency to sit with you.

When you come out of your trance just in time to see Eddie throw a punch Billy’s way and Billy retaliates but Eddie is quick to move out of the way, causing Billy’s fist to collide with your face. Everyone gasps as you cover your nose with your hands and the girls pull you back as Eddie gets in a few more punches, causing Billy to fall to the floor before Eddie takes you up stairs to the bathroom to help clean you up.

You’re sobbing as Eddie pulls you up the stairs and once you’re there, he pulls you into the bathroom, making you sit on the toilet as he rifles through the cabinet above the sink to find what he needs to help you.

He can’t fucking believe it. He knew Billy was a dick, but he didn’t know that he went around making his hookups get abortions, especially not you. He wants to ask exactly what happened, but he knows it’s not his place. So he just gathers what he needs then moves to kneel in front of you.

He cleans up your wound and you feel guilt rising inside you as you think about the fact that he knows your biggest secret and you weren’t even the one to tell him. It makes you feel so sick that Billy had shown up with the intention of embarrassing you, but you guess you shouldn’t be surprised. And he got what he wanted anyway, even if he got a bloody and possibly broken nose in return.

“It happened last year…around this time,” you tell him as he hands you a piece of toilet paper which you put against your nose, wincing at the pain. “I told him that I was pregnant and he…I…” You try to find the words, but Eddie presses his hands against your cheeks to stop you.

“Hey, hey, let’s not focus on that right now, okay?” He asks. “We’re gonna fix up your nose and then we’re gonna go home and watch a movie and once you’ve slept on it and have a clear head, then you can tell me.”

“Okay,” you nod, knowing that you can’t fight him on it. And you don’t want to anyway. You agree and think it's too much for one night.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up, okay, honeybee?” You nod and let him clean you up, noticing how often he’s called you that nickname and now you want to know where it came from, the meaning behind it.

“Why do you call me ‘honeybee’?” You ask, looking up at him and he laughs in response.

“Because you’re sweet like honey, but you sting like a bee,” he winks. “Now hold on, this might sting,” he says as he brings a cotton pad covered in alcohol up to the wound.

You watch him as he works and can’t believe that after all the shit you’ve gone through that you finally found someone who loves you for who you are. That he doesn’t think low of you because of where you come from or your home life or the way you react to things because of your trauma.

Eddie sees the version of you that you show to only him and as you’ve gotten closer to him, you’ve felt the walls that you’ve spent years building fall away. You feel more like yourself around him and less like the shell that you had been when you hung out with Billy. And when you look into the future, you can see the two of you together, rocking your newborn on the front porch of the house you share together. And then you’d take her over to Wayne’s so he could watch her while the two of you go out for a much needed date night. And maybe, if you play your cards right, that’s exactly what will happen.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson hurt/comfort #virgin!eddie #virgin! eddie x experienced!reader

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kwanisms · 3 days ago

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Kinktober 「10:28」 — k.soonyoung

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➮ weretiger!Soonyoung × fem!Reader wc: 3.3k summary: Normally during his heat, Soonyoung stays as far away from his girlfriend as he can for fear of scaring her away but he can’t help himself when she comes by to drop some soup off seeing as he told her he’s sick. genres/themes/au: smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, mentions of: food consumption, cat anatomy; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: sorry for skipping two days in a row. I will be tacking those on at the end of Kinktober just like the others I missed so don’t worry. Jisung’s I just lost track of time and Christian’s fell on game day and I didn’t even realize it. I’ll get them done and added to the end of Kinktober, I promise lol anyway, here is our resident cult leader, Soonie and his tiger agenda. Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), heat cycles, rough sex, unprotected sex (just don’t do this. Use protection lol), non-human genitalia (like yunho, Soon’s got a barbed d!ck because cat. Don’t like it, don’t read it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idc), scent marking (f receiving), biting (f receiving), use of pet names (hers: baby, kitten, beautiful, etc.; his: babe, Soonie, baby, etc.), I think i got all of them but let me know if I missed any! kinks: heat cycles + rough sex dialogue prompt: ❛❛ You heard me. Take. It. Off. Now. ❜❜

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“Kwon Soonyoung, I know you're home! Let me in, damn it!”

Soonyoung raised his head as he sat with his back against the door. He'd lost track of how long he'd been sitting there while you stood outside his apartment door, knocking, ringing the bell, demanding to be let in. He'd lost track of how many times he'd almost given.

Almost.

It's not that he didn't want to see you, he did. He wanted to see you more than anything, but he knew if he let you into his apartment, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from jumping you. Especially now that he could smell you.

It was always a rough time for him when he went into heat. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't just female animals that went into heat, males also went into heat too and as a weretiger, Soonyoung was no exception. He'd spent most of his formative years dealing with it on his own and for a long time, he avoided being intimate with anyone because of the weird physiological changes to his body.

Unlike many werecreatures, Soonyoung's curse was a generational one and he was not bitten or scratched. His was passed from father to son and inherited by blood. The changes lay dormant until a boy started to go through puberty. By the time he was 18, Soonyoung had gone through just under two hundred and thirty full moon transformations.

And now, at twenty eight years of age, he'd been through over three hundred and fifty transformations. His heat always came the week leading up to the full moon. He was always consumed with an insatiable need to fuck something and he was very good at holding himself back.

Until you came along.

The sweet, caring, and unsuspecting girl who lived across the courtyard from him in the same apartment as him but on the other side of the complex. From his balcony, Soonyoung could see your balcony and the windows that looked into your apartment.

You kept an assortment of potted plants on your balcony and had installed some sort of netting or mesh to sort of close in the area which made sense because as soon as it went up, he saw an orange tabby cat lounging at the top of a cat tree.

Know you liked cats gave Soonyoung the drive to talk to you the next time he saw you in the courtyard with what he thought was little success but his poorly executed joke still managed to make you laugh and get him your number.

From then on, he was hooked and the moment you invited him over for dinner, he was a goner. One date turned into two and then three and soon, he had the privilege of calling you his girlfriend.

You both maintained separate spaces in the building and he found it kind of cute, his girlfriend living across the courtyard from him. Your cats, which he learned there were actually two, were the sweetest creatures on earth and absolutely adored him. The girl, a white one with orange markings and long fur, was named Pad Thai and the boy, the short hair orange tabby, was named Cheezit.

Soonyoung had taken to calling them his children and joked with his friends that you had full custody and he got visitations. It was a joke you took in stride and accepted fully, sending silly videos of the cats pretending to use your phone and making silly voices for them, speaking to their dad. It often made his day all that much brighter when he couldn’t come visit you.

Soonyoung had yet to tell you about his condition, only mentioning that he wasn’t like most guys, urging that he wasn’t just saying that and that it was a thousand percent true. He just hadn’t found the right time to tell you exactly how different he was. How does one even go about telling their partner that they’re a weretiger?

It was a conversation Soonyoung knew needed to happen but it just hadn’t yet. Which is why he was stuck in this situation now with you pounding on the door to be let in.

Soonyoung had started telling you that his once a month disappearance was just him coming down with something. He started with the usual excuses, the flu, the cold, stomach flu, even covid but he was starting to run out of excuses. He also hated using illness as an excuse because your immediate response was to offer to bring him medicine and food, usually in the form of soup, stew, or broth. He always gave the same excuse for not opening the door.

He didn’t want to get you sick.

At first, you took it as your boyfriend being cautious and caring but soon, you started to get suspicious and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up the charade much longer. He was going to have to come clean and tell you the truth much sooner rather than later.

A conversation he had been dreading ever since asking you to be his girlfriend.

The wood behind him shook as another series of loud knocks rang out, no doubt you beating your fist against the door. “Kwon Soonyoung!” you shouted. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, as if it might make you leave faster. He felt awful. He hated ignoring you but in his mind, it was for the best when he was in heat. He couldn’t risk scaring you off and losing you.

Another series of knocks shook the door, which was surprising given your somewhat smaller stature. For one so little, you sure were strong. And loud. “Kwon Soonyoung! If you do not open this door right now, we are done!”

Soonyoung’s eyes opened quickly and he turned his head to look back at the door. ‘She wouldn’t…’ he thought to himself. “I mean it, Soonyoung! If you don’t open this door, consider us through!” Something in your tone made him scramble up to his feet, hastily pulling at the locks separating you from him. He could tell you weren’t kidding.

He kept the chain on, opening the door only a few inches as he looked out into the hall at you. He held his breath as he took in your frame. You’d showered recently, he could smell the scent of your shampoo and body wash, mixing with your natural scent and making his cock twitch in his pants.

On your face was a furious expression and his heart sank immediately. If he had cat ears, this is where they would flatten back against his head in fear. You were terrifying when you were mad. He’d never been on the receiving end of your anger before nor had he really seen it in action.

“H-hey,” he stammered. His eyes dipped down to see the thermos in your hand that no doubt held a homemade soup, stew, or broth of some kind but he couldn’t be sure with how tightly the lid was screwed on nor with how overpowering your scent was.

“Don’t you hey me,” you said, your eyes narrowing at him. “Open the door and let me in.” Soonyoung grimaced. He wanted more than anything to let you in but he knew if he did, there was no telling how he’d react to having you so close when he was aching, burning, to be touched. It wasn’t a good idea on many levels.

“I don’t wanna get you sick,” he murmured, keeping his voice low. You scoffed, placing a hand on your hip and looking every bit the sassy girlfriend he knew and loved. “Don’t try that bullshit with me,” you snapped. “I know you aren’t sick,” you added. Soonyoung’s eyes widened as he looked up from the thermos in your hand to meet your hardened gaze. “Wh-what?” he breathed.

“I spoke to Jihoon,” you started to explain. “He told me the truth.” Soonyoung’s stomach sank as the realization that his best friend had outed him to you. ‘Well fuck,’ he thought. It looked like he was going to have to have a talk with Jihoon.

“So let me in. We need to talk.” Soonyoung sighed and closed the door, undoing the chain before pulling the door open for you to enter his apartment. He shut the door behind you and prepared for the storm.

You didn’t unload on him immediately, instead sliding your shoes off and walking towards the kitchen where you set the thermos down. He followed, hands tucked in his pockets as he watched you move around his kitchen, pulling out a bowl and a spoon from their resting places.

You placed the bowl down next to the thermos and unscrewed the lid silently, pouring out a very hearty looking stew. It smelled amazing, the scent of meat, herbs, and potatoes invading his senses. “Jihoon said you aren’t exactly sick. Just that during this time, you don’t feel well,” you said as you finished pouring the hot stew into the bowl, setting the thermos down and pushing the bowl towards your boyfriend, holding out the spoon.

Soonyoung glanced at the spoon and the bowl before looking at you. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” you said leaning over the counter. Soonyoung’s eyes dipped down to your chest, the curve of your breast visible down your shirt from where he stood. “You’re going to take the damn spoon and eat while I talk. Sound good?”

Soonyoung nodded, moving to sit at the kitchen island and grabbing the spoon from your hand. The moment your skin met, electricity and heat spread throughout his body, the urge to pounce on you from across the counter trying to take the reins but he managed to push it down and simply started eating.

You watched him take a few bites before speaking.

“I know you’re a weretiger,” you said softly, drawing his attention as he looked up at you, his mouth full of bits of beef and potatoes. “Jihoon told me everything. I will admit I’m a little shocked you didn’t tell me all of this but I can’t imagine it’s an easy subject to bring up so I’ll give you a pass there,” you explained. “That being said, I wish you would have just told me the truth. Did you think I would judge you? Did you think I would leave or break up with you?”

Soonyoung swallowed the food in his mouth before speaking. “I didn’t know what to expect, actually,” he answered truthfully. “I was less scared about you finding out about me being a weretiger and more scared that I—” he hesitated, looking down at his bowl of food. You followed his gaze. “Finish eating,” you told him. “I have more to say anyway.

By the time Soonyoung had finished his bowl of stew and ate another at your insistence, you were sitting on the couch, Soonyoung resting over your legs as he hugged around your waist, his face buried in your stomach, a deep rumbling emanating from his chest as he purred happily. You stroked his hair, massaging his scalp with your finger tips.

“This is nice,” you said softly as you combed your fingers through his hair. “Mhm,” Soonyoung hummed. Silence fell over the two of you for a few minutes before you couldn’t stop yourself from asking a question that was at the forefront of your mind.

“Soonie,” you said softly, gently tugging at his hair. “Hmm?” he asked, not lifting his head or opening his eyes. “Can I ask you what you meant earlier about being scared?” You felt him stiffen under your touch before he finally lifted his head, looking up at you. “Wh-what about it?” he asked.

You brushed his hair back from his forehead, cupping his cheek at the same time. “What are you scared of, babe?” Soonyoung took a deep breath before pulling himself up to sit. “I’m scared of frightening you,” he finally answered, glancing at your hand before reaching over to take it in his.

“Of frightening me? How would you frighten me?” you asked, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. Soonyoung looked down at your joined hands before speaking. “You know how when we’re intimate?” he asked softly, not looking up as you nodded. “Yes,” you replied, a small smile on your lips. “Well, when the week of the full moon approaches, I start to… change,” he continued.

“My body starts to change.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as your smile spread. “Is this about your heat?” you asked nonchalantly. Soonyoung’s eyes widened as his gaze snapped up to meet yours. “Y-you know about that?” he asked incredulously. You nodded, your smile only growing. “You think I’m going to learn that my boyfriend is a weretiger and not look up what all of that entails? I know everything, baby. Your heat, your transformation cycle, all of it. I also know your curse is familial and not transferred by bites or scratches. Jihoon told me that part though,” you said, reaching up to brush his hair back again.

“And I already know what happens to your cock, so there’s no need to explain that to me.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widened comically. “I learned that on my own by reading. Jihoon did not inform me of that part,” you added, reaching up to bop the end of his nose with the tip of your finger. “I know all about the sexual changes, the heat cycle, the penile spines, copulation, all of it. I know everything.”

Soonyoung wasn’t sure whether he should be impressed, alarmed, or relieved. He felt a mixture of all three as he sat there on his couch with you. “Do you also know about the insatiable urge I have to be buried inside you whenever you’re around?” he asked, noticing how your eyes widened slightly. “No,” you answered softly before a smirk started to form.

“But now I do.”

Soonyoung could feel heat creeping up his neck towards his face at the same time heat settled in the pit of his stomach. A new smell invaded his nostrils. The smell of arousal but it wasn’t his own. He glanced down quickly before looking back up. “Can you smell me?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, the smirk still present on your face. He nodded slowly, holding your gaze.

You leaned back against the arm of the couch, spreading your legs slightly. Soonyoung’s eyes fluttered shut as the scent hit him stronger. He could feel his cock painfully hard in his pants. “Baby,” Soonyoung said softly as a shiver ran up his spine, that insatiable need to bury his cock inside your warm cunt starting to take over. “If you don’t stop me,” he continued, opening his eyes to meet your gaze.

“I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll…” he trailed off as your hands moved, sliding down your body. “I don’t know what I’ll do,” he said, swallowing thickly as his eyes followed your hands. “Maybe that’s what I want,” you said softly. “Maybe I want you to pounce on me.”

Soonyoung turned his head, averting his gaze as he tried to steady his erratic breathing. He felt the couch move and then your hand under his chin, turning his head to face you. “Don’t look away from me,” you said in a low voice. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Soonyoung whispered, reaching up to cup your cheek. “I promise you won’t,” you replied, leaning into his touch.

“I want you to let it take control. You need this,” you continued, taking one of his hands and guiding it between your thighs, pressing his fingers against your cloth covered crotch. “Pin me down, Soonie. Fuck me like I know you want to.”

Soonyoung let out a sound between a moan and a growl as he closed the distance, the hand on your cheek sliding to the back of your neck to pull you into a bruising kiss, his tongue immediately sliding into your mouth. You moaned as he pushed you back onto the couch, pinning you down with his weight alone.

You could feel his erection in his pants press against you, rutting slightly. “I don’t think I can wait,” he murmured against your lips, hands moving to pull at your shorts. “Then don’t,” you urged as he pulled back, fingers working to undo the tie of your shorts. He made quick work of them, pulling them and your panties off. “Shirt off,” he grumbled as he pulled his own off.

You watched him instead as he undid his pants. He glanced up at you. “What’re you doing?” he asked, his hands stilling. “I’m watching you,” you replied. “He glanced down at your shirt. “Shirt. Off,” he repeated. “What?” you asked, feigning ignorance. “You heard me,” Soonyoung growled as he stared you down. “Take. It. Off. Now.”

You let out a giggle before complying, pulling your shirt off as he resumed undoing his pants and pushing them down, kicking them off before leaning over you, lips kissing a path up your chest to your neck. “Turn over,” he whispered in your ear.

You did as he asked, rolling over onto your stomach as he leaned over your back. You felt him rub his cheek against your shoulder. “What are you doing?” you asked with a chuckle. “Marking you,” he replied simply. “Don’t worry about it,” he added as he grabbed one of the pillows and guided you to lift your hips, placing the pillow under you.

With your hips raised, he guided the head of his cock to your slit, gathering your arousal on the tip before starting to push into you with a guttural moan. You gasped as he stretched you, the spines on his cock creating a rough but not entirely unpleasant texture as he bottomed out.

“Oh shit,” you gasped as he pulled back, the spikes raking your walls slightly. He thrusted into you harshly and you cried out. Soonyoung leaned over your back, covering your mouth with his hand. “The neighbors will complain, kitten,” he whispered in your ear. “You have to be quiet.”

He gave you another harsh thrust, slamming into you roughly as he set a brutal and unrelenting pace. “Is it too much?” he asked breathlessly. You shook your head, biting into your bottom lip to keep from screaming out in pleasure. You couldn’t hold back when you felt his teeth sink into your shoulder. “Fuck, sorry baby,” he panted as he pounded into you.

“S’okay,” you gasped, walls spasming around him as he send you hurtling towards your orgasm which hit you, the strength making your legs shake as he continued to fuck you through it. “Are you okay?” he groaned as your cunt continued to flutter around his cock. You nodded in response. “Y-yes,” you gasped. “I’m – ah! – M’fine — oh god, Soonyoung!”

A second orgasm washed over you and still he kept thrusting, not showing any signs of slowing down. You knew by the end of it you were going to be a bruised, panting, sticky mess but you couldn’t be bothered to care now that he wasn’t holding back and showing you a new side to him you’d never experienced. As he sent you toppling over the edge of your third orgasm, he finally came without warning as he sank his teeth into your shoulder again as his load exploded inside you, painting your walls in his sticky white essence.

“Fuck!” he growled as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “Sorry,” he murmured, pressing wet kissing against your skin. “Didn’t mean to yell in your ear.” You merely chuckled as you shook your head. “It’s fine, babe,” you replied. “Was I too rough?” he asked suddenly and again you answered with a shake of your head. “No,” you answered. “That was great. In fact,” you said as you lifted your head.

“I’m coming over more often to help with your heat if it means you’ll fuck me like that.”

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