#the other is a crack fic with like funny angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xbellaxcarolinax · 1 year ago

Text

Futile Devices

Miguel O'Hara x civilian f!reader

Summary: The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.

Word Count: 8.2k (A behemoth of a fic, I'm so sorry guys)

Warnings: FWB, language, angst, reader is totally in love with Miguel, Miguel being a bit of an ass, probably a tad toxic? SMUT, p in v (no protection), cum play, low-key breeding kink? Like super low-key. Oral (f receiving). Miguel climbing through windows. Idk why I'm obsessed with that thought lmfao I make him climb through windows every chance I get. Idiots in love. Probably a rushed ending, sorry!

Thanks to @whatthefishh for beta-reading. Partly inspired by this.

Also, this is mega ultra cliche, we all know they're gonna end up together, so just enjoy the ride! It's not the destination, it's the journey 😌 Hope you guys enjoy, and if you do, pls let me know what you think! I love reading your comments!

MDNI pls.

...

It was always a mission getting to Miguel's office.

Headquarters wasn't built to accommodate civilians, the winding pathways and corridors a danger if one wasn't too careful.

You had to be extra careful.

You hurried toward Miguel's office, heels clicking against clean tiled floors as you dodged a fuck ton of spider people and the inescapable attention of one annoying Peter Parker.

"Come on," Peter Parker number two hundred tried his luck again, "just one date. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go."

"No." You rolled your eyes, swatting him with the manilla folder in your hands like you would a fly.

“Look, all I’m saying is you should give me a shot. I’m funny.”

“So is every other Peter Parker I’ve encountered.”

“I’m different.”

“I doubt it.”

He deflated, keeping up with your quick steps. “Who doesn’t like funny guys?”

“Me.”

“Sure,” he stretched the word out, unconvinced, "so if not funny guys then what? The ones with sticks up their asses, like Miguel?" He snorted with a shake of his head. You knew it was a sort of rhetorical question but you couldn’t help swallowing thickly, your hands gripping the folder a little too tightly.

Yeah. Something like that.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach when Peter Parker two hundred raised his brows at your silence. So maybe he did want an answer.

"Nah, there's no way. I'll try again tomorrow." He smiled, shooting a web out in some random direction and swinging off toward the floor above.

Fuck. That was close.

You breathed a sigh of relief, loosening your fingers over the folder before quickly hurrying toward your destination.

You pressed your watch against the sensor outside of Miguel's office, waiting for the metal door to slide open. It didn't. You tried again. Still nothing. Again. It wouldn't budge.

"Ugh, come on, Miguel!" You banged the door with a tiny fist as if that would make a difference, "open up!"

Lyla appeared suddenly, her sprite-like form circling your head once before she faced you.

"You probably shouldn't go in there," she warned, "he's in a…mood."

"He’s always in a mood," your hands were on your hips now, the manilla folder crinkling further in your hand, "I need to report a couple of grievances—"

"Mmmmmm, I'm sure that's the last thing he wants to hear right now, Miss HR." God you hated when they called you that. You rolled your eyes, swatting her away with the folder which did nothing, of course, and pressed your watch against the sensor.

"That's not gonna work, honey."

"So let me in."

"Promise to be nice?"

"To who?" You snorted, "You or Miguel?"

"Me," Lyla grinned, adjusting her heart-shaped glasses, "forget Miguel."

You sighed, cracking a smile, "Lyla, would you please let me into Miguel's office?" The Ai made a noise of approval, comically saluting you before granting you access.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya." She sang, disappearing from your sight.

You sighed. Miguel's shifting moods were nothing new to you—not anymore. Back when you both worked at Alchemax, he was passive and less quick to anger. But that seemed a lifetime ago.

Life progresses. People change.

“Mig?” You called out, peering up toward his solitary platform. You could hear the soft hisses of machinery, the yellow glow of Miguel’s holo screens illuminating the area above like a radiant star.

He didn’t answer.

“Miguel,” you tried again, “we have some things to discuss.” You slapped the manilla folder against your hand as if he’d recognize the sound of formal complaints filed within the last week.

The platform began to descend after a moment, and you breathed a sigh of relief as his figure came into view. His shoulders were stiff, his body rigid as he swiped through the yellow screens.

“I told Lyla not to let anyone in.” His voice was cold, frigid even. He didn’t bother to face you, his eyes pinned to his screens as he leaned forward, the muscles of his back flexing through his suit.

You couldn’t see what he was looking at but you could hear it: the soft giggles of a little girl, the cheers of a soccer game, the chuckles of a man now broken. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard the sounds of Miguel’s past. It probably wouldn’t be the last either.

“I-uh, got some reports to share with you.” You felt foolish. Lyla was right. HR complaints were the last thing on Miguel’s mind.

“Reports of the anomaly on Earth 9811?” Your brows pinched in irritation. He knew those weren’t the reports you had. You were fucking HR, not on active duty, let alone a spider person.

"No, you'd have to ask Jess or Gwen about that, but you need to listen—"

“I don’t want to hear it.” He grunted. You saw his hands form fists at his sides, the same hands that’d fisted your sheets in the throes of pleasure just days ago.

You shook your head. It was not the time for that kind of thought.

You carefully opened the crinkled folder, pulling out the paperwork you’d printed from your antique printer to read aloud from it.

“Peter Parker of Earth 5431-02 has formally filed a complaint,” you began, your eyes scanning the black text before releasing an exasperated sigh, “he’s saying you threw a chair at him?” Miguel grunted, the holo screens shutting off at his (Lyla’s) command.

“He’s an idiot.” Miguel snapped, finally turning to face you, his sharp features shadowed by the lack of light. He regarded you carefully, red eyes tracing your figure. You’ve grown used to the way his eyes lingered over you, especially when you were under him, his body pressed against yours, but sometimes you couldn’t help but squirm under his more severe gaze.

“Well, yeah,” you reluctantly agreed with a tilt of your head, “but a chair, Miguel?”

“It’s not like it hurt him...badly.”

“That's not the point."

“The point is that I got my point across.” Miguel snorted.

"It's the principle. You don't go around throwing fucking chairs at the people who work for you!"

"Mhm."

"You're their boss! What kind of behavior is that?"

"Uh-huh."

You were about ready to strangle him but knew your fingers couldn’t even go around his throat properly. You’ve tried before, under very different circumstances. You settled for pinching the bridge of your nose, as he often did, taking a breath to calm yourself before you completely lost your shit. "Listen to me."

"I'm listening, HR."

"Ugh, look," you pointed a finger up toward him, your brows knitted in obvious irritation, "annoying or not, he's still a member of the Spider Society, therefore, he has every right—”

“—to file a grievance under any circumstance as a result of an injustice, discrimination, or harmful behavior, and is to be given the respect to which every spider person is due as a valued member of the society. I know.” Miguel finished the legal jargon for you, hopping off the platform with an ease that’d always surprised you.

He stepped into your space, his large body casting a long shadow over you as he snatched the crinkled paperwork from your hands.

“I’ll speak with him.” He grunted. You pursed your lips, watching as his eyes scanned over the page.

"Make it right, Mig. Apologize. Formally. Or informally. It doesn’t matter— there’s nothing normal about this place anyway.” You placed your hands on your hips as you leaned forward, aware of how he was suddenly gazing down at you. “Just be nice, okay? Compensate him with, I dunno, a minor mission. He always wants to get involved, so let him.”

Miguel rolled his eyes, heaving a great sigh while running his hand through his hair. “Fine.”

“And no more throwing chairs to make a point.”

“Uh-huh, fine, anything else?” God, you wanted to smack him. You opted for snatching back the paperwork from his hand, smoothing out the wrinkles over your skirt-clad thighs before searching for the proper page.

“Yeah," you brought a finger down on the page, "the spiders are getting bored of the cafeteria food.” That was enough for Miguel's face to pinch in displeasure.

“What’s wrong with empanadas and churros?” He scoffed, waving his hand to dismiss the complaint, “And that stupid blue burger with my face on it?” He paused, eyes squinting for a moment, “You know what? That can go. Get rid of it.”

“Fine. Do I have permission to organize a survey?”

“For food?”

“Yes, for food. They want options.”

“Aye, por Dios,” Miguel grunted, waving his hand again, “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope.” You organized the documents back into the manila folder before handing it over to him.

“You know you could just send this electronically, right?” He looked down at the folder, his eyes tracing your neat cursive in black ink.

“I’m old-fashioned.” You shrugged, turning on your heels. You heard him snort out a laugh, a tiny thing that made you smile. He has a nice laugh.

“One more thing,” Miguel called out, demandingly. You looked over your shoulder at him as he regarded you with heavy eyes.

“What is it?”

He boarded the platform once again, the machinery coming to life and slowly elevating him back to his preferred height. He tossed the folder somewhere over the desk, to be forgotten. It was the least of his worries at that moment.

You watched Miguel ascend above you like some kind of heavenly being, the yellow light of the holo screens illuminating his tan skin till he glowed molten gold. You waited on him with bated breath, his response sinking straight to your core.

“Keep your window unlocked tonight.”

…

He loves it when you ride him.

His large hands were glued to your hips as you bounced on him expertly, your cunt soaking him in your sticky juices.

Most nights began this way—with Miguel's cock buried deep in your pussy after a long day of enduring his insufferable attitude. You'd fuck the stress out of him—fuck the astronomical weight of the multiverse off his shoulders if only for a few short hours.

"Been thinking about this all day." He groaned under you, throwing his head back over your pillow when he felt your walls grip his length viciously, fighting to keep him in.

"Yeah?" You gasped, your hands firmly planted on his bare chest as you made work of your hips, rotating them in delicious circles—the way he liked—your thighs spread wide to accommodate his massive size. "W-wasn't enough to curb that a-attitude though, huh?"

Even amid the utmost pleasure—of Miguel's length hitting a spot that had you trembling—you found the strength to taunt him, your hazy eyes catching a glimpse of the twitch in his brow. That meant trouble.

Within seconds Miguel had you on your back, his imposing body trapping you against your mattress. His cock slipped out for a moment but he had no problem finding his way back into your slippery channel, snapping his hips strategically to reach as deep as he could.

You cried out, your hands scrambling to find purchase over his shoulders, your pretty manicured nails digging into his perfectly golden skin.

"F-fuck! Miguel!"

"Wanna say that again?" He growled, his face hovering mere centimeters from yours, "Go ahead, say it again." You did nothing but whimper as he pounded into you mercilessly, his cock stretching you open.

"That's what I thought." Miguel chuckled smugly, delighting in your little chokes and stutters, egging him to keep pounding you relentlessly. You tried speaking—tried to articulate your words to him, but you couldn't, too cock drunk to focus on anything else but his gorgeous face twisted up in pleasure and his thick cock kissing the secret place within you.

He had you coming soon after, stars exploding behind your lids as you trembled in his arms. Your cunt squeezed him just right and he came, panting in your ear as he filled you to the brim.

His spend stained your sheets when he pulled out, and as always, he watched it dribble out from your swollen cunt with lidded eyes. He wasted no time in taking his fingers and stuffing the mess back in.

“Keep me in there.” He muttered, swiping through your puffy folds one final time before he ripped himself from you. You immediately soured, keeping your gaze on him as he quickly cleaned himself off with a cloth you left for him on your nightstand.

You admired his figure: the ripple of his muscles as he moved, the broadness of his shoulders, the glow of his skin in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

Miguel was gorgeous. You’ve always thought so.

His suit glitched before coming to life, covering his sculpted body in the usual blue and red you've come to know.

“Did…you want to eat before you go?” Dinner was on the stove, cold but still good. You sat up against your headboard, more of his spend leaking out as you fiddled with your fingers over the soiled sheets.

Miguel shook his head, sighing as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“I have to go.” He said, stepping forward, grabbing your hand, and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles. It was the only form of affection he’d allowed himself to give you. He’d never kissed you before. Probably never will. It wasn't part of the deal.

Your heart sunk, your skin searing where his lips had lingered.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Most nights ended this way—with your aching cunt full of his seed and your eyes wet with unshed tears as you watched him leave through your window, disappearing into the night.

…

A few days later, Peter B. Parker landed in your office. Quite literally.

He plopped down on the seat in front of yours from seemingly nowhere, a messily packed diaper bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. He had his daughter snuggly pressed against his chest in her carrier, her chubby arms and legs flailing over his pink robe.

You yelped, dropping the pen in your hand, clutching your chest in freight.

“Jesus! Where the hell did you just come from?!”

“Up there.” Peter pointed up. You followed his line of vision, noting the door to the air vent busted open, barely hanging from its hinges. “Sorry about the vent.” He offered sheepishly, taking a large bite of a slice of pizza he'd pulled from a greased-up brown paper bag.

"You could've just taken the elevator!"

"Takes too long to get to the basement.” He said between a mouthful of pizza, “Why'd Miguel give you an office down here anyway?"

"I'm scared of heights." You reminded him, watching Mayday struggle to release herself from her carrier prison. Peter snorted out a laugh, dropping the diaper bag on the floor while simultaneously taking another bite of his pizza.

“Doesn’t make sense to work in a place like this.”

“It was the deal I made when Miguel asked me to work for him. Chew with your mouth closed.”

“Have you tried the cafeteria pizza?" He asked suddenly, ignoring your demand and speaking with another mouth full of the greasy treat, "It's the new thing. Everyone's going crazy."

You smiled smugly. "I know. You’re welcome."

“Ah, I should've known Miss HR was behind this!” You rolled your eyes at the nickname, rummaging through your drawer before tossing him a few napkins.

“What can I do for you, Peter?”

Mayday whined, crawling out of the carrier and over her father’s thighs. She hopped on your desk, scattering some of your paperwork. You quickly caught her before she tumbled off the edge, cooing at her before placing her in your lap. You squeezed her in your arms and she let out a scream of delight before squirming, reaching out in wonder at the different knick-knacks on your desk.

“Right, almost forgot." Peter took the last bite of his pizza, wiping his face and fingers with the napkins you provided before his face morphed into something serious. "Is this guy bothering you?” He pulled out a yellow holo pad, one presumably given to him by Miguel, revealing a video of you and Peter Parker two hundred from the other day.

You blinked, your eyes tracing the moving image carefully.

”Oh. Not really,” you finally said, ripping your gaze away from the screen, “Nothing I can't handle. Why?”

“Miguel asked me to investigate the situation discreetly.”

"Asked?"

"Well, demanded, you know Miguel," Peter shrugged, reaching down into the diaper bag and procuring a lollipop when Mayday began to whine, “he’s concerned. I figured it’d be easier to just ask you about it.”

You frowned, grasping the sweet when he handed it over to you, pulling off the wrapper and placing it in Mayday's chubby hand, “That’s hardly discreet.”

“I didn’t wanna follow the guy around!”

“He's making you do that?”

“‘Of course he is. Doesn't like the guy. He barely tolerates me!”

You snorted. “Why does Miguel even care?”

"You know him better than any of us do. If anyone would know, it’s you."

Well, that was true.

You knew Miguel before he created the Spider Society, before he was ever Spider-Man. You knew him before his addiction to Rapture, before he experienced fatherhood, before he lost Gabriella.

Back when, to the world, he was just some guy in a white lab coat.

But he was never just some guy to you.

You’ve loved Miguel for years. You’d loved him in your early days at Alchemax, when he was fresh out of college and eager to begin his shaky career, back when you were hanging on to the corporation by a measly thread of an unpaid internship. You were a pair, stuck to each other like glue.

A few years later, when you both decided to take it a step further and mess around, well, that only ignited your feelings further. Miguel was an attentive lover. He knew your needs and fulfilled them, taking you to the heights of pleasure before humbling you just as smoothly with his strict rules about your agreement.

He didn’t have time to cater to someone's feelings—didn’t have time for a romantic relationship when he had too much on his plate. But his sexual appetite demanded attention—and why not with someone he’s called a friend for years?

You were just a friend. And that’s all you’d ever be.

It was just sex. That's all it'd ever be.

“You okay?” Peter ripped you away from your thoughts, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You answered with a sigh, gently resting your chin over Mayday’s soft curls. “Is Miguel worried?”

“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend, of course he’s worried about you. Those were his words, not mine.” Peter shrugged, putting his holo pad away, “so is there a cause for concern?” The thought alone almost made you smile. Almost. Instead, you scoffed, shaking your head.

“I’m usually the one that handles these situations, you know.”

“And who’s supposed to help you?”

“I don’t need help.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced. “Miguel doesn't seem to think so. You sure?”

“Very.”

“Alright, I did my part!” He clapped his hands as if he’d successfully completed a mission, “Time to go, Mayday!” He stood, grabbing the babbling baby from you and placing her back in the carrier.

"She's precious." You said, gently pinching Mayday's drool-covered cheek as she teethed over her lollipop.

"Takes after her dad." Peter grinned, snatching up the diaper bag, "Listen, if you ever need any help—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, get outta here, Parker." You shooed him away, quickly organizing your wrinkled paperwork together. You could still feel his eyes on you as you kept your hands busy, and when you finally looked at him he had a silly smile on his face.

"What?"

“You guys are idiots." He was still grinning.

"What?"

"Nothin'," he said, pressing a kiss to Mayday's red curls, "Just do me a favor. Don't mention any of this to Miguel, alright?"

You crossed your arms, leaning back against your swivel chair. "Sure."

...

"So you think I need help?"

Miguel's hands immediately stilled on your hips as you stirred the boiling pasta over your electric stove.

You didn't hear him come in, but you had a feeling he’d show up. It had been a couple of days since he’d fucked you, and there were many stressful days between then and now.

So you’d left your window unlocked just in case.

"What are you talking about?" He muttered, his fingers lightly dancing on your waist before pulling away completely.

"Nothing." You huffed to yourself, cutting off the heat and getting on your toes to reach for the pasta strainer on the shelf above. After a second of watching you struggle, Miguel put a hand on your shoulder to stop you, reaching forward to grab it for you.

"Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.” He finally said, observing you strain the pasta over the sink, the steam from the hot water engulfing you both in what felt like a thick cloud of tension. You peered over your shoulder at him, your eyes raking over his solid form.

“You know, Peter Parker two hundred?” You asked, witnessing his face contort from passive to extreme annoyance.

He sucked his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. He leaned back against your counter, looking so out of place in your tiny kitchen, his broad shoulders almost the entire width of your cupboard. “I told Peter to be discreet.”

“He said you’re worried about your only friend.” You continued to tease him, emphasizing the word as you lifted the lid to a pot where a homemade Pomodoro sauce was bubbling.

“I said that?” Miguel muttered, feigning innocence, watching you take a spoon and scoop some of the red sauce for a quick taste. You could feel his gaze on you, his eyes tracing the way your tongue licked off the remnants of sauce.

You hummed in approval before scooping up some more and turning to offer Miguel a taste. You lifted the spoon toward him, and after a moment of contemplation, he hunched forward with arms crossed over his toned chest, mouth opening slightly to allow you to press the spoon past his lips.

His eyes fluttered as he savored the rich taste, humming his own tune of approval.

"Is it good?"

“Mhm.”

You beamed, eyeing how he licked his lips like a satisfied cat, his fangs protruding slightly when he ran his tongue over them. The same fangs you’ve felt over your delicate skin from time to time.

Miguel was a biter. You didn’t mind.

Miguel grunted, using his thumb to wipe off a bit of sauce that lingered near the corner of your lips. You inhaled a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering from the heat of his touch.

"What else did he say?" He murmured, looming over you, his hand now gently cradling the back of your neck, thumb caressing your skin.

"T-that you're worried about me?" You breathed. Miguel pulled you closer suddenly, the faintest noise of surprise escaping you. His suit always felt strange under your fingers, the digitized fabric almost slippery, like fine silk. It was ridiculous how perfect you felt wrapped up in his arms. You sometimes wished he'd show up in civilian clothes. You missed his lazy outfits when he'd throw on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him in anything other than his suit (and his naked form, of course). It meant he was always on the clock, devoting all his precious time to the multiverse.

It meant that whenever he was alone with you, he considered it work.

And yet, the suit made you feel secure and safe—like nothing in the world could harm you. And there was truth to that, though the only thing harming you these days was Miguel himself. But that was your fault too.

The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.

You gazed at his full lips. You desperately wanted to taste them, to know how soft and warm they would feel molded against yours. If you were brave enough you might have stolen a taste, might have felt those sharp canines for yourself on your tongue.

Miguel’s thick fingers trailed into your hair, gripping the roots with just a hint of pressure, his lidded eyes taking in every part of your face: your brows, your eyes, the bridge of your nose, and your supple lips—wet and swollen from biting them so damn much.

"Maybe just a little," he finally answered, his shoulders shifting in a slight shrug. You could feel his length press against your hip, hot and throbbing, demanding attention.

It filled you with pride knowing your proximity was enough to get him excited. It shouldn't though. It was only arousal. Basic primal instincts.

You shouldn’t be feeling pride for any of this. You had to remind yourself of that.

You closed your eyes, willing your heartbeat to slow down just a bit. Could you really be this love-sick? So hung up on a man who was emotionally unavailable? If you hadn’t fallen before, then you knew you were plummeting now, so far gone that you’d let Miguel do anything to you.

So when he whisked you away to your bedroom, dinner long forgotten, you didn’t put up a fight.

He fucked you from behind.

It was a tight stretch, your wet cunt fighting him as he tried pressing his swollen tip in with little luck.

"Gotta let me in," he grunted, spreading your cheeks wide to gaze down at your twitching holes, "you're too tight. Let me in."

"I'm trying," you panted, tears in your eyes as you buried your face into the sheets, "i-it's been a while."

"It's okay," his large hands caressed the globes of your ass in comfort, "it's my fault. Haven't been fucking you enough, hm? S'my fault." Miguel rubbed his cock through your soaked folds a few times, the obscene noises of your sopping cunt causing him to grunt.

"Goddamn, so fuckin' wet." He muttered before lining himself up and carefully pushing in again. You cried out, fisting the sheets when he successfully got the tip in. He groaned, the guttural sound masking your tiny mewls as he pushed on, your wet cunt coating him entirely in your sticky essence, easing his entry just a bit.

"Fuck, Miguel, it h-hurts." You whined, the stretch of him both painful and pleasurable as he bullied his way in, his girthy cock plunging through your fluttering walls.

"Shh, I know." He rarely cooed as he did now, reassuring you with gentle noises and tender touches as he eased into you, balls deep in your core, “Look how good you’re doing for me. S’good.” A fresh wave of arousal dripped from you at his praise, your fluttering cunt allowing him to push and pull as he pleased.

He began a steady rhythm, holding your hips tightly to work you over his length, muttering to himself all the while as he watched how your creamy juices clung to his cock and covered his skin.

The pain quickly subsided into blinding pleasure. Miguel had you mewling into your mattress, your eyes rolling and drool slipping past your lips, your back impossibly arched, and your swollen cunt wetter than it’s ever been. The slapslapslap of his hips against your ass was loud in the quiet of your bedroom, your moans even louder when he skillfully hit something inside you that made you see stars every single time.

You loved the feel of him, loved the stretch of his cock, loved how your cunt would ache for days after as if to remember him.

“Coño,” Miguel growled, keeping a large hand on your lower back to keep you steady in your arched position, “you sound so pretty when I fuck you.” He suddenly gripped your hair, pulling you up as he curved over you, continuing to spill filth into your ears.

It was too much.

“M-Miguel, I’m g-gonna—”

“Cum for me.”

That was it. The dam burst within you, your eyes rolling back as you cried out, cunt spasming and gushing all over him.

“That’s it,” he muttered, sloppily thrusting into your tightening core, “good girl.”

“Miguel,” you continued to whine, grinding against him, “Fuuuck, I love you.”

You didn’t even realize what you said until it was too late, so wrapped up in the bliss of it all that your mouth worked faster than your brain could think.

You froze when you felt him still above you. He released your hair, bringing his hand back to your hips before gripping them viciously, chasing his own release. He rammed into you faster, slamming his hips against your ass one final time before letting out a guttural groan deep from within the confines of his chest. You could only imagine how he looked: tan skin glistening, chocolate hair plastered against his brow and head tossed back in pleasure.

Miguel said nothing as he gently removed his cock from your aching sex, letting his seed dribble out from you and soak into the sheets.

As soon as you turned around he was already in his suit, pushing a few buttons on his watch before he brought his wine-colored eyes to you.

"I have to go."

“Mig?” You whispered his name softly, your naked body burning with embarrassment, “I-I’m sorry I—”

"I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was the same thing he always said, but it hurt twice as much. It was as if he were on autopilot, disconnected from what just happened.

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach as you watched Miguel leave through your window with a speed he usually reserved for missions.

His spend caked your thighs. There was so much of it coming out of you, more so than usual, his cum ruining your sheets enough that you’d need to change them before bed.

You sniffled, eyes watering, tears threatening to fall. He didn’t even kiss your hand goodbye.

You ripped yourself away from the soiled sheets, stomping over to your window as his cum leaked down your inner thighs before slamming it closed, locking it for good.

...

“You made this?” Miles exclaimed with a mouth full of spaghetti, clumsily twirling another forkful over his paper plate. You were handing out some of the spiders' leftover Pomodoro pasta from the previous night. You’d lost your appetite. It’d be a shame if you let it all go to waste.

“Yeah, eat up, there’s enough for everyone.” You scooped out more pasta from a Tupperware and onto a paper plate for Gwen. The younger girl’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed the plate, immediately slurping up a bite.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, lips covered in red sauce, “why are you working at the Spider Society when you could be a chef?”

“It’s because Miguel begged her to work here,” Miles quipped, a lone spaghetti hanging from his mouth.

“And who told you that?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Uhh,” his eyes flew over to Peter B., who was waiting patiently for his own plate of pasta to be served. You turned and narrowed your eyes at Peter, who chuckled nervously.

“Listen,” he began, hands thrown up in surrender, “the kid got curious, okay? He was convincing, I mean, look at those eyes.” You huffed, snatching Peter’s plate and loading it up with pasta.

“You guys are annoying,” you muttered with no bite, shifting your gaze toward Hobie, who sat quietly with his legs thrown up on the table, “Hobie, fuck the government and all that, but you need to get your dirty boots off the table if you want some food.”

Hobie sighed dramatically, letting his boots drop to the ground.

“Fine, boss lady.”

Satisfied, you handed him a plate.

“So, let’s talk about you being a chef?” Gwen tried again, scrapping the remaining bits off her plate.

“It’s just pasta,” you shrugged, pulling out a chair and taking a seat, “anyone can make a Pomodoro.”

“My dad can’t.”

“…why?”

“He’s Irish.”

“And a bloody cop,” Hobie interjected, twirling his pasta with a plastic fork, “hate those.”

“Here we go,” Gwen huffed, the beginnings of an argument forming. You chose to ignore them, letting Gwen, Miles, and Hobie bicker between themselves.

You squirmed in your seat, crossing your legs to cure the throbbing within. You could still feel Miguel, the stretch of his cock, and the inevitable ache that lingered afterward. You were still full of him, your cunt wet even hours later, plaguing you with the thought of never feeling him again.

You drummed your fingers over the messy table littered with paper plates and napkins, your body hunched forward, lost in thought.

“So…” Peter began, adjusting the collar of his pink robe, “you gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to force it outta you?” You whipped your head to look at him, brows furrowed as you regarded him.

“What makes you think something’s going on?” You whispered, hoping the cafeteria was loud enough so the rest of the table wouldn’t hear.

“Something’s going on or you wouldn’t be whispering,” Peter whispered back, his blue eyes pinned to yours as he searched for answers.

“It’s nothing.” You answered quickly, continuing to squirm in your seat, fighting to ignore your achy cunt.

“Did you guys finally smooch?” You froze, your hands gripping the edge of the table with a force that made your knuckles go white.

“Peter, what the fuck are you talking about?” You hissed, watching him happily eat his Pomodoro.

“You think I don’t know?” He challenged, “It might not be obvious to everyone else but I know what’s going on.” He winked at you, dabbing a napkin messily over his mouth.

Your heart was pounding, ready to beat out your chest, but you schooled your features as best you could. You swallowed thickly, crossing your arms over your chest as if to make yourself smaller.

“Okay, fine, you know. What of it?”

“Miguel’s being mopey.”

“Mopey?” You snorted, shaking your head, “He’s always mopey, isn’t he?”

“This is a different kind of mopey,” Peter raised a brow, “it’s actually kind of… frightening.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s got nothing to do with us, for once. Usually one of us pisses him off enough to throw things but he’s on a mission. Said he needed to clear his head. So what happened?” You sighed, shoulders sagging.

“I might have said something I wasn’t supposed to last night.”

“What?”

“We made a deal,” you explained in a whisper, “no feelings, just…you know,” you wiggled your fingers, hoping it would be enough of an explanation. Peter nodded, urging you to continue, “Well, I messed up.”

“How?”

“ItoldhimIlovehim.” You blurted out, your hands flying over your mouth. Peter blinked with a subtle tilt of his head, before a grin stretched over his lips. You groaned, now covering your eyes, “W-what is that, why are you smiling? Stop it.”

“I mean, one of you had to say it first.”

“Peter, you’re killing me here.” He rolled his eyes, inching close enough till your knees brushed against his.

“You don’t think the big guy feels the same way?”

“No!” You squeaked incredulously, “There’s no way. You should’ve seen him yesterday. He could barely look at me!”

“You caught him off guard.”

“I know that, but he still could’ve said something. Anything.”

“He’s a guy. Guys are stupid.” You groaned, pushing your hair out of your face. You turned to look at the other spiders. You knew they’d been listening given the way they all turned away immediately.

“Someone is stupid,” you muttered to Peter, feeling dejected, “and it’s definitely not him.”

...

You took a deep breath before placing your watch over the sensor.

The door to Miguel’s office didn’t budge, not to your surprise. Lyla must have blocked the systems again.

What were you even doing there?

You hadn’t seen Miguel in about a week. That was ample time to inform you he wanted nothing to do with you. You couldn't blame him but still, it was…unprofessional. He was your boss at the end of the day.

Maybe you shouldn’t have started fucking the head of the Spider Society. Your weak heart wouldn’t be in shambles if you didn’t.

It was a stupid move, you knew, telling someone you love them in the throes of passion when they clearly weren’t on the same page, unprovoked or not. He probably hates you. He must.

You’d given yourself enough time to think it through and given yourself so many pep talks before deciding a professional relationship with Miguel was for the best. No more friends with benefits.

No more keeping your window unlocked.

You took a breath and tried again. No luck.

Did he fire you? That couldn’t be right. You were still in the system and able to enter HQ with your keycard just fine.

“You’re always catching him at a bad time,” Lyla sighed beside you, whipping out her tiny little holographic phone, “he didn’t even want to take a photo! Unbelievable!” The small image on her screen revealed a snarling Miguel, clearly unamused by the bunny filter plastered over his face. It was cute, even if he looked a bit terrifying baring his fangs.

Lyla shifted to face you, hands on her little hips as she looked you up and down.

“You look niiice,” she quickly snapped a photo of you, “no cute filter needed.”

“Uhh, thanks?”

“Now it’s your turn to say something nice to me.” The Ai grinned when you rolled your eyes.

“You look…extra yellow today, Lyla.”

“Thank you! I’m in default mode.”

“Okay, so I’ll just come back later then?” You rushed to leave but Lyla stopped you, zapping in front of you suddenly.

“Nah, I’ll let you in.” You could hear the door to Miguel’s office opening, “Fix him.”

“What? How am I supposed to do that?”

Lyla shrugged, “I dunno, I just know you’re the only one that can.” She waved farewell, disappearing in a glimmer of gold.

You groaned, dropping your head in your hands for a moment to collect your thoughts. Your palms began to sweat—they always did when you were nervous—so you quickly wiped them over your black pencil skirt before facing the office entryway.

It was dark as usual, the only light illuminating the area was Miguel’s bright yellow screens. They hung above him as he sat slouched in his chair, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His head turned lazily to regard you.

“I heard you’ve been mopey.” You began, cracking a smile when he snorted. He shook his head, watching you slowly approach him like one would a wounded animal. He didn’t confirm nor deny the accusation.

“What do you need?”

“To talk to you.” You said, finding the courage to step into his space, leaning back against his desk and blocking one of the yellow screens.

“About?”

“Us.” Miguel hummed, running a hand through his messy hair. He sat up in his chair but said nothing else, allowing you the space to speak freely.

“I-I wanted to apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable,” you began to fumble with your fingers, unable to keep eye contact with him for very long, “I know that what I said was…crossing the line—”

“Did you mean it?” He asked abruptly, the question forcing your eyes away from your fingernails and toward his chiseled face. He looked exhausted, eyes heavy but swimming with curiosity.

“W-well, I mean, it was a moment of—”

“Did you mean it?” He repeated, his tone stern as he awaited a proper answer from you. You bit your lip, slowly nodding your head.

“Yeah. I did. Still do.”

The silence that stretched wasn’t very long but it felt like an eternity. Miguel only stared at you, his jaw tight as he sat forward, his elbows resting on his toned thighs.

You wished you could read his thoughts, take a peek at what ran through his mind. He was always so good at hiding his emotions, never showing an ounce of what he felt. That wasn’t always the case but after Gabriella, he didn’t show much of anything.

“I think it’s best we don’t see each other anymore,” you finally concluded, crossing your arms, “we should stop.”

“What?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean stop?” He was towering over you in a matter of seconds, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. Your heart was pounding, your hands flying to grip the edge of his desk.

“Mig, we can’t keep doing this.”

“Yes, we can.” He caged you in his arms, bringing his face just a few inches away from yours. He never had much of a problem with eye contact, but you did. You chose to look at his collarbones and the large swoop of his shoulders. It was intimidating and arousing all at once and you weren’t getting anywhere with this speech, were you?

“We can’t. Not when we’re not on the same page.”

“Who says we’re not?” You felt his fingers graze the side of your face, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. You turned away, squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the familiar prick of tears behind your lids.

“Stop playing with me.” You said, pushing him away with little luck. Miguel shifted slightly at your touch, watching you rub at your eyes.

“I’m not.”

“Then why have you not said anything for a week?” You hissed, the frustration threatening to boil over, “You’ve left me agonizing over this for a week, Miguel!” You wiped furiously at your cheeks, catching a few stray tears. “I’m such an idiot.”

Miguel grabbed your wrists in his hands, yanking them away from your face. His concerned eyes met your wet ones, a frown tugging at his lips.

“Stop.” He demanded, taking your flushed face in his hands and wiping the wet streaks away with his thumbs. “Don’t say that about yourself.” You glared, cheeks puffed and swollen from the pressure of fighting away tears.

“Fine,” you snapped, ignoring the way he stroked your cheeks, “you’re the fucking idiot.”

“I am,” Miguel agreed with a sigh, refusing to release you, “I didn’t know what to say. Thought you might have been lying—don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“I know, beba.” The endearment startled you for a moment, your glossy eyes peering up at him as a rush of excitement settled in your stomach. He’d never used endearing words with you before. It had you stumped for a second before you remembered yourself, your brows furrowing in irritation

“Why would you think I was lying? Mig, I’ve loved you for years, you buffoon!” Miguel loomed closer with every word before he kissed you, silencing you effectively. Your eyes fluttered, your lips unresponsive at first until he coaxed you into a gentle rhythm.

Kissing Miguel was so much softer than you imagined.

You thought he’d be all tongue and teeth, desperate to devour his victim. His kisses were syrupy and deliberate, steady and reassuring. He was taking his time learning the shape of your lips, the plumpness, how perfect they felt molded against his.

“I’m sorry, beba,” he said between kisses, letting you snake your arms around his neck to pull him closer, “perdoname. I’m an idiot.” You hummed in agreement, continuing to assault his lips sweetly. You couldn’t stop kissing him if you wanted to, sneaking your tongue past the seam of his lips to taste more of him.

He growled, tightening his hold on you, allowing you to taste at your leisure. He tasted fresh, like the spearmint gum he always had on hand.

“Perdoname,” he repeated, wanting so desperately for you to forgive his transgressions, slotting himself between your legs.

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” you teased, feeling the familiar ache of arousal blooming in your core, “show me how sorry you are.” Another growl ripped from him, animalistic and provoked. He wasted no time, pushing you down so that your back was flat against his desk and your legs were wrapped around his hips.

He pressed a button beside you and suddenly, the platform began to elevate.

“Mig,” you sat up in a panic, but Miguel only pushed you back down, lifting your skirt up till it pooled over your waist, “w-why are we moving up?”

“Privacy,” he grunted, spreading your legs, running his thumb over the soaked patch of your panties. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on something over the desk, your heart hammering in your chest as the ceiling seemed to loom closer.

“Y-you know I’m scared of heights!” You squealed when the platform came to a jutting halt, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t even want to think about how high up you were.

“It’s okay,” Miguel purred, gently rubbing your clit through the fabric, “you’re safe, you’re with me, beba, no tengas miedo.”

“M-Mig, please,” you didn’t even know what you were begging for at that point, you just needed something, and whatever that was, he gave to you. You felt him push aside your panties, and you finally spared him a glance, almost choking at the sight of him mesmerized by the sweetness between your legs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he muttered, slipping a finger through your folds, “you dripping all over my desk.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, easily ripping your panties apart before getting on his knees, “smell s’good.” He muttered, licking a stripe up with his fat tongue, scooping whatever mess you made. He moaned at the taste before completely diving in, eyes closed and large hands keeping your trembling thighs spread for him.

As always, you were a whimpering mess for him, mewling with every precise stroke of his tongue. It was the first time he’d done something like this, and god, it was nothing you could have ever dreamed of.

He moaned into your cunt, the gentle vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. You trembled and whined with every loud slurp of his mouth over your clit, his tongue swiping over your precious bud before working his way down to dip inside your hole.

“Fuck, Miguel,” your hands flew to his hair, your fingers weaving through the thick strands to keep his head in place. He skillfully nipped and licked the surface, lifting his face away slightly to spit into your cunt, watching it run through your puffy folds with lidded eyes before devouring you again.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he groaned, sucking your clit between his lips.

You threw your head back, letting out the prettiest moans for him. You forgot about everything, about where you were and how high up you were from the ground. You couldn’t care less as long as Miguel continued to eat from you like a madman.

You could feel the tension in your abdomen, the clear sign that you were close. Miguel continued to drink from you, slurping obscenely at the fresh arousal that dripped into his mouth.

“Close?” He asked, giving you kitten licks, his hands squeezing your thighs encouragingly.

“God y-yes, so close.” You could feel him smiling against your folds before starting up a vicious rhythm again with his eyes closed.

With a loud cry, you came into his waiting mouth, your back arching and body withering over the table from the overstimulation. Miguel licked and sucked every inch of you, determined to catch every drop of your orgasm.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, releasing your grip from his hair and draping an arm over your eyes. Miguel stood, removing your arm and leaning over your fatigued body. He looked down at you with intense red eyes, his mouth and chin completely covered in your slick. You bit your lip when a smile curved at the edges of his lips before he swooped down to kiss you.

You moaned, completely aroused all over again from your own musky taste on his lips. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, allowing you a proper taste.

“Perdoname.” He begged again over your lips before gently brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You giggled, pushing him away slightly so that you could sit up on your elbows.

“Mm, I don’t know,” you teased, “you’re gonna have to try again.” Miguel shook his head, tapping a button on his watch, and allowing his suit to vanish. You gasped at his sudden nakedness, your eyes glued to his throbbing erection. Miguel grinned, fangs bared, tapping his cock over your sensitive cunt.

You closed your eyes as he immediately pushed in, moaning as he worked himself into your tight channel.

In your euphoric state, you barely registered him grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles, whispering over your skin. Your ears picked up a few words, some naughty and some sweet, but your heart fluttered and your chest tightened when you caught the last two words before he began pounding into you.

“Te amo.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #atsv #across the spiderverse #spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse

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bueckers · 3 months ago

Text

𝓡EBOUND ━━━ paige bueckers ( 1 )

synopsis: when college basketball stars paige’s and leia’s relationship crashes and burns, it was obvious it definitely wasn’t supposed to turn out that way. and despite the hatred they show, somebody’s gotta crack.

pairing: paige bueckers x female oc

warnings: not much just light angst and lore filling!

notes: newwww fic series! so excited for this one so brace yourselves for all the sexual chemistry in the world.. paige wants that cookie real bad like ???

flashback, 2022, november.

paige’s point of view.

Leia and I sat side by side at the press conference table, microphones in front of us and the UConn backdrop behind. The team’s third win of the season was secured, and I couldn’t be happier to have done it with her. There’s a different adrenaline about college ball, and to experience it playing with Leia Barlowe was another feeling entirely.

A reporter stood up, clearing his throat, drawing my attention. “Leia, can you tell us about your dynamic on the court tonight? You and Paige seemed to have an almost telepathic connection.”

Leia glanced at me, her eyes sparkling with that familiar glint—the one that made her look like she was up to something. God, I loved that look. “Oh, you know, Paige and I just have that fifth sense. She can read me like a book.”

“Fifth sense?” I mused, stifling back a laugh. I glanced down at her lips for a moment, the same ones that were dangerously close to her microphone. I’m not dumb and I know this will get read into lately.. but I really couldn’t help it.

“Yeah, that ‘Peia’ effect or whatever they call it.” She still doesn’t realize that she said fifth instead of sixth.

The entire table laughed, not expecting her answer, I assume. She truly is a people’s person, but I like to think everyone is just a Leia person. How could you ever hate her? Leia had been media trained since she was in middle school filming commercials, so seeing her loosen up was a different thing. Not saying I hated it, though. The edits are pretty funny sometimes.

I leaned forward, letting my elbow graze hers, a deliberate but subtle touch. I knew what I was doing. “Yeah, Leia and I have played together for years and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. We spend so much time together, you know? We practically finish each other’s—”

“—sentences,” Leia finished, laughing softly and rolling her eyes. “Or plays, in this case.”

The topic shifted to Dorka and Evina soon after, who had outdone themselves tonight. As the reporters’ focus moved away from us, I glanced over at Leia, watching as her ponytail swung behind her and she rested her head in her palm. Just looking ridiculously fine on a game night. I had a knowing smirk on my face, one that always catches.

Her eyes darted to me, eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

I shook my head, clicking my teeth and shaking my head. “Nothin’.”

present day, 2023, november.

paige’s point of view.

By senior year of playing college ball, you’d think the nervousness of a press conference would decrease by now… wrong.

Well, maybe I’m nervous for a different reason.

I sat at the table, my shoulders slumped and the bottom half of my ponytail tucked into my black hoodie. I chewed on my lip while trying to keep my composure under the blinding lights and the unrelenting barrage of camera flashes. Focus on the game. I adjusted the microphone in front of me, forcing a smile as the first reporter stood up, ready to throw the first pitch.

“Bueckers, amazing game tonight! You led your team to victory. How do you feel about your performance?” Damn, she even looked like the one to prode. The ones that are good at their job.

I leaned forward, flashing a confident grin nonetheless. “Thanks. It felt great. I’m so excited to be back on the court, you know? And the team just really clicks. Everyone brought their A-game tonight, and I don’t think i’ll ever get tired of playing with these guys.”

The reporter nodded, jotting down notes. I saw the next question forming in her eyes, and my stomach tightened. Why was I getting this worked up over a question? The answer was Leia Barlowe. I’m trying to erase her… make her not exist. But it’s incredibly hard.

She looked up. Focus on the game. “Paige, this was your first game against former friend and teammate Leia Barlowe since she transferred. Can you tell us about that experience and how it is not playing with her for the first time?”

She stared at me for what felt like ages, awaiting a response. I suppose everyone knew something went down with her, but it didn’t mean it was their business. It was like supporters could feel energy shifts through a screen, and if you feel that, imagine how the people in the room felt.

My smile faltered slightly, and I breathed in, attempting to rush my words out. I tried to keep my expression and answer neutral. It gave everyone enough room to interpret it any way they wanted. “Playing against Leia was intense. She’s a fantastic player, and it’s always a challenge to match up against her.”

The reporter scribbled down my answer, not satisfied, of course. Another one jumped in, relentless.

“Paige, you and Leia had a strong dynamic on and off the court. Do you think her transfer has affected the team’s chemistry?”

Seriously? I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay composed. “The team’s chemistry is great. We’ve all worked hard to build strong relationships and support each other. Leia’s a great player, and we miss her, but we’re focused on the future.”

Of course it affected us. Of course it affected me.

Another reporter jumped in, sensing the tension. “Paige, there have been rumors about the reasons behind Leia’s transfer. Can you shed some light on that?”

I wanted to scream. To tell them to shut the hell up about Leia. I didn’t wanna talk about her. But I couldn’t. I licked my lips, scrunching my face up before whining out into an answer. “I’m not going to speculate on rumors. Leia made the best decision for her, and I respect that. We’re all here to play basketball and do our best for our teams.. that’s it.”

We weren’t like this last year. Who would’ve thought around this time i’d be saying I respect her. Not that she’s my ‘best friend’ and I’ll always be supportive, but that I respect her.

The truth was, the rumors barely scratched the surface. The endless arguments, the mistrust, the media blowing everything out of proportion—it was like living in a pressure cooker. We both cracked under the strain, and it tore us apart.

I’d taught myself to be thankful. That it was bound to happen eventually when we chose to go down the further road. Leia Barlowe and I are cordial, and no, I wouldn’t particularly wanna be stuck in a room with her anymore.

The questions kept coming, and I kept dodging anything that had a slight indication of her, giving just enough to satisfy them without saying too much. Finally, the press conference wrapped up, and I stood without a ‘goodbye’ or ‘have a nice night.’ Just a stone cold smile and the screeching of the chair pushing back against the floor. Should’ve focused on the game.

#bueckers’ works 🍒#lgbtq #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x oc

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blkkizzat · 1 month ago

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OH MY GAWDDD GIRL UR NEW THEME IS AMAZING!!!

fic authors self rec! :3 when you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. let's spread the self-love ♡⊹

REMMIIII MAMA HEYYY!!! TYSM QUEEN! I hope you been well! <33

oooh ok!

this was low key kinda hard, these are in no order btw:

The Nursery - yakuza x toji reader (ok i lied this might be my fav and im not even done yet, ive spent over a year thinking about this fic. this is peak version of toji for me).

Come Put That Million $$$ Pussy On Me Make Me Rich farmhand!toji x brat reader (i keep thinking of this!! i wanna write more based on what me and 🧠 nonny thought of but i have too many series unfinished rn).

Sins of The Father - priest nanami x reader (totally different writing style here for me and my like 6 years of Catholic school is definitely showing).

My Shawty Always On Some Bullshit Like Chicago - plug!choso x brat!reader (the way before this fic i thought i legit couldn't write angst and was more of a crack/comedy writer. then y'all were bringing out pitchforks for reader LOL and i was like "oh" i guess this is angst kdfjhadskfjasdk)

A Bumpy Ride - geto x reader (thanks for also thinking im funny y'all haha. i love a good crack fic. wild how many interactions it has).

#ೃ༝💌⁀�� 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉мαιℓ #ᥫ᭡•❤ 𝓀𝒾𝓏𝓏𝒶𝓉мσσтѕ #queen remi #toji x reader #toji smut #geto x reader #suguru x reader #suguru smut #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento x reader #toji fushiguro smut

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educatedsimps · 5 months ago

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Hi! Saw your requests were open and I just had to stop by! Could I request a (not exactly angst bc the idea is funny but definitely in character for him) Bokuto x reader where he's ranting to a friend about how he loves to hug the reader and his friend just makes an offhand comment about how he'll probably crush her since he's a pretty big guy and he goes all emo mode about it. He doesn't want to hurt anyone :( Obviously we gotta add some comfort at the end for the silly guy

≪ back to fics masterlist

bokuto kōtarō x f!reader

a/n: omg of course!! i haven't had the chance to write for bokuto and yes i agree this is literally perfect for him 🥰

cw: timeskip spoilers, atsumu being stupid, some hurt/comfort, msby crack

"I can’t wait to go home after this. I’m exhausted," Sakusa sighed.

"It’s not useful practice if it’s not exhausting, Omi-Omi. Be glad you’ve got teammates like us," Atsumu drawled, winking at his teammate and earning a disgusted glare from across the table.

"I thought today’s practice was fun! We got to try the new unorthodox version of our quick attack, and we've almost got it!" Hinata chirped next to Atsumu, with bits of his food flying from his mouth.

"I'm fine with it as long as you guys don't overexert yourselves during training," Lisa, Atsumu's girlfriend and the team's physiotherapist, chimed in from Atsumu's other side.

"What are you guys planning to do when you get home?" Meian asked, stuffing a rice ball in his mouth.

"Shower," was Sakusa's immediate answer.

"Probably do a little bit of meditation," Hinata mused.

"Call my brother to ask for more meal prep bentos," Atsumu said. An amused scoff came from his girlfriend.

"What about you, Bokuto?"

Having been focused on his food the whole time, Bokuto nearly choked on his rice when called upon by his captain. With tempura crumbs coating his lips, he smiled widely and announced, "I'm going home to give y/n a big hug!"

"You sure love hugging y/n, Bokuto-san!" Hinata chuckled, popping a salmon nigiri in his mouth.

"Of course I do! I love hugging her! She's so huggable and I just wanna squeeze her so tight all the time and transfer all of my love for her," Bokuto said, with with his fists in the air. "You guys should all hug your girlfriends tight! The tighter you hug her the more she'll know you love her!"

Shooting Lisa a lovesick smile, Atsumu stated, "We all love hugging our girlfriends, but I won't accidentally crush 'er to bits like someone." He nodded towards Bokuto.

Bokuto stilled, staring at Atsumu with confusion.

"Miya..." Meian warned under his breath.

"What? I mean, have ya seen the guy? He's huge! Could prob'ly flatten 'er if he wanted to," Atsumu continued, chortling at the thought. He stopped short as he noticed the glares from Meian and Sakusa. "What? What'd I say?"

By then, Bokuto was already in a completely different headspace. He had a blank expression on his face and a faraway look in his eyes. His shoulders were slightly hunched and his usually spiky hair seemed to droop at the edges.

Sakusa sighed what was probably the heaviest sigh in the history of mankind as Hinata stage-whispered to his teammate, "Atsumu-san, I think you hurt Bokuto's feelings."

Wide eyed, the blonde setter started to defend himself. "WHA-?! no, i- I DIDN'T EVEN-"

Sensing Bokuto's incoming emotinal shut down (or emotional episode, in this case), Lisa quickly tried to divert their attention. "Please, 'Tsumu. You wish you were as strong as Bokuto-san. Your spikes are weak as shit-"

" 'Cause I'm literally a setter!"

"-and not an all-rounder, which is why Kageyama-kun is ranked first in the country and you're second."

"BABE-"

"Maybe I shouldn't hug her anymore. I don't wanna hurt her. What if I really crush her one day? Then she'll really be flattened like a piece of bread. I don't wanna hurt her. So this means I can't hug her anymore. But I like hugging her. But does she even like my hugs?" Came Bokuto's voice. His brows were now furrowed and his face was etched with worry.

"Of course she does, Bokuto-san! I'm sure she loves your hugs, and you love her too much to ever hurt her, right?" Hinata and Lisa attempted to cheer up the saddened spiker.

Finishing the last of his food, Sakusa stood up, muttering, "I'm exhausted, I can't deal with this right now. My partner's here to pick me up anyway," As he walked past the other side of the table, he spoke to Atsumu in a low voice. "Only a jerk like you would say something like that to Bokuto, of all people."

"SHUT UP, OMI.”

"I’m home…"

Your ears perked up at the sound of Bokuto’s voice and you immediately noticed his dejected tone. Closing your laptop, you got up from your desk and bounced over to the front door to greet him.

Sticking your head round the corner, you saw him place his stuff down by the counter before staring into space. His face was blank and devoid of emotion but his eyes were filled with inexplicable sadness. Seeing him like this tugged on your heartstrings and you knew he was going through one of his emotional episodes. You just didn’t know why.

"Hey, Kō! How was your day?" Slowly walking towards him, you reached out your arms to give him a hug but stopped short when he cried out.

"NO, DON’T HUG ME. I’LL CRUSH YOU."

You froze with your arms mid-air before you dropped them back to your side. He had one hand held out to stop you from coming closer and his face was tucked into his other arm. You could hear quiet sniffles coming from him and your heart broke seeing how upset he was.

"But you already have a crush on me, baby. And I have a crush on you too! I thought we’ve already established that?" You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

It didn’t work. It was like he didn’t even hear you, so you decided to give him some space (like Akaashi had advised). You guided him to sit on the couch while you went about the house finishing up your chores. After several minutes, he seemed to feel a little better and you decided to talk to him (also like Akaashi had advised).

Sitting by his side on the couch, you reached out and held his hands in your own. His eyes were downcast and he was avoiding your gaze as if his life depended on it.

"Kō? What's wrong?"

"Nothin'."

"Look at me, baby. Please? I wanna see your cute face," you cooed. He pouted for a while more (which was adorable, by the way) before he finally caved.

"Tsum-Tsum said I'll crush you if I hug you too tight 'cause I'm so much bigger and stronger than you. And I don't wanna crush you, I promise! It just made me sacred to think I might not know my own strength and end up hurting you in the process. That's why I'm scared of accidentally hurting you when I’m excited and I know that if I did, you wouldn't say anything which is why I don't wanna accidentally hurt you with my hugs in the first place-" He swallowed the rest of his words as you pressed your lips to his.

"Kō, I love your hugs. They're the warmest hugs anyone has ever given me. Don't tell my mom, but sometimes your hugs are even better than hers," You giggled softly. A small smile appeared on his face as he looked at you. "And it's not a bad thing that you're so strong. It makes your arms really nice to hug! I promise you'll never be able to crush me. I'm stronger than you think, you know?"

"Really? You really like my hugs?" He asked, hope in his eyes.

"Really. A hundred per cent. A thousand per cent. I wouldn't like it any other way, Kō," You reassured him, kissing him sweetly once more. Within seconds, his entire mood had shifted and he was now beaming.

"Okay! I can hug you now!" He cheered. Before you could process anything, you were held in your favourite set of arms and wrapped up in the warmest hug on earth. You hugged him back tightly and felt his soft lips press against the crown of your head. Snuggling into his warmth, you felt so lucky to have him.

"Oh my god, anyone who says your hugs aren't perfect are clearly stupid," You sighed happily.

"Tsum-Tsum is pretty stupid sometimes," Kotaro hummed.

You pulled away, gasping in faux shock. "Really?"

"Pfft, yeah. Even Lisa says so!" He guffawed.

Before you could reply, your phone buzzed with an incoming message.

Lisa: “hey girl! hope everything’s ok with bokuto. my boyfriend’s kinda stupid sometimes so he doesn’t think before he says stuff. hope bokuto’s not feeling too down!”

Y/n: “it’s all good! managed to cheer him up pretty quickly today, haha”

Lisa: “that’s good to hear. you’re the only one who can cheer him up like that, y/n! anyway, rest well, you two. see ya next week!”

Reacting to her message with a heart, you put your phone down and turned back to your boyfriend.

"So, you gonna hug me or not?"

a/n: UM I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY??? pls lmk what u think 😭

#educated.simps #haikyuu x reader #lyssa.writes #simps.write #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #bokuto kotaro #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #bokuto fluff #bokuto x reader fluff

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eatzyuu · 3 months ago

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this is just nonsense crack, but i think it would be funny if jason was an angry crier. like- before all the red hood stuff when he was still robin, if dick made him mad (sibling things, of course), he'd just sort of stand there in all of his anger and start sniffling with tears running down his cheeks. and dick, not having expected his little brother to start crying after messing with him, just sort of watches in a kind of baffled worry. and i imagine, in this same circumstance, bruce walking in and automatically turning his half disappointed and half annoyed gaze to dick, assuming that he'd done something horrible to little jason (they had been bothering each other, dick was just better at making jason angry).

and maybe, even as red hood, as grown as jason is, sometimes, when he gets especially angry, he still does cry. but most of the time, it's hidden with his helmet.

it's never really me posting if i don't add some sort of batfam angst: so i think when jason and bruce have their usual arguments at the manor, after an especially difficult argument, tears start to fall from jason's eyes. at first, neither bruce or jason say anything about it. they just stand still, angry glares locked onto one another. but bruce's eyes soften as tears continue to stream onto jason's cheeks. jason, seeing bruce's worried change in expression, turns away from him, wiping the tears from his face hastily, wanting to avoid looking weak or showing emotion in front of bruce. he doesn't want bruce to see him like this.

but all bruce can see at the sight of jason's tears is that little boy who loved to read in the manor's library and would get in playful arguments with his older brother; who he looked up to greatly. and bruce wonders to himself in that moment. did he do something wrong? had he said something that made jason upset? had he done something that would envoke such emotion from jason? from his son?

and bruce would put a hand on jason's shoulder in an attempt at comfort, but as always, jason shakes off the expression of care and walks out of the manor. avoiding any attempts by bruce to get him to stay and talk about it.

as he drives off on his motorcycle, the tears don't stop. he's angry. so horribly angry. at bruce. at himself. at the fact that arguing with bruce could get him so angry he'd cry the same way he would when he was younger. then his angry tears would turn into tears of an unfamiliar emotion when he thought about the look on bruce's face when he'd seen that jason was crying. it was a look that a father would give to his child. an expression that held both affection and distress at his discomfort. did he manage to surprise bruce? was jason... sad?

(i might've gotten a bit carried away with this one lol. half way through, i was definitely tempted on just turning this into a fic instead. but i suppose i prefer short form content like this, since i am already working on a few personal works at the moment. perhaps i will consider making a fic based off of this post when i am feeling up to a break in my current writing.)

#batman #jason todd #dc #jason todd dc #batfam #batfam angst #red hood #red hood angst #jason todd angst

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citruswriter · 4 months ago

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Hi, I was wondering if you could do a Comfort fic of THe Hazbin Crew (Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk, Lucifer, etc.) x Reader, where they're not having the best, probably the worst day actually, and they get some comfort and hugs from reader, the feel goods~?

Hazbin Hotel x Reader Having a Bad Day

Listen with me! ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

Warnings: Fluff, comfort, angst?, kinda open ended.

A/N: I'm assuming you didn't have the best day? :(( If so then I'm so sorry love and I hope you enjoy this. Lemme know if you want a pt 2 with the angels and Vees!

It was a horrible day. More horrible than any of the other horrible days you've ever had. And that's saying something. So after a long day, you had returned to your humble abode to cry it out. On the way, you caught the eye of a certain someone...

*. : ｡✿ * ﾟ * .: ｡ ✿ * ﾟ * . : ｡ ✿ *

Lucifer x Reader 🧡

A knock was heard at your door and you groaned. "Go away Charlie!" You shouted out as you heard the door crack open. "Um... actually it's me, but I can still go if you want me too". Mumbled a voice. You immediately sat up and turned around. "Sir! I'm so sorry". You sniffed. Lucifer studied your face, gaze softened as he stepped closer. "Dear what happened?" He asked, hands hesitantly reaching up to touch your face. Your eyes widened at the question, lip trembling once more as you sobbed out. "It was a horrible day! Like, I know it's hell but fuck! It was just so bad." You wailed. Lucifer jumped up on the bed beside you, reaching out to you and drawing you in his arms to give you a tight hug.

You hugged him tightly, burying your face in his shoulder and crying out everything. He just sat there, thumb rubbing circles between your shoulder blades. Eventually your sobs quieted down, and you pulled back slightly, sniffling and hiccuping. "Sorry, Sir..." You said and Lucifer just smiled at you. "No need to apologize. And please, call me Lucifer. Come. Let's get you cleaned up". He gently took your hand and drug you to the bathroom, wetting a washcloth as you sat down. He took the cloth to your face, wiping your bleary eyes and wet cheeks. "Thank you... I-I, um, I didn't expect the King of Hell to be washing my tears away". You said, offering a pathetic laugh. He just clicked his tongue and waved a hand. "Think nothing of it, my dear! A friend of Charlie's is a friend of mine!" He said with a grin.

You looked down bashfully, smiling shyly but he grabbed your jaw and tilted your head to continue cleaning you. You felt your face flush at the action. He laughed softly, seeming to pick up on your flusteredness. "You know... If you're feeling up for it," he began, eyes looking around the room, "I've been told I make excellent pancakes". You giggle softly in response, causing the man to give his own shy smile. "I think I'd really like that... Lucifer."

Eyes met, gazes held, tension rose. You could stay like this...

*. : ｡✿ * ﾟ * .: ｡ ✿ * ﾟ * . : ｡ ✿ *

Alastor x Reader 🧡

You threw yourself onto your bed, sobbing into your pillow. "You know, a frown doesn't suit your pretty face". Said a voice. You screamed and almost fell off your bed as you whipped around to stare at Alastor. The red demon just chuckled at you, smile grinning a little wider. "Haha. Not fucking funny Al". You glared, propping yourself up on an elbow. "But it got you to stop crying". He pointed out and you scoffed, even though you knew he was right.

"What even happened, my dear?" He asked, hands resting on his cane, his gaze softening ever so slightly. A detail one wouldn't notice unless they were looking for it. You sighed and rolled onto your back. "Just a stressful day is all." You said softly, rubbing your wet eyes. The man hummed softly, seeming to think before turning to you more. "You know, it's almost time for my radio show. Would you like to join me?" He asked and you looked over at him, eyes wide with surprise. "Oh... Sure, that would be nice actually". You replied gently and he outstretched a hand to you to help you raise from the bed.

You trailed behind him like a lost puppy as he led you to his office. You entered as quietly as you could, standing as you watched him start to set up. "Where should I sit?" You asked softly and Alastor blinked, seeming to remember that his shack really was only built for him. But with a snap of his fingers, his shadows conjured up a plush red couch and you happily sat down on the comfortable little couch. You continued to watch him as he flipped switches and turned knobs. "Stay quiet for me while I broadcast, ok fawn?" He said and you just nodded.

A few hours later Alastor finished. He stood up and stretched. Looking over at you, he saw your sleeping figure. He didn't wish to rouse you so he simply took his coat and draped it over you. You hummed in your sleep, curling up into the fabric. Alastor couldn't help but feel warmed by the unconscious action.

What a peculiar little creature you were.

*. : ｡✿ * ﾟ * .: ｡ ✿ * ﾟ * . : ｡ ✿ *

Charlie x Reader 🧡

A knock came at your door. "(Y/N)? Hey you good in there?" Charlie's worried voice came. You didn't answer, only sobbed into your pillow. Gentle hands came to rub your back and you sniffed, lifting your head to look at the hellborn. You didn't even hear her open your door. "Hey. Talk to me, what happened?" He cooed, a hand reaching up to cradle your face, thumb swiping to wipe away some tears. You whimpered and leaned into your touch. "It was just a bad day, Charlie. That's all".

She smiled gently, seeming to understand. "Well scoot over! Your bed looks comfy!" She chirped and you couldn't help but giggle, rolling over to make room for her. She flopped onto your bed and sighed. "Wow. Your blankets are super comfy." She said, flashing her beautiful smile your way. You softly smiled and shrugged. "They were on sale when I got em". You said simply.

She rolled to look at you. "Hi". She said softly and you felt your face heat up. "Hey". You murmured back. Her hands came up to cradle your fave once more. "You better now?" She asked softly, her heart seeming to flutter as she watched you bite your lip and meet her eyes. "It's hard to stay sad around Miss Rainbows and Sunshine". You said, tone teasing. She giggled, her own cheeks heating up. "You flatter me". She giggled, making you smile.

Charlie looked at you curiously. What was she feeling right now? It couldn't be what she thought it was. Was it...?

*. : ｡✿ * ﾟ * .: ｡ ✿ * ﾟ * . : ｡ ✿ *

Vaggie x Reader 🧡

"Alright. Who am I killing?" A voice came, cutting through your whirling thoughts. "Everybody!" You wailed as you rolled over, hugging your pillow. Vaggie gave an empathetic smile before sitting on the edge of the bed. "Just one of those days?" She asked and you nodded. She sighed and scooted up a bit more. "I'm not as great as this as Charlie is, but do you need a hug?" She asked. You sniffed and looked up at her, nodding softly.

You crawled over to her and she gave you a tight hug, fingers moving up to your hair to scratch at your scalp for a few moments. "Is that better?" She murmured. "Yeah. Thanks". You replied, wiping your face. "Uh, here". She grabbed a tissue from your bedside and began wiping your face and eyes awkwardly. "Sorry. This usually isn't my thing". She admitted with a chuckle. You giggled and grabbed her spare hand, holding it in hers. "That's ok, Vaggie. I appreciate you trying". You said.

Vaggie felt her cheeks flush and she smiled bashfully, gently pulling her hand to her heart. "Ah, look at you. Comforting me. I'm supposed to be comforting you right now." She said and you laughed softly, resting your head on her shoulder.

You gazed at her softly and she felt her heart flutter. What were you doing to her? What was she feeling?

*. : ｡✿ * ﾟ * .: ｡ ✿ * ﾟ * . : ｡ ✿ *

Angel Dust x Reader 🧡

"Aye toots. Ya good? You ran by me without giving me a hello kiss". He said, tone light and playful. You looked up to glare at him. "Fuck off, Angel". You scowled and his whole facial expression immediately changed. "Oh shit. You ok, sugar?" He asked, rushing to your side. You sobbed out and shook your head. Angel wrapped you up in his arms, holding you tightly and whispering sweet things to you. Eventually you calmed down, hiccups leaving your mouth as you pulled back to wipe your face.

"Come on. Let's clean you up." Angel led you to your vanity, sitting you down and brushing your hair back. He took a face wipe and wiped you down. Two of his hands went to play with your hair while his other two hands went to grab some lotion to moisturize your cheeks. "There. All better." He cooed, standing up before tilting your head up to kiss your forehead. You hummed and closed your eyes before gently resting your chin on his stomach, eyes fluttering open to gaze up at him.

Angel felt his face heat up as he gently cradled your face. "Seriously though, who am I shootin?" He said and you laughed. "Nobody Angie. It's just been a bad day". You muttered. Your hands reached up to hold his other two hands.

He was so warm. So gentle. This was nice.

*. : ｡✿ * ﾟ * .: ｡ ✿ * ﾟ * . : ｡ ✿ *

Husk x Reader 🧡

A knock echoed through your room and you sniffed. "Fuck off, Charlie!" You shouted and you heard a scoff. "I definitely ain't no Charlie. But if you want her, I can go grab her". A voice came. You groaned and sat up to glare at the cat demon now in your room. "What do you want Husk?" You hissed out. You really didn't need his ass judging you right now. But to your surprise, he just pulled out two glasses and a bottle of some sort of alcohol. "Heard you crying. I'm not good with emotions but I am good at listening". He said with a shrug.

The next hour was filled with you just venting to him about your shitty day. Sometimes he would fill either yours or his glass and before long you had calmed down, although you were also tipsy now. "I know it's hell but shit." You muttered and Husk gave a chuckle. "Ah you'll be ok. You're stronger than you think you are." He said with a smile.

You looked up at him and laughed softly. "Thanks Husk. You always know what to say. I think you're better with emotions than you think". You chuckled softly. Husk felt his cheeks heat up under his fur and his chest tighten, but not in a bad way.

Well aren't you something?

*. : ｡✿ * ﾟ * .: ｡ ✿ * ﾟ * . : ｡ ✿ *

Amunet x Reader 🧡

A/N: Why yes. Yes I am inserting my own OC with a background character face claim. Fight me.

"(Y/N)? Hey, you ok?" A soft voice came. You heard your door crack open. "Can I come in?" You pondered her request for a moment before sighing and rolling over. "Yeah, I guess so". You replied. Amunet opened the door and upon seeing your crying face, her gaze instantly softened. "What happened?" She asked softly, approaching the bed. You sat up, sitting close to the edge. "It was just a shitty day. Just a bunch of things added up". You explained. She got up on the bed with you. "Oh habibi". She cooed softly, drawing you into her warm embrace.

"Cry as much as you need, ruhee. I'm here. I've got you". You couldn't help but let the flood gates open as you ugly cried into her shoulder. One of her hands patted your back while the other held firm to your hip. Eventually you calmed down, face nuzzling into her shoulder as you hiccuped. "Are you better, habibi?" She asked gently, pulling you back to look at your face. "Oh dear, look at you."

She left before you could reply to her question. A few minutes passed and she came back with a wash cloth and a cup of water. "Hydrate. You cried a lot". She said, handing you the glass before hurrying off to your bathroom to wet the rag. "Thank you, Amunet". You croaked but she waved her hand, sitting back down to wipe your face. "Think nothing of it, albee". She soothed.

She smiled under her mask as you closed your eyes in content. You nuzzled into her wrist as she wiped at your tear stained cheeks, causing a blush to rise to her cheeks. Weren't you just such a cutie?

This took me all day to write bc my coworker and I kept talking shit all day. Lmfao. But enjoy.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #alastor x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #charlie x reader #vaggie x reader #angel dust x reader #husker x reader #husk x reader #oc x reader #amunet #hazbin hotel oc

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beefboyandbabygirl · 1 year ago

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Girl Code (18+)

pairing: student!jihoon x student!reader

genre: college au, angst, smut (MDNI), lotta crack, friends to...?

description: when you and your friends find out jihoon's been writing down everything you've off-handedly said about "girl code", you simply have to know why.

warnings: brief bondage/restraint, heavy insecurity on readers part, self-doubt, dirty talk, pet names, dom!uzi, sub!reader, desperation, oral (f. receiving), praise (f. receiving), muscly uzi, unprotected sex (dont do it guys....), pining, bad writing, red velvet are your friends, theyre super fun, mingyu is excluded badly, he just wants to b a part of it :(

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "i am simply a hole for him", "pussy? wet. heart? pounding. me? yearning", "every1 talks ab sapphic yearning but what ab just. jihoon-yearning?",

wordcount: 12.0k

a/n: idk why but this is deffo not as good as my previous works. n e way also sorry to @onlyseokmins bc i promised her a seokmin fic WHICH IS STILL COMING i just felt like this was kinda genius and needed to happen first ok bye

It’s mid-spring, and the world is blossoming and flowering around you. Grass sprouts greener, plants drink in the heavy rainfall and flowers are blooming, slowly unfurling their pedaled heads to crane into the beautiful sky. At odds with nature, people walk the street to be drenched in the downpour, only to be dried off by the shyly peeking sun, and to have freckles surfacing on their skin and hair, getting frizzy from the humidity, when they’re biking along the streets. It’s serene, it’s natural. You’re reminded to love the place that birthed and fostered you.

But that’s out there.

You’re sitting, bottom planted firmly on the sticky surface of Joshua Hong’s couch, looking distantly into artificially colored lights, flickering across the floor, where people are dancing on one another in skimpy outfits and makeup, and everything is very far from the moon and the flowers.

“The second one is a lie!” Seulgi yells over the music, cup of god knows what in her hand, and slurring her words.

Sitting on the couch and stools surrounding the coffee table is you, Mingyu, Soonyoung, Seulgi, Irene, Yeri and Jihoon.

“No, I know she likes anal!” Screams Soonyoung giddily (forever oblivious to his surroundings), receiving a glare from your roommate, Yeri. You were currently playing two truths and one lie, and attempting to discern whether Yeri was lying about being on television, lying about having black belt in taekwondo or lying about having tried anal. “It’s about whether or not she’s tried it!” Irene rolls her eyes and huffs. “My point still stands,” Soonyoung grins and eyes Yeri, and you watch somewhat disgusted, reminding yourself to ask her about it later.

You’re sitting next to Mingyu, utterly small next to him, and the two of you are only watching the scene unfold, sharing snickering glances when something funny happens. “I’ve never done taekwondo!” Yeri screams at Soonyoung, and you and Mingyu fall back in your seats laughing and slapping each other, when Soonyoung’s face drops for a moment.

“They’re so dumb!” Mingyu cries, and you nod buried in a decorative pillow.

“Screw this noise, I’m finding Junhui,” Hoshi mumbles, a little deflated from his loss. Then he’s standing up, cargo-pants and all, and trudging away, pouting over his shoulder when he hears the laughing continue.

Jihoon - who’s been incredibly quiet and observant throughout the night, only sipping a single bottle of beer, slaps his thighs. You’re hoping in his ever searching eyes he hasn’t seen the way you’ve been staring at him all night. Are you drunk or is he so complex and sexy, and wearing a t-shirt that shows his huge arms and pants that show his thick thighs? You’re almost certain you can chalk this up to only ever seeing him in sweaters that totally swallow him - almost. “I’m going too,” he announces, standing up and not leaving much room for argument.

“Why? I’ll be the only guy,” Mingyu whines, pout pushing out his bottom lip. You scoff. You know he loves feeling like he’s one of the girls. “Paper,” Jihoon says, and adds more, when he realizes he’s being so curt it’s almost rude: “Tomorrow. I have a paper tomorrow.”

The group seems to accept this, knowing the stresses of college are weighing on each of them heavily. But your eyes narrow. You’re not buying it.

You watch him sling his jacket across his body, biting back more words. He’s quiet, sure, but never this quiet. With how he’d slumped back in his seat all night, almost bent into himself, there must be something bugging him. Jihoon’s eyes meet yours. It’s a half a second, but you feel like he knows you’re on to him, the way he hides his face under his long, black hair again and turns his back to you. All of a sudden he’s hurrying away, excusing himself half-heartedly. You narrow your eyes even further and purse your lips.

“Be right back,” you say. Seulgi pouts.

You’re trudging after him, fussing with your hair all of a sudden and adjusting your dress and - God, you care so much how he sees you. But you suppose you care more that he’s okay. That’s why you’re squeezing through the dancefloor, getting grinded on by several anonymous bodies, before pushing out to the entrance and finally breathing air that wasn't coming directly from someone else’s mouth.

“Jihoon, wait-”

You catch up to him by the doorway, where he’s stopped his journey, to slip Vernon a bill for a ziploc of mediocre weed.

“Jihoon!”

Finally, he hears you and he turns to you, where you’re regaining your last leg from the mass of bodies. Vernon is apparently still sober enough (you wouldn’t have thought so) to understand time and place, so he gently pushes past the two of you into the crowd.

You’re not ready for the look he gives you. Eyes so sharp and face darkened from his shaggy hair, curling into his face, and frowning and furrowing his brows as if he couldn’t understand why you’re here.

It sends your out-reaching body slamming backwards. You’re shrinking away from him, eyes flitting downwards self-consciously. You consider your history with him for a moment, weighing it in a glass of vodka-cranberry. This is pathetic, you realize, and it feels terrible. You’re pathetic and desperate and clingy and why would you feel the need to ask him this.

And then one moment to the next you’re scolding yourself for thinking that way. For thinking it was wrong to reach out a helping hand.

Jihoon apparently has enough of you debating with the angel and the devil on your shoulder, because he speaks finally: “What is it?”

There’s a pause.

“Are you okay?”

Another pause. You watch Jihoon’s face soften in shock, mouth falling open for a split second, before he’s closing it again and looking away. The ziploc crunches in his fingers, when they tighten and he shoves it into his inner pocket.

“I’m good,” he says.

“Okay.”

And this time and even longer pause! You can barely take it, the way he looks at you, and it almost feels like he suspicious of you, like he’s trying to discern what you’re doing here in front of him.

“Have a good night,” you say. He nods slowly and begins to walk off, and you watch him and the way the moonlight fills the entrance, so you’re coated in for a moment. Then it disappears with a slam of the door. You let out a shaky sigh.

Why did you do that? Why would you even think to do something like that?

You decide against standing there for any longer, not allowing yourself to overanalyze it, and you turn around to go back to your friends. Yet again comes the song and dance of trying to navigate the most terrifying human cesspool, face scrunching up in disgust as you make your way back to the sofa, almost unscathed, except you think you accidentally got caught in an armpit.

“Y/n! Come quick, so you can be a part of this momentous- momentous.. Moment!” You hear Mingyu calling and when he’s finally in view, you realize something very, very terrible is about to happen.

Mingyu’s holding a leather notebook between his fingers - Jihoon’s notebook. It’s the one he’s always writing in; the one he shuts closed whenever anyone gets too close, the one he keeps tucked under his arm at all times; the one he’s inexplicably writing in, even if he’s blasted on Vernon’s weed. And it’s private and he’s somehow forgotten it.

“We’re not opening it,” you say immediately, power-walking back to your spot in the couch. Mingyu snaps his head towards you, and he almost looks offended at that. “What do you mean we’re not opening it, of course we’re opening it!”

“It could be private, Gyu!” You retort and Seulgi chimes from her spot on the couch: “I’m with Y/n.”

“No, what? Fuck you guys! We’re seeing what’s in that notebook!-” Irene spits. “Thank you!” Mingyu says.

“Yeri, it’s up to you,” you say, eyeing your roommate sharply, as you sit down again. The entire group turns to her, fury behind their retinas, and she gulps, shrinking a little.

“Me, I just…” she shrugs abashedly and trails off. There’s a moment where you think she’ll side with you and leave the poor boy alone. You have some semblance of faith in your friendship, and maybe, maybe she’ll back you-

“He’s a music major, it’s probably just angsty lyrics, now open!”

“Yes!” Irene and Mingyu gloat, and despite wanting to respect his privacy, you scoot closer to Mingyu (he scoffs at you, but does not mention it further, as he is itching with curiosity). With a solemn, heaved sigh, as if about to unfurl the world’s grandest mysteries, Mingyu’s large hand flips the book open.

There’s no justified way to put word to the shock that follows this. The first page reads:

“Girl Code Rule #1

Guys should bring flowers on the first date. Either lilies, roses or tulips. Depends on vibe.”

There’s a confused silence - as much as silence as you can get from a bass-boosted room of drunk college students.

“What?” Irene quacks in disappointment, leaning closer to read it again. “Why-.. Go to the next page.” And Mingyu does, turning over the page and the next couple of pages follow suit.

“Girl Code Rule #2

Whoever offered the date pays for dinner. First date should always be dinner, ‘none of the bowling crap’.

Girl Code Rule #3

Guys are more attractive the more hygienic they are.

Girl Code Rule #4

It’s an ick to wear skinny jeans. *Google what an ick is.”

They come one after another, each more confusing than the last, and it’s not until number 5, that the heavy, suffocating spread of realization begins blooming among you. Clarity - your minds open like leaves of a flower in spring.

“Girl Code Rule #5

The cinema on Attacca street is a nightmare and we hate them. Never go there.”

“That’s-” you begin.

“Us!” Yeri finishes, pointing her finger at the page but directing her eyes, wide and pupils small from shock, towards you. The group exchange gaping glances. It’s undeniable - the cinema thing is relating to an incident that had happened months prior. You refuse to go into detail, but it had gotten grim.

“These are all things we’ve said!” Seulgi snatches the book out of Mingyu’s hold, beginning to mindlessly scroll through the book with furrowed brows, etch growing deeper and deeper in outrage.

“That’s- This is crazy. That’s so not cool!” You shriek and Yeri nods in agreement: “Girl code is for girls only!”

There’s a general agreement on the outrageousness of this. That is, except for one big boy on the couch.

“I meaaaan,” Mingyu is looking a little sheepish sitting in the middle of you and Yeri and Seulgi and Irene. All eyes flit towards him, small and sharp. He’s talking slowly, lowly and carefully: “You guys have to have said it out loud while he was there, so you weren’t exactly being discreet…”

“Men don’t usually listen to women, we thought we were in the clear!” Irene hisses.

“No man has ever listened to me in my entire life,” Seulgi deadpans, looking at Mingyu from beyond the book. Mingyu throws his hands out, incidentally hitting Yeri in the face, and ignoring her pained groans when she falls back on the couch. “I listened. Just now. Check that off your list-”

“Why is he writing this down..?” You mumble, seemingly the only one grasping the gravity of the situation (although maybe there is none? You can never tell when it’s with him) and it truly is such a mystery. Was he attempting to pry open the minds of women? You don’t exactly think he has trouble finding dates, so you’re left a little at a loss.

“Let’s ask him-” Mingu says.

“He just left, dumbass,” Irene spits and you can tell she’s almost disgusted with herself for ever siding with him.

“Let’s ask him tomorrow, then, after class,” you say decidedly.

“Ugh, don’t talk about tomorrow..” Yeri groans, and you can see the regret settling in because why do all the hot guys throw weeknight parties? “Y/n, can we go home?” she asks and you’re nodding immediately.

“Seul?”

“Yep.”

And in the span of just a couple of seconds, your entire friend group is packing up, Seulgi stuffing the book into her tote bag. Mingyu’s still sitting, much smaller when you’re standing over him, and when he has that almost starstruck look on his face. “I’m so glad I’m a part of this, guys.”

“You’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” Mingyu counters, clearly thinking otherwise. He’s grinning stupidly. “Hey, wait, where are we confronting him tomorrow?” he calls out suddenly, but you’re already on your way out.

“GUYS! WHERE ARE WE MEETING?” _____________________________

You, Yeri, Seulgi, and Irene sit side by side on the middle-back row in class, eyeing Jihoon from the peaks. It’s a quiet, morning class, and the teacher rambles on while the four of you glare down at him. Or at least they glare. You hope it’s not noticeable how there’s something softer in your eyes - something almost tender. He’s fidgeting a little. Maybe he feels the pairs of eyes on the back of his black-buried head or maybe he’s noticed the book is gone and he feels the consequences coming.

It was certainly a strange situation to tackle. Mingyu did have a point, if it was a private conversation, you certainly had not discussed it as such. And even then, was there a crime in what he was doing? You just couldn’t understand how Jihoon possibly felt the need to garner all this information on women. He’d never had trouble picking up girls. You would know.

You shake the terrible, terrible thought away, when Irene speaks up: “The coward is all nervous.”

“Okay, let’s calm down. We can’t know he’s an evildoer, before we find out his true intentions.” Seulgi reasons, a hand soothing over Irene’s arm. Yeri nods softly. “God, I wish class was over.”

And suddenly it was. Well, twenty more minutes of suffering through a class that was totally lost, picked up by the pollen-saturated wind. Then the professor is excusing himself and wiping the board.

Never in your life had your group been so fast at packing up their things, pencils and computers shoved down bags, before you’re strutting (model-walking) over to Jihoon. “We need to talk to you,” Yeri says, once she’s in front of his desk, hand on the wood. Jihoon looks up from where he’s packing his bag, eyes peeking through the thick strands of hair. He nods. He knows.

As you wait for students to exit the class (Minghao giving Jihoon a confused grimace, before he squeezes out), you study Jihoon. He’s still sitting, and you’re all towering over him. His pale skin is glowing in the light and he purses his lip and bounces his leg - God, his thick leg - in nervous await.

Students are slipping out the door in droves and when the last, tired body escapes, Seulgi reaches into her bag and pulls out the leather-bound book. “We read it.”

“I figured,” he mutters. He’s avoiding your eyes, flinching a little when Irene slams her hand onto the book. “So, why have you been writing down the girl code?”

Jihoon sighs. His lips make a tight line, and you can see how he wonders what to say. The pause would’ve been more tense had you not had the girls with you.

“The girl code is for girls only,” Yeri supplies.

“Well, you weren’t exactly being discreet about it-”

“Just answer the question, Jihoon!” Seulgi snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is, like, top-level strange.”

“Alright!” Jihoon throws his hands up in the air. His eyes flit to you, totally quiet and scratching your nails on the wooden table. You look away. He sighs a little. “I… It’s..”

You almost want to hug him when he buries his face in his hands, tugging at the ends of his hair.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

The four of you exchange glances.

“We won’t.”

He pauses.

“It’s.. IhaveacrushonthisgirlandIdon’twanttomessitup.”

There’s a beat, where the information glides cooly into your skulls and you begin to process. Jihoon - cold, cynical, loner Jihoon - has a crush on a girl and is trying to improve himself for her?

Holy hell.

“Jihoon!” cries Seulgi and Irene chimes in, equally as adoring and diffused: “That’s so cute, you should’ve just said something!”

There’s an uproar of coos and cries and oohs and ahhs and compliments being thrown at Jihoon and he just sits there, cheeks blazing bright red, although with a little, shy smile on his lips.

And then there’s you. It’s so dumb. Why can’t you help the slight disappointment that lowers on you, like the fog does in the blooming season? Why can’t you smile wider, happier for Jihoon? Why do you feel this way? Does it really take all this commotion for you to realize how much you want him? You half-smile and look at your shoes. Just as how your feelings blossomed like a flower in spring, you hope they, too, are destined to wither away once more.

“Congratulations,” you say to him, giving him a dignified nod. Jihoon looks at you for a moment, before he smiles tightly and thanks you.

“Jihoon!” Yeri says, and you know you’re about to hate her for what comes next: “We can totally help you with the crush!”

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “Really? I mean- you guys don’t have to-”

“No, no! You can come to our girls’ nights and we can tell you everything!” Irene cuts in, nodding in reassurance. Jihoon smiles to himself a little sheepishly.

“Who is it?” Seulgi asks, and you can tell her heart is triple its usual size.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Come on!” Seulgi begs, but Jihoon is steadfast. He gives her cheeky smile and shakes his head again. “No way. It’s my secret.”

“We can keep a secret!” Yeri begs, bending her knees in plea. You, unusually quiet, speak up again: “We can.”

There’s a pause while Jihoon looks at you again. He narrows his eyes and it’s almost like he’s trying to decode you. Maybe he’s noticed you’re just as quiet as he was, at that party. You hate yourself when your heart picks up at the thought of him caring about you.

Suddenly he’s snapping out of it and smiling and shaking his ruffled head of hair again. “No. If girl code was supposed to be a secret, then I don’t even wanna think about telling you.”

This time there’s no talkback, only somewhat embarrassed nods.

“We deserve that.” _____________________________

You come back to your dorm room that afternoon, and lie down in bed. Thoughts of Jihoon plague your mind and you feel disease-ridden, attempting to push away the thought with the same useless reminder: You should do your paper, gotta do your paper now, it’s due very soon…

But no matter how many times you tell yourself, you can’t overcome the crushing feeling in your chest, like your entire rib cage is being compressed.

You know when these emotions started. It was at the Halloween party, six months ago, and Jihoon had been wearing a cop-outfit and you, with a more humorous approach, a lobster costume (Mingyu was a chef). Somehow, he’d still found you sexy though, because he was laughing in the bathroom of Seungcheol’s frat house, ripping the costume off of you.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna fuck a lobster,” he’d said in between kisses, laughing again as he caught sight of the costume, discarded on the floor. You giggled. “Me neither. There are plenty of fish in the sea, you know?”

And he’d thrown his head back, still with that black hair, still in that sexy fucking uniform, and his nose all scrunched and adam’s apple bopping in time with his joyful laughter. “Stop making me laugh while I’m trying to get you wet!”

“I’m already wet,” you’d shrugged, “you’re hot.”

And before you knew it you were handcuffed and he was rutting into you against the sink. His cock was disappearing and reappearing from your pussy, hooked onto him like a vice. Groaning and listening to your withheld moans, he’d left the most sinful hickies along your shining neck, while mumbling desperate praises to you: “You’re so pretty, N/n, letting me have you like this, so fucking hot.”

You supposed you’d buried those feelings, because you felt so pathetic for catching feelings from a one night stand.

And it is pathetic. And you are pathetic, and desperate, and alone, and God, is it even Jihoon, or is it the way it suddenly feels like no one wants you?

“Stop that,” Yeri says suddenly, lying on her bed on the opposite side of your room. You tilt your tired eyes towards her. “What?”

“I can hear you thinking. What’s up?” She said nonchalantly, dropping her phone, that she’d been mindlessly scrolling through. Cheeks bunched up on your pillow and mascara smudging under your eyes, you look at her and sigh.

“Just tired,” you hum. _____________________________

Jihoon has been adopted. For a whole week following that incident, suddenly, your friends are taking him with them everywhere, and your safe space is invaded by his hair, his laugh, and his subtle cologne. It’s him with you during movie nights, it’s him during girls’ nights, and it’s him while you’re getting ready for a bar-night, all sitting in Irene and Seulgi’s pink-tastic room, doing makeup on the floor and on the desks and on the bed.

“I love your eye makeup,” Seulgi says to Yeri (it’s a pink number with glittery inner corners), under eyes totally covered in white powder, as she’s baking her makeup. Jihoon is sitting on the floor, hair tied up in two pigtails that Irene had given him. “Thank you, Seul.”

You’re doing your own makeup, working blush into your cheeks and trying not to look at him, the way he’s half-lying on the carpeted floor, looking absentmindedly into his phone. His thighs are huge, and he’s wearing gray sweatpants, and you think you’re going insane.

Irene (who’s done with her makeup before anyone else, always) looks up from her own phone. She narrows her eyes deviously. “Jihoon, what do you think of Yeri’s makeup?”

Jihoon snaps his head up, pigtails bouncing. “Uh,” he looks a little lost, when he turns his head over to Yeri, who smiles sheepishly, not totally understanding what was happening. “It’s nice.”

“Just nice?” Irene smirks, and Jihoon finally seems to catch on to the fact that this is some sort of test. Indeed it was, and you knew it from the moment Irene began to talk. Your eyes flit between them, sitting behind you in the mirror. “Can you elaborate on that?” Irene smirks.

“It’s…” Jihoon considers what to respond, almost nervous. “She looks better without makeup.”

“Son, no!”

“Never!”

“Absolutely not!”

It’s a cacophony from the girls, even a pillow is thrown at his head, which he dodges in shock. “Never say that to a girl, Jihoon! It’s rude!” Irene lectures, a finger pointedly thrown in his direction. When he doesn’t seem to get it, Yeri explains: “Imagine spending time on something, only for someone to say they’d wish you hadn’t done it all.”

Jihoon, who’s been bristling like a disturbed cat up until now, softens in understanding. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, our child, you’re learning,” Irene says, face turning back to her phone, as she apparently has lost interest in the conversation.

You watch quietly with a bemused smile, having paused your ministrations on your face, brush held in the air before you. Jihoon’s eyes flicker over to you, an unreadable expression on his face. You meet his eyes in the mirror, pitch black and blank. You look away quickly.

You can feel him, still looking at you, and you feel self-conscious at the way you crooken your back to better focus on your face. What’s he thinking? That you look ugly? That your back is ugly? Your makeup?

“Are you okay, Y/n?”

You freeze. His voice is soft as ever, and you understand now, better than ever, why he’s a music major, because it’s so melodious and sweet in your ears. All eyes in the room snap to you and you eye them all in the mirror. “Yep.”

Yeri sighs, exasperated. “She’s been depresso for, like, a week.”

“I’ve been fine,” you correct, smudging out the pencil on your lid. “I’ve been fineeee,” Yeri mocks, making her voice nasally and high. You glare at her through the mirror, but all she does is stick her tongue out at you.

“I’m just stressed out, okay? I've got a lot on my plate,” you mumble bitterly, and it’s true, because every time you’re trying to do assignments, papers, write notes and focus in class, you think of him, and how he doesn’t want you. And one wrong thing leads to another, and then you’re thinking about how no one wants you, and you haven’t had a boyfriend since you entered college. And then it’s something about how you look, or it’s something about how you are, as a person, and you just sit at your desk with this terrible feeling in you gut, trying not to cry, or hoping that your sniffles don’t overpower Replay by Shinee blasting in Yeri’s headphones, as she’s eating crackers in bed, just a few feet away from you.

“Just talk to us if you need anything, okay?” Seulgi frowns and you smile at her, hoping it looks convincing. She nods at you, turning back to her handheld mirror. But alas one person stays staring at you. You avoid his eyes, trying not to look like you’re about to cry.

“I can arrange a spa day? We can get our toes done,” Irene asks, and she wiggles her toes in the air for emphasis. “Ooo, yes!” Yeri exclaims.

Finally, Jihoon’s attention is ripped from you, wincing at the thought of another person handling his feet. “Can I skip out on that, maybe?”

Irene scratches her chin, pretending to think about it. Then she says, bluntly and directly: “Nah.”

_____________________________

“Let me come with you to the spa!”

“No! Jihoon, walk faster,” like a mother, Seulgi is grabbing Jihoon’s wrist and dragging him further from the tall, huge man behind you. Mingyu is following you all like a dog, whining and crying, and pouting. “Please, guys! I don’t wanna go with Seungcheol and Jeonghan, they’re mean!”

“Spa day is for girls only!” Yeri yells over her shoulder, as the five of you stumble away from Mingyu, crying out to you. “What about him?” Mingyu yells and points.

“Don’t listen to him, sweetie,” Seulgi tells Jihoon and he nods very seriously. “He’s our adopted son! Now shoo!”

Finally Mingyu gives up the chase, and you disappear behind the outerwall, beginning down a busy street towards Irene’s favorite spa. “I don’t get how you’re friends with that guy,” Irene says, elbowing you, and you both snicker. “He’s a pup,” you shrug.

The streets are filled with people, the sun is shining, and it’s spring, and everything should be great, because you’re with your friends. But he’s here too. Swallowed up by his hoodie, pitch black in a sea of colors, he’s still here and his very presence has you tense, and yearning for the touch of a masseuse. The streets that had grown so familiar, that you thought you had learnt and mastered, had become so foreign, and you’re trying to escape into yourself, trying to find a backdoor out of the constant blabbering, teaching Jihoon the importance of gossip and female communication and companionship. These are your friends. The sadness eventually musters into frustration.

Soon enough, you’re sighing so hard you think your soul escapes with it through your mouth. A spa-worker begins massaging your feet, and working her thumbs into your sore soles. Irene laughs at your reaction, two seats over. “Told you all you needed was a spa day!” she beams. Yeah, a spa day and maybe a new friend group that wouldn’t adopt the guy who you should certainly not be around!

And speaking of him, he’s sitting in the chair right next to yours, grimacing and flinching back from the disdained worker.

“What are you gonna tell her?” Yeri quips, smiling at the end of the row. Jihoon takes a second to snap out of his constant flinching, looking over at her nervously. “Oh, uh…”

The girls are all looking at him expectantly, but you’re squeezing your eyes shut and wishing your ears could shut too.

“Probably, like.. ‘Hey, I like you, would you maybe wanna go out on a date sometime?”

“Pssh!”

“Absolutely not!”

“As if!”

Jihoon is a little flabbergasted.

“Here’s what you’re actually gonna say,” Seulgi leans over in her chair towards him, directing him with a finger in her armrest. You hear Jihoon scramble in his chair, and you know he’s taking out that stupid notebook again.

Seulgi lowers her voice to mimic his, when she talks again: “‘Hi, crush, how are you?’ Wait for her response… Then: ‘I’ve always thought you were very beautiful. Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date, would that be okay with you?’ And be suave about it.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH.”

Yeri and Irene burst into laughter, hitting the armrests of their chairs and covering their bright smiles with their hands. Even you snort in amusement. “What?!” Seulgi exclaims, outraged. “What’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing, I just-...” Irene wafts herself, trying to ease away that tears of glee that spring in her eyes. “I can’t imagine any man, let alone our son, saying that to a woman.. Wow.”

“It’s good! I would be flattered,” Seulgi defends herself viciously. Yeri snorts from her seat: “It’s not a drama, Seul!”

“Well!” Seulgi scoffs, twisting her upper body to face Yeri now. “Maybe I would like my life to be a drama, thank you very much!”

Their argument continues viciously, insults and laughter being thrown at each other left and right and you can almost begin to tune them own, letting the feeling of pads on your feet and a gentle, cool brush on the nail lure you to sleep.

Then there’s a hand on your forearm. You peek an eye open and see him - God, it just has to be him - leaning over his chair to gently grasp you. He looks at you through lashes, and he’s so sincere that it kills you when he says: “I can tell you’re not okay.”

You’re a little taken aback, one second prior you were being lulled to sleep and now he’s talking to you, so low, so seriously, while the girls try to attack each other behind him. You wish your heart isn’t suddenly galloping, and you wish his warmth on your arm and radiating onto you isn’t so nauseating. “I-”

“Don't say you are, when you're not. You’re very obvious, you know?” he hums, smiling softly when he sees you flush from his intense gaze. You avert your eyes nervously. “Uhm. I just.. I don’t really want to talk about it, Hoon.”

You flick your eyes back up to his to survey his reaction. His expression softens at the nickname, and he holds your gaze for a moment longer, before he nods in understanding, all the warmth of his closeness disappearing, when he sits back down in his seat.

“That’s okay,” he smiles at you in reassurance, and your heart leaps, and you can’t help but think that he doesn’t need anymore training to make his crush - whoever the lucky girl is - completely and totally happy for several lifetimes.

He’s a beautiful, sun-beamed flower, where he sits, light flitting through the store-front windows. You’d be happy for several lifetimes. If only he wanted you. _____________________________

“What is going on?!”

It’s Mingyu, and he’s somehow found you, as you’re trudging out of your latest class, suddenly hot on your trail and outraged about something or other. “What?” you mumble, heading to the cafe near the end of the hall.

“With Jihoon?! Why does he get to be your son when I don’t?!” Mingyu wafts his arms and pouts and you cringe, leaning away from his loud voice. “Ugh…”

“I need to know why he was writing that girl code stuff, Y/n. Why is he suddenly allowed at girls’ nights, when I’ve been trying to get in for months?!”

You take a turn into the cafe and sigh at how crowded it is, immediately placing yourself in line, Mingyu right behind you. “Calm down,” you say, just wanting a sandwich and maybe some peace and qui-

“I will not!” he snaps back, brows furrowed and a determined look on his face. You look up at him, pursing your lips in thought. Did Mingyu deserve to know? Maybe. He had been trying to get into girls’ nights forever, always going on about being ‘an honorary member’.

“I’m not sure I can tell you- Hey, can I get a tuna sandwich, please?” You say, quickly turned to the clerk behind the counter. “I won’t tell anyone, pleaseee- Can you get me one of those too? Thanks.”

You’re handed your sandwiches, and you hold both of them, drifting over to a table by the window, both of Mingyu’s hands on your shoulders and his voice in your ear: “Please, please, please, pretty please with the sugar on top?”

You plop down in your seat, simply exasperated, and hand him his sandwich. He’s settling himself down when you answer: “Okay.”

“Yes!” Mingyu fists the air in victory, mumbling self-assured under his breath: “Begging always works.” You snort and take a big bite of your sandwich.

“Stop eating and tell me!” he whines. “I’m hungry– Hey!”

Mingyu snatches the sandwich right out of your hands and grins at you deviously, dancing with it. You hate him. You hate him, but it is a little endearing.

“Jihoon has a crush on some girl and he’s been writing down the girl code in an attempt to understand women,” you deadpan, and when Mingyu’s mouth and guard drops, you snatch your sandwich back and begin gulping down hungrily.

“Are you shitting me?!” You shake your head.

“So, that's why he's allowed at girls’ night?” You nod your head.

“So, that’s why you’ve been so down?” You almost choke on your food.

“What?”

“Because you like him,” Mingyu says seriously and, with a totally stunned look on your face, you shark down the bits of sandwich in your mouth painfully. “How do you know that?!” you cry, head suddenly snapping in seventy different directions, relief washing over you, when none of your or Jihoon’s friends are around.

“Because you’ve been acting all weird around him since you fucked at Seungcheol’s Halloween party,” Mingyu shrugs. You wave your arms wildly.

“How do you know that?!” Whining, you throw yourself back in your seat, and bury your head in your hands. This couldn’t be happening. Your delicate secret, the one that could have - should have - simply faded away into summer, was now out and open, and you look out the window, and it’s spring.

“I know everything,” Mingu says ominously, giggling evilly.

“Mingyu, I will fucking kill you.”

“Fine! I needed to pee and you guys were super loud,” Mingyu pouts and takes a bite of his own sandwich. “No need to be so rude.”

“I can’t believe you know,” you groan, head collapsing on the table. Mingyu, forever and always silly, finally softens and frowns. You’re scattered.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No,” you say. Then, a moment later (in true Girl Code fashion) you’re lifting your head from the table and burying it in your hands: “I just. I don’t know, Mingyu. I feel so pathetic for liking him after a one night stand! And now he’s doing all this for another woman and he’s with us all the time…I haven’t had a boyfriend in college, Mingyu. I just feel so…” There’s a pause, when you’re trying to find the right word, and Mingyu stops breathing, looking at you and fearing the worst. Then comes the word, ripping itself from your lips:

“Unlovable.”

Mingyu’s frown deepens. Big, puppy Mingyu who’s always silly and happy, just slumps in on himself. “You’re not unlovable,” he mumbles, sounding genuinely disbelieving. You scoff.

“Thanks, Mingyu, it’s just.. That’s how it feels,” you admit, running a hand through your hair and looking at your half-eaten sandwich on the table. Mingyu’s quiet for a moment. When he speaks up again, he’s determined, and you can discern almost immediately that there’s no escaping this plan. Or he’ll for God’s sake start begging again.

“I’m going to wingman you,” he’s nodding to himself, and you can see the plan falling into place in his head, “I’m gonna wingman you and set you up with my friend at the party on Saturday!”

“Please, don’t,” you groan half-heartedly, but a piece of you brightens with hope, with summer, like maybe this was the thing you needed to get over your schoolgirl-crush on Jihoon.

“No,” Mingyu responds simply. “This is happening.” _____________________________

Indeed, it is happening.

The frat house is practically bumping with each beat of whatever pop song is playing over the speakers, and you lean into the rhythm that reverberates in the kitchen table beneath your fingers.

You somewhat wish that you hadn’t been as excited for this as you were, that you hadn’t spent hours picking out the perfect pink dress and doing your makeup, and that you aren’t hopelessly dependant on Mingyu (of all people) to find you a fuck. But you are. Putting on that dress and hoop earrings and doing your hair and declining Yeri’s invitation to the girls’ (and Jihoon’s) pre-party, you feel like you’re scrambling, like constantly falling through the air, flailing for something to ground yourself on.

Now, scanning over the tinted lights and the dancing people and feeling the slight, warm buzz of vodka in your blood, you know you need this. And still, you combat that slight anxiety, the insecurity that you hadn’t felt in years - what if Mingyu couldn’t find a single guy that wanted you?

Mingyu doesn’t seem worried though.

“Okay! We just gotta figure out who to set you up with. Take your pick,” he places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing and gauging your reaction. Your brows furrow as you shrug. Somehow, even when half the guys are objectively hot, you can’t say you find yourself drawn to any of them. You don’t linger on the feeling, fearful that maybe you’ll realize all the things they’re missing, the things they’re falling short of, are just Jihoon’s traits. “I don’t know, man. I just-..”

Mingyu senses your struggle and elects to give you his excellent guidance. “Alright, well you could do Joshua?” He’s pointing somewhere in the crowd, and sure enough, you notice Joshua, majoring in communications or something like that. “He’s a star: total hottie, super smart, sweet and considerate, and-”

“And he fucked Yeri,” you deadpan, head lolling over to look at Mingyu disapprovingly. Mingyu’s mouth falls open: “What?!”

“Yeah, like, two months ago!” you argue, wafting your hands. Mingyu’s mouth stays open, and he’s seemingly totally appalled by this.

“What?! Okay- nevermind. How about him?” He points his long limbs again, and this time you notice-

You narrow your eyes confusedly. Hopefully Mingyu was not trying to set you up with the biggest player in your year? “Jeonghan?!”

“What? No, the guy beside him, dickwad,” he playfully smacks the side of your head as you refocus your eyes. Indeed, a blonde guy is standing next to Jeonghan, seemingly whining at him. “Who’s he?”

“Lee Chan. Super sweet, great bod, a little dumb, but very doting-”

“Is he a freshman?!” you cry, almost as if it were a crime. Mingyu huffs. “You’re not making this easy, you know?!”

“I’m not dating or fucking a freshman,” you cross your arms and Mingyu senses the air of finality in your words. He sighs, slumping behind you for a moment, before he spots something across the room.

“Wonwoo! What about him?” he doesn’t even bother pointing at this point, simply tilts your head towards the man, who was currently talking to Seungcheol a little ways from the kitchen. You spot him. You suppose you’d always been a little curious about Wonwoo. From what you’d seen of him in passing, he was sweet and polite, absolutely gorgeous and extremely smart. You nod solemnly.

“I could- I could see that,” you say and Mingyu’s eyes light up. He bounces victoriously, punching the air. “He’s great, you’re- you’re gonna love him,” Mingyu delights and before you can even get another word in, Mingyu’s yelling across the room: “Hey, Wonwoo! Wonwoo, scootch over here!”

Your eyes widen in shock. “Wha- we’re doing this now? Just, on the fly? No warning?”

“It’s fine,” Mingyu waves you off, eyes trained on where Wonwoo is now walking towards you.

“Do I look okay?” your voice is wavering nervously. You still can’t help how you feel, even in your dress and your makeup. Where had all your confidence gone? The confidence with which you’d literally fucked Jihoon in a lobster-costume? Even the thought of him stings. Mingyu’s confident facade falters for only a split second at the vulnerability in your tone. His gaze softens and he looks at you: “You look great, N/n. Calm down, Wonwoo’s super nice.”

“Hey, Gyu,” Wonwoo’s voice is cool, as he approaches Mingyu. Standing in front of you and Mingyu, he briefly scans you, then acknowledges you with a nod and a sweet smile. “Wonwoo, hey, you know, I was just wondering if you’ve already done the history paper?”

Wonwoo is unamused. “I’m not doing your paper again, Mingyu.”

“Oh well, shucks, that’s simply too bad,” Mingyu (poorly) feigns annoyance and defeat, before he’s grabbing your shoulder. “Anyway, Wonwoo, have you met my very good friend, Y/n?”

You fake a smile, hoping the absolute pain of the current interaction was not showing on your face. If you’d known Mingyu was this bad at wing-manning, you would’ve gladly put up with his begging instead. You want to crawl into a hole and die, because based on Wonwoo’s smug smile, he has a pretty good understanding of what’s happening.

“Whoops, look at the time!” Mingyu looks at his wrist. He is not wearing a watch. “Damn, I guess I gotta go and- and leave my two good friends alone with each other, such a shame, uh, anyway!” As he speaks he backs further and further from you, trying to ignore the glare in your eyes, before he’s bolting at his last word.

There’s an awkward silence as soon as Mingyu’s gone. You feel like an unshelled turtle. You purse your lips and stare at your heel-clad feet.

“So, Mingyu was trying to wingman you?” Wonwoo’s voice is deep and bemused. You look at him in horror, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation.

“Yeah,” your breathe, and he immediately begins laughing. “Sorry about that, he was- he was just trying to be helpful, although it’s hard to defend him right now.”

“He’s wingmanned me before, too,” Wonwoo muses and, thank God, this was actually a good thing. You find a balance on the common ground. “Really?” you grin, looking up at him.

“Yep,” Wonwoo admits, “safe to say I did not get my dick wet.”

You laugh hard, and it feels like a switch has flipped inside you, restarting your joy-generator, because you’re laughing and hitting Wonwoo’s arm, and he’s smiling because he’s just made a pretty girl laugh.

“He’s so bad!” you say when you’re done laughing. “Everytime!” Wonwoo drawls, “Everytime he pulls that shit and he’s never wearing a watch!”

You and Wonwoo laugh together, throwing (good-hearted) snarky comments about Mingyu around, and your cheeks are rosy and shining in the kitchen-light. Finally, party still bumpin’ and pumpin’ in the near distance, your laughter dies down and you’re both half-leaning against the counter. Wonwoo looks down at you with a smug smile.

“What?” you ask, growing insecure again under his gaze. He hums.

“So you asked for me?”

“Hm?”

“When Mingyu was wingmanning you,” Wonwoo reminded you, tilting his head. “You asked for me?”

“I-” you stutter, and your heart clenches nervously, because if things had been right, if things were different at least, you would have asked for Jihoon. It’s this gut-punching guilt. It feels wrong to use him, Wonwoo, to overcome Jihoon. “He was laying down my options.”

“Options?” Wonwoo quips, brow raised questioningly, but he doesn’t interrogate further. Instead, he leans his head down, so he’s much, much closer to you, breathing hitting your face when he whispers: “But you wanted to fuck me. Isn’t that right?”

You gulp. His presence is almost suffocating. Avoiding his eyes, you flicker them onto the dancefloor, where-

Where Jihoon is storming out of the house.

You squeeze your eyes shut - something Wonwoo thinks is out of embarrassment, from the question he’s just asked you - and try to refocus on Wonwoo. Try to ignore how the thoughts about Jihoon come bubbling in your head. It was probably something with his crush. You want to do nothing more than comfort him, hold him, steal away every bad thought he may ever have.

You open your eyes, hoping that somehow seeing Wonwoo’s face would fill you with a need for him - him, and not Jihoon - but seeing him in the low lighting only serves as a reminder that Wonwoo is not him.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, Wonwoo. I gotta go. I’m really, really sorry-” you say suddenly, and immediately you’re scurrying towards the door. Wonwoo frowns, eyes following you in your path. “Did I- Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, you were hot!” you say absent-mindedly, before you’re disappearing into the entrance, and then further along, out the door.

Wonwoo stands alone at the counter, still somewhat leaned towards your ghost in front of him, and shakes his head in confusion. “What the fuck?” _____________________________

“Jihoon?”

You exit just in time to see him, stomping on the other side of the road, armless denim jacket wafting in the wind. It’s spring, just warm enough that you’re not freezing, but still cold enough that you curl your arms around yourself. Your hair blows gently. It smells distantly like flowers.

He turns around at your voice. When he does, you know your suspicions were right. He looks so defeated. His gorgeous long hair, that usually only makes you clench your thighs together, is limp and drags him downwards. His arms hang similarly at his sides, fists clenched at the bottom, causing veins to ripple along the forearms. He stands just below a street light, spot-lighted, as if on a stage.

“Leave me alone!” he yells out to you across the road, voice breaking halfway. This does nothing to dampen his demeanor - this tough front, this anger he suddenly carries. You still in the grass beside the road, looking at him pleadingly. He can’t hold your gaze.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, Jihoon,” you begin, choosing your words carefully. “But I can just.. Support you. You don’t have to be alone right now.”

This almost seems to piss him off more, clenching his jaw, sharply defined by the harsh shadows, and steering his head away from you, like a sunflower following the sun in the sky. It hurts your heart. The way he almost seems angry with you. And yet again you’re made to feel pathetic for following him out here. Like you’re on your knees and he’s standing there in front of you, spitting on you. Why does it hurt so much? You almost wish you’d stayed with Wonwoo - that you’d followed him to his room and let him fuck you and pretended you weren’t thinking about him the entire time.

“Shouldn’t you go back inside?” he’s prickling with hostility. “You seemed like you were having a good time.”

“Jihoon,” you say breathlessly. “None of us is having a good time if you’re not.”

Whatever cog you unturned, whatever screw you unscrewed, Jihoon’s tightly wound posture unwinds, and he softens and withers before you, one hand clamping over his eyes. You take this as a sign to move towards him, heels clicking on the asphalt warning him of your advance. It’s deadly quiet, save for the heartbeat of the frat house behind you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally lowering his hand and looking at you. You smile sympathetically, relief flooding you, when he lets you gently place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

The two of you begin to walk in silence, and you recognize it as the path that leads back to the dormitory. It’s calm, steps becoming rhythmic and breeze easing your muscles with its cool touch. You study his face as it’s lit and unlit by the systemic presence of street lights. You’re able to put your own feelings aside for him, to be a martyr, and to sacrifice yourself to comfort him. It feels like cutting your own throat to talk to him about another woman, a woman he loves, truly, but you know it must be done.

“So,” you muster finally. “What happened in there?”

He scoffs bitterly, looking at the pavement underneath his shoes. You frown. “Nothing happened.”

“Nothing?” you repeat, a little confused.

“I didn’t tell her.”

“Oh.”

You’re honestly not the best comforter, you realize, cringing and hoping you’re not making it worse by talking to him about it. You see the faint outline of the dormitory at the end of the street.

“Why not?” you quip quietly. His mouth makes a tight line. He breathes out shakily, and you fear you’re riling him up again by asking further.

“She was talking to some other guy,” Jihoon says, eyes flitting to yours before immediately ducking back to the pavement. You furrow your brows. Could it be you? That thought nurtures the spring garden in your stomach, the one you’d been trying to kill. But the insecurity that had come with it, and with him, only manages to squander that light.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you say softly, hand finding his arm, but he pulls it away from you immediately. Ouch.

“Yeah,” he chuckles without humor.

Finally, you decide to just shut up, to stop pushing him when he’s so vulnerable, but this time it’s Jihoon who doesn’t stop speaking. “You know,” he begins and again he’s laughing, but you can tell it’s only a cheap plaster for the pain in his voice, “I’d memorized that- that confession thing Seulgi made. And I followed all the- the style advice and the-” his voice breaks and he hisses at how pathetic it sounds. “Everything. I did everything,” he summarizes finally and when you look you see orbs of tears forming at his waterline, like the dew drops that sparkle on leaves in spring.

You don’t know what to say. It’s almost too hard to see him like this. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, but Jihoon shakes his head.

“Stop saying that,” his voice is harsher, groggier, thick and stained by the sobs in his throat. You pause your steps. You’re standing in the yard outside the dormitory now. Hundreds of windows become an audience to where you now stand before each other.

“Why?” you ask.

“Because-” he wipes the tears away aggressively, composing himself before he finally, finally looks at you. “Because you’re gonna make me think that you actually care.” His voice is suddenly laced with venom again. The hostility that you’d tamed returns and it’s so much stronger, more bitter. You’re taken aback.

“I-I do care? Why do you think I don’t care-”

“Oh, please, Y/n. You didn’t want me at your girls’ nights or at spa day or fucking whatever. You didn’t- You don’t care about my book or my crush or my-”

“I do care!” you interrupt, voice stern and much louder. “What, you think I follow you out of parties for fun? Because I don’t care about you? And yeah, maybe I didn’t want you at the girls’ nights, but what does that matter-”

“It matters because!–” he stops himself in his tracks, hand coming out to halt you. “Fuck it, wait here,” he orders, and suddenly he is trudging into the darkness of the courtyard. You stand still, flabbergasted, and thoroughly confused. It’s so dark you can’t even see what he’s doing, only hear him in the dirt, silhouette blending into the shadows. Then, he’s walking back to you and you finally see him.

There are flowers in his hands.

It’s a makeshift bouquet, held tightly in between his veiny, pale hands, consisting of flowers that grow in the courtyard, red, yellow and lilac. It’s a slow-burning realization as he stands himself before you, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that is laced with pain. You know this part of the girl code.

“Hi, Y/n, how are you?” he breathes, and his voice is shaking and he’s looking at you and practically begging you to play along - to indulge him, even if you would turn your back on him. You can hardly register anything but him and those flowers, because your surroundings, the moon, the stars, the shadows and the streets are overpowered by the blooming in your chest. A single flower unfurls the pedals of your heart until you are open before him. You meet his eyes.

“I’m good.”

He nods.

“I’ve always thought you were very beautiful,” it almost seems like it physically pains him to admit these breathless feelings. “Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date,” another pained, gulping pause. “Would that be okay with you?”

It’s as if time has stopped in this moment; how his chest rises and falls under his shirt, how his hair gently nuzzles his face, how his eyes blear out at you from underneath his bangs, how he glows in the moonlight, and how his hands shake around the stems of the flowers.

“Was I..” his voice is hoarse, “Was I suave about it?”

“Yes,” is all you can manage, because all those flowers that you had stomped into a half-death were coming alive again and this time it was more than welcome.

“Yes?”

“Yes, you can take me on a date,” you break into a wide smile and, upon realizing you probably look like an idiot, you lower your gaze and your warm, shining cheeks to the pavement. He gasps, and it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

“But- you and Wonwoo-?”

“Do you wanna know why I was even talking to Wonwoo?” you ask, and when you meet his eyes again, he’s also smiling. You can’t help but reach out a hand to wrap around one of his, still frozen in holding the flowers. He quickly maneuvers the bouquet to the other hand and intertwines your fingers. Your heart soars. “Mingyu found out that I was sad because you had a crush on someone - I didn’t think it was me, you know? So he promised to wingman me at this party.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jihoon whispers, and you laugh, feeling so floaty and lovely. “Don’t call him that,” you say, but Jihoon only smiles cheekily, eyes matching the crescent moon in the sky above you.

“No, I meant me,” he says. He looks down at the flowers and frowns. “Is that why you were so quiet? On girls night?”

You nod and he sighs. “I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. You’re so sweet,” you say genuinely, and Jihoon nearly melts at how much you mean it. There’s something so wonderful about the way all the words, that he would never use to describe himself, float around your head and sparkle in your eyes in this moment, looking up at him.

Jihoon needs to kiss you. He’s not sure he’s ever needed anything as badly. He rips his free hand from yours only to place it tenderly against your cheek, pulling your face and your warmth into him, bouquet held out at his side to allow you snugly in his chest.

His lips are so soft and his nose nuzzles your own, plush hair tickling your forehead, and his huffed out breaths dance along your cheeks. Your lips mod perfectly, unlocking the shackles with which that earth-shattering yearning had held onto you. The world is anguish but will momentarily and suddenly be interrupted, cleaved apart with a sudden gash, by a planet-killer: love.

You truly don’t mean to make it heated, hell, you’d be content just kissing him forever, feeling how his tongue prods at your lips and meets your own, but his sculpted chest under your fingers draws out a pathetic moan. His eyebrows spring up and he pulls back to look at you. You blush under his gaze, fiddling with your dress.

“Holy fuck, that was so fucking hot,” he gasps, lips swollen from your insistent sucking on them, panting into the night air. You brighten at his compliment. “Inside. Now. To my room.”

“You know, girl code says to not have sex before on the third date,” you say smugly, unprepared when his free hand pushes you back into his chest, and his lips drag over half of your face, finding home at your ear. His voice is a growl: “Fuck. Girl code.”

He begins a somewhat dramatic march to the front door and you can’t help but run after him, taking his hand, and seeing how he smiles at that feeling. He looks so happy. Your heart skips a beat, because it’s you - you’re the one making him so happy.

And he’s so hot, it’s all you can think about as he drags you along the corridors, how nice his arms look in the sleeves denim, how pretty his hair is, his fucking face, and the chest you just barely felt under your fingertips. You’re watching doors pass in a monotonous routine, jittery and unable to wait for the one that might be his, for him to take you through it, and for you to bloom, totally and perfectly under him.

“Fucking finally,” he breathes, voice gruff and much lower than you’re used to when he stops at his door, fishing for his keys in his pocket. It enters the lock and with a click, everything you fantasized about is opening to you.

As soon as you’re inside, he’s kicking the door shut and pushing you against the wall, nails gripping into your dress, when he finally drops the makeshift bouquet on his nightstand. He cries out into your mouth at the way your chest bounces from the impact, immediately capturing your lips in his again.

You can’t help the way you’re tugging at his hair, trying to ground yourself in the feeling of him, when he shoves a thigh between your legs. You moan into his mouth, rutting into him, while his wandering hands pull your skirt up you to pool around your waist. He pulls back to look at you, how your hips cant into his strong, big thigh, and how your pink, lacey panties cling to your wet pussy.

“Off,” he mumbles, apparently having decided that the simple tugging of the fabric of your dress won’t be enough. You turn around in a daze, not even uttering a word, simply shoving the zipper at the back of it.

Jihoon groans, he has to, seeing the way you stick out your ass to him, while your hand lay flat on the wall. You shake your hips teasingly at him, and his hands float to your ass, petting it and squeezing it in his fingers, and biting his lips because it looks so fucking good and plump, and there’s a wet spot in your panties. He grabs your hips and rubs his dick into you. You gasp at the feeling, nails scratching against the wall.

“You make me so hard, baby,” he says breathlessly, unable to help himself humping against you, pre-cum spilling from his tip. “Shit,” he grunts, and you’re squeezing your eyes closed at the outline of his dick pressing into your pussy.

Finally Jihoon collects himself and his cold hands drag the zipper down. The top of your dress loosens and slides down your shoulders, where Jihoon aids you in slipping it off. His hands spin you around, finally taking a breath to marvel your bare chest in front of him.

You blush, suddenly so bashful, when just before you were wiggling your ass at him. You curl your arms over your chest, but Jihoon’s own come to stop them. “No, no, no, no,” he tuts, almost sad, “why are you doing that?”

You don’t answer immediately, but apparently it’s not a rhetorical question. His hands intertwine with yours to prevent you from covering yourself up. “Uh, I don’t know,” you stammer sheepishly, “I don’t wanna, like, kill the mood or any-”

“You’re not killing the mood, pretty,” Jihoon whispers so, so achingly sincere and your heart hurts.

“Sorry, it was just-”

“Don’t say sorry,” he lectures, interrupting again. He tilts his head and he looks at you with a flaming intensity. “Try again.”

You pause, flustered out of your mind.

“I-I’ve just been feeling a little insecure lately, I guess,” you say and you’re positive your face is beet-red, but if it is Jihoon says nothing, only pouts and releases one hand only to direct your eyes back to his with a hand on your chin.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n,” he says and even when you seek it out, you can’t find even the slightest hint of lying in his voice. “I want to show you, but I can’t do that if you cover up. Understand?”

You nod, lips breaking into a little smile, that his heart becomes hot like the spring-sunshine. “Okay,” you say and he smiles brightly, releasing your chin from between his fingers.

He guides you onto the bed, but it’s no longer heated and rushed, it’s so soft and gentle, and he pulls off your underwear only after you whisper in agreement, and then he lowers himself into it, again, only allowing himself the pleasure when you whisper a strained yes and nod vigorously.

He fully makes out with your pussy - his lips are wrapped around your clit, licking and sucking it, and fucking moaning into it, sending vibration straight to the coil in your stomach. You’re moaning so loud, broken cries bouncing off the walls, while your finger wrap into his hair and your legs thrash. His tongue flattens against your folds, then dips down to trail around your slit.

“Jihoon!” you cry, hips bucking into his mouth. He groans again, releasing your pussy with a soft pop. “Fuck, baby, keep saying my name like that.” And then his face disappears in your pussy again.

And you do, everytime his nips and gums on your sensitive folds, tongue trailing back up to your nub to fully envelop it. He sucks, hard. And you think you might cum the second you look at him, because the image of his full head of hair buried in between your legs and lapping like a starved man is so pornographic, your head spins.

He might go insane from just the taste of you, he realizes, because even when you cry that you’re cumming, and your legs shake around his head and your pussy is soaked with your cum, he can’t bring himself to pull away, strong arms wrapping around stomach to still you as you begin to wiggle from the feeling of his tongue just continuing to lap at you.

“Jihoon! Fuck, t-too much,” you whimper and the sound shoots straight to his cock. He finally pulls away, eyes still trained on your pretty cunt, and the way it clenches around nothing. “Clenching so hard, sweetheart, only for there to be nothing, shouldn’t we fix that?” he hums, leaning down to trail his finger through your folds, gathering your wetness on its tip.

You whimper uncertainly, when he crawls back over your body, hair tickling your face when hovers just above you and he shushes your pathetic squeaks. He pushes the wet finger into your mouth and you suck obediently. “Shh, baby, just taste yourself on my finger, how can you be insecure with a pussy like that, hm?”

You cry around his single digit, tongue sliding over it eagerly. He wants to fuck your face, the way your pretty, plump lips wrap around his finger, but he’ll save that for another time. “Shh, baby, I know. You’ll be stuffed full of cock soon, don’t worry,” he rasps soothingly, and slips his drenched finger from your mouth.

Finally, he rips the denim jacket off, white tee following soon after, and you’re left, mouth gaping, at the how toned his stomach is, how big his pecs are and how fucking thick his arms are at his side.

“You’re so fucking hoot, Hoonie,” you drawl, making grabby hands to urge him back to you. He smiles at those words, even gains a small dusting of pink on his cheeks, but he shakes his head. “Gotta get my pants off, baby.”

“Hurry up,” you grin playfully, and he scoffs at you from where he stands, pants and boxers coming off in one fell swoop. “So needy,” he mumbles to himself, but you can tell by the overjoyed expression on his face, that he’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

His cock is finally freed, and your eyes float to it, drinking in the sight of him. He’s so pretty and so red, and a single vein creeps up its curved surface towards the oozing head. You gulp, eyes sparkling.

“Wan’ it in my mouth,” you mumble, where you’re now half sitting up and glowing from your first orgasm. Jihoon looks at you and laughs, as he climbs on top of you again.

His face hovers over yours, finger carding through your hair tenderly. He looks in your eyes. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

He coos at you, eyes flickering to your lips for a moment, and you feel his cock twitch where it rests heavily on your stomach. “Not right now, pretty, I wanna fuck you.”

“You don’t have to cum-” you reason, mouth practically watering at the thought of having him in your mouth. He stops you though, hand still brushing through your hair, so delicately, as if you were a lily, or a rose, or a tulip.

“I’m not gonna be able to hold back if you look at me like that with my fucking cock in your mouth,” he whispers, and it’s so intimate, despite being so vulgar. How warm you both are, naked and holding onto each other and his dick is oozing onto your stomach and your pussy is leaking onto his sheets. “Like that,” Jihoon emphasizes, when you look up at him adoringly. You smile.

“Okay,” you say, a determined look on your face, “later then.”

He laughs. “Eager baby. Relax, you’re gonna get a pussy full of cock now, your mouth can wait.”

You wanna retort, say something snarky, anything, but you’re abruptly interrupted by the feeling of his cock pushing into you. You moan and your nails claw at his back, because it’s so big and so raw in your pussy, you feel that fucking vein dragging against your walls. “Shit, Hoonie. Fuck, fuck.”

He’s groaning too, hands on your waist and face in your neck. “So fucking tight, so pretty.”

You’re both panting when his cock is fully nestled inside you, sitting snug against your walls. You look up at him and he’s pretty, all flushed and lips swollen, and the sight makes you clench. He hisses, jerking abruptly, making the both of you moan.

“Fuck, baby, can’t just clench on me like tha-”

“Please, please, just fuck me now, can’t wait anymore!” you cry, clawing at him, nails raking over his flexed biceps, where he holds onto you. And he can’t help but fulfill your wish.

You honestly don’t know where he gets his stamina, because the second you’re done asking, he’s ramming into you so hard and so fast, your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open in a long whine. The whole bed is shaking from the impact, as his hips sheath and unsheath from your warm, welcoming pussy.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he drawls, hands trailing up from your waist to your bouncing chest, thumbing over your nipples. “Bet Wonwoo wishes he got to see you like this, hm?”

The way your pussy has his cock in a chokehold, the way you’re lying beneath, it has him fully dazed, and now he babbles all that comes to mind. “Yeah, but you’re mine, princess. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else can have you crying like this for their cock, right?”

“N-No one else,” you whimper, sopping cunt clenching and unclenching around his dick. “That’s right,” he pants, humid breath on your cheek, “Say you’re mine, pretty girl, say you’re fucking mine.”

“A-ah, ‘m yours, Hoonie,” you cry and he thinks he might cum just like that, at your blissed face, glowing beneath him, and your pussy sucking him in, and you obeying him thoughtlessly.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he rewards you by dragging his hand down your stomach to rub your clit. Your whole body convulses into his, hands dragging over his big arms for support. “Come on, sweetheart, cum on my cock now.”

And you do, the tension in your stomach tightening beyond what you can take, before it finally unfurls, and it blooms, and it’s spring, and your squirting all over Jihoon’s abs, because God, he’s so fucking hot and he fucks you silly with his dumb, big muscles and his dumb, cute face.

The sight of your squirting, thrashing and shaking underneath him is all he needs. Jihoon shoots you full of his cum, making you feel so full and wet, before he finally halts his rutting hips, stilling on top of you.

You’re both panting. You’re sweating so much, your hair sticks to your forehead, and you’re gasping for air. Jihoon is still on top of you, holding himself up somehow, and licking at your neck appreciatively.

There’s a pause, where you’re basking in each other's warmth, and there’s so much love between you it’s almost suffocating. Then you're narrowing your eyes at the head of hair in your neck, growing suspicious.

“... Are you still hard?”

He laughs into your neck, peering up at you with a sheepish smile.

“Are you still open to that dick-sucking thing?” _____________________________

“So,” Yeri trails off.

You’re sitting in front of her, Seulgi and Irene at the campus cafe after a thorough round of congratulating you and Jihoon’s new relationship. They’d been both surprised and somehow not-at-all-surprised.

“He can’t come to girls night anymore,” Irene states the obvious, and immediately you, Seulgi and Yeri are nodding along.

“Thank God, I wasn’t the only one thinking that.”

“It just wouldn’t work,” you supply, agreeing.

There’s a pause. Seulgi pouts. “I can’t believe we don’t have a son anymore. They grow up so fast,” she says and she sounds genuinely sad about it.

You sigh a little, debating whether or not to play this card. Then you say: “I know someone who would like to be our son.”

“Oh, no..”

“Don’t say..”

“Yep,” you shrug, and then you hear him. Lumbering clumsily down the hall, like a galloping horse.

“I HEAR THERE’S A NEW POSITION OPEN DURING GIRLS NIGHTS!!!!! I MADE MUFFINS!!”

Mingu is running through the cafe, dodging stools and chairs like he’s on Ninja Warrior.

Irene frowns. “I guess he’ll do as our new son.”

“We can always kick him out if he gets too annoying,” Yeri shrugs, just in time for Mingyu to stand before your table with a fresh tray of muffins.

“Yes!” he cries with glee, voice incredibly high because he just can’t believe it.

“Begging always works!”

#svt smut #svt x reader #woozi smut #woozi angst #woozi fluff #woozi x reader #svt woozi x reader #lee jihoon x reader #jihoon x reader #jihoon smut #svt angst

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eddiesxangel · 4 months ago

Text

Take Me to the Lakes 6/6

cw: angst, hurt/ comfort, smut, dirty talk, daddy dom eddie, oral (f &m), p in v, anal play, use of y/n, MDNI 18+

wc: 8.4k

AN: it's been a long time coming, but the last chapter is here! I've been writing this fic for a year since I posted it as an OCx Eddie. But it deserved to be a reader insert, so I revamped it for you guys. Thank you all for taking the time to read the first Eddie series I ever started. ily all. I hope you enjoyed it <3

As the last days of camp dwindled, for the first time, you found yourself overwhelmed by an intense longing to be back in Hawkins. Each day passed in a blur, leaving you feeling numb and disconnected. Despite the efforts to maintain a composed façade for the children, you were merely going through the motions.

You couldn't shake off the weight of the final exchange with Eddie, and the girls' attempts to help were in vain. Regret consumed you as you grappled with the realization that your actions had caused Eddie unnecessary pain. The thought of losing Eddie forced you to confront the need for change in your life, as you could not bear the prospect of living without him any longer.

The drive home seemed quicker than in previous years. The four hours it took to get home felt like nothing as your mind raced about how to make up for your mistake. You got over your pride quickly as you yearned for Eddie's company. You had everything you ever dreamed of, and you ruined it.

The time spent falling for one another all went to waste as you tore his heart right out of his chest when you told him this was just a summer fling. Not only did you break his heart, but you also broke your own. How could you have done this to him? How could you have let your pride take over what your heart was screaming at you to take?

Eddie was the only good thing to happen to you, the right person for you. He was kind, caring, unapologetically himself, funny, generous, looked out for others, and was light and love. You had to win him back. He was everything to you; he was the end game. So you devised a plan to get him back.

You’ve been home for two weeks and still have not heard from Eddie. You called him as soon as you got home, but he would let it go to the answering machine each time you called. You must have looked pathetic, begging him to talk to you. Every day, you would call once without letting up. Your sorrowful words flooded the machine so much that Eddie’s uncle Wayne was about to block your number, but Eddie stopped him.

“What’s going on with you and this girl needs to be addressed, or I’m getting a restraining order,” Wayne huffed.

He didn’t mean it, but your calls in the middle of the day woke him up since he was on the night shift. For the fifteenth day in a row, you called, the anticipation building up with every ring until you finally heard someone on the other line answer.

“Hello?” The voice was weathered and rough, nothing like your Eddie.

Have you been calling the wrong number this whole time? You got his number off Ash; she wouldn’t have had it wrong?

“H-hi,” you stuttered, not expecting any time to pick up the call, “is Eddie there?”

“No, darlin’, he’s at work. Doesn’t wanna talk to you, though. I know you keep calling, but he's busy, and I'm trying to sleep, so please stop calling.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir! Won’t happen again.” Your heart sinks at the reality of his words.

“Thanks”

“Sir, before you go, can you relay a message to him?”

“Sure.”

You can tell he's annoyed.

“Can you tell him that I’m so sorry and that I love him?” your voice cracked at the words.

“Sure thing,” Wayne’s voice softened. He had no idea what transpired this summer between you and Eddie, but he didn’t know love was involved until now.

“Thank you… it’s y/n, by the way.” You tried to keep your sniffles to a minimum.

“Goodbye “y/n”

When Eddie got home that night, Wayne was already making his version of nighttime breakfast.

“Boy, sit down,” Wayne instructed as Eddie entered their shard trailer.

“Can’t I shower first?” Eddie looks at his greased-up coveralls and hands.

“Nope, you’re going to sit and listen.”

“Feel like I’m twelve again,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Now, I don’t know what happened between you and that girl who keeps calling, but you need to work it out, son.”

Eddie doesn't respond, but Wayne can see the wheels in his head turning.

“She called again.” Wayne sighed heavily. “I spoke to her.”

“You what?” That caught Eddie’s attention.

“She asked me to tell you that she is sorry and that she loves you.”

“I-“

“No, listen here,” he pointed the black spatula at his nephew.

"Never in my lifetime did I think you would be able to find a girl in this town who would finally see what I’ve seen your whole life? I’m not going to let you throw that away for some stupid argument.”

“It wasn’t stupid, old man; she’s embarrassed by me.”

“Didn’t sound like that to me; she was crying. She’s been calling every day for a fortnight. I think it’s time to hear her out. Clearly, she ain’t giving up without a fight. You don’t get that kind of love nowadays.” He turned to flip his fried egg.

“She’s too good for me; the princess of Hawkins can never be with the freak.” He rolls his eyes.

“Show her you are growing! You’ve got a real job, boy, a good steady one. None of that selling drugs bullshit, keep in line with the law, don’t fuck this up.”

“She hurt me, old man.”

“I don’t disagree that she did, but she had a reason for her doubts…” Wayne trails off, knowing well that his nephew has been slacking when it comes to growing up. Three repeats of his senior year, selling drugs, getting caught for petty crimes, and people thinking he worships Satan.

“Clearly, you care for this girl; I can tell you’re moping around.

“I’m not moping.”

“Don’t talk back.”

“Sorry.”

"Fix it, Ed. Now you can go shower. You stink”

Three weeks into the fall semester, you finally gave up on trying to call Eddie. The day you spoke to Wayne was the last day you called, but it didn’t stop you from repeating his phone number in your head for some source of comfort.

Ash had seen him here and there and told you how he was doing even though he had asked her not to say anything; her loyalty lay with you.

She told you he had played her the messages, so he had received them, but he was choosing to ignore you even though, in her words, “he looks like shit.”

You try to keep a brave face before your parents and classmates, but you’re starting to break. Ashley saw it the second she laid eyes on you.

She consoled you as you broke down in her arms. You apologized over and over again because you knew that she was also friends with Eddie and had already heard his side of the story.

“I can’t stand seeing you like this,” Ashely sighed as she walked into the dusk-lit trailer with Eddie.

“Well, you can thank your best friend for that.” His tone was sharp.

You had already called Ashley that night to tell her what had happened, and the second she hung up the phone, she raced over to the Munson’s.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it; she is under a lot of pressure.”

“She did mean it. She meant it and didn’t even have the decency to tell me straight up. Then she had the nerve to tell me she loves me.” Eddie scoffs.

“She does love you, Ed. She’s loved you since she accidentally burst into the Vecna campaign.”

“No way.”

“Yes, way. She has always had a thing for you; she was too scared to do anything. A) because she didn’t think you were into her and B) the pressure her parents put her under to be the perfect student, child, dancer, or valedictorian should be borderline child abuse..."

"Her parents would disown her, they would stop paying for her college, and they would probably kick her out if they learned their perfect angel was with you. So yea, what she did was awful and shitty, but it isn’t because she wanted to. It was because she had to.”

“She never told me much about her home life…” Eddie turned back to face Ash, leaning back against his amp.

“Because she is too proud. She feels this need always to be perfect, to always be on. Have you noticed how she ensures everyone around her is cared for before herself? Have you taken the time to sit and really watch her? She is the one person I know who is actually so kind-hearted and has no altered motives behind her actions.”

“She still ripped my heart out and stomped on it.”

“And she regrets it all, Eddie. I’ve never seen her like this. Please just take some time and think hard. She is sorry, and she loves you truly. I don’t know why. I don’t see the appeal, but she’s head over heels. Trust me. I’ve heard enough about the two of you to last me six lifetimes…”

“She’s told you about…that?” Eddie’s eyes go wide.

“And then some. She’s my best friend. What did you expect?”

“I dunno? You’re not into men, so I thought she wouldn’t share those details?” He chuckles awkwardly.

“No, Daddy.”

“Get out.”

A cackle fills the room as Ash tries to escape before Eddie physically pushes her out himself.

“Ok, ok, I’m leaving. Just think about things, okay?

“Yeah, whatever.” Eddie shrugged and closed the screen door behind her.

“He’s never going to forgive me.” You lay back on your bed. You and Eddie have been broken up for a month and a half.

“I think he will come around; he is stubborn.” Ashley joins you.

“This town is so small. How have I not bumped into him yet?”

“Probably because he got a new job, he’s always there. We haven’t had time to come up with a date for the next campaign.

“Do you know what the new job is? Wayne mentioned he was at work when I spoke to him but didn’t say what it was?"

“Beats me,” Ash struggled, letting her head hand off the edge of your bed as she inhaled the smoke from the joint.

Your parents were away for the weekend, and you had the house to yourselves.

“You got any snacks?”

“No, you know my mother doesn’t allow any of the good stuff in the house, and I haven’t had the time to go to the store since school started.”

“Let’s go get some.”

“Ok,” You hadn’t taken a hit yet, so you were okay to drive.

Things were going according to plan. They had exactly what you both wanted at the store and now you’re both on your way back to your place when suddenly, your car stalled at the fork in the road.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" you cried.

"It's okay; there's a payphone up the road. I'll call my dad; his buddy is a mechanic. He can ask for a tow," she reassured you.

"Uh, okay, here," you said as you passed her some change to make the call.

A few minutes later, you saw a baby blue, beat-up-looking truck headed your way.

"Oh, thank God."

The relief was short-lived as you watched the driver jump down from the cab.

Ash flinched when you grabbed her hand and squeezed it so tight that her fingers started turning purple.

“Owe, what the-“

“Hey Ash”

“Eddie?” She chuckled as a sick and twisted grin grew on her face.

“You called about a tow?”

“Yeah, her car stalled.” She gestured over to you, and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.

Eddie chose to ignore you were there, and you felt like you would throw up.

“Ok, well, I'll hook it up to the rig; you can get in.” Eddie only spoke directly to Ash, choosing not to look at you.

You stood there frozen, unable to speak as Ashley pulled you along with her to the tow truck.

“Well, this is awkward.” She chuckled uncomfortably as you got in after her.

“He’s a mechanic?” You whisper.

“Looks like it.”

“What am I going to do?!” You’re panicking. Out of all the scenarios in which you envisioned bumping into Eddie, this was not one of them.

“Breathe,” Ash instructs. “He is freaking out just as much as you are right now. Trust me.”

“O-oh, okay.” That didn’t settle your nerves in the slightest.

You jerked when the driver's door swung open, and Eddie got in without as much as clearing his throat.

“As much as I would love to catch up, I need to get home. Ed, is there any chance you can drop me off?”

“But your stuff is at my place.” You give her a look.

“I’ll get it tomorrow; we are almost there anyway.”

You’re going to be best friendless in about ten minutes if she really thinks she can ditch you now, in your most desperate time of need.

“Whatever,” Eddie mumbles and makes a left.

“Thanks, Ed! Bye, babe!” She blows you an obnoxious kiss and turns to her house.

The cab is eerily silent, and not even the radio is on, which is very unlike Eddie.

“She is so dead,” Eddie mumbles under his breath.

“You’re telling me.” You agree.

It’s the first thing you’ve said to him in a month.

Eddie doesn’t respond, instead he keeps his eyes locked on the road while you try and make yourself smaller, as if that would make you a less of an inconvenience for him.

You were jerked out of your internal screaming when the car jerked into park.

“We’re here.” He mumbles and gets out.

Still uncomfortable, you take a second to gather yourself before opening your door.

You jerk once again as the door is pulled out from under your grasp.

You stare blankly as Eddie steps aside to let you out of the car.

“T-thanks.” You don’t know what to do.

He didn’t talk to you or even look at you, but he’s opening doors for you?

You follow him inside, and he opens the door for you again and tells you to wait until he’s finished.

You anxiously wait for about forty-five minutes before Eddie returns to the waiting area. He looks devastatingly sexy like this. His coveralls are wrapped around his waist, showing off his black tank top, which clings to his sweaty body. Grease marks cover his alabaster skin.

“When’s the last time you got this checked out?” His voice is stern.

“I dunno? A year and a half? Maybe more?” you shrug innocently.

“No wonder it’s so fucked up.”

“Can-can you fix it?”

“You think I can’t fix it? I’m not a moron. I can do my job, y/n”

Hearing him call you by your name was like a knife to the heart.

“What, n-no?”

“How could you be so irresponsible!”

“I don’t know Eddie!” You scream back.

“What if this happened on your way home from Murdock? You’d be stuck in the middle of nowhere!”

“Well, good thing it didn’t!”

“God, you’re infuriating”

“Why do you even care!”

“Woah woah woah… ok kids take it easy.” A much older mechanic came to step between the both of you.

“Sorry, Mac,” Eddie steps back.

“Is this guy bothering you, sweetheart?” The older man, now known as Mac, asks.

“I’m fine,” you say, shaking your head with a sniffle.

“Ed, get back to work.” He ordered.

“Your car might take a while, Miss. Do you want us to drive you back and pick you up when it’s ready?”

“No, thanks, I’ll wait here.” You didn’t want to leave without your car.

“It’s up to you. If you change your mind, let us know. Ed can drive you back.”

Sitting here for hours in silence was better than being trapped back in a car with Eddie for 15 mins.

“Thanks.”

As the sun began its descent, casting a warm glow over the horizon, you could feel your impatience growing. The tension in the air was palpable as if it could be sliced with a knife. Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts as you grappled with how to approach him.

The mechanics left one by one until only Eddie and you remained. Unable to contain your restlessness any longer, you stuck your head into the garage area. The overpowering scent of motor oil and dirt floods your nostrils, hitting you like a wall. You struggled not to gag, but Eddie’s notice of your disgust did not escape.

“Sorry, this place isn’t clean enough for you, Princess.”

His inflection on your usual pet name was so harsh that you physically jerked back.

“I was just wondering how long it will be?”

“Almost done.”

“O-ok. Thanks”

“I’m not doing you a favour. It’s my job.”

“You never told me you like working on cars.” You don’t know why you’re trying to keep the conversation going. Maybe you missed the sound of his voice, or maybe you’re a glutton for punishment? Maybe you missed him so bad you thought your heart would leap out of your chest if you didn’t touch him.

“Like is a strong word. I’m good at it.” He shrugs.

“You’re good at a lot of things,” the compliment slips out.

“Whatever.” He sniffs and gets down on the creeper to take a look underneath.

You choose to stay and watch him work; no one else is around to tell you otherwise.

When Eddie reappears, he is surprised to see you sitting on the stool watching him work.

“What are you still doing here?”

“Eddie, can you please talk to me?” You feel the lump in your throat start to suffocate you.

“I’m working.” Eddie lets out another sigh of frustration.

“Ok, fine; you don’t have to talk, but will you please just listen?”

Eddie chooses to ignore you and rolls back under the car. You don’t care you’re going to talk anyway.

“I got scared, baby.”

The term of endearment tugged on Eddie’s heartstrings as much as he didn’t want them to.

“I’m so scared. I’ve never felt like this before about anybody, and the thought of it being stripped away from me was too much. I don’t talk about my parents because they put me on this pedestal. I knew they wouldn’t accept you no matter how unbelievably wonderful and beautiful you are. So I panicked…” you take a deep breath to compose yourself.

Eddie rolls out from under the hood and sits up on the creeper.

“I’m an embarrassment then? I can’t possibly be good enough, so you strung me along all summer like a pathetic, lovesick idiot for thinking you could actually be with someone like me, so you could what?…”

“I didn’t string you along! I didn’t know this would happen between us, but I know I love you, Eddie!” You didn’t think you had any more tears left to cry, but you were wrong. Your eyes started to well.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Please, baby, believe me, I don’t care what anyone else will think anymore! I’ll get disowned. I don’t care. I need you to understand, even if you don’t love me back.” You slip off the stool onto your knees so you’re face to face with the man you love.

“You don’t think I love you?! You really believe that?”

You shake your head no, ashamed to look at him.

“I hurt you; I understand that you don’t want me.”

“You really think I could spend the whole summer with you and not fall in love?” He shook his head in disbelief.

“What are you saying?” You want to reach out and touch him, but hold yourself back.

“Of course I love you! I’m changing for you! I’m staying out of trouble; I got this job to get on my own two feet! To prove to you that I can be that guy!”

Not caring anymore, you launch yourself at him, connecting your lips and arms around his neck.

Eddie couldn’t help himself. His body acting on instinct, he fell back into routine and kissed you back immediately.

Not thinking about his dirty hands, he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you in closer until your bodies pressed up against one another.

The moment your bodies touched, you felt like you were on fire. Everything felt so right like you were whole once again.

Regretfully, Eddie pulled away first.

“I’m so sorry,” you plead once more.

“It will take some time, but I want you more than I want to be mad at you.” He cups your face and smears some grease on your cheek as he tries to wipe away the tear stain.

“Really?”

“I love you, I never got to say it. I would tell you our last night before things blew up in our faces.”

“I love you, Eddie.”

A small smile creeps from his lips.

“Oh shit, you’re so dirty.”

“You know I like it dirty,” you can't help but smirk.

“No, no, your shirt and your,” he motions to your cheek.

“It’s okay.” You shrug, and an awkward silence settles between you.

“Um, so,” Eddie clears his throat.”

“Kiss me?”

“Your wish is my command, Princess.”

Your car was fixed by 9:00 p.m., and you offered Eddie a night, but he felt it was too soon to jump back into things. It stung a little, but you understood that not all was forgiven just yet. So you parted ways at the garage but saw a light at the end of the tunnel.

Things between you and Eddie have been better—not great, but better. He calls you on his days off, but you haven’t fully been forgiven by him just yet.

You haven’t spent any one-on-one time since he fixed your car two weeks ago because he’s been that slammed with essays, and you have to get ready for midterms.

“I was down at the mechanic yesterday, and you won’t believe who is working there.” Your dad huffs.

“Who?” Your mom replies.

You can’t help but overhear as you study at the kitchen table.

“The Munson boy.”

Uh-oh.

“Really?”

“Wouldn’t want him fixing my cars, probably mess it up even more.”

“He fixed my car two weeks ago.” You interjected.

“What?” Your mom snapped her head to you.

Ok, guess this conversation is happening now.

“He isn’t like what people say.”

“How exactly would you know this?” Your father squints at you suspiciously.

“Because I worked with him all summer at camp, and I learned a lot about him.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” You nod point blank.

“He didn’t touch you, did he?” your dad asks, and your mother scolds him for such a question.

“I’m an adult,” you bite back.

“What are you saying y/n?” Your mom asks.

“Eddie is good, and kind, and gentle. He isn’t a devil-worshiping deviant that everyone thinks.”

“Sounds like you’re very fond of this Munson kid.” Your dad was not amused.

“I am. I’m in love with him.” You swallow your fear.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m in love with Eddie. I have been for a long time, and this summer, we were together.” You breathe.

“I will not allow this!” Your father booms.

“Calm down, let’s hear her out.” Your mom was much more level-headed about this than you anticipated.

“What?” Your father and you both look to your mom.

“Have we not raised her to make her own choices?”

No way your mom was on your side?

“I will not have my child tainted by that scoundrel!”

“We’ve been together all summer! Have I changed at all?! Have I not done everything by your book? I was valedictorian! I was homecoming queen! Prom queen! A cheerleader! I was on the debate team! I was on the student council! I’m in college for business! I have been the perfect child for you, and you don’t have the decency to hear me out!”

Your father and mother were shocked. You had never spoken back to them before.

“This is bullshit.” You walk away from your studies, grab your purse and walk out.

You drive, you drive until you reach the trailer park on the other side of town.

You didn’t even know what one was Eddie’s, but you were hoping that you would see his van.

You drive down the gravel road, and you hear nothing but your heart pounding and the crunch of the rocks beneath your tires.

You almost reach the end of the park when you take out a breath of relief when you see the van on the right side of the lot.

You pull up and park behind it before you breathe heavily.

Would he even want to see you? You weren’t sure but needed to see him, no matter how selfish you were.

You tentatively give the screen door a few knocks and wait anxiously.

A few moments pass before you hear footsteps, and a figure appears from behind the small window of the door.

You freeze when you see the older gentleman standing on the other side of the frame.

Shit. You woke up his uncle…. Again.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Munson,” you apologized before you went to go back to your car.

Stupid, why don’t you ever think before you act? You knew his uncles would be sleeping.

“Hold on now, are you that girl my boy has been hung up on.”

“Uh- yea, I guess so.” You stop in your tracks.

“The one who keeps waking me up?” He chuckles, and you physically cringe.

“Look about that. I am so sorry, I completely forgot, didn’t realize the time-“

“It’s ok, hun. Do you want to come in? Ed isn’t home, but he should be shortly.”

“Really?”

“Please.” He waves you in, and you walk back up the porch steps and inside Eddie’s home.

“Haven’t had a guest in a while; sorry about the mess”

You look around, and you can’t spot the mess he’s talking about.

“Don’t worry about me.” You stand in the room awkwardly, not knowing where to go.

“Have a seat, darling,” he offers a kitchen table chair.

“Want anything to drink? I’m making myself a coffee.”

“Coffee is nice”

“How do you take it?”

“Two sugars, one cream please”

“Coming right up.”

You fiddle with the hem of your sweater, not knowing what to do with your hands. Usually, you’re good at talking to people, strangers or not, but in this case, you can’t find the right words.

“I really am so-“

“If I hear you apologize one more time, I’ll ask you to wait outside.” He chuckles again.

“Oh- sor-,” you catch yourself and just stop talking altogether.

“So, I see why Ed is head over heels for you”

You blush as he sets a Garfield mug in front of you.

“You think he’s really head over heels?” you air quote.

“You have no idea. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone. Was starting to get worried.” He laughed again. He was happy Eddie was finally happy.

“I still think he’s mad at me for what happened.” You take a sip of the sweet liquid.

“He will get over it. He tried to hide it, but I’ve known him from the time he popped out of his mama. He is in love.”

You can’t help but feel the rush of heat travel to your cheeks again.

“I hope so.” You sigh just as the hinges to the front door squeak.

You both look over, and Eddie’s large frame fills the hole as he enters the living room. He’s changed out of his coveralls, but his hands and face are covered in grease.

“Princess?” He questions before a smile breaks his face.

He hasn’t seen you since the garage.

“Hi,” you stand up to hang him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks surprised.

“I told my parents.” You pull back.

“You what!” You didn’t think his chocolate eyes could get any bigger.

“I don’t want you to be a secret.” You cup his curious face in your hands.

“R-really?”

“No, baby. I love you. I want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you, too.”

“So, do you forgive me?”

“After I talked some clear sense into the boy, he’s forgiven you.” Wayne nods his head.” You forgot for a moment that you weren’t alone.

“Shouldn’t you be hitting the road, old man?”

“Trying to get rid of the old guy so you can have quality time together… I see how it is.” He nods solemnly.

Your face heats up with embarrassment at the innuendo. You bury your face into Eddie’s chest to hide, and Eddie waves off his uncle to leave for his shift, and his uncle laughs menacingly as he shuts the door behind him.

“So…” you fill the silence now that you’re finally alone for the first time in months.

“I’m going to shower,” he jerks his thumb over his shoulder and heads to the bathroom. You know, dirt and all,” he motions down his body.

“Ya-of course! I’ll uh, I’ll wait here.” You stand in the middle of the room, trying to take up as little space as possible.

“Relax, Princess, I’ll be right back.” he kisses your cheek before turning for the bathroom

As Eddie showered, you couldn’t help but snoop. You saw a door at the end of the hall, and you could only assume it was Eddie’s room based on what you saw through the crack. You slowly pushed the door open and realized your assumption was correct.

It looked exactly like you thought, and there were no surprises there.

You investigated further to find a lion costume, and you giggled to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” You jumped when you felt Eddie’s damp fingers graze up your arms.

“Oh my god! You scared me.” You clutch your chest.

“Couldn’t help myself, seized the opportunity.” He flipped you so your chests met.

His chest was bare and damp; only a towel was wrapped around his waist as he caged you in with his strong arms.

You suddenly realized how badly you wanted him. You craved him every second you were apart, and now you’re so close you could lean in and lick his tattooed chest.

“Like what you see, princess?” He grips your chin in his thumb and forefinger to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes.

“Yes,” you sigh unabashedly.

“Good. Daddy’s missed you, baby.” He whispered before leaning in to kiss you. His hands roam your body, he missed your soft skin, your breasts, your ass.

You fight back a moan as your pussy clenches at his words. Your body is on fire; you want to do everything to please him, to make him feel good, wanted, and needed.

Eddie’s hands made their final destination as his kiss deepened. His thick fingers slip into the pockets of your jeans and squeeze, making you roll your hips into his.

“Need you,” you moan as you pull him in closer by the towel, making it slip.

“Oops,” you giggle innocently like that’s not exactly what you wanted.

“Naughty girl,” Eddie chuckles darkly before he bends down and lifts you up. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you over to the unmade bed.

You kiss his neck before he places you down on the mattress. A small growl leaves his lips when you lick his sweet spot.

You can feel his hard cock pressing into your lower stomach, only making your pussy weep for him.

Weeks without his touch have been punishment enough for your trepidations. Eddie’s hands found the button of your jeans and popped it open without struggle. The sound of your zipper was so loud as you waited for his hands to touch you. You saved time by taking off your top garments, but you needed to feel him on your skin.

“You’re so ready for me already, aren’t you, Princess?” His hands cupped your pussy over your sodden panties. Eddie watches your face as his fingers played with your clit. The look on your face was what he loved most. Your eyes glazed over, your mouth agape, and he hasn’t even started. The way you submit to him made him feral.

“Yes, daddy.” Your pussy was throbbing for him.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He stretches out like a cat as his head dips lower as his hands reach up your body to cup your breasts.

His hands mould themselves to your tits, and his tongue licks a hot wet strip up your soaked slick, basking in your taste.

He’s craved it ever since that day he left. He wants to devour you, to consume you until he is high off of you.

You grind your hips into his face; you can’t help it.

“Greedy girl,” he spoke into your pussy, making you quiver beneath him.

“Ohhh,” your back arched. Your hand gripped his long locks as you tugged them tightly. Eddie knew your body so well; it was like he was designed for you. All of your senses were ablaze, and his name fell from your lips.

“Not allowed to cum until I say so,” he growls. He knew you were close as his fingers slipped up into your cunt.

“W-what?” You stutter.

“You’ve been a bad girl”

“Daddy, please,” you begged, but Eddie didn’t like how whiney you’d become.

Before you cry at the loss of Eddie’s mouth in your cunt a sharp slap strikes your pussy.

Your body jerks, but you like it.

“You will listen to me.” You met his gaze, and you understood he wasn’t playing around.

“Sorry, Daddy.” You whispered.

“What’s that? I didn’t hear you?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you say with more confidence.

“Good girl, now give me what I want.”

He sits up, and you follow suit. You knew he wanted your mouth; it’s the least you could do for what you put him through.

You wanted him. Needed him, yearned for him.

The way Eddie has you revelling for him was exactly what he wanted. To see you like this, on your knees, begging to take him in your mouth.

“You want it so bad, don’t you, baby?” He asks as he’s laying on his back, you're between his knees.

“Yes,” you don’t dare touch him yet, but you want to.

“You’re going to beg for it, baby”

Now he was just being mean

“But-“

“Are you talking back to me?”

“No, Daddy.”

“Beg.”

“Please let me touch you.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes, even though he had you beat in that department every time. “I want you in my mouth so badly, baby; I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. I crave you. I want it so bad, please. I want to make you feel so good, baby. I can make you feel so good if you let me.”

“Good girl. Now suck.”

Your mouth watered at the way he spoke to you. You loved how Eddie’s could get so commanding when you fucked.

You had his cock in your mouth within the second he stopped speaking.

You licked a long strip up the underside of his shaft that lay flat against his stomach. His cock was so hard for you it only make it all that more pleasurable, knowing he was also yearning as much as you were, if not more, even if his words didn’t show it.

“Take it’s that’s my good girl,” he praised.

His hands gripped your hair as he guided your mouth at his desired pace. Your saliva pooled in your mouth, creating a sensation so good that Eddie can’t help but fuck your mouth.

You loved it, and you wanted him to use you to remind him that only you can get him this way.

The feeling of his head almost hitting the back of your throat was exhilarating.

Eddie knows your limits and wouldn’t push your boundaries; he can’t do that to his princess.

Just before he’s about to cum, he pulls you off to let you breathe; his chest heaves as he waits for you to collect yourself.

“Come here.” He beckoned you to lay parallel with him.

Eddie takes you in a kiss that makes your world stop. A kiss that lets you know he truly does love you. The way he was so firm but so gentle, his soft lips moulded with your own. Your taste on his tongue and his taste on yours melded together as one. You roll on top of him; you want your bodies to be connected.

“Can you fuck me now? Please?” You grind your wet pussy overtop his hard cock, threatening to slip it inside.

“Is that what my princess wants?”

“Yes, so bad”

“I love it when you beg for it,” Eddie says, flipping you over. You let out a squeal at the unexpected movement.

“Gonna fuck you until you beg for me to stop” he slowly guides his hard cock into your tight wet pussy.

Your fingers grip his shoulders as he slips into you. You pull him down so his weight is fully on top of you; you need to feel close to him again.

Eddie’s lips attach themselves to your neck, biting and sucking until the mark of possession is dark and purple.

The consequences of having a large hickey when you get home are the last thing on your mind. The way he is making you feel trumps all.

His hips begin to pump his cock in and out of you. Finally, the sensation you’ve been yearning for is finally reality.

“Fuck yes!” You cry as his hips slap into your own, and his hand travels to your swollen clit.

“You like it when I touch you there, don’t you? Dirty girl can’t get enough of Daddy’s cock can she”

“No, Daddy!” You cry.

Eddie pulls up so he can watch his slick covered cock disappear inside of you with each thrust. His eyes are deranged with lust as he can’t look away. His hands gripped so tightly on your hips, moving your body to match his strokes as if you were just a fleshlight.

“Pl-please,” you stutter as his cock hits your g spot without warning.

“Please, what? Tell Daddy what you want”

“I want to cum”

The price Eddie felt that he already had you quivering under him, and it’s only been a few minutes since his cock had entered you.

“Babygirl, what’s to come already?” He mocks.

“Yes, please,” you seethe through your teeth.

“Not yet.”

“I can’t hold it.” Your eyes well up; it felt so good; the pressure built up in your lower stomach was wound so tightly you were about to explode. No way you could hold off.

Your pussy clamped on Eddie like a vice. He almost couldn’t pull out by how tight of a grip you held.

“Oh-oh,” he stuttered. You caught him off guard.

“You wanna be in charge, princess?” He cupped your face.

“No, I just want to cum” you continue to beg as his thrusts didn’t still.

“Cum for me” his hand continued to curl your bundle of nerves, and you fell apart. Your feral moans filled the room as your body was washed over in a wave of euphoria. You came so hard you think you blacked out for a moment.

“That’s it; there’s my girl; you fuckin came so good” Eddie still pumped himself into you. He didn’t want it to be over just yet. He was having so much fun playing with you. You were like his little doll.

“Come on, baby, ride me.” He helps lift you up even though your whole body feels like jello.

“Gonna bounce on Daddy’s cock like a good little bunny,” he praises, and your pussy floods itself once more.

When you sink down on his cock you see starts. The new angle was so much more filling than when he had you on your back.

“Oh my god,” your eyes roll back, and your jaw hands slack. Eddie seizes the opportunity to push his fingers into your mouth to suck on.

“Such a good girl. You like all your holes filled, huh? How about this one? We are missing one.” His free hand wraps around your ass and toys with your other hole.

“Yes,” you frantically nodded your head.

“Mmm, you’re such a slut for me, aren’t you? My little bunny. Just love to hop on this cock, huh?” He takes the fingers that were shoved in your mouth and slowly stretches you out. “That’s it, that’s my girl. Taking all of me so well. You like being so full, don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Your legs burned, but you didn’t dare stop until he came. The sound of your wet skin slapping and moans filled the empty bedroom. The only two people that exist right now are you and Eddie. Eddie’s pleasure was at the top of mind, but you were getting close to that breaking point. Your second orgasm was getting closer and closer with each pump.

“You’re so tight, pretty baby; you gonna come again, f’me?”

You nod your head frantically as the words get caught in your throat.

“Awe, my pretty bunny can even speak, huh? You’re just sooo cock drunk for daddy’s cock, aren’t you, baby?”

Eddie’s words only aided your impending orgasm to crash through your whole body. You collapsed down into Eddie’s body as yours quivered in excitement over his. The way your pussy clamped down on Eddie’s cock had him cuming right along with you. Eddie’s head tingled as his hot load shot up into you. He couldn’t help but jerk his hips up on instinct to make sure you took all of him.

With a sigh of relief, Eddie hugged you closer to his body, not letting you pull off his softening cock just yet.

You let your weight fall on Eddie as you come down from your orgasm. Eddies tattooed arms wrapped around you and pulled you in your head to his chest. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest, and your heart fell in sync with his soothing beat.

“You okay, Princess?”

“Mmmhhhmmmmmm,” you hum as you nuzzle your head deeper into the crook of his neck.

You could cry at how happy you were at this moment. Finally, you have everything you want wrapped in your arms.

“Good.” he kisses the top of your head, and you both fight the urge not to fall asleep like this.

After Eddie begrudgingly got up because he insisted you both had to clean up you both fell asleep and didn’t wake up until late in the evening.

Eddie ordered you both pizza, and you fell right back into your old ways. You can’t seem to wipe the permanent smile from your face.

Simple ‘I love you’s’ slip past each of your lips. It was disgusting to anyone who would be looking from the outside in, but you and Eddie were in your own bubble that nobody could break until you both jumped when there was a pounding on the front door.

Eddie shit up from your arms and ran to see who it is.

“What the?” He jerks the door open, and Ash makes her way inside.

“Dude, your parents are freaking out.”

“What?” You sit up.

“They called me, yelling about how you’ve lost your mind, that the Munson boy has you brainwashed and stormed out of the house.”

If you could roll your eyes any more, they would fall out of your skull.

“I know.” She agreed.

Eddie stood behind her nervously, biting his nails. Would you rethink everything? He couldn’t come between you and your parents.

“They will come around; they just need to meet him; they’ll see how good he is,” you plead.

“I don’t know, Princess.” The thought of him meeting your parents terrified him.

You get up off the couch and walk to Eddie. You cup his face to look him in the eye, and he melts in your touch.

“We will figure this out”

“You guys are gross.” Ash can’t help but smile. She’s so happy for both of you.

“Thanks, babe,” you smile at her.

“Okay, well, I know you’re okay. I’ll let your parentals know that you’re safe, and you’ll come home when they’re ready to talk to you and have calmed down.

“Thank you.”

After Ash left, you tried to get Eddie to calm down and relax. Eventually, he could do it when you slipped off the couch and sank between his legs.

The second your tongue touched his sensitive head, he was sufficiently relaxed. And once your mouth was dripping with his cum he thinks he couldn’t be more in love with you. The thought of meeting your parents wasn’t as scary. He will do everything and anything to keep you.

“I’ll do it.”

“What?” You wipe the corner of your mouth.

“I’ll meet your partners.”

“Are you sure?”

“If I get head like that? I’ll do anything you ask of me”

You giggle softly, and he takes you in his arms. You agree that tomorrow when you go home tomorrow.

With bated breath, Eddie and you walk into your childhood home, hand in hand.

“Hello?”

“Sweetheart! We were so worried.” Your mom rushed down the foyer hallway.

“Mom, I’m fine.”

Your mother spots the large and abrasive bruise on your neck. She stiffens up immediately when she also sees Eddie standing beside you.

“I see.”

“Mom, please.”

“Okay. Let’s talk.”

“Where is Dad?”

“I’m his chair.” She rolls her eyes.

The three of you walk to the living room, where your dad is reading the paper, unbothered.

“Dad,” you greet him.

“Nice of you to return your little tantrum faster.

“My tantrum?” You couldn’t believe how childish he had acted yesterday.

You feel Eddie’s hand tightening in yours, and you squeeze it back.

“Can we please talk?”

He tips the corner of his pepper to finally look up and realizes Eddie is in his house.

“What is he doing here?”

“If you won’t treat my boyfriend respectfully, we are leaving.”

“Sweetheart, wait, we can talk about this.” Your mom was trying to keep the peace.

“Good.” You lead Eddie to sit on the couch, but he doesn’t follow.

He walks over to your dad and reaches out his hand.

“Sir, I’m Eddie.” You watch as Eddie’s hand is held out firm.

Your dad stared back at him for a moment until you warned him.

Surprisingly, your dad took his hand and shook it, and you sighed a breath of relief.

“Hello, Edward.” You tried not to roll your eyes, but your eyes betrayed you.

“Y/N,” your mom warns.

“Sorry.”

Eddie also reaches out to your mother. He hands her the bouquet of flowers he had for her.

“Thank you, Eddie.” She smiles and sets them on the coffee table as they both sit. Your parents are on one side, you and Eddie are on the other.

“So,” your dad speaks.

With a deep breath, you start to speak.

“Over the summer, Eddie and I got really close, and we are together as a couple.”

“And now what? You’re going to live happily ever after?”

“Sir, with all due respect, your daughter can make her own choices. She has been the golden child her whole life. She respects and loves you both so much that he actually broke up with me in fear of what you both would say or do…

“ I don’t know if you noticed, but she is the best person everyone who has had the pleasure of knowing her has ever met. You and your wife have raised a wonderful person, and I am so lucky and grateful she chose me.”

“I’m doing everything in my power to make sure I live up to her standards. She is the most important person in my life, and I will treat her as she deserves. If that isn’t enough for you both, so be it, but she doesn’t need me to support her. She knows how to handle herself, and that’s all due to you guys.”

You held back tears as you listened to Eddie speak so highly of you. It was so nice to be validated.

“Is that right?” Your dad spoke.

“Yes, Sir.” Eddie nods and takes your hand in his.

“That’s very honourable of you, Edward.”

Were pigs flying? Did your dad just say something nice?

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Those are very kind things of you to say, Eddie. I’m sorry we jumped to conclusions about your intentions.

“I understand I have a reputation; I wasn’t dealt the best hand, but I love your daughter, and she loves me. I haven’t done anything to disrespect her, and I never plan to.”

Your parents stay silent and give one another a look. You held your breath until one of them spoke.

“We are going to have some rules for when you come over-“ you dad starts but your mom cuts him off.

“Eddie, would you like to stay for dinner?” Your mom offered.

“Yes, I would love to, ma’am.” Eddie smiled, and so did you.

You mouthed the words ‘thank you’ to your mom, and she gave you an assuring smile.

“What?”

“They are adults. Clearly, they have been safe over the summer; I'm sure they will keep it that way.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Eddie cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable.

Your eyes went wide, and cheeks flared up with embarrassment.

Your dad sat back with a grumble and flicked his newspaper, flustered as ever.

“I’ll go start dinner. You kids can go; I’ll let you know when Im finished.

“We did it!” You jumped into Eddie’s arms, and he spun you around once you entered your bedroom.

You celebrated with a kiss, and you slipped down his body, and your feet made contact with the floor.

“Can’t wait to show off my girl.” He cupped your face in both hands, “need to let all of Hawkins you’re mine.”

“I’m all yours, Eddie Munson.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

~End~

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