#the way... he was laughing... the whole live...

[lostfracturess]

REMEMBER ME IN SUMMER — SATORU GOJO

pairing — one night stand!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary — six months ago, you left satoru gojo's apartment before sunrise, thinking you'd never see him again. now, trapped in a beach house for a weekend with mutual friends, you're forced to face the man who doesn't seem to remember that night—or does he? between shared walls, heated touches, and games of pretend, you're starting to think maybe one night wasn't enough after all. but in a house full of friends, some things are better left in the past… right?

word count — 9.5 k

genre/tags — beach house AU, summer romance, one night stand to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, tension, awkward reunions, friends gathering, miscommunication, beach vibes, satoru is a little menace in this one

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, all characters aged up (mid 20s), language

author's note — hi everyone ! this fic came out of nowhere, and i literally wrote it in three days, but i really love the idea and the summer vibes in this one, even tho i wrote it while it was literally snowing outside, but somewhere on earth it's summer rn, so why not post it lol. hope you enjoy this mess of a summer romance story as much as i enjoyed writing it ! <3 (credit/art)

masterlist + support my writing

The last person you expected to see in Okinawa was Satoru Gojo.

Yet there he was, lounging on the deck of the beach house like he belonged there, white hair catching the sunlight as he laughed at something someone had said. Your heart tumbled over itself as memories of that night six months ago flooded back unbidden.

"You okay?" Maki nudged you with her elbow. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

More like the ghost of past bad decisions. "I'm fine," you managed, gripping your weekend bag tighter. "Wasn't expecting so many people."

The beach house was supposed to be a simple weekend getaway with close friends. But somewhere between planning and execution, it had turned into a "friends of friends" situation to fill the eight-bedroom house Okkotsu's family had offered.

"Yeah, Yuta's cousin's boyfriend invited some people to fill the space," Maki explained, completely unaware of your internal crisis. "That's Satoru over there, by the way. He's actually pretty fun once you get past the whole—" She gestured vaguely at all of him.

You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Maybe both. Because you were already very familiar with how "fun" Satoru Gojo could be.

Six months ago, you'd met him at a bar in Tokyo. He'd been charming and gorgeous, all easy smiles and playful banter. One drink had turned into several, flirting had turned into kissing, and kissing had turned into...

Well.

You'd slipped out of his apartment before dawn, leaving nothing but a lipstick stain on his collar and a dip in his pillow. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. You weren't looking for anything serious, and someone like him definitely wasn't the settling down type.

Now, watching him chat lively with your friends like the universe's cruelest joke, you wondered if you should have at least left your number.

"Girl," Maki waved her hand in front of your face. "You sure you're okay?"

Before you could answer, Satoru looked up. His eyes met yours across the deck, and for a moment, your heart stopped. 

But there was no recognition in those sea blue eyes. No hint that he remembered the way you'd gasped his name in the dark, the way his hands had traced every inch of your skin, the way he'd whispered "stay" against your shoulder just before you'd fallen asleep.

He just smiled politely, the same smile he’s probably giving everyone else too, and went back to his conversation.

Right. Of course he didn't remember. You were probably just one in a long line of one-night stands for someone like him. The thought shouldn't hurt as much as it did.

"Come on," Maki said, tugging you towards the house. "Let's get settled in before the others arrive.”

Up close, the beach house was even more impressive. A sprawling three-story mansion of white stone and floor-to-ceiling windows that caught the afternoon light like rippling water, a wraparound veranda with a cozy sitting area led to a private path down to the beach, lined with swaying palms and colourful flowers.

Inside, the house opened into a huge room with soaring ceilings and an open floor plan that made the space feel endless. Ocean views followed you everywhere through the massive windows, and the whole place smelled of salt and lemon.

"The bedrooms are upstairs," Maki said as she led you up a floating staircase. "Most of them are on the second floor, but there are two master bedrooms on the third."

The universe, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. Not only did you have to spend the weekend pretending you didn’t know how Satoru's brows draw together when he'd cum, but your room ended up right next to his—the two largest bedrooms on the top floor, sharing a wall and a connecting balcony. Of course.

Your room was bigger than your entire apartment in Tokyo, with a king-size bed draped in soft white linens. One wall was entirely glass, offering an unobstructed view of the ocean, while the other walls were decorated with pictures and minimalist art.

"My god, the view’s amazing!" Maki gushed and threw open the balcony doors. The sound of waves immediately filled the room, along with fresh, salty ocean air. "You can see the whole beach from here." 

But you were too busy staring at the wall next to you, where a door that must lead to Satoru's room was hidden behind a cupboard. You could hear muffled movement from his room, the sound of his laugh drifting through the wall that suddenly felt far too thin and your mind helpfully supplied memories of other sounds he could make, and you wondered if it was too late to fake some sudden illness and go home.

"Yeah," you said, dropping onto the edge of the bed. "Amazing."

Maki flopped down beside you, bouncing slightly on the plush mattress. "I know I've been here like five times already with Yuta, but it never gets old." She rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on her hands. "Usually it's just us and his family, maybe a few cousins. This is the first time we're doing a friend group thing."

You tried to focus on her words instead of the sound of suitcases being wheeled into the room next door. "How long have you and Yuta been coming here?"

"Since we started dating three years ago. His family does this whole summer tradition thing." She smiled. "First time I came, I was so nervous I barely left the room. Now it feels like a second home." She sat up, crossing her legs. “And since his parents said we could use it this weekend, we thought why not invite friends.”

Through the wall, you could hear male voices chatting and laughing, followed by the sound of a door sliding open. Probably the balcony doors. Your shared balcony. Where he could walk past your windows at any time.

“You’re okay with this, right? Yuta’s friends are actually really fun once you get to know them. Especially Satoru, even tho he can be a pain in the ass.” Your stupid heart tumbled over itself once more at his name. "And single, if you're interested. I could—"

"No!" The word came out louder than intended, and you heard the conversation next door pause briefly. Lowering your voice, you added, "I mean, no thanks. Not really looking for anything right now."

Maki gave you a strange look. "You sure you're okay? You've been weird since we got here."

"Just tired from the drive," you lied and stood up. "Maybe I'll take a quick shower before everyone else arrives."

"Okay..." She didn't sound convinced but got up anyway. "I should go find Yuta anyway, make sure he's not letting Satoru destroy any of Yuta's mum's favourite vases."

You waited until she left before falling with your face first onto the bed with a groan. Perfect. Not only did you have to spend the weekend next door to your one night stand who might or might not remember you, but now your best friend was trying to set you up with him.

Through the wall, you heard Satoru laugh at something, the sound familiar enough to make your chest ache. 

It was going to be a very long weekend.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 

You'd barely finished unpacking when Yuji burst into your room without knocking. "Hey! We're setting up a net for beach volleyball. You in?"

"Ah, I don't really—"

"Everyone's playing!" He was already on his way back to the door. "Even Megumi, and you know how he is about fun."

Before you could form a proper excuse, Maki appeared behind him. "Come on, it'll be fun, the sun is out and it’s better than hiding up here all afternoon."

And that's how you found yourself trudging down to the beach, trying to convince yourself this was fine. Totally fine. Just a fun game of volleyball with friends. Nothing to worry about.

But then the boys started stripping off their shirts. It was like watching some ridiculous scene out of Top Gun as they all shed their shirt in the afternoon heat. But it was Satoru who made your brain go silent completely. 

He pulled his shirt off, and suddenly you were having vivid flashbacks to exactly how that toned chest felt under your hands. The sun caught his hair like a halo, and when he stretched his arms over his head, the muscles in his back shifted in ways that should not make your knees so weak, but here you were, rooted to the spot, your pulse racing as if it had a mind of its own.

"You're staring," Maki whispered next to you.

"I'm not," you said, even though you definitely were. How could you not? It was like someone had taken every beach volleyball scene from every summer movie ever and combined them into one ridiculous moment.

Teams were forming, and with an uneven number, you volunteered to sit this round out. Not that you were particularly eager to participate in the first place. You were perfectly happy watching from the safety of your beach towel, where the risk of accidentally brushing against Satoru's unnecessarily perfect body was thankfully minimized.

The game started, and it quickly became clear that everyone was taking it way too seriously, as Satoru and Yuji seemed to be in some sort of competition to see who could spike the ball more impressively. 

"Show off," you muttered to yourself as Satoru delivered a rather dramatic jump serve, the ball landing dangerously close to your foot. But he must have heard you, because he caught your eye with a wink that made your stomach flutter. "Like what you see?"

"I've seen better," you said before you could stop yourself.

His eyebrows shot up and a slow smile spread across his face. "Have you now?"

Oh god. Were you flirting? This was definitely flirting. You needed to stop staring at the way sweat was making his skin glisten and focus on... literally anything else.

"Pay attention!" Nobara yelled, and Satoru barely managed to dodge the ball she'd spiked directly at his head.

The game continued, growing more competitive with each round. You had to admit, it was entertaining watching your friends become more and more dramatic with each point. One of Yuta’s cousins and Yuji had some sort of rivalry going on, while Maki and Nobara were trash-talking each other.

But it was Satoru who kept drawing your attention. The way he moved was almost unfair and you found yourself following the drops of sweat as they made their way down his neck, remembering how that skin had tasted under your tongue.

"Incoming!"

You looked up just in time to see the volleyball heading straight for your face. Before you could react, Satoru dove in front of you and caught the ball just inches from your nose. The movement sent him sprawling across your legs, his face entirely too close to yours.

You blinked at him for a few moments, then whispered, "Thank you.” But the words came out too soft, almost like they had that night in Tokyo when he'd helped you into a taxi and then convinced you not to take it and instead come home with him.

Time seemed to slow, the crashing waves and voices of the others fading into white noise as Satoru's eyes met yours. For a moment, something flickered in those blue depths—a flash of recognition, perhaps even remembrance. 

His breath caught, barely noticeable, and his hand on your leg tightened ever so slightly. You watched his eyes, saw the exact moment his gaze dropped to your lips, and suddenly you were back in that Tokyo bar, both of you caught in that same magnetic pull.

"You're welcome," he said, his voice so low that only you could hear it. There was something in his tone, a hint of question, like he was trying to place a hazy dream. His thumb brushed against your skin, possibly by accident, possibly not, sending shivers up your spine.

The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring, thick with shared memories—memories you weren't even sure he had. Then someone yelled "Dinner!" from the direction of the house, and the spell broke.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The sun was setting by the time everyone had showered and gathered around the huge dining table on the deck. Fairy lights twinkled overhead and the sound of the waves could be heard in the background as the chaos of fifteen people trying to organize a meal unfolded.

You'd taken extra care getting ready, telling yourself it was just because of the salt and sand, not because of the way Satoru had looked at you on the beach. You'd chosen a light summer dress that happened to be the exact shade of blue as his eyes—pure coincidence, of course—and had let your hair dry naturally in the sea breeze.

Yuta ended up ordering way too much from the local seafood restaurant, you concluded as you surveyed the spread of food on the table. 

You ended up squeezed between Maki and Megumi, which should have been a relief. Instead, you found yourself very aware of Satoru sitting directly across from you, his hair still slightly damp from his shower, wearing a loose white linen shirt that he should really button up and stop teasing the entire table with glimpses of his toned chest.

"Pass the crab?" he asked, and when you handed him the plate, your fingers brushed. The contact sent a shiver through you, and you could have sworn you saw his breath catch. But then he was turning to laugh at something Yuji said, and you were left wondering if you'd imagined the whole thing.

"—and then he just fell face first right into the sand!" Yuji was saying, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks. "You should have seen it!"

"We were all there, literally two hours ago," Megumi deadpanned.

"The game was rigged anyway," Nobara said, reaching for another plate of grilled shrimp. "You can't put Mr. Perfect over here on a team and expect it to be fair." She jerked her thumb in Satoru's direction.

"What can you do?" Satoru said, his eyebrows knitted together, but a grin played on his lips. "I just happen to be naturally gifted." And then his eyes caught yours once more across the table. 

Heat crept up the back of your neck as you remembered how he'd felt when he'd sprawled across your legs, his skin sun warm and slightly sandy. How his touch had lingered just a fraction too long to be casual. 

Something had changed in his expression, so subtle that anyone else might have missed it. But you'd spent hours that night memorizing his faces. His smirk when he had you right on the edge, his soft smile when you were trembling beneath him, the way his eyes darkened just before he—

Maki snorted. "Yeah, sure." And you looked over at her, breaking the eye contact before you could do something stupid like climb across the table and find out if he tasted as good as you remembered.

When the dinner was over, Nobara suggested to play drinking games, truth or dare to be specific, to which "What are we, fifteen?" Megumi commented but Maki already chimed in with "Never ever I ever" and so it was decided.

Your stomach dropped. The last thing you needed was a drinking game where people confessed their secrets. Especially with the way Satoru kept looking at you, like he was one memory away from connecting dots you really didn't want connected.

"I think I'll pass," you said, pushing your plate away. "The sun really did take it out of me."

You gathered your plates and the sound of the others setting up their drinking game followed you into the kitchen—Yuji's voice carrying over everyone else's as he argued about rules, Nobara shouting something about "no questions about exes," and Megumi's long drawn out sighs.

A salty ocean breeze swept into the kitchen through the open wall of windows overlooking the water as you rinsed your plate. "You know," a voice came from behind you, making you jump, "I was starting to think you hate me."

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn't need to turn around to know it was Satoru—would recognize that voice anywhere, had spent months trying to forget how it sounded when it was rough after he’d cum. But you turned anyway, finding him leaning against the doorframe and the kitchen suddenly felt so much smaller. 

"What?" The word came out embarrassingly breathless.

"Let me rephrase, for someone who doesn't hate me, you're doing an impressive job of avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you.” You turned back to the sink. "I'm doing dishes."

"Sure. The dishes." His voice got closer, and you could feel the heat of him just behind you. "Though I have to wonder why someone would work so hard to avoid someone they've never met before."

Your hands stilled under the running water. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've barely looked at me all day." He was close enough now that you could smell his perfume that had lingered on your clothes for days after that night. "Want to tell me what I did to deserve the cold shoulder? Because usually, I at least remember if I've pissed someone off."

Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it, but at the same time the irony of his words made you want to laugh. "You haven't done anything," you said, which was technically true. He hadn't done anything wrong. Except maybe be too good in bed and then forget about it entirely.

"No?" His voice dropped lower, and you could feel his breath on your neck. "Then why—" He cut himself off. "Wait. Have we met before?"

You spun around, hands dripping water onto the floor. The motion brought you chest to chest with him, trapped between his body and the counter. "No," you said, too quickly, way too quickly. "Definitely not."

"You sure about that? Because you seem familiar—"

"Must just have one of those faces."

He moved closer still, one hand braced on the counter beside your hip, effectively caging you in. "Is that so? Because I’m sure I’d remember a pretty one like yours." You felt your breath catch in your throat, every nerve in your body screaming. He was going to kiss you, wasn't he? You should probably do something. Like move. Or breathe.

But then he simply stepped back, his smile widening. "Sorry. Must have mistaken you for someone else,” he said and the loss of his warmth felt like whiplash, leaving you cold despite the summer heat that still lingered in the air. You watched him retreat towards the door, casual as anything, like he hadn't just turned your world sideways.

Through the open door, laughter spilled in from the deck, breaking the spell that had held you captive. Satoru paused in the doorway for a moment, silhouetted against the warm light from outside, before disappearing back into the noise of your friends.

You stayed at the sink, trying to convince yourself that the heat in your cheeks was just from the summer air and ignoring the way your heart refused to settle in your chest. What had just happened? You had no idea. But one thing was painfully certain.

This weekend was going to be a long one.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Next morning, you decided to get up early and have your coffee on the beach before anyone else was awake. Sleep had been hard to come by anyway, with too many thoughts of certain one night stands keeping your mind racing. 

Dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon, painting the sky in orange and gold watercolours and the ocean stretched out before you, quiet and calm, each small wave catching the early light like diamonds.

You'd wrapped yourself in an oversized cardigan against the morning chill, bare feet buried in sand that was still cool from the night before. And of course, because the universe hated you, that's when Satoru appeared.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, settling into the sand beside you without invitation.

You clutched your coffee mug tighter. "Something like that."

"Yeah, me neither." He stretched his long legs out in front of him, and you definitely didn't notice how his shorts rode up slightly, definitely weren't thinking about how those thighs had felt under your hands. "Keep having these weird dreams."

"Oh?"

"Mmm." As he turned to look at you, the rising sun painted his profile gold, catching his eyelashes. There was something different about him in this light — softer somehow, more like the man who'd asked you to stay than the one who'd cornered you in the kitchen last night. "About a girl in a black dress. Red lipstick. The most amazing laugh I've ever heard."

Your heart stopped.

"Funny thing is," he continued casually, "I can never quite see her face in the dreams. But I remember how she tasted. How she felt pinned beneath me. How she clenching around my fingers. How she said my name when she—"

"Stop," you whispered.

"Why?" His voice was softer now. "Because you don't want to talk about that night? Or because you thought I wouldn't remember?"

You stared at the ocean, unable to meet his gaze. "You didn't seem to yesterday."

"Don’t be stupid. I recognized you the moment you walked into the beach house."

Your coffee nearly slipped from your hands. "What?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't remember the girl who stole my favourite shirt on her way out the door?"

Heat flooded your cheeks, you totally forgotten about the shirt. "Then yesterday, in the kitchen—"

"I wanted to see how long you'd keep pretending." He smiled, the bastard had the audacity to smile at you when he revealed that he was playing you the whole time. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?”

"You're mocking me."

"Mocking you?" His eyebrows rose. Then he leaned closer to you, but you still refused to look at him. "I spent six months trying to find the girl with the kind of laugh that makes you feel drunk just hearing it, who left before I could ask for her number—" 

"It was just one night," you interrupted.

"Was it? Because I distinctly remember asking you to stay."

"I couldn't."

"Couldn't? Or wouldn't?"

You finally met his gaze fully, and immediately wished you hadn't. Because he was looking at you the same way he had that night. He was enjoying this, wasn't he? Playing with you, teasing you, making you feel like a flustered schoolgirl. 

"Does it matter?" you asked.

"You're really a bit slow, aren't you?"

You wanted to protest, to tell him exactly what you thought of his arrogant everything, but then Maki's voice carried across the beach, "Breakfast! Come and get it before Yuji eats everything!"

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The breakfast table was just as chaotic as the dinner the night before. Fifteen people crammed around the table had that effect, especially with Yuji already piling his plate high with pancakes while Nobara complained about him taking too many. 

You'd barely settled into an empty chair when Satoru slid into the seat next to you, as if he hadn't just admitted that he'd been playing jokes on you the whole day before. 

"Can you pass me the syrup?" he asked innocently, but there was nothing innocent about the way his thigh pressed against yours under the table. 

You handed him the bottle without looking at him, trying to focus on pouring your coffee without spilling it everywhere. Which was made all the more difficult when his hand found your knee under the table.

"So what's everyone's plans for today?" Maki asked, passing around a plate of fresh fruit.

You tried to concentrate on the conversation, you really did. But Satoru's hand was inching higher up your thigh, and your brain was shorted out. You kicked him under the table, aiming for his shin.

He didn't even flinch, just smiled wider and continued whatever conversation he was having with Megumi about later activities, all while his fingers danced along the hem of your shorts. You felt a sudden surge of heat, definitely not from the summer sun.

"You okay?" Nobara asked suddenly. "You look a bit flushed."

"Fine!" Your voice came out higher than intended as Satoru's fingers skimmed just slightly under the edge of your shorts. "Just... hot."

"It is pretty warm this morning," Satoru agreed, his tone perfectly pleasant even as his thumb pressed into that sensitive spot on your inner thigh that he somehow remembered. The bastard. You kicked him again, harder this time.

"Did someone just kick the table?" Maki looked around suspiciously.

"Must have been the wind," you said stupidly.

You grabbed his wrist under the table, intending to push his hand away, but he just interlaced his fingers with yours and kept them there on your thigh. It was like he was asserting dominance, staking his claim, and you were suddenly trapped.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked through a mouthful of pancakes. "You're acting weird."

"Totally fine," you managed. "Just didn't sleep well."

"Hmm, me neither," Satoru chimed in, his voice all false innocence. "Must be all these weird dreams I keep having." You dug your nails into his hand in warning, but he just squeezed your hand in response, his grip tightening.

"Dreams?" Nobara asked.

"Oh, you know," Satoru began thoughtfully, "the kind that keep you up all night, thinking about... things that got away."

You were going to murder him. Slowly. Possibly with the butter knife you were currently gripping way too tight.

"That's... weirdly poetic for you," Maki said, raising an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't want to know,” he replied, and you felt his fingers inch just slightly higher once more, making you jump and bang your knee on the table.

"Jesus, what is wrong with you two this morning?" Nobara asked, looking between you and Satoru.

Under the table, you finally managed to grab his hand in yours and hold it still. But that backfired when he started playing with your fingers instead, his thumb brushing across your knuckles in a way that made you gasp. You definitely wanted to kill him. Right after you figured out how to breathe normally again.

"So, beach day? I wanna go snorkelling," Yuji said, thankfully drawing attention away from whatever was going on under the table, and everyone agreed. JJust then, Satoru freed his hand from yours and placed it back on your knee before trailing it up your thigh. 

Okay, nope this had to end now.

"I need more coffee," you announced abruptly, standing up so fast your chair scraped against the deck.

"I'll help," Satoru offered, already rising.

"No!" The word came out too sharp, making everyone look at you strangely. "I mean, I'm good. Thanks."

You practically fled into the kitchen, your skin still tingling where he'd touched you. Through the window, you could see him chatting with the others, looking completely unaffected while you were here trying to remember how to make your heart beat normally.

When is this weekend going to end?

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

"You sure you're okay?" Maki asked, swimming up beside you. "You've been weird all morning. Is the sun too much?"

"I'm fine," you said for what felt like the hundredth time today. "I’m not used to be around so many people."

The water was crystal clear, stretching out in various shades of blue that seemed to go on forever. Everyone had eagerly jumped into snorkeling, with Yuji and Nobara already in a heated competition about who could spot the most fish.

You adjusted your mask for the tenth time, trying to focus on anything except how good Satoru looked in just swim shorts. He was a few meters away, the sunlight catching the droplets of water that clung to his ridiculously toned shoulders.

My God. You needed distance. You needed space to breathe, to think, to do anything other than stare at him.

"If you say so." Maki didn't look convinced. "But tell me if something’s bothering you, okay?"

If only she knew. "Sure."

"Guys, come look at this!" Yuji called from where he was floating near some corals. "Rainbow fish!" 

Everyone swam over to where he was pointing, and you had to admit, the sight was beautiful. Countless colourful fish swam through the coral, creating a vibrant palette under the water.

You followed the fish as a sudden pressure against your calf made you flinch. Satoru. He had brushed against your leg. It could have been an accident, a mere consequence of the crowded water, but somehow, it felt like anything but. You knew better. Nothing about Satoru was ever accidental.

You drifted slightly away from the group, desperately needing to put some distance between yourself and Satoru. The vibrant corals blurred into streaks of colour as you swam further from the group, the shouts of Yuji and Nobara fading.

The water a bit away from them was deeper, a darker shade of blue. As you peered down, you noticed the sandy ground was dotted with small stones, and a different kind of life seemed to thrive here. Sea anemones swayed gently in the current, and schools of silver fish, smaller than the ones near the reef, darted in and out of the anemones.

You floated on your back for a moment, gazing up at the sky, a vast expanse of pale blue flecked with fluffy white clouds as the sun warmed your face. It was so peaceful, and you were happy for the small pause amidst the chaos of the house.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

You startled at Satoru's voice right behind you, nearly inhaling water through your snorkel. He'd somehow managed to swim up without you noticing, and now he was close enough that his arm brushed yours in the water.

"What are you doing?" you hissed, pulling your snorkel out.

"I know a better spot.” He nodded towards a more secluded area around the curve of the beach. "If you're interested."

You glanced back at the others, but they were all absorbed in whatever Yuji had found. "I don't think—"

"Come on," he said, already swimming away. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not even a little bit." But found yourself following him anyway.

He led you around a small outcropping of rocks, the current tugging gently at your fins, to a quieter part of the reef. His hand on your arm gently guided you through the water. The water here was somehow even clearer, as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a breathtaking underwater scenery with colourful coral formations that created a labyrinth of archways and caverns with small fish swimming in between.

"How did you—"

"I came here earlier this morning," he said, treading water close to you. "While you were pretending to ignore me after breakfast."

"I wasn't—" You cut yourself off as he dove under the surface, the sunlight playing across his back as he swam deeper.

You followed him down, your breath taken away by the sight. This part of the reef was like something out of a documentary. Swarms of tropical fish swirled around you in ribbons of colour, and the coral itself seemed to shine in the filtered sunlight.

When you surfaced, Satoru was watching you with an annoyingly knowing smile. "Worth following me?"

"It's alright," you said, trying to sound unimpressed even though you were anything but.

He laughed. "You're still trying to play hard to get?"

"I'm not playing anything."

"No?" He swam closer, close enough that you could see droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes. "Then why did you follow me here?"

"To see the fish.”

"The fish." His voice was amused. "Sure. That's why you've been watching me all morning?"

"I have not—"

"You know," he cut you off, moving even closer, his body brushing against yours in the water. "You're pretty when you get all flustered. Just like that night in Tokyo. Same flush you had when I made you cum three times.”

Ha? Had he been keeping count or what? You frantically tried to replay that night in your head — there was the first time against his apartment door, then on the kitchen counter, and... oh god, he was right. The bastard had been counting. The smirk on his face told you he knew exactly what you were thinking about.

You splashed water at him. "We are not talking about Tokyo."

He wiped water from his face, grinning. "No? Should we talk about this morning instead? About how you nearly jumped out of your skin when I touched your—"

You dunked him mid-sentence.

He came up spluttering, pushing wet hair from his eyes. "Okay, I probably deserved that."

"You definitely deserved that."

But he laughed, and despite yourself, you found yourself laughing too. There was something infectious about him, something that made it hard to keep your walls up, dissolving your defenses with unnerving ease, like mist beneath the morning sun.

"We should head back," you said finally. "Before they come looking for us."

"Probably," he agreed, but made no move to leave. Instead, he floated closer, until his chest pressed against yours. "Or we could stay here a bit longer. I could remind you of all the other ways I can make you wet."

Heat flooded your body. "Satoru..."

"Yes?" His hands found your waist under the water, pulling you flush against him. One thigh slipped between yours, and you had to bite back a gasp at the friction. "You know, I still remember exactly how you sound when you're trying not to moan my name."

"We can't." But your body betrayed you, arching into his touch as his fingers skimmed along your ribs, dangerously close to your breast.

"Can't?" His lips ghosted over your lips, his thumb tracing circles on your hip under the water in a way that made you think of how those fingers had felt inside you. "Or are you afraid you won't be able to keep quiet this time?"

Before you could answer, Nobara's voice carried across the water. "Where did you guys go?"

You pushed away from him quickly, already swimming back towards the group. "Coming!"

"This isn't over," he called after you, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

"It never started!" you shot back, but you were smiling too.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Satoru spent the rest of the afternoon driving you absolutely insane.

After snorkeling, he'd positioned his beach towel suspiciously close to yours, spending an unnecessary amount of time applying sunscreen to his chest and arms. His movements were deliberately slow, borderline pornographic, fingers sliding over muscle in a way that had you remembering exactly how those muscles had felt flexing under your tongue. 

You knew without a doubt he was putting on a show for you—every movement a reminder of how those arms had looked braced above you as he'd fucked you against his apartment door, how they'd felt pinning your wrists to his sheets.

During lunch, he'd somehow ended up next to you again, his bare thigh pressed hot against yours under the table like this morning had taught him nothing. Except this time, his hand didn't just rest on your knee. It spent the entire meal tracing patterns up your thigh, fingertips dancing dangerous close to where you'd been aching for him.

Your breath caught every time his hand "accidentally" slipped under the hem of your shorts, remembering how those fingers had curled inside you, how they'd made you beg.

The afternoon beach volleyball rematch was even worse. He kept finding excuses to touch you—steadying you with a hand on your waist when you stumbled in the sand (the same way he'd gripped your hips while taking you from behind), reaching around you to grab the ball (his breath hot on your neck like when he'd whispered how good you felt around him), his chest pressing against your back, closer than needed (making you remember how it felt to be pressed between him and that apartment door).

But dinner? Dinner was pure torture.

He'd shown up freshly showered, hair still damp and tousled in that way that made your fingers itch to grab it (like you had when he was between your thighs), wearing a dark blue linen shirt that he hadn't bothered to button properly once more and spent the entire meal finding new ways to make you squirm.

He'd catch your eye across the table and slowly lick sauce off his thumb, making you remember exactly how that tongue had felt when he'd spread you open. When passing dishes, his fingers would brush against yours unnecessarily long, making you shiver. At one point, he'd stretched his arms above his head, his shirt riding up to reveal his lower abs that had you gripping your fork so hard your knuckles turned white.

He knew exactly what he was doing, too—you could tell by the smug look on his face throughout the whole dinner. 

Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice anything amiss. They were all too busy with their own conversations, completely oblivious to the way he was systematically dismantling your sanity with nothing more than glances and touches.

Every time you thought you'd gotten yourself under control, he'd do something else — run his fingers through his hair the same way he had when you'd been on your knees in front of him, or bite his lip in a way that had you crossing your legs under the table. By dessert, you were a mess of sexual frustration and murderous impulses. 

He was enjoying this, the bastard. Testing your control, seeing how far he could push before you broke. And the most infuriating part? 

It was working. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

After dinner, everyone wandered into the living room in various states of food induced laziness. You'd barely managed to claim a corner of the big couch when Nobara disappeared into the kitchen, returning with an armful of wine bottles and a certain look in her eye that spelled trouble.

"No one move," she announced, setting the bottles on the coffee table. "I have an idea."

"Your ideas usually end with someone crying," Megumi commented from his spot on the floor.

"Or arrested," Maki added helpfully.

"Or both," you muttered, trying to ignore how Satoru had somehow appeared in the armchair closest to your corner of the couch. He'd rolled up his sleeves during dinner, forearms on full display, and you were having a hard time not staring at his fingers. Fingers that you knew from experience felt so good in your mouth to keep you from—

"Never have I ever!" Nobara's voice cut through your dangerous train of thought. A collective groan rose from the group.

"Not again," Megumi said, already trying to get up.

"Sit your ass down," Nobara commanded, pushing him back down. "We're bonding."

"We bonded plenty last night," you Yuta tried, but Nobara was having none of it and before you knew it, everyone agreed.

"Okay, I'll start easy," Yuji said, clearly excited despite his earlier protests. "Never have I ever cheated on a test."

Several people drank, including Satoru—and you, okay let’s be real. 

The questions started innocent enough. Never have I ever broken a bone. Never have I ever been arrested. Never have I ever dyed my hair. But as the wine flowed, the questions got progressively more suggestive.

"Never have I ever kissed someone of the same gender," Maki said, and half the circle drank. "Never have I ever faked it," was Nobara's contribution, and several people groaned but drank.

You were starting to feel a bit hazy, the wine making everything feel warm and soft around the edges. Which was dangerous, because Satoru kept looking at you like he was remembering exactly how you'd sounded that night when you definitely hadn't been faking anything.

"Never have I ever," one of Yuta’s cousins announced then, "had sex with someone in this room." For a moment, no one moved. Then Yuta and Maki drank, of course. And then Satoru raised his own glass slowly and took a long sip.

"Who?" Nobara shrieked, looking around the circle. "Satoru just drank, so someone else here has to—" Her gaze swept over everyone suspiciously.

"Someone's lying," Maki sang, already tipsy enough to find this hilarious. "Come on, fess up!"

You kept your face carefully neutral, even as you felt Satoru's eyes burning into you. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not this time.

"Maybe it was before any of us knew each other," Yuji suggested, but Nobara shook her head.

"No way. Look at his face!" She pointed accusingly at Satoru. "He's got that look. You know, that 'I know something you don't know' look."

Satoru just smiled lazily from his armchair, swirling the wine in his glass. "Maybe I just like keeping you all guessing."

"You're a dumbass," Nobara said, but the group's attention was already shifting as Yuji launched into the next question, something about falling asleep at work.

You released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, but made the mistake of glancing at Satoru and he gave you a look that sent a shiver of heat through you over his wine glass. 

God, you were going to murder him. Slowly. Painfully. Preferably with the very wine glass he was currently smirking into. 

Who did he think he was, just casually drinking like that, nearly exposing everything? He could have at least warned you, given you some sign he was about to blow up your secret. But no, he'd just taken that deliberate sip, probably getting hard on watching you squirm as you tried to keep your poker face. 

That sick bastard.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Sleep was impossible. You'd been tossing and turning for hours, replaying the day's events in your mind—from that moment in the ocean to his deliberate almost-reveal during the game. The walls of this fancy beach house seemed paper thin at night, every small sound amplified in the darkness.

That's how you heard his door open around 2 AM, followed by quiet footsteps heading downstairs.

You waited a few minutes, telling yourself you were just thirsty, that going downstairs for water had nothing to do with knowing he was maybe down there. The wooden steps creaked softly under your bare feet as you made your way down.

Silvery moonlight streamed through the massive windows, creating silver patterns on the marble countertops of the kitchen. Satoru stood at the island, drinking water from a glass, looking unfairly handsome in just sleep shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt.

"Couldn't sleep?" he whispered when he spotted you.

"What's your game, Satoru?" You kept your voice equally low, padding closer. "That thing earlier? During never have I ever?"

"Game? I'm not the one who was afraid of drinking".

"Because unlike you, I don't feel the need to announce our business to everyone."

He set his glass down, turning to face you fully. "Our business? So you admit there's something to announce?"

"That's not—" You caught yourself before your voice could rise. "What are you trying to achieve here? With all the—" you gestured vaguely, "touching and teasing and almost exposing everything?"

He stepped closer, and suddenly the kitchen felt way too small, even though it was like three times the size of your Tokyo apartment. "Maybe I just want everyone to know that night wasn't as casual for me as you seem to think it was."

You felt the weight of his words settle in the quiet kitchen, heavy with meaning you weren't prepared to unpack while moonlight caught his features in a way that made him look softer, almost vulnerable.

"What are you talking about? It was only one night."

"Was it?" He moved closer, until you had to tilt your head back to keep eye contact. "Because I remember asking you to stay. I remember waking up to an empty bed and spent the next six months thinking about why you left."

"I... you were just saying that in the moment. People say lots of things in the moment."

"Do they?" His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face. "Is that why you ran? Because you thought I didn't mean it?"

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore how your skin prickled where he'd touched you. "Satoru..."

"You know what I think?" His voice dropped even lower, barely a whisper in the quiet kitchen. "I think you're scared. Not of me, but of the fact that you wanted to stay too."

"That's not—" But the words died in your throat as his thumb traced your jawline.

"Then why are you down here?" He was close enough now that you could feel the heat of his body against yours. "If it was just one night, just something casual, why did you follow me down here in the middle of the night?"

The counter pressed against your back—when had you started backing up?—and Satoru's arms came to rest on either side of you, caging you in. Position achingly familiar, reminding you of how this all started six months ago.

"I was thirsty," you said. You did not even believe yourself as you said it.

His laugh was barely a breath against your skin. "Liar."

And then his mouth was on yours, and god, you'd forgotten how good he was at this. His lips were soft but demanding, one hand sliding into your hair while the other gripped your hip, forcing you close against him. You gasped into the kiss, and he took the opportunity to deepen it, his tongue against yours in a way that made you forget your own name.

It was different from that first night—less urgent, but somehow more intense. He kissed you like he was trying to prove a point, like he was laying claim to every moment you'd denied him these past six months. His teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite back a whimper, too aware of the sleeping house above.

"Still want to pretend this is nothing?" he whispered against your mouth, and you could feel his smile when your only response was to pull him back down for another kiss.

His hands slid down to grip your thighs, lifting you onto the counter. You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him closer as his mouth moved to your neck, kissing your throat just the way you like it, just the way he somehow remembered.

"Someone could come down," you breathed, even as your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Then I guess you'll have to be quiet." His teeth grazed your skin, making you shiver. "Think you can manage that? Because I distinctly remember you being quite vocal last time."

You tightened your grip on his hair in return, but that just made him groan softly against your throat. "You're stupid."

"Mm, that's not what you said in Tokyo." His hands slid higher under your shirt, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. "In fact, I remember you saying some very different things—"

You cut him off with another kiss, partly to shut him up and partly because you needed his mouth on yours like you needed air. His fingers teased along your ribs, your back, your thighs, touching you everywhere except where you desperately wanted him to.

But then his fingers found the edge of your underwear, and you had to bite his shoulder to keep from moaning as he slid his fingers inside you, making you cum all over his fingers in seconds—just like that night in Tokyo.

You were done, dizzy, breathless, clinging to him as he stripped your shorts and underwear down your legs. He pushed one leg up your chest as he lowered you back down onto the marble kitchen counter, your other leg still wrapped around his waist. His forehead pressed against yours as he thrust inside, hard, slow, perfect angle—just like that night in Tokyo.

He tossed you around, manhandled you, fucked you against the fridge, threw you onto the couch and fucked you there too. He whispered your name, his voice husky against your ear, every letter a caress, even as he picked up pace, even as his hand closed around your throat, even as you bit into the pillow below to muffle your screams as he made you cum again. Multiple times. In various positions. Using his own cum as a lube for the next round—just like that night in Tokyo.

Afterwards you laid outside on the veranda in a big chair you both shared, gazing up at the stars scattered across the deep velvet sky, countless and impossibly bright. A second later his lips found yours and another second later you were on top of him, underwear pushed to the side and your head thrown back as he watched you chase your release on his dick—just like that night in Tokyo.

And his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers as he ate you out on the stairs just before you wanted to go back to bed, but he wouldn't let you, making you cum again before he carried you off to the laundry room to fuck you one last time for sure good mesure—just like that night in Tokyo.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Morning came way too early, sunlight streaming through windows you'd forgotten to close. Every muscle in your body ached in the most pleasant way, reminding you of exactly how many surfaces you and Satoru had christened last night. 

Yeah. You were definitely going to be feeling this for days. You winced slightly as you sat up — apparently kitchen counters weren't the most ergonomic choice for certain activities, or the stairs, or the laundry room, or... Okay, we get it.

When you finally made it downstairs, moving perhaps a bit more strangely than usual, Satoru was already at the breakfast table. Because of course he was, looking absolutely perfect and fullyfull rested in a fresh shirt, casually sipping his coffee like he hadn't spent half the night making you bite down on your fist to keep quiet.

"Well, someone looks rough," Nobara commented as you lowered yourself carefully into a chair. "Too much wine last night?"

You caught Satoru hiding a smirk behind his coffee cup. The bastard didn't even have the decency to look tired.

"Something like that," you muttered, reaching for the coffee pot and trying not to wince at the stretch. Your thighs burned in protest of the movement, and you could swear you saw Satoru's smile widening at your slight grimace.

"Must have been some wine," Nobara said, eyeing you suspiciously. "I don't remember you drinking that much during the game."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked, looking concerned. "You're walking kind of funny."

"I'm fine, really," you managed. "Too much wine, that’s all."

Maki, who sat next to you, leaned in closer. "Your 'too much wine' is showing," she whispered, pointing to your collarbone. Your hand flew to your neck, suddenly remembering all the attention Satoru had paid to that area—especially that moment on the stairs when you'd begged him to finish what he'd started before anyone heard them, while he sucked a very dark bruise right above your collarbone.

You quickly buttoned up your cotton shirt higher, but from Nobara's growing grin, it was too late. But thankfully, no one commented on it.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The rest of Sunday passed in a lazy haze, with everyone moving a bit slower thanks to varying degrees of wine headaches. Most of the day was spent sprawled out on beach chairs, hiding behind sunglasses and drinking coconut water that Yuta swore would help with hangovers (but, in fact, did not).

You dozed on and off under an umbrella, trying not to think about how your body still ached in several places from the night before, and enjoyed your last day in Okinawa before you'd return to work on Monday.

When evening rolled around and it was time to pack up, the house became a chaos of suitcases and forgotten phone chargers once more. You were struggling with your bag next to your car, trying to figure out the best angle to lift it into the trunk without stressing your still sore muscles, when Satoru suddenly appeared and took it from your hands without a word.

"I can manage," you protested, but he was already lifting it into your trunk with an effortless ease that really shouldn't be as attractive as it was.

"I'm sure you can," he said, closing your trunk with a soft thud. "But maybe I just want an excuse to do this." 

Before you could ask what 'this' was, he pressed a small folded piece of paper into your palm. You opened it to find a phone number written in his surprisingly neat handwriting.

"Since you didn't stay for it last time," he said softly.

"What makes you think I'll use it?"

"Because this time, you want to stay just as much as I want you to." He leaned closer, his voice dropping so only you could hear. "Besides, I believe we still have a few surfaces in my apartment left to explore."

You shoved his shoulder. "Stop." 

He caught your hand before you could push him again. "Use it. Please?" His voice held a note of softness, an unexpected tenderness that made your heart ache with a strange longing. You nodded, tucking the paper safely into your back pocket.

"Still not announcing anything to everyone tho," you warned as Maki called out that they were ready to leave.

"Yet," he said with an eye roll. Then, before you could react, he pulled you in for one last kiss. It was slower, deeper this time, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you, as if he was afraid he might forget the feel of your lips.

"Someone could see us," you whispered against his lips, even as your fingers curled into his shirt.

"I don't care," he murmured, one hand sliding down to your waist to draw you closer. "Let them see." He kissed you again, shorter this time but no less intense. "Besides, they'll find out soon enough when I take you to this little ramen place in Shibuya I've been wanting to show you."

You pulled back slightly. "Oh? Someone's confident about getting a second date."

"Third, technically," he said. "If we're counting Tokyo. And that thing against the washing machine last night."

"Those don't count.”

"Then I guess I'll have to make the next one special. Maybe dinner first. Then I can show you my apartment. Properly this time, not just the entrance hall and kitchen counter."

"Is that your way of asking me out?"

"That's my way of saying I'm not letting you disappear for six months again." He pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Use my number this time, yeah?"

"Satoru!" Yuji's voice carried across the driveway. "Stop making out and help me with these bags!"

Satoru laughed against your lips, stealing one more kiss before reluctantly pulling away. "Think about it. The ramen place. My apartment. All the surfaces we haven't used yet."

"Go help Yuji," you said, pushing him away even as you smiled. "Before he comes over here."

"Call me," he said, walking backwards with that stupidly handsome smile. "Or I'll just have to show up at your office. Make a big scene. Maybe bring flowers. Really embarrass you in front of all your coworkers."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me!" He finally turned then to help with the bags, leaving you to shake your head, your lips still tingling from his kisses.

The drive home felt different somehow. Every now and then, your hand would drift to your pocket, fingers brushing over the folded paper with his number, making sure it was still there as the familiar roads back to Tokyo stretched ahead.

The beach house grew smaller in your rearview mirror until it disappeared completely, taking with it the memories of lazy afternoons under the summer sun and heated nights. But other things lingered—the ghost of his lips against yours, the warmth of his hands, the way he'd looked at you like you were something worth waiting for.

Maybe you'd call him tomorrow. Or maybe you'd wait a day or two, just to prove you could. But knowing you, you'd likely message him the moment you set foot in your apartment.

A smile tugged at your lips as you pulled onto the highway, the setting sun painting the sky in strokes of rose and  lavender. Whatever happened next, one thing was for sure — this weekend had changed everything.

And maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing.

masterlist + support my writing

author's note — and that's a wrap on our beach house summer story ! thank you so much for reading :)) & thank you again to @/nanamis-baker for beta reading !!

for anyone wondering, yes, she kept the shirt. and yes, he definitely noticed when she wore it to their first proper date to that ramen spot in shibuya.

if you enjoyed this fic, please feel free to leave a comment or reblog. it means so much !! until next time. stay thirsty hydrated, my friends <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here.

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna @cocomanga

@nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @sugurbo @chiyokoemilia @janbannan

@bloopsstuff @snowsilver2000 @ihearttoru @momoewn @yokosandesu

@90s-belladonna @fairygardenprincesss

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[loganofthenorth]

Did I go into this thinking I'd be a mighty hero? Of course not.

...

Okay, well, maybe a little bit... I wouldn't have gone on this quest had I thought it would end this way. I was foolish. Had hope I might prevail. Instead, water drips from the drip stone high above my head, and echoes against the cracked stone floor. Streams run into these cracks and several luminous dragonflies zip around the area to collect any flies enjoying the damp atmosphere. I'm not sure if my lack of breath is due to fear, or the humid air which suffocated me in this dark place underneath the ocean.

"Well, 'Chosen One?' Are you going to bow down and face judgement, or are you going to stand there like a snivelling coward?" The taller man standing across the cave from me questioned. A dragon with scales that reflected what little light the cave offered in a chromatic sort of way circled us. Her giant feet were slow in their steps as she gracefully moved her large body around the two of us. If I ran, she'd likely swallow me whole... I could sleigh her with my sword, but then what? He was a powerful wizard with magic which could restrain me. If I attack him first, the dragon will fry me. I could likely escape with my life, but... I likely would not escape with the artifact that hid within my bag, a loose raggedy thing strapped to my shoulder.

"Dimitri has terrible taste in heroes..." The wizard sighed in exhausted dismay. He took a moment to comb back his long black hair, which shined like the dragon's scales. A cocky smirk rested under his large nose, and his green eyes- the colour of which also matched the dragon's scales- glimmered with amusement. "What is it with great wizards and sending scrawny children to do their dirty work? Why can't he be a proper gentleman and perform his own suicide missions?" The wizard complained.

"You... Know Master Gracen?" I asked timidly.

"Why, has Dimitri not told you? I thought certainly he'd have at least warned you what you were up against. Please, allow me to introduce myself." The wizard before me mused. He bowed gracefully to me, a wicked grin across his face. "The name is Corren Hofftraitor. You can call me Coy, if you like."

"Coy? Like your attitude?" I couldn't prevent myself from snarking him despite the grave situation.

Coy laughed and clutched his stomach as his deep bellowing echoed through the cavern. "Yes," He heaved for breath as he finally calmed down. I felt my shoulders slump, and my gaze avert away from him. "Yes, like my attitude. I do like the younger heroes, they have such spirit in them. So nice to see someone who has yet to be crushed by the world... A shame I'll have to kill you to get what I want." Coy continued. He reached out his hand towards me, then held his chin up high. "Now kneel, and present the artifact to me. Or I shall make the remainder of your life a living hell." He threatened.

"But... My village. We need this artifact." I stammered. I took a step back, and the dragon growled in warning.

"Inerva, at ease." Coy soothed his reptilian friend. The dragon ruffled her wings and blew out smoke, then shifted her legs and lowered herself to lay down. "There's a good girl." Coy praised as he reached out and patted her scales gently. "As for your village... Might I ask, what does your village need this time? Will this artifact stop a monster? Perhaps cure a drought? Or, mayhaps, is it going to break a curse? I'm curious what con my old friend and rival is pulling this time." Coy went on, his attention back on me.

I could have escaped at this point... Grab my broken broomstick from the jagged ground and cast a quick mending spell before his dragon gets up. Or perhaps a teleportation spell would be more practical... I'd just need to know where I'm teleporting to.

Regardless, I was curious. "Con, Mr. Hofftraiter?" I asked to clarify.

"Yes, a con. The idea that anyone can be special and save the world by adding random things to some Wizard's collection. Kids keep getting killed over this and yet he's the 'good' guy." Coy complained.

"For the record, I'm not a kid, I'm 21." I defended.

"Oh, honey. To me that still makes you a kid." Coy mused. "But regardless... There's nothing magical about that trinket. It's simply a rare collector's item and your 'Master' wants it for himself." Coy explained.

"You're lying! Master Gracen said we needed it to craft a potion to cure my people's disease!" I declared.

"Ah, so that's what he promised you... A cute in exchange for the trinket. How quant. Unfortunately, I am also a collector, and unlike Dimitri I get my own hands dirty for what I want. Now hand it over and accept your fate." Coy threatened deviously.

The feeling of despair fell over my shoulders, and the realization that I had failed, doomed my entire family. All I could do then, was pray. I whispered to any Gods whom might listen, begged them to assist me in this moment of possible failure, and grant me guidance on what to do next.

I knelt down in front of the villain, and slowly reached inside my bag. While Coy pulled out a large knife, I pulled out the artifact. Eagerly, Coy swiped it from my hands. Then chuckled maliciously.

"Oh, excellent. This will go nicely beside my Egyptian Artifact collection." Coy decided.

I closed my eyes and waited, knowing this would be the end..

I felt cold steel against my neck after I obeyed a firm command to bow my head.

Then a sharp pain, and warm blood dripping from my neck and down my back. I was surprised, however, when the sword was sheathed and a hand was offered to me.

"There. In return, I have removed the tracking spell your Master engraved in you." Coy announced.

"The what spell!?!" I exclaimed.

"Gods you're oblivious... er... How about we return to my place, you can become my own apprentice, and I can tell you everything. K?" Coy offered as he climbed onto the back of his dragon.

"I... can't betray my Master. Or abandon my people." I argued.

"Your master is supposed to be protecting that village. He doesn't need a special vase to make the antidote, he'll do it once he realizes you're not coming back. Your master sees you as a tool, nothing more." Coy informed me.

"I guess..." I conceded. I felt a pit form in my stomach, knowing I couldn't return without that artifact or Master Gracen would not heal my people. "I have always wanted to ride a dragon..." I then attempted to persuade myself.

Coy smiled, then patted a space behind him. I eagerly ran over, climbed on, and held Inerva's spikes tightly.

Apparently I'd be the fifth adventurer Coy ended up adopting.

Which is better than being the fifth one to die certainly.

When the villain demanded that you submit or be destroyed you just apathetically shrugged and braced yourself for death. You were surprised when the villain did not kill you and instead offered you a nice, comfortable room and an appointment with their personal therapist.

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt.4 - january 7 2025

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.5

Wordcount: 1936

The group was scattered across the slopes, each pairing off for a morning of skiing or snowboarding. Lando and Dylan had somehow ended up together after riding the lifts, and were carving through the snow in companionable silence. Lando had to admit Dylan was annoyingly good on a board, making it look effortless as he sped down the powdery trails.

At the bottom of the run, they paused to catch their breath. Dylan stretched his arms above his head, grinning. “Man, this is the life. It’s great you guys have been doing this every year.”

“Yeah, it’s the best,” Lando replied, adjusting his goggles. “You’re lucky you got the invite.”

Dylan laughed. “I guess I passed the test with her, huh?”

“Guess so.”

As they lined up for the next lift, Dylan turned to him. “Speaking of passing tests, she told me she’s thinking of taking that job in Japan. Pretty big deal for her, right?”

Lando froze. “Wait—what job in Japan?”

Dylan looked confused. “She didn’t tell you? It’s with her company. Some kind of high-level exchange position for a few months. She’s not sure yet, but we’ve been talking about it.”

Lando forced himself to stay casual, though his chest tightened. “You’ve been talking about it?”

“Well, yeah,” Dylan said. “If she goes, I’d probably go with her for a bit. There’s great boarding in Japan, so it’d be a win-win. But she’s still deciding.”

Lando didn’t respond immediately, pushing off as the lift began to carry them up the mountain. 

“She didn’t mention it to me,” he said finally, not wanting to admit it.

Dylan shrugged, oblivious. “She’s probably waiting until she decides for sure. I mean, she’s got you, Max, her parents—it’s a lot of people to think about.”

“Right,” Lando said shortly, staring out over the snowy landscape. — Later that evening, the group was lounging in the cozy living room of the chalet, the fire crackling softly in the background. Dylan was engrossed in a card game with Max and some of the others, leaving you and Lando alone in the corner, sipping your drinks.

Lando leaned closer to you, lowering his voice. “So... Japan?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Dylan mentioned something about you getting a job offer in Japan,” Lando said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing. “You didn’t think that was worth mentioning to me?”

You sighed, swirling your drink. “It’s not set in stone, Lan. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it until I decided.”

“Decided what?” His voice had an edge now. “Whether or not to move halfway across the world?”

You frowned, defensive. “It’s an amazing opportunity, Lando. I’m not saying yes or no yet, but it’s something I have to consider.”

His jaw tightened, and he set his glass down a little too hard on the coffee table. “What about the season? You’ve always been there—well, mostly. I can’t imagine doing it without you around.”

Your expression softened slightly, but your tone remained firm. “Lando, I wasn’t at every race last season, and you were fine. Look at your results!” You gave him a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re a superstar. You don’t need me there holding your hand.”

He stared at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s not about needing you to hold my hand. It’s...” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “You being there—it just makes things... easier. Part of my routine I’m used to”

Your brow furrowed. ‘’Part of your routine?’’

“I just… It’ll be weird without you around. You’ve always been there.’’

The sentiment was sweet, but there was something about the way he said it that made your chest tighten. “You’ll be fine,” you said, forcing a smile now. “You’ve got Magui, and Max, and the whole team. You’re not exactly lacking in support.”

“It’s not the same,” Lando replied, his voice barely above a murmur.

Your hand froze mid-reach for your drink. You set it down instead, the clink of glass against wood sharper than you intended. “What are you saying, Lando?”

He hesitated, like he hadn’t expected you to call him on it. “I’m just saying… you’ve always been part of this. Part of my life, my career. You get it in a way that—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try,” you said, your tone sharper than he expected.

His brows furrowed, and for a moment, he looked like the boy you’d known all those years ago—earnest, vulnerable, and completely unaware of how his words could cut. “I guess I just… I need you. You’ve always been there, and I don’t know what it’s going to be like if you’re not.”

“You need me?” you repeated irritated. “Lando, I’m not going to Japan to sit on a beach. This is my career. My chance to do something for me. Do you even realize how that sounds?”

His eyes widened in confusion. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying—”

“You’re just saying you want me to put my life on hold so I can keep holding your hand through yours and be part of your routine?” you snapped, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Lando recoiled slightly. “That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Isn’t it?” you pressed, you voice rising. “You’re asking me to stay, Lando. To stay and make your life easier, while I give up something I’ve worked just as hard for. Do you know how selfish that sounds?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said again, but this time his voice was quieter, tinged with guilt. “I just— It’s not easy, okay? Doing this. And I thought… I thought you understood that.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in her chest. “I do understand. That’s why I’m still here, isn’t it? That’s why I’ve always been here. But you don’t get to ask this of me, Lando.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But instead, he nodded, the weight of her words sinking in. “You’re right,” he said finally. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, but the sting of his words lingered. “I know you didn’t,” you said softly. 

— Mexico, 29 november 2023

The shrill sound of tires screeching and the thud of impact echoed through the paddock speakers. Your breath caught in your throat as the screen showed Lando’s car slamming into the barriers, a plume of debris scattering across the track.

“Red flag. That’s Norris in the wall,” the commentator announced, their tone serious but calm.

You were already on your feet in the McLaren garage, staring at the screen with wide eyes. The replay looped, showing his car losing grip on the exit of a corner before careening into the barriers.

“Is he okay?” you blurted, your voice sharp with worry.

One of the engineers turned to reassure you. “We’ve got radio communication. He’s fine, just frustrated.”

The knot in your stomach didn’t ease until you heard his voice crackle through the team radio, muttering, “I’m okay, I’m okay. Sorry, guys.”

You exhaled, hands trembling slightly as you sat back down. He might be physically fine, but you knew how much this would rattle him mentally.

The energy in the hospitality area was buzzing with activity, mechanics and engineers rushing around to prepare for tomorrow. You made your way over to Lando, who was perched on a counter, still in his race suit, a bag of ice pressed against his shoulder. His helmet sat beside him, a little scuffed from the impact.

“You alright?” you asked, leaning against the counter beside him.

He shrugged, wincing slightly as the motion aggravated his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m fine. Car’s a mess, though.”

You shot him a look. “The car can be fixed. I’m asking about you.”

Lando glanced at you, his expression guarded but softening under your gaze. “I’ve had worse.” Then, with a self-deprecating chuckle: “Though I can’t say the engineers are thrilled with me right now.”

“They’ll get over it,” you said firmly. “They know you’re pushing to the limit—that’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“Yeah, well, limits don’t win races if you’re sitting in the wall during quali.” He leaned back against the counter, his jaw tight.

You didn’t let the tension linger. “Oh, c’mon, Lan. You’ve come back from worse. Remember last season? You started at the back of the grid and still finished in the points.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “That was different. I didn’t stuff it in the barriers first.”

You reached over, grabbing a nearby energy drink can and tapping it lightly against his knee. “Then tomorrow’s your chance to remind everyone what you’re made of. You’ve got the pace, and we both know you love a challenge. Besides,” you added, grinning, “you’ll make the highlight reel if you pull it off.”

That earned a real laugh from him, and he tilted his head toward you. “You think I’ll pull it off?”

“I know you will,” you said, your tone unwavering.

Lando sat there for a beat, then hopped off the counter, dropping the ice pack onto the surface. “Alright, then I guess we will see.” —  The garage was absolute chaos. Team members shouted and high-fived, celebrating an incredible recovery drive. Lando had fought his way through the field with surgical precision, finishing in a stunning P5. The relief and joy in the room were palpable.

Lando barged into the garage, his race suit unzipped to his waist, hair a wild mess from pulling off his helmet. He was grinning ear to ear, waving a bottle of champagne in the air.

“P5, baby!” he shouted, and the room erupted in cheers again.

You were standing with Max and a few others when he spotted you. “Oi, don’t act like you’re not impressed,” he called, pointing at you with the neck of the champagne bottle.

You crossed your arms, pretending to look unimpressed. “P5? Meh, could’ve been P4 if you’d overtaken Gasly one lap earlier.”

Lando strode over, uncorking the bottle with a loud pop and spraying it wildly, catching you and a few nearby engineers in the crossfire. You shrieked, laughing as the cold champagne hit your face and jacket.

“Alright, alright!” you yelled, holding up your hands. “You win, Norris! P5 is pretty damn good!”

“Damn right it is,” he said, grinning as he took a swig straight from the bottle, still dripping champagne. “You doubted me for a second, didn’t you?”

“Never,” you replied, swiping the bottle from his hand and taking a sip yourself.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “That’s mine.”

“Not anymore,” you quipped, handing it back to him with a smirk.

The atmosphere was electric, the team chanting and laughing around you both. It wasn’t long before the post-race interviews started pulling people away, but Lando lingered for a moment.

“Hey,” he said, leaning in so you could hear him over the noise. “Thanks for, you know, earlier. Couldn’t have done it without your support.”

You glanced at him, surprised at the sudden sincerity in his voice. “What are you thanking me for? You’re the one who clawed your way back.”

He gave a small shrug, “Yeah, but you’re always there. Even when I’m a proper idiot.”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile betrayed you. “You’re always a proper idiot.”

He laughed, holding up the champagne bottle. “Guess it works for me.”

“I guess it does.”

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05 @lex2205 @il0vereadingstuff @martygraciesversion381 @joannaln4 @obxstiles

[ylangelegy]

a birthday drabble for @totomoshi 🤎🥨☕ sara, my love, i wish for you everything good and sweet! xo

five-star (seungcheol x reader) ┆ word count: 686.

Your go-to coffee order is on the edge of your usual table. 

Wryly, you pick up the paper cup to inspect it. There’s nothing to indicate who the drink might be from.

A part of you wants to not look a gift horse in the mouth. A free drink is a free drink, after all. You’ve frequented this café enough to qualify as a regular, so any of the other frequent patrons are prime suspects. 

When you turn to the barista to ask, he’s already shaking his head. 

“No clue,” he says. 

“You make the drinks,” you respond accusingly. 

He flashes you a dimpled smile but offers nothing more. “I can at least assure you there’s no poison in it,” he says, drawing a light huff from you. 

“I’d give you a one-star rating if it did.”

“Oh, how ever will I live.” 

The bell over the entrance dings. Your good-natured bickering is cut short. When you take a sip, it’s just as he said. No poison, and exactly how you like it. 

This becomes a thing. At least twice a week, your drink is already waiting for you. Sometimes, it comes with a croissant. A chocolate chip cookie. A slice of cake, even. 

You let this drag on for about three months before deciding enough is enough. 

“I know it’s you, you know.” 

He looks up at you, one eyebrow arched upward. 

“Me?” he asks innocently. 

There’s no one else around. You had timed this, waited for the last of the customers to filter out before striking. 

“I know it’s you,” you repeat, gesturing vaguely. 

He gives a noncommittal hum in response. He’s already wrapping up for the day, folding his apron and packing away his name tag. 

Seungcheol, it says. 

“And yet you only decided to bring it up now?” he teases. 

You raise your shoulders in a shrug. There’s a small smile tugging at your face— the confirmation of his identity, sweeter than any of the pastries you’ve been gifted so far. 

“I liked getting free stuff,” you answer cheekily. 

Seungcheol’s eyes turn into crescents as he laughs. He’s obviously amused at your feigned ignorance. Perhaps even endeared by it. You can tell in the way he leans across the counter, trying to get a little closer to you; the way the corners of his lips tilt upward as he speaks. 

“And I like you,” he finally, finally confesses. “In case that hasn’t been made clear yet.” 

Something akin to a snort of laughter slides past your lips. “Could’ve told me earlier.” 

“I thought you liked the free stuff.” 

“Yeah, well, I would’ve liked a date much more.” 

And, oh, the way his smile breaks, then. It lights up his whole face. 

“Are you only saying that because I make good coffee?” he asks as he packs away his things, seemingly readying to leave with you. 

You realize that you wouldn’t mind.

“The coffee could be better—” you’re saying, but Seungcheol’s smile drops into a pout. 

“Yah!”

“Let me finish!” You clear your throat. “But the barista’s kind of cute.” 

Seungcheol’s lip is still jut out, though it twitches ever so slightly. When the two of you step out of his café, he hurriedly locks up before glancing down at you. 

“What’s it going to take to get a five-star rating from you?” His tone is half-joking, but you have some idea that he’s not referring only to his café. 

The two of you fall into step. Seungcheol’s shoulder brushes against yours, like he’s physically restraining himself from reaching out to hold your hand.

“Let’s start with that date,” you say, trying to maintain some semblance of coolness as Seungcheol seems to lead you to your destination for the night. “And then we can talk about your rating.” 

You’re playing it coy, playing it safe, but it’s hard to act nonchalant when Seungcheol is practically vibrating with excitement at your side. 

He grins down at you, all bright and warm and fond, and to hell with it. You smile back at him.

(He swears it’s better than any five-star rating in the world.) 

[greengoblinswifey]

Club Rendezvous—Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— while on spring break, you cross paths with Luigi Mangione at a club, sparking an immediate connection that leads to a night in your hotel room. based on this request.

warnings— grinding, drinking, fingering, cunnilingus, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare.

a/n— Those photos are so fratboy Luigi coded, idk I like this little mood board, enjoy <3 I really hope he’s doing well, my heart aches when I think about him.

The club was alive, the high energy vibes only spring break could deliver. Neon lights flashed across the crowd, music boomed loud enough to shake the walls, and you and your friends were in the middle of it all. Drinks in hand, laughter over the music, you were living your best life. Your group wasn’t shy about taking over the dance floor, swaying your hips to the beat, your confidence catching more than a few eyes.

Among those eyes were his. Some tall, dark curly haired guy leaned casually against the bar, drink in hand, charm on full display. His backwards cap barely kept his dark curls in check, and his sleeveless shirt revealed toned arms. He was the type of guy who made heads turn without even trying. And tonight, his focus was on you.

You noticed him when you turned toward the bar, locking eyes for the briefest second. His smirk was teasing, and when he tipped his drink in your direction, you knew the game was on.

“Who’s that fine ass staring at you like you’re the last shot at the bar?” your friend shouted over the music, nudging you.

“Probably just some frat boy who thinks he’s cute,” you replied, though your smile betrayed you.

“Girl, he’s cute!” another friend chimed in. “Go dance with him!”

You rolled your eyes playfully but turned your attention back to the dance floor. It wasn’t long before he made his move, walking through the crowd until he was standing close enough for you to feel his presence.

“You dance as good as you look?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

“Why don’t you find out?” you shot back, challenging him.

He laughed, the sound sexy and confident. “I was hoping you’d say that, I’m Luigi by the way.”

“And I’m Y/N,” you flirted.

Before you knew it, he was behind you, his hands resting respectfully at your hips, waiting for your cue. When you started to move, he followed your lead effortlessly, the two of you in sync. The beat pulsed through your body as you threw your ass back, his grip tightening slightly to match your rhythm.

Your friends were cheering you on from the sidelines, one even yelling, “Get it, girl! Pull him in!”

“Your friends are wild,” Luigi said with a chuckle, his lips close enough to your ear to send a shiver down your spine.

“They’re hyping me up,” you replied, glancing back at him. “Don’t let ‘em down.”

“Oh, I won’t,” he promised, his cute smirk widening.

You felt on top of the world as you moved together, his presence grounding you while the world spun around you. The chemistry was undeniable, and the looks your friends shot your way only fueled your confidence.

“You’re stealing the show out here,” he murmured.

“Good,” you said, flashing him a grin over your shoulder. “I’m worth it.”

When the song ended, you turned to face him, breathless but grinning. He looked at you like you were the only person in the room, and for a moment, it felt like maybe you were.

“Wanna grab a drink?” he asked, his tone a mix of boldness and uncertainty.

“Depends,” you said, tilting your head. “Are you buying?”

“For you?” He laughed, already nodding. “Absolutely.”

As you walked toward the bar together, your friends erupted into cheers behind you.

“Go get your white boy, queen!” one shouted, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Guess I’ve got a lot to live up to,” Luigi joked, glancing at your retreating friends.

“You better,” you replied, “Think you can handle it?”

“With you?” His smirk softened into something genuine. “I’ll try my best.”

Spring break had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.

The bass of the club faded slightly as you and Luigi leaned against the bar, drinks in hand. He hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d introduced himself, and you couldn’t deny how charming his boyish confidence was. You had a good feeling about him.

“So, what’s your story?” Luigi asked, sipping his drink and leaning closer to hear you over the music.

“Just here for spring break with my girls,” you said with a shrug, “What about you?”

“Same,” he said, his eyes lingering on yours, “Though I’m thinking this night just got a lot better.”

“You’ve got lines, huh?”

“Only when they’re true,” he replied, raising his glass toward you.

Feeling bold, the words spat out of your mouth before you could overthink them. “You wanna come back to my hotel?”

Luigi’s thick eyebrows raised slightly, his grin widening. “I’d love to,” he said, “But only if I get to take you on a date tomorrow morning.”

“Deal.”

Within minutes, he’d called an Uber he paid for, and the two of you were in the backseat, the city lights blurring past the windows. Luigi had his arm draped casually along the back of the seat, his fingers brushing your shoulder. You turned to him, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was soft at first, testing, but quickly deepened. His hand slid to cup your jaw, pulling you closer. “You taste like trouble,” he murmured against your lips, his breath warm and intoxicating.

“You’re one to talk,” you whispered, nipping at his bottom lip, earning a low chuckle from him.

By the time you reached the hotel, the air between you was charged. In the elevator, the doors had barely closed before Luigi pressed you against the wall, his lips capturing yours in a feral kiss. His hands roamed over your sides before one slid lower, fingers trailing into your bottoms.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

“Luigi,” you breathed out, your knees going weak as his fingers found your pussy.

“You’re so wet for me,” he said, his voice low as his fingers thrusted in slow strokes. “You’re so tight.”

You bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, but the soft whimper you let out when his thumb pressed against your clit betrayed you. His lips found your ear. “Don’t you dare hold those moans. I wanna hear you.”

When the elevator dinged, you both barely managed to pull yourselves together, your face dazed and breaths uneven. Stumbling down the hallway, Luigi was still kissing your neck as you fumbled with the keycard, his lips sending shivers down your spine.

The door finally opened, and the two of you stumbled inside, laughing softly before his lips found yours again. You fell back onto the bed, Luigi bracing himself above you as his kisses moved down your neck to your collarbone.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his hands tracing your sides. “I’ve never seen anyone like you.”

“You’re just saying that,” you teased.

He shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with a seriousness that made your heart race. “Nah, I mean it. You’re stunning, and you’re driving me insane.”

His lips claimed yours again, his praise melting into your skin as his hands explored, every touch making you feel like he meant what he said.

His hands worked at the hem of your top, his lips brushing against your jawline. His fingers grazed your skin, pulling off your bottoms next slowly, leaving you in your bra and panties.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes roaming over you like you were something rare. “I don’t think you even realize.”

You felt the warmth rise to your cheeks, your fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt in response. “You first,” you teased.

With a smirk, Luigi pulled off his shirt, revealing a toned torso with abs that had your breath hitching. When his hands worked to remove your bra, his fingers grazed your nipples. Once he freed you from it, he paused, staring at you as if committing every detail to memory.

“You’re perfect,” he said.

Your panties were the last to go, and when you reached for his waistband, he let out a soft laugh, his hands gently stopping yours. “Let me take care of you first, pretty girl. Tonight’s about you.”

Your lips parted in surprise, but Luigi was already lowering himself onto his knees at the edge of the bed. “Can I?” he asked, fingers resting on your thighs.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, and he flashed you a small, reassuring smile. “Good girl,” he murmured.

The first stroke of his tongue had you gasping, your back arching slightly. He knew what he was doing, his mouth working against you with a precision that had your legs trembling. You couldn’t help but run your fingers through his soft curls, tugging gently as he grinned against your skin.

“You taste incredible,” he murmured, his voice muffled as he continued, “I could stay here all night.”

“Luigi,” you breathed, your voice breaking as he pressed his tongue in deeper, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady.

“You like that, don’t you?”

Your only response was a soft whimper, your head falling back as his tongue worked wonders against your quivering pussy. He lapped at your juices like a man starved, leaving not one inch of your pussy untouched. When your body finally gave in, shuddering beneath him and creaming, he pulled away, lips and chin glistening to smirk at you.

“You’re a dream,” he whispered, licking his lips and climbing back onto the bed.

You tugged him down for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. “Lemme take care of you now,” you offered breathlessly, reaching for his waistband again.

Luigi caught your hand, shaking his head with a smirk. “Another time. Tonight, it’s all about you. You’ve got no idea how lucky I feel.”

He leaned down, kissing your forehead, his tenderness making you realize you had scored the jackpot. He stood at the edge of the bed, his hands moving to unbuckle his pants as your gaze followed him. When he finally slipped them off, your eyes widened in disbelief at the sheer size of his hard dick.

“You’re joking,” you murmured, earning a low chuckle from him.

“Don’t worry, baby” he said, leaning down to kiss you softly. “You can take it. I’ll make sure of it.”

He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his eyes locking onto yours. “Are you sure you wanna do this?” he asked his tone serious.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach.

“We can stop anytime,” Luigi reminded you, cupping your cheek. “Just say the word.”

“I’m sure, Luigi,” you assured him.

“Okay, amore,” he whispered, the word rolling off his tongue effortlessly. It sent a shiver down your spine.

Luigi positioned himself above you, one hand gripping yours as he lined his cock with your entrance. His lips brushed against your temple as he slowly pushed in, both of you hissing at the sensation.

“Luigi,” you whimpered, gripping his hand tightly.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he praised. He set a steady rhythm, his strokes careful but deep enough to find your sweet spot. “You feel so good.”

“You’re so big,” you panted, your head falling back against the pillows.

“Yeah?” he smirked, leaning down to kiss you. “Who’s making you feel good?”

“You are, Luigi,” you gasped, your body reacting to every word and thrust.

“That’s right,” he murmured against your lips. “Only me.”

He quickened his pace slightly, his hand slipping to your waist to steady you. The pleasure was becoming too much as he bottomed out and slammed back in, each thrust making your pussy quiver. “Cum on my dick, amore,” he coaxed, his voice soft.

Your pussy obeyed, a wave of release coursing through you as his thrusts slowed down, pressing gentle kisses along your jaw. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, his lips curving into that beautiful smile.

Before you could fully recover, Luigi flipped you onto your stomach, his hand sliding down your back. “You look so good like this,” he murmured, gripping your hips as he started again.

You pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, the pleasure building faster this time. “I— I don’t know if I can hold on,” you stammered, your voice trembling.

“You don’t have to,” he reassured. “Cum for me baby. I’ve got you.”

Your body surrendered again, practically soaking his cock and the sheets, and he leaned down, pressing kisses along your shoulder. He gently turned you onto your side, lifting your leg as he settled behind you. His pace was slower now, deeper inside you, his hand brushing over your thigh as he whispered praises into your ear and you moaned his name like it was the only word you knew.

“You’re amazing, amore,” he said, his lips brushing against your neck. “I love this pussy.”

You reached back to touch his arm, your breathing steadying as he continued to hold you close. He pressed kisses to the side of your face, his grip tightening on your leg as he rolled his hips with precision. You were so sensitive, all in your mind was his cock slamming into you then retreating with just the tip before he thrusted back in again. He found your sweet spot each time, your pussy quivering with every movement.

“Luigi,” you moaned, feeling your orgasm approaching.

“I know baby, I know. Cum with me. Can I cum inside you,” he asked.

“Mhmm—please, cum inside me,” you whimpered.

He reached down to rub your clit and it sent you right over the edge. You cried out, your body shaking under his touch as a wave of liquid sprayed from your pussy. He fucked you through your orgasm and soon you felt the feeling of warm sticky cum filling you to the brim.

You both lay there panting, and you could feel his cum oozing from your pussy as he pulled out.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered, disappearing into the bathroom.

You barely had the energy to lift your head, but moments later, he returned with a warm, damp towel in hand. Sitting beside you, he placed a hand on your thigh and smiled. “Let me take care of you.”

He started cleaning you up carefully. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, glancing at you with concern.

“No,” you replied, your voice a little hoarse. “I’m good. Just tired.”

He chuckled, setting the towel aside and lying down beside you. “Tired? I’ll take that as a compliment,” he teased, brushing a stray curl from your face.

“You would,” you murmured, cracking a small smile.

He shifted closer, pulling the blanket over both of you. “So,” he started, “was it as good as you imagined it would be?”

“Confident much?” you said as you rolled your eyes playfully.

He grinned, leaning on his elbow to look at you better. “Hey, I’m just asking. You’re the one who moaned ‘Luigi’ about a hundred times.”

“Oh, shut up,” you grew flustered and hit his arm lightly.

“Now, tomorrow before the date, breakfast on the beach? Or room service?”

“Surprise me,” you said, already feeling your eyes grow heavy.

He settled in beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “Deal. Sweet dreams, amore.”

“Night, Luigi,” you murmured, your head resting against his chest as you drifted off, feeling completely safe and cared for.

[carnalcrows]

LOLLIPOP - CHO SANGWOO

pairing: dad's best friend!cho sang-woo x trans male reader

synopsis: When your dad’s hot best friend crashes at your place for a week, things heat up faster than the broken AC—throw in drunken confessions, lollipops, and a whole lot of unresolved tension, and you’ve got a summer break you’ll never forget.

content warnings: 18+, reader definitely has an oral fixation, too much plot, mentions of a transphobic mother, (GI HUN IS READER'S DAD), age gap (reader is 19 and sang-woo is in his 40's), unprotected sex, P in V, back-scratching? fingering, lots of unspoken tension.

word count: - 4.3k

A/N: ty to @art-gang-money , their request was what made me go on a spiral w this fic 🙏🏼🫡

Summer in your dad’s apartment always smelled like kimchi stew and stale cigarettes, a combination you’d grown weirdly fond of since moving back in after you started uni. The ceiling fan wobbled as it turned, and the couch sagged just enough to remind you how old it was. You were sprawled out on it lazily sucking on a cranberry lollipop and scrolling through your phone, when your dad cleared his throat dramatically.

“You’ll never guess who’s coming over,” he said, leaning against the doorframe like he was delivering some kind of life-altering news.

“Let me guess,” you deadpanned. “The landlord? Because I think the AC’s about to give out.”

He waved you off, grinning. “No, you brat. Cho Sangwoo. You’ve heard me talk about him, right?”

Heard? More like endured. Sangwoo was the mythical figure your dad brought up at every family gathering, a symbol of everything Seong Gi-hun wanted you to be: successful, hardworking, and an SNU graduate. You’d rolled your eyes through countless retellings of his achievements, imagining some stiff, balding guy in glasses who probably spoke in lectures.

“Yeah, sure,” you muttered, not looking up.

“He’s staying here for a week,” your dad added, oblivious to your lack of enthusiasm. “He’s got a client nearby, and I told him he could crash here. You’ll like him. He’s... cool.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Cool? Coming from you, that doesn’t mean much.”

Your dad ignored the jab, already walking toward the door. “He should be here any minute!”

When the door opened a few minutes later, you barely glanced up—until you heard the deep, smooth voice that followed.

“Gi-hun,” the man said warmly, stepping inside. “It’s been too long.”

You looked up and your sucker almost fell out of your mouth.

This wasn’t the stiff, balding guy you’d imagined. Sangwoo was tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a suit that looked like it cost more than your dad’s entire wardrobe. His hair was styled just enough to look effortless, and the way he carried himself screamed confidence.

“Finally, you’re here!” your dad said, pulling him into a back-slapping hug. “Sangwoo, this is my son.”

“Nice to meet you kid,” Sangwoo said, extending a hand toward you.

You shook it, trying not to let your thoughts show on your face. His grip was firm, and his eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary.

“So you’re the famous Sangwoo,” you grinned, “Didn’t expect you to be so... old.”

Sangwoo raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Old?”

“Yeah,” you teased, leaning back against the couch. “Forty’s ancient.”

Your dad barked out a laugh. “Don’t mind him. He thinks anyone over twenty-five is ancient.”

Sangwoo didn’t reply, but the way his gaze lingered on you made your stomach twist.

After dinner, the hum of the evening settled over the apartment. Gi-hun had retreated to the couch, already half-asleep with the TV droning in the background. You had volunteered—reluctantly—to wash the dishes, partly out of guilt for eating so much and partly to avoid sitting awkwardly in the living room while Sangwoo and your dad chatted about old times.

The warm water ran over your hands as you scrubbed a plate, the faint scent of dish soap filling the air. You had just started to lose yourself in the monotony when you felt it—the faint shift of the air behind you.

“Need help?” Sangwoo’s voice came, low and smooth, almost too close.

You froze for a split second, your grip tightening on the plate. “Uh... I’ve got it,” you said, trying to sound casual, but your voice came out tighter than you’d hoped.

He didn’t seem to care—or maybe he didn’t believe you. Instead of leaving, he moved closer, his arm brushing against yours as he reached for the sponge in your hand.

“Don’t be stubborn,” he said, his tone light but with an edge of amusement.

Before you could protest, he had already slid the sponge from your fingers, his other hand gently nudging you to the side—not enough to move you completely, but just enough so he could stand behind you, his chest brushing your back.

The countertop pressed against your hips, trapping you between the solid wood and Sangwoo. You swallowed hard, your thoughts scattering like leaves in a gust of wind.

His scent hit you first—clean and sharp, a mix of soap and something faintly musky, like fresh cedarwood. He had clearly just stepped out of the shower; his hair was still damp, and the faint warmth of his skin radiated against you.

“Just rinse them,” he said, his voice a soft rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded dumbly, reaching for the faucet, but your hands felt clumsy, your fingers fumbling with the knobs. The sound of the water splashing into the sink seemed impossibly loud in the otherwise quiet kitchen.

Sangwoo leaned forward slightly, his arm stretching past you to grab another plate. The movement brought him even closer, his chest pressing more firmly against your back. You could feel the faint rise and fall of his breath, steady and unhurried, as if he weren’t fully aware of what he was doing—or maybe he was too aware.

“You’re tense,” he commented, his voice laced with amusement.

You let out a breathless laugh, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to be body-blocked while washing dishes.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your back. “You’re overthinking it. Just relax.”

Easier said than done, especially with him standing this close. Every time his arm brushed yours or his hand grazed yours as he passed a plate, it sent tiny jolts of electricity through you.

“You always make dishwashing this awkward?” you asked, your tone half-joking, half-desperate to diffuse the tension.

“Only when I’m working with someone as clumsy as you,” he shot back, his smirk practically audible.

You turned your head slightly to glare at him, but the motion brought your face dangerously close to his. His eyes flicked down to your lips and back to you, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

The air between you was heavy, charged with something unspoken but impossible to ignore. He was so close you could see the faint droplets of water still clinging to his hair, the curve of his mouth as he smiled faintly, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“Well,” you managed to say, your voice quieter now, “if you’re going to take over, at least let me get out of your way.”

“Who said I wanted you to move?” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you thought you’d misheard him. But then he turned back to the sink, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he continued washing the dishes as if nothing had happened.

You stayed frozen in place, your mind racing and your pulse hammering in your ears. If this was some kind of game, Sangwoo was winning effortlessly.

On the third day of Sangwoo’s stay, your dad insisted on taking you both out for drinks, and Sangwoo agreed with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Gi-hun, unsurprisingly, got wasted. You and Sangwoo ended up practically dragging him back to The humid summer night hung heavy as you and Sangwoo maneuvered your dad through the narrow streets, Gi-hun stumbling slightly with every step. He reeked of soju and cheap beer, his arm slung around Sangwoo’s shoulder while you tried to steady him from the other side.

“He’s heavy for someone who barely eats,” you grumbled, adjusting your grip.

“He’s always been like this,” Sangwoo said, shaking his head. “Some things never change.”

“Y’know,” Gi-hun suddenly slurred, his voice unusually loud in the stillness of the night, “I never thought I’d be one of those dads.”

“Which kind?” you asked, bracing yourself for whatever drunken confession was about to follow.

“The good ones!” he proclaimed, nearly tripping over his own feet. Sangwoo caught him effortlessly, his expression unreadable as Gi-hun continued. “Your mom… she didn’t think so. Thought I was crazy for defending you.”

“Dad,” you muttered, feeling the familiar prick of discomfort settle in your chest. “Maybe now’s not the time—”

“Why not?” Gi-hun cut you off, his eyes glassy but filled with a strange intensity. “Sangwoo doesn’t care. Do you, Sangwoo?”

Sangwoo hesitated, glancing at you before replying softly, “Not at all.”

Gi-hun nodded triumphantly, as if Sangwoo’s approval was all the validation he needed. “See? Told you. No shame in it. Not a damn bit.”

You didn’t reply, focusing instead on guiding him toward the apartment. But Gi-hun wasn’t done.

“Your mom…” His voice grew quieter, tinged with bitterness. “She couldn’t handle it. Said it wasn’t natural. Like you weren’t her kid anymore, just because you stopped wearing dresses and started wearing ties.” He barked out a humorless laugh. “As if a piece of fabric could change the fact that you’re you.”

Your chest tightened, but you didn’t interrupt. This wasn’t the first time he’d brought it up, but it still hit like a sucker punch every time.

“She wanted you to be her perfect little daughter,” Gi-hun continued, his words starting to blur together. “And when you wouldn’t… she packed up your sister and left. Going all the way to America like that would fix everything.”

He stumbled again, and this time Sangwoo steadied him with a firm grip. “America’s got more people like you anyway,” Gi-hun added, his tone lightening into something almost comedic. “She probably hates it there. Serves her right.”

You let out a soft, startled laugh despite yourself. The absurdity of it all—the drunken way he said it, the thought of your mother fuming in a country full of people who were allowed to be themselves (kinda)—was too ridiculous not to.

Gi-hun turned to look at you, his expression suddenly serious. “But you know… I’m glad you stayed with me. I wouldn’t trade you for anything. Not for a wife, not for money, not for anything.”

Your throat tightened, and you could only nod, your voice caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

Gi-hun leaned heavily against Sangwoo, his weight almost toppling both of them. “My kid’s a damn good man,” he declared, his voice wobbling with emotion. “Better than I’ll ever be.”

Sangwoo’s gaze flickered toward you, his dark eyes softening in understanding. He didn’t say anything, but the slight dip of his head felt like a silent acknowledgment—a recognition of everything unsaid.

When you finally got Gi-hun back to the apartment, he collapsed onto the couch, snoring almost instantly. You stood there for a moment, staring at him, your emotions too tangled to sort through.

Sangwoo broke the silence, his voice low. “He’s a good father.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the quiet sincerity in his tone. “Yeah,” you replied, your voice softer than usual. “He is.”

When you finally got your dad into bed from the couch, you turned to Sangwoo, expecting some kind of witty remark.

Instead, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“What?” you asked, your voice coming out more defensive than you intended.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Acting like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing,” he said, stepping closer. His voice was low, almost a growl, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Maybe I don’t,” you replied, your tone defiant.

“Don’t play dumb.” He was close now, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. “You’ve been pushing me all week. Do you even know what you’re asking for?”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t back down. “Maybe I do.”

That was all it took.

His hand shot out, gripping the back of your neck as his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was rough, heated, filled with all the tension that had been building between you.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands clutching at his shirt as he pressed you against the wall. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and you let out a quiet gasp that only spurred him on.

The kiss had left you breathless, your pulse pounding in your ears as Sangwoo’s grip on the back of your neck softened just slightly. The wall at your back was cool, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body. His forehead rested against yours, and for a brief moment, neither of you spoke.

“You’re trouble,” he muttered again, his voice quieter this time, but no less intense.

“You’re the one kissing me,” you shot back, the words shaky but bold.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and his fingers slid from your neck to trace the line of your jaw. The touch was maddeningly slow, deliberate, and you couldn’t help but lean into it.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” he asked, his tone tinged with something between amusement and exasperation.

“Do you?” you countered, meeting his gaze.

His eyes darkened, and his hand dropped to your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Good thing I’m not scared of getting burned.”

That was all it took for him to lose the last thread of restraint. His lips were on yours again, fiercer this time, his hands gripping your waist as if anchoring himself. You clung to him just as desperately, your fingers tangling in his shirt.

When he pulled back again, his lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “You’ve been driving me insane,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.

“Yeah?” you whispered, a teasing edge creeping into your tone despite the way your heart was racing. “And here I thought you were just ignoring me.”

His laugh was soft, almost bitter. “Ignoring you? Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”

Your face heated at his words, but you couldn’t resist pushing him just a little further. “Sounds like a you problem, old man.”

His grip tightened on your waist, and he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression a mix of frustration and desire. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he didn’t give you the chance. His lips were on yours again, his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt to rest against your bare skin. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and you gasped softly against his mouth.

“Sangwoo—” you started, but he silenced you with another kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before he pulled away just slightly.

“Say my name again,” he murmured, his voice so low it sent a thrill down your spine.

Your lips parted, but the sound of a door creaking down the hall snapped you both back to reality.

“Shit,” you whispered, your head jerking toward the noise.

He let out a soft curse, his hands slipping from your waist as he stepped back, putting just enough space between you to make it look like nothing had happened.

“Dad?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Probably,” Sangwoo replied, his tone clipped. He straightened his shirt, his expression already hardening back into the composed mask he’d worn all week.

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed as you watched him pull himself together, but the heat in his gaze when he glanced back at you told you this wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

“Go to bed,” he said quietly, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest hint of a smirk. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“Promise?” you asked, your voice light but your heart still pounding.

He didn’t answer, but the look he gave you said enough.

Saturday had never felt so bittersweet. Usually, it was your favorite day of the week—a time to sleep in, lounge around, and revel in doing absolutely nothing. But this Saturday was different. Sangwoo’s stay was coming to an end, and the thought of him leaving left a knot in your stomach.

You hadn’t had the chance to talk about what had happened that night after the pub—or maybe you’d both avoided it. Every brush of his hand, every lingering look, had felt heavier in the days that followed. But neither of you had acknowledged it. Not once.

The tension in the apartment was unbearable, made worse by your dad’s cheery obliviousness. That morning, he announced he had to run out for work and wouldn’t be back until evening. He didn’t even glance up as he slipped on his shoes, leaving you alone with Sangwoo.

You sat at the kitchen table, absently swirling the stick of a grape lollipop between your lips as you scrolled through your phone. The candy clicked softly against your teeth, your thoughts miles away.

The sound of a chair scraping across the floor snapped you back to reality. You glanced up to see Sangwoo sitting across from you, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“Is it good?” he asked, nodding toward the lollipop.

You pulled it out of your mouth with a soft pop, tilting your head. “What, this?” You swirled the candy dramatically. “Amazing. Want a taste, old man?”

His lips quirked into that maddening smirk, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he stood, moving toward you with deliberate slowness.

“Sangwoo,” you started, a warning in your tone.

He stopped right beside you, one hand braced on the table as he leaned down. His voice was low, a soft rumble that made your pulse quicken. “You’ve been driving me insane all week.”

You tried for a laugh, but it came out shaky. “Is this about the coffee thing again? (you had put salt in his coffee instead of sugar because you were so fixated on his face-) Because I already apologized—”

His hand reached out, his fingers gently gripping your chin, tilting your face toward him. The sudden proximity stole the words from your throat.

“Stop,” he said quietly, his eyes locked on yours. “Stop pretending like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

Your heart was hammering now, the lollipop stick trembling slightly in your fingers. “Maybe I don’t,” you replied, though the smirk tugging at your lips said otherwise.

His gaze dropped to your mouth, and for a moment, he seemed to wrestle with himself. Then he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re going to make me lose control.”

The words sent a thrill through you, but before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It was rough, messy, and desperate, like he’d been holding back for too long and couldn’t stand it anymore. The lollipop tumbled from your hand, forgotten as you gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

He groaned softly against your mouth, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you out of the chair and into him. Your back hit the wall a second later, and you gasped, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands tangled in his hair, still faintly damp from his morning shower. He kissed you like he was starving, his lips hot and insistent against yours. One of his hands slid up, tangling in your hair, while the other gripped your hip, keeping you firmly in place.

“You taste sweet,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough.

You managed a breathless laugh, tilting your head to nip at his jaw. “Blame the lollipop.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and heated. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“On the table,” you teased, the corner of your mouth quirking up.

With a low chuckle, he grabbed the discarded lollipop, holding it up as if examining it. Then, to your shock, he popped it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours.

“That’s mine,” you protested weakly, though your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Not anymore,” he said, his tone laced with amusement.

Before you could respond, he was kissing you again, the faint sweetness of the candy mixing with the heat of his mouth. The combination was intoxicating, making your head spin.

His hands roamed, gripping your waist, sliding under your shirt to brush against your bare skin. Every touch left a trail of fire in its wake, and you couldn’t help the soft sound that escaped your lips.

“Sangwoo,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck.

“Sangwoo,” you repeated, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his breathing ragged. “You’ve been driving me crazy all week,” he said, his voice low and raw.

“Good,” you shot back, your smirk returning. “Serves you right, old man.”

His laugh was quiet, almost disbelieving, before his lips found yours again, pulling you into another dizzying kiss.

His hand was going lower and lower, first to your collarbone, then to your waist. It slowly inched the topband of your shorts, pulling it back and letting it slap onto your skip, making you yelp.

His other hand held you steady at the waist, while his dominant one went under your boxers.

You whimpered as you felt his hand graze your cunt, teasing one finger against your wet folds. It had been a solid minute since you even touched yourself down there. You were always too anxious that Sangwoo would be able to hear you (Dad was tone deaf) or he might come home earlier than expected from his business meetings.

And his fingers— God, his hands. So strong and thick. They linger over the soft pudge of your cunt, pressing into the warm skin and pulling apart each sticky fold to ghost over the quiver and throb of your acawaiting, needy clit. How overwhelming they were, using his thumb to rub smooth circles into it, eliciting a wet squelch as his fingers sunk into your hot, gummy walls.

You latched your hands on his shoulders, back arching into the wall with the sudden intrusion. You muffled any noise you made by hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

He propped you up higher on the wall, letting your head fall back, while his eyes never left yours.

“Sangwo–,” you were cut off by him suddenly sliding your shorts down. You remembered with embarrassment that you had worn–

“Huh. Hello Kitty.” the man stated while looking at your bright pink boxers. Your face flushed, turning to look away, while Sanwoo slid your boxers down and continued to have his way with your sopping cunt. 

You had no idea how long you had been in that position. He had taken your leg and placed it on your shoulder, making you somewhat balance on one leg, back resting on the wall and your hands on his shoulder.

Sangwoo on the other hand was obsessed with how his fingers were practically being devoured by your needy cunt, the slick making it easier to slide in every time.

He determined that you had been prepped enough, and removed his belt, along with his pants and boxers, which were now pooling at his knees.

He used his toned arms to steadily lift both your legs up, making you squeak. Your knees were now at the same level of your shoulders. Before you could let out a remark, he had slid the tip of his length into your gummy walls, eyes going wide with how tight you were.

“Fuck…so tight f’me, aren’t you?” It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement, and before you could respond, he had slid all the way in, making you gasp.

Using the opportunity, he captured your lips with his once more, muffling the sweet moans that came from you. He wanted to hear you, but your neighbours seemed to be quite…nosy.

When he had buried his cock all the way to the hilt, he stopped.

“Please…fuck, Sangwoo–,” you whined, feeling full but it just. wasn’t. enough.

“Please what doll? Use your words,” he teased, the smugness evident on his face.

“Fuck me till my legs are shaking. Please please plea–,” before you could finish, Sangwoo had slid out and he rammed into you once more, making you let out an almost pornographic moan.

He went at it like an animal, fucking into you with reckless abandon, as though he was in a rut. Your hands went from his shoulders to his back, your nails (whatever was left of them after you bit them off) scratched his back, leaving crescent shaped indents on his skin.

Your cunt clamped tightly around his cock, as you tried to babble something but only moans left your lips. He seemed so heavily into chasing his own orgasm at this point. 

“San..Sangwoo..I– ” You tried to say but could only cry out as you felt your orgasm wash over you like a rapid stream. Your fingers dug ineffectually into his back as a way of forgetting the overstimulation against the older man’s harsh thrusts.

He groaned, feeling the sting of your nails and how your cunt was clenching around his length with every thrust.

He continued going even after you came, his hips retracting at a fast pace. His grip on your waist tightened, pressing down onto your flesh.

“ I’m gonna-- “, he breathes out before (reluctantly) pulling out of your tight hole and climaxing all over your stomach. 

The warmth of the liquid seeped down your stomach, settling in your navel and even going further to your used cunt.

As he was staring at your hole, that was still clenching around nothing, you brought your shaky hand to his face and dived in for another kiss.

The sound of a key turning in the door was unheard. Your dad’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Forgot my wallet! Need to get the groceries– What the… CHO SANGWOO WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY SON–”

Shit.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[bunnis-monsters]

SFW

a/n: here’s another kofi request, featuring Momo the bunny hybrid playing in the snow for the first time ^^

Your bunny hybrid lover, Momo, used to hibernate during the winter. Because he lived in the wild by himself, there was no reason to stay awake when food was scarce and predators were desperate for a meal.

But then he met you, and all of a sudden he couldn’t even fathom being away from you for an entire season. The thought of not getting to enjoy your kisses and soft snuggles or eat your delicious cooking while he spent all winter asleep was… heart wrenching.

“So you’ll stay with me for winter,” you said with a smile, carrying a basket of fresh vegetables and fruit on your hip. “It’s settled. Now help me start canning, winter will creep up on us before we know it.”

And it really did.

Summer and fall were gone in a flash, the air growing colder as trees lost their leaves and the grass became withered and dry. Soon, snow would blanket the earth and it would be time to hunker down for the harsh winter months.

But for now, your bunny hybrid mate was collecting firewood with some other male hybrids in the area.

“You’re really not hibernating this year, Momo?”

Momo’s bunny ears flicked, and he turned to his deer hybrid friend. “Sorry, I’ll be with my mate this year.”

A raccoon hybrid nearby laughed, leaning against a tree. “You’ll miss out on the best sleep of the year, Momo. Is a girl really worth it?”

His foot thumped against the ground rapidly. Momo loved you with his whole heart, so he really disliked when his friends didn't take your relationship seriously. “Yes, it is completely worth it. I love her.”

Momo carried back the firewood with a huff, setting it down by the fireplace. You were at the stove, preparing dinner and humming some love song you heard on the radio. It took him a moment to register that you were speaking to him, he always got distracted by how much he adored every little thing you did.

“Momo? Did you hear anything I just said?”

He blinked before giving you a flustered smile. “Uh.. mmm, what did you say?”

You bit back a laugh, wiping your hands off on your apron before you turned his way.

“I asked if you could watch the stove for a moment, I need to check the news.”

Momo scurried over, taking the wooden spoon from your hand and taking over stirring the soup you were working on. “O-of course, sweetheart. I can handle that.”

You returned to the kitchen a moment later, phone in hand. “Oh wow, we’re in for a couple inches of snow tonight.”

Momo’s ears perked up at your words, clicking slightly. He had never seen snow before due to hibernating every year, and safe to say he was pretty excited. “Really? And snow… is it really as cold as people say?”

“Mhm!”

The two of you ate dinner then curled up in bed together. It was hard for Momo to drift off when he knew that he’d get to see fresh snow in the morning, but your warmth and soft breathing lulled him into sleep.

He woke up to you getting dressed. Momo rubbed his sleepy eyes, sitting up. “Mmph… what are you doing?”

You turned, giving him a smile. “Getting ready to play in the snow, of course.”

Momo never got dressed quicker than he did that morning. You made sure to bundle him up properly before opening the door.

The ground was covered in a thick layer of snow, and it crunched under his feet with each step. He was in awe, bending over to reach out and touch it.

“C-cold!”

You laughed as he drew back and hid behind you, his fluffy tail wagging furiously. “Yes, it’s very cold. C’mon, we can build a snowman first.”

Momo laughed as he ran around the yard, making the third ball for your snowman. Once his head was on, the two of you decorated it with some rocks and a scarf.

As Momo was admiring his work, he yelped when he felt a snowball hit his head. You were standing a small distance behind him, giggling as you prepared another ball.

“H-hey!”

Momo pouted as he began preparing a ball too, but several times he was pelted with snowballs before he could get his first one done.

After tiring yourselves out with a snowball fight, the two of you laid in the snow, your breaths coming out in white puffs as you made snow angels.

“Is it like this every year?” Momo asked, turning to meet your gaze.

You shook your head, smiling as you reached out to brush some snow out of his hair. “Mmm… no. Although it snows every year, I never have this much fun. Usually I just spend winter inside, alone. You... make everything a lot better.”

His cheeks flushed red, and he looked away in embarrassment. “Ah…”

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a bit before you sat up. “Brr, it’s cold. Let’s go inside and I’ll make some hot chocolate.”

“With cookies?”

“Mhm.”

The two of you headed inside, hand in hand, warming up just so you could go back to playing in the snow later.

———————

SFW TAGLIST: @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @peachesdabunny @misswonderfrojustice @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @zyettemoon1800 @kassandra-hawthorne @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @omglovelylaila @midromiell @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @hammerhead96 @bubblez-blop @snugglyshoji @wanderlustingcastaway @amberexe2 @an-ever-angry-bi @nenggie @rainejiang @lostsomewhereinthegarden @idkccdfnfz @xrenka @arcticat @v3lv3tf0x @ghostiegirl56 @aerangi @kxnnxy @joviaschaoticmind @danielle143 @roxy776699 @katsukis1wife @chaoticevilbakugo

[blackgirlsloveburrow]

NSFW 18+

i really need a fic of this bad and i am not a good writer at alllll. okay just imagine with me real quick. also this is completely imaginative don’t come for me lol

!jealous joe !bengals fan bf !cheating

your boyfriend is a really big bengals fan. i mean has so much bengals memorabilia, friends and family love the bengals. he even grew up in the good old land of chili cheese coneys and graeters ice cream. well you never really were into football. it was kinda boring, kinda long, and could have your boyfriend in a sucky mood the whole day.

until…

you saw him.

joe burrow. he’s gorgeous, humble, and is so passionate about the game and his team. you were obsessed. so when your boyfriend one day invited you to an event where you may be able to meet him and have him sign something, you said yes.

you didn’t really have bengals merchandise at the time, so you borrowed your boyfriend’s bengals hat and scarf, and just wore a black outfit to match. you were standing at the fence, waiting for the team to come out to practice. you felt kinda antsy. you really hoped you would be able to meet joe. all of a sudden him and his team came out and everyone started screaming to get his attention. joe was signing jerseys and footballs. it was all a bit overwhelming. he got to you and your boyfriend, and did a double take a bit. your boyfriend was asking him to sign his poster, which he did, and you took out a little notebook. he smiled and looked you in the eye. your boyfriend didn’t notice this as he was already facetiming his friends about his interaction. joe didn’t give you his regular signature, but rather, wrote his name legibly and his phone number right underneath.

your eyes went wide. he laughed and headed to practice.

you went home and laid in bed. it was about 9 pm and you were still staring at the number. you decided not to tell anyone, as you didn’t want joe’s privacy to feel invaded. you put the number into your phone and texted him.

“hi. is this joe burrow? i am y/n. we met earlier today at your practice”.

he immediately texted back, you kinda freaked out.

“hey this is joe. it was nice to meet you earlier, y/n. your bengals hat was cute”.

you screamed into your pillow. you texted back.

“thank you! it wasn’t mine cause im just kind of getting into football haha”. you cringed at yourself, not really knowing how to respond.

“well, maybe i can teach you a few things sometime. maybe you can come to my house?”.

flash forward a few weeks later, you’re in joe burrow’s lap, with an oversized bengals jersey on and no pants, in his huge living room.

he’s kissing your neck and squeezing your ass, as he rocks you back and forth on his underwear clad dick. your phone is ringing on the coffee table. it’s your boyfriend.

“joe-“ you tried to say, but he’s trying to distract you with his tongue on your neck.

“joey!” you say exasperated. he pulls back and halts his movement.

“i gotta take this phone call”. he furrows his brows and looks to the side.

“you don’t even like him!” he responds, aggravated.

“i know, but i want to give him the news in a way where he won’t throw a fit. it’s not the right time” you respond.

here’s the thing about joe. he really likes you. ever since he gave you his number, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. he liked how interested you were in learning about him, whether it was about his football career, or who he was as a person. he didn’t care that you had a boyfriend, because he knew he wanted you.

but joe is a jealous guy. there’s only so much he can put up with. i mean, you’re sitting there in his lap, wearing HIS jersey. you have HIS hickeys on your neck, and your wetness is on his underwear. he’s not gonna put up with it anymore.

you’re on the phone saying hello as he pushes your back onto the couch. you had been making out for hours so you were fully ready for what was about to happen. your eyes grow wide at him as he takes your underwear off and pushes your knees to your shoulders. you’re so wet he audibly grunts.

“where are you at?” your boyfriend asks.

joe’s mouth is so close to your pussy it’s kinda hard to make up a lie.

“the grocery store?” you reply like you didn’t believe it yourself.

“oh okay cool”. he brushes it off. nothing seemed out of the ordinary to him as he only really wanted to rant to you about how the season is going so far with the bengals.

you let out a sigh and before you know it joe was sucking on your clit. you cover your mouth trying to avoid moaning on the phone, but joe removes your hand and holds it by your side. he’s licking long stripes up your hole to your clit, making you want to scream.

as good and toe curling joe’s mouth is, you’re able to keep some composure to keep the phone call normal. he’s still talking with no chance of stopping soon. you roll your eyes at the conversation and then see joe taking his underwear off. you can’t help but ogle. he’s longer than average and so so girthy. he always has to go slow putting it in so that you don’t go insane.

well he thinks you’re ready to go a little faster, and he’s desperate to be all the way in you.

your knees are still to your shoulders as he sticks his tip in. you bite your bottom lip hard as to not let out your moans. everything is fine.

until he puts himself all the way in in one swift motion, bottoming out in you. a moan escapes you.

“fuck you’re so tight” joe moans out.

your boyfriend catches on.

“what was that? are you at a guy’s house?”

you didn’t even have time to respond before joe is pounding into you hard and fast. his face is right above yours, and all you can do is moan. you drop the phone, not even caring because all you want is for joe to fuck you dumb.

“p-please daddy”. you have tears pricking the corners of your eyes. you don’t even know what you’re begging for, you just want him to keep fucking you.

“you like that baby? are you gonna cum on daddy’s dick?” he can feel you pulsating on his cock. he keeps hitting your g-spot.

“yes daddy i’m gonna cum” you grab the back of his head and he kisses you sloppily. you unravel beneath him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. he continues using you, chasing his own high.

he’s grunting. mumbling how good you feel.

“please cum in me daddy”. you start to feel yourself wanting to unravel again. he fucks you with deep long strokes, until finally he cums deep inside of you, letting out a long moan. you cum again too, tears streaking your face. he kisses you again. foreheads to each other, all you can hear is each others breathing. smiling at each other, until you hear something coming from the phone on the floor:

“WHAT THE FUCK”.

[solxamber]

I’ve been loving the Holiday Event so far! I’d like to ask for Ramshackle, 6, Fluff if that’s alright?

ending the event with skully!

Bewitched || Skully J. Graves

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "Say that again" ; Genre: Fluff

Skully’s fingers animatedly traced patterns in the air as he spoke, his eyes sparkling with an almost feverish passion.

“And you see, the true essence of Halloween isn’t just the decorations or the costumes—it’s the solemnity! The quiet reverence for the macabre! Jack Skellington understands this! The others… they don’t. They simply can’t fathom—”

You rested your chin in your palm, contently watching him pace back and forth. His voice, usually measured and elegant, rose in excitement as he delved deeper into his passionate diatribe about the perfect Halloween.

But then, without warning, he stopped mid-sentence. He glanced at you, an uncharacteristic hesitance softening his expression.

“Ah… I’ve been rambling, haven’t I?” His tone turned self-deprecating, his usual confidence faltering. “I must apologize. I wouldn’t want to bore you or appear… insufferable.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? No, I was listening.”

“Really?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course. I want to hear more.”

For a moment, Skully didn’t respond, his expression frozen in surprise. Then, slowly, his face lit up, brighter than you’d ever seen it.

“You…” His voice quivered slightly, a mix of disbelief and unrestrained joy. “You genuinely wish to hear more? Can you say that again?”

You nodded, your smile widening at the way his excitement returned tenfold. "Tell me more, Skully."

With a delighted laugh, Skully reached out and grasped your hands in his. He brought them up to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss to your knuckles. “Ah! What a blessing it is to have someone so understanding, so kind! Truly, you are a marvel among people!”

Your heart did an impressive somersault as his lips brushed your skin. It wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed Skully’s dramatic tendencies before, but being on the receiving end was a whole different story.

As if oblivious to your rapidly reddening face, Skully continued holding your hands as he resumed his Halloween musings.

“Now, as I was saying, the ideal Halloween requires an ambiance of solemnity! Imagine, if you will, an orchestra playing a haunting overture while the moon casts shadows upon a pitch-black room…”

His voice flowed on, and you found yourself paying less attention to the words and more to the warmth of his hands over yours, the earnest gleam in his eyes, and the joy in his smile.

“Skully,” you murmured, your cheeks burning as he turned to you mid-ramble.

“Yes, my dear?”

“My hands… you’re still holding them.”

It took a few seconds for your words to register. His eyes widened, and he abruptly let go, his usual composure momentarily shattered. “Oh! My sincerest apologies! I—I didn’t mean to overstep—”

You laughed, cutting through his flustered apologies. “It’s fine, really.”

Skully’s face softened, his lips twitching into a smile. “You’re remarkable, you know that? To have someone who listens, who encourages me… It means more than words can express.”

The earnestness in his tone made your heart swell, and you reached out to clasp his hands again. “I’ll always listen, Skully.”

His face reddened, but the grin he gave you was one of pure, unadulterated happiness. “Then I shall ensure my plans are always worthy of your attention, my dear confidant!”

And with that, Skully returned to his impassioned rambling, your hand still comfortably tucked in his as he spoke of solemn Halloweens and haunting overtures—each word spoken with the joy of knowing someone truly cared.

he's still alive and lives in ramshackle btw, Yana told me herself

Masterlist

[wonkizz]

to be or not to be: brat

jungwon x older!fmr genre: smut warnings: usage of noona, cunnilingus, fellatio, pretty vanilla smut (not great), begging, unprotected sex, cumming inside, fingering wc: 2.3k

Bratty pop stars weren't anything new to you. You’ve dealt with enough to know their type.

They party day and night to escape from the lives that they claim have plagued them.

You don’t fully understand because you’re not famous like them, but you understand the concept.

One minute you’re a regular person, the next you’re a star in the eyes of everyone.

You don’t blame them for acting out the way they do sometimes. You try to be understanding and listen to their frustrations, although you’re not a therapist and some of them definitely need that.

You’ve been assigned as a new manager for pop star Yang Jungwon.

He made his entrance to the entertainment industry 4 years ago and is just now having his “rebellious stage”.

Whatever, again, nothing new to you.

You’re meeting him for the first time today, anticipating the same as you always do.

Rude, closed off, not willing to talk.

So you can only be surprised as Yang Jungwon walks in, greeting you warmly.

“Hi, I’m Jungwon. It’s nice to meet you.”

You’re confused. Where’s the snide remarks? The cold exterior?

“It’s nice to meet you too, Jungwon.”

You both sit in the meeting about you being his new manager, but you’re barely paying attention.

You didn’t realize how attractive he is.

His features are strong but give off a unique softness.

His eyes are especially captivating.

They remind you of boba balls, funnily enough.

You’re soon tasked with driving Jungwon back to his apartment, as the meeting was his only schedule of the day.

The car ride is silent, until you break it with your curiosity.

“Not to be rude, but why aren’t you more…bratty?” You ask Jungwon who soon begins to giggle in his seat.

“The whole rebellious thing is just an act the company wanted to put me on to get attention.”

Oh, that would explain it.

“But you already have millions of fans, why the need for possible bad publicity?”

Jungwon shrugs, “I don’t know, to be honest. I just do what they tell me.”

“Well, you still probably struggle with this life sometimes, no?”

“I do! Like any other celebrity, I do. But I don’t see the point in acting out over it. It was my choice to become this and I have to own it.”

You smile, hoping he catches it, “That’s a very mature mindset to have, Jungwon.”

“Thank you, noona. Is it okay if I call you that?”

“Of course!” You nod, “I want you to be comfortable with me.”

“Can I be honest then?” Jungwon asks.

You nod, waiting.

“The reason you became my manager so suddenly is because.. I saw you at a party a few weeks ago and I thought you were pretty. I wanted to know who you were so I got my team involved.”

Your mind halts for a moment. He found you pretty?

Does he feel some type of way about you?

“I’m flattered, Jungwon. I haven’t heard that one before.”

“I’m sorry, you probably feel weirded out but I couldn’t help it.” Out of the corner of your eye, you swear he’s pouting, like he just got scolded.

“I’m not weirded out, Jungwon. Like I said, I’m flattered. I find you very handsome myself. When they said I’d be working with you, I got excited. Even though I thought you’d be a brat.”

That gets a chuckle out of him and you laugh along.

The conversation flows more easily after that.

When you reach the address that was put into your gps, you’re surprised to see your own complex come into view.

“You live here?” You ask incredulously, “There’s no way! I live here too.”

Jungwon looks just as amazed as you.

“That’s kinda convenient,” he says.

You park in the building's private garage before making your way to the elevator.

You’re both even more shocked when you reach for the same floor.

“Don’t tell me we’ve lived so close and never met?” Jungwon says.

“Maybe it’s fate,” you respond as he smiles at you.

When you reach Jungwon’s door, you point to your own door down the hall, “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

You wait until Jungwon is about to shut his door, when suddenly it opens again.

He looks almost shameful as he asks, “Do you wanna stay for dinner?”

You know you shouldn’t, he’s supposed to be your responsibility, but you can’t help yourself, “Sure.”

He lets you in, checking to make sure no one is present before closing the door.

His apartment is like the word cozy defined.

The furniture is minimal but not so little to feel empty.

It all matches with each other, quite fine taste if you say so yourself.

“I like it,” you praise, “it’s got a nice homey feel.”

You take your shoes off at the door as Jungwon offers you slippers.

“I actually don’t know what we’re having for dinner, I figured I would just take the chance and ask,” Jungwon says sheepishly, blushing.

You excuse him with a wave of your hand, “How about we just order out?”

“Sounds good,” he agrees.

You end up ordering Korean food, your favorites as well as Jungwon’s.

Once you’ve eaten and cleaned up, Jungwon suggests relaxing for a bit.

As you sit on his couch making quiet conversation, you think about the fact that you’ve never done this with other employers you’ve worked for.

Why is Jungwon the exception to that?

Is it because you’re attracted to him?

That’s so unprofessional, you know it is, but…is it that bad?

“What's going on in that pretty head of yours?”

Jungwon’s voice breaks your thoughts, snapping you out of your trance.

You don’t know what’s come over you, but you decide being bold is the way to go.

“I was thinking about you.”

He looks directly into your eyes, his own swarming with something you can’t pinpoint just yet.

“What about me?”

You laugh as you think about it, “I was expecting some angry, cold, closed off person. Yet I got warmth and kindness instead. It’s a nice change.”

“I was thinking about you too,” Jungwon says. “Thinking about how you’d sound, what you’d look like up close. How you’d greet me, what you’d think of me. Then I started thinking about other things once we met.”

“Like what?” You smile as you ask.

“Like what your voice would sound like when you’re moaning my name. Or what you’d feel like wrapped around me. I’m still thinking about it. I can’t stop and I know I shouldn’t but…”

As he trails off, the atmosphere instantly changes.

You would blush, if it weren’t for the fact that your mind was thinking the same things.

Slowly, you lift yourself onto your knees, making your way to where Jungwon sits.

His arms welcome you, wrapping around your waist as your lips slot against his.

Your hands make their way up, gripping the back of his neck as you sit right in his lap.

Lips moving ferociously, your tongues intersect.

You tug on the hair at the nape of his neck, making him groan.

His hands move down your waist, coming to grip your ass.

He kneads it, essentially grinding you back and forth over his lap.

You can feel his cock harden beneath his pants.

Pulling away, you stroke the sides of his face, smiling gently as he pants.

“You want me to make you feel good, Wonnie?”

“Please, noona. Need you so bad.”

You go down on your knees, rubbing Jungwon’s thighs as he waits in anticipation.

You unzip his jeans, pulling them down along with his underwear as he lifts his hips to help you.

His cock is too pretty for this world, at least in your eyes. The tip is shining with precum as you take the tip of your finger to rub it around, releasing even more.

Jungwon throws his head back, groaning pitifully.

You spit into your hand, lathering his cock with it, beginning to jerk him off.

“Please, noona, please.”

“What do you want?” You’re teasing him and he hates it, but he knows you won’t relent.

“Please suck my cock, noona. I’m begging.”

“Whatever my pretty boy wants.”

You take him in your mouth, slowly but surely.

Sucking the tip, you moan at the taste of his precum, becoming addicted to it almost immediately.

You begin to bob your head, taking him deeper until he hits the back of your throat.

He wants to grip your hair so badly, you can tell but he doesn’t want to hurt you. You take his hands, guiding them to your head as he gently grips your hair.

Jungwon uses his hands to gently guide you up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, noona. Feels so good.”

His moans and swears get louder as you continue. You swirl your tongue around his cock, focusing on the tip as his grip lightens, you use your hand to jerk what’s not in your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum, noona. Please let me cum,” Jungwon whines, bucking his hips, forcing you to take him deeper.

You slide him out of your mouth, continuing to jerk him off. “Cum in my mouth, Jungwon.”

Opening your mouth to present your tongue, Jungwon lets out a final huff, cumming in your mouth.

You swallow it eagerly and pump him through his orgasm.

His breathing is heavy as he calms down, but he’s not finished yet.

Jungwon pulls you up, pressing your lips together once more, tasting himself on your lips.

“Can we go to my room?” He asks.

You nod.

He takes your hand, leading you down the hall to his bedroom.

The door is open and unlike the living room, his bedroom is a bit more decorated. But not with furniture. He has figurines galore decorating his room.

You can’t help but find him even cuter than you did before.

Cute when he begs, and cute without even trying.

He lays you down on the bed gently, like you’re fragile and going to break.

“Can I please you, noona?”

“You can do whatever you want to me, Jungwon.”

He takes your words as a chance to discard your clothing as well as his own.

Your naked body is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He begins littering kisses across your neck and chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking on it while playing with the other.

He swirled his tongue around it until it hardened, then nipped at it, making you moan in delight.

Your hands find his blonde hair, gripping it tightly between your fingers.

He gives attention to the other nipple, doing the same as before, then leading his kisses down your stomach to your cunt.

“You’re soaking wet, noona. All for me?”

It’s his turn to tease you, but you don’t give into it.

“All for you, Won. Are you gonna please me?”

“Yes, noona.”

With that, he dives into your cunt. He licks through your lips, collecting your arousal on his tongue before swallowing it enthusiastically.

He brings his attention to your clit, nipping and sucking at the bud, making you jerk and moan.

As he swirls his tongue around it, a finger makes its way to your hole, entering you hesitantly.

You sigh at the feeling. It’s been a while since you had time to please yourself.

But it feels so much better when it’s someone else.

As Jungwon fingers you and plays with your cunt, your own hands are busy playing with your breasts,

tweaking your nipples to gain even more pleasure.

He adds another finger to the first, fingering you at a moderate pace.

You can feel yourself about to cum, and you warn Jungwon with a tug on his hair.

He continues regardless, wanting nothing more than for you to come in his mouth like he did.

You whine as your body thrashes lightly, the pleasure almost becoming too much.

“I’m gonna cum, Jungwon, please!”

His fingers speed up as well as his tongue and you’re cumming before you can even say something.

Jungwon takes all your come with vigor, the slurping sounds making you blush.

As you come down from your high, Jungwon pulls away from your cunt.

“You ready?” He asks.

You nod, “Give it to me.”

He pumps his cock a few times before rubbing it against your cunt, collecting your arousal on it.

Just when you’re about to find yourself begging, he finally pushes inside you.

You both groan, you at the intrusion and him at the tightness.

“Fuck, you’re sucking me in, noona.”

He lets you adjust for a few moments, before slowly starting to thrust.

In and out, in and out. All you hear is the sound of skin slapping against skin as your sweaty body slides against his.

You pull him down by his hair, connecting your lips in a searing kiss.

“Faster, Wonnie,” you say against his lips.

Jungwon speeds up, fucking you vigorously.

Your moans are getting louder and higher by the second, filling the room along with his grunts.

“‘M gonna cum in this pussy, right noona?”

“Yes Jungwon, yes! Cum inside, I need it!”

His pace is almost animalistic at this point, fucking your so hard your cunt starts to ache.

You hold onto him tightly as both your orgasms wash over you.

Feeling his cum fill you up is exhilarating, and he feels the same as your own orgasm splashes against him.

As he rides you both through your highs, you begin to calm down. That was the best orgasm you’ve had in a long time.

Jungwon leans down to kiss you gently. “Was it okay?”

You hum, “More than okay. I needed that.”

Jungwon lays down beside you as you both breathe somewhat heavily.

“So… how are we gonna explain this to the team?”

wonkizz 2025

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Azriel: Pretty Boy

Azriel overhears y/n tell people her type is a pretty boy and az doesn’t believe he fits that.

Angsty yet crack.

---------------------------------------------------

Azriel was the spymaster, it was his job. He was good at it, he was proud of his job, he wore it with honor. 

But, Azriel wasn’t proud of spying on his wife. 

It was girls night at the House of Wind, he knew he wasn’t welcome as you were adamant it was just for you and the girls. However, he couldn’t help the morbid curiosity with what happened at girls' nights. 

As soon as he got in, he immediately regretted it. This was your trust and privacy, the girls and you deserved that privacy. 

He was about to turn around when he heard Mor ask: “So, Y/N, what’s your type?” 

He froze at the question, obviously he knew you loved him. But he never considered you having a type before him. 

“Azriel, obviously.” You said instantly, causing his chest to warm. 

“Yeah but like….if it wasn’t Az, who would you go for?” 

And there the warm fuzzy feeling went. He was going to kick Mor’s ass.

“You hoping I say you?” You giggled causing Feyre, Nesta, Elain and Amren to share their own laughs. 

Mor rolled her eyes. “A girl can dream.” She laughed. “But seriously, what was like…your dream type?” “You know my answer.” “Okay ignoring Az.”

“Good luck getting her to do that.” Amren snorted. “She had a crush on him since they met.” 

“Oh shut up.” You said with no real malice. 

He tried not to laugh, you were the only person to ever say something snarky towards Amren and get away with it. 

“It’s true, you’d constantly wax poetic to me about how dreamy he is.” Feyre laughed. 

No matter how many times Azriel had heard the story of your long time crush, it never got old to him. He was sulking during the time you two had met and he had no idea the beautiful woman that harbored feelings for him, which he still regrets to this day. 

“So, Y/N. Your type?” Mor, the she-devil asked. 

“Pretty boys.” You said with no hesitation. 

His stomach sank. Pretty boys? You liked pretty boys? But he’s not that?

He shrugged it out and left, thinking and contemplating the whole way home. He tried to brush it off and ignore it. But it was silently eating away at him. He knew in order to get the reassurance he needed wanted, he was going to have to confess he broke the one rule you gave him. 

Let’s just hope you didn’t castrate him. 

---------------------------------------

You came home around 3am. You were never out that late unless it was girls night. You shucked your sweatshirt off. Loving the fact that Azriel had stoked the fire in your living room. You saw him sitting on the arm of the couch, he must’ve known you were coming home soon. He always stayed up for you (despite you telling him not to) but he usually lounged in cozy chair by the fire. 

“Hello my love.” “Hey baby.” He said back. “How was girls night?” 

“Good! So fun and so very needed.” you chuckled. You had been so stressed these past few months. You looked at Az, who barely cracked a smile, “what’s up?” 

“I need to confess.”

“Okay…?” You looked very confused as your husband seemed uncharacteristically serious at the moment. 

Okay, it’s Az. He’s always serious but not with you. 

“I just wanted to talk.” “You’re scaring me baby.” You said quietly. Some past trauma from past relationships coming into your head about how you’d always feel ambushed when they would break up with you.

“I snuck into the House of Wind to listen on girls' night.” 

Your eyes widened. “Why?” 

He shrugged. “Curiosity.” He swallowed. “I just wanted to know what the hell you guys get up to. I was thinking I would come in on a random conversation but the one I heard has been eating at me since I left.” 

Your brows furrowed. “We didn’t talk about anything bad.” You struggled to remember anything serious or concerning for your husband to hear. Unless it was your friend's sex lives, that can be traumatizing. “You said your type was ‘pretty boys’. I’m not…that.” He fumbled for words. 

The tension in your shoulders and stomach released. You were upset he snuck in on a private conversation with you and your friends. However, you will talk to him about that later. But right now, the big baby needed some reassurance. 

“You know if you kept listening, you would have heard the rest of the statement.” 

He snapped his head up to you. “What?” 

“That I have the prettiest boy of all in my house. Except I would’ve accidentally lied because he was spying on us.” You raised a brow and pinned him with a look that both aroused him and frightened him. “But my point is, my pretty boy is my husband. And I wouldn't have it any other way.” 

Well now he felt silly. And yes he would use that word because you use it all the time and it has become part of his vernacular. 

“Can I hold you?” was all he asked 

“Oh baby, you don’t have to ask.” You said walking up between his legs. He caged you in, his knees hitting the side of your butt, arms around your waist. He put his head in between your tits, his chin resting on them and looking up at you. He was getting a foul double chin from you but he didn’t notice and you’ve been with him long enough to not care about that stuff. 

You cupped his cheeks. “You are my prettiest boy. I’m so happy to look at you every day.” You pressed a soft kiss against his nose. 

His cheeks turned crimson and he dug his head into your chest to hide. You smiled softly. 

You wound one hand into his hair to scratch his scalp, the other around his broad shoulders. 

“So you snooped when you weren’t supposed to and got your own feelings hurt for nothing?” You asked, smiling. 

He snorted from your chest. “I guess so.” 

“So what did we learn?”

“...to not assume.” He grumbled. 

“That’s not it.” “Don’t sneak in on private conversations.” “Especially when…” 

“When your wife tells you not to.” 

“And don’t invade my privacy. We may be attached at the hip but don’t invade.” 

“I’m sorry baby.” He said quietly, you felt it in the bond too. He meant it with his soul. 

He pressed a light kiss between your tits. You scratched his head. He practically purred as he gripped your lush hips tighter. Wrapping you so tight on his arms. It was home for the both of you. “You’re forgiven, pretty boy.” 

He may have pissed you off, but now you call him ‘pretty boy’ constantly.

[eatmangoesnekkid]

I’m so tired of feminist women over 40 saying how they continue to be invisible to men the older they get.

I have never felt invisible to men and I’m close to 50. I do not try to be visible to men. I simply take care of myself and that naturally increases my visibility.

Today in my rebounding class, a young attractive Italian guy in his 20s asked for my number after class. Another lady in class commented on how attractive he was. After letting him know that I wasn’t interested and having a chat, I said to him that I was going towards 50 years old.

Santos was stunned. He, like everyone else, could not believe it. He said “I thought you were 25.” He was completely shocked and said “you are very beautiful” which made me blush because I could feel his sincerity. And I was sweaty in leggings and had my hair in two messy afro puffs in a gray winter climate. But it is really my aura, the fact that I don’t carry a lot of density in me, along with my love of being a woman, that attracted him at the level of the *unconscious.*

As we get older in these beautiful female bodies, our physical merely becomes a hologram of what lives in our subconscious in ways that we can no longer mask, hide, or lean on through youth or genetics. I was never the “pretty” or “beautiful” girl growing up; I was the smart girl. The “good” girl. The “nice” girl. But what I have learned is that every year we truly take care of ourselves will add up overtime and radiate out into the world in a higher frequency eventually.

Moral of the story —do not believe these women who say they are invisible to men because many of these women have spent years, their whole lives, living in their heads or complaining about their monthly cycles, not fully embracing being a woman. Now they want men to find them attractive after all those years of being disconnected from their own bodies. Over the years that constant dissonance and disconnection with self will add up and show through one's aura.

You must enjoy being a woman. This real genuine enjoyment is your magnetism.

Take care of your body. Be aware of what you are feeding your mind and your skin. Love your bleed time. Find ways to enjoy your breasts. Smile at yourself in the mirror. Nurture your softness. Laugh often- don’t take everything so seriously. Destress and nourish yourself in ways that stop you from having monthly cramps. Believe in something much more than what you have been taught about female physiology. Be lighthearted and connected to earth. Grounded. Let go, get rid of some things, sometimes people included. There are some deeper female mysteries that I will keep more veiled and private on this blog but will teach openly in my online school. I am a feminine wisdomkeeper which means that much of my work happens behind closed doors and in the underworld of the body and psyche.

All in all, when you *consciously* spend time being good to your body and saying good things about every facet of your womanhood and femaleness, then you won’t have any problem with people of all walks of life being attracted to you. Every year your aura will get bigger and bigger, more radiant and alive. Adore yourself and the world can’t help but to love and adore you back….at any age.

Living on earth is a game of frequency and consciousness. Nothing more or less.

—India Ame’ye

[ivyues]

Tangled Lines | 1 | - Seungmin

Seungmin x Lee Know's sister

What started as a simple favor, dropping off a bag, spirals into a whirlwind of unexpected feelings and unspoken tension.

Part 2: Caught in the Middle | Part 3: Future Hyung-in-Law

It was supposed to be a quick errand. Lee Know had left his bag at home, and you were on your way to Seoul for a short trip anyway. You’d planned to drop it off at his dorm – no big deal. You didn’t expect much, certainly not a run-in with anyone other than your brother.

You followed the directions Lee Know had sent you and pulled up to the apartment complex. He'd mentioned his dorm several times, but this was the first time you’d ever actually been here. As you walked up to the door, you hesitated for a moment, unsure.

You rang the doorbell and waited. After a few moments, the door swung open, and there stood a guy you didn’t recognize.

He was tall-ish, dressed casually, with messy dark hair and an easy smile. And though you didn’t know exactly who he was, you couldn’t help but notice how cute he looked, his eyes lighting up with surprise and curiosity when he saw you standing there with a bag in hand.

“Hi…?” You hesitated, unsure if you had the right place. “Uh, I’m looking for Lee Minho? I’m his sister – he left something at home and I’m supposed to drop it off.”

The guy blinked in confusion for a split second, then his expression softened into something warmer. “Ah, so you’re his sister. He didn’t really mention that he has one. I’m Seungmin, by the way. Hyung isn’t home right now, but you’re welcome to wait.”

You were still standing at the door, processing everything. This was definitely not Lee Know. You had imagined this whole interaction would be simple: drop off the bag, say a quick hello, and head out. But there was something about Seungmin’s easy going demeanor that made you hesitate.

“Oh,” you said, realizing you were probably standing there awkwardly. You tried to adjust the bag in your hand, giving him a nervous smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can just leave it here—”

“No, no,” Seungmin cut you off, holding up his hands in a gesture of reassurance. “It’s fine. Come on in. He would probably kill me if I didn’t let you inside. Lee Know’s stuff is everywhere, though – warning in advance.” He gave a sheepish grin, clearly used to the chaos.

“Okay, thanks,” you said, stepping inside.

As soon as you entered, you realized that he was right – Lee Know’s ‘stuff’ was indeed scattered everywhere. Shoes piled near the door, jackets on the couch, random snacks, and clutter in every corner. It felt so… lived-in. Real. It was kind of charming, in a messy, chaotic way.

“So, do you guys always live like this?” you asked, half teasing, half amused by the clutter.

Seungmin chuckled. “You should see Felix’s side. This is nothing compared to his mess.” He led you into the living room, where he motioned to the couch. “Make yourself at home. I’ll grab some water for you while you wait.”

As Seungmin disappeared into the kitchen, you sat down on the couch, looking around. You hadn’t expected to spend time here, but the laid-back atmosphere made it feel oddly comfortable. You noticed a few framed photos of the group on the wall – some from concerts, others just candid shots of the guys laughing together.

Seungmin returned with a glass of water and handed it to you. He sat down on the arm of the couch, casually resting one foot on the seat. He didn’t seem rushed, nor did he act weird about the fact that you were here in Lee Know’s absence.

“So, I take it you and Lee Know are pretty close?” Seungmin asked, taking a sip from his own glass of water.

“Yeah, we’re close,” you said with a smile. “He’s my older brother, so, of course, he’s annoying. But that’s what older brothers are for, right?”

Seungmin nodded, his lips curving into a grin. “I know exactly what you mean.”

You laughed, the easy back-and-forth making you feel more comfortable. And, truth be told, you found yourself glancing at him more than you had planned. He was cute, undeniably so, with his expressive eyes and the way he seemed so effortlessly relaxed even in the middle of a stranger walking into his home.

You casually brought up something about how Lee Know was always messing around with his bandmates, and Seungmin smiled at the comment, sharing a story of their last rehearsal and how Lee Know had pulled a prank on Hyunjin. It felt so easy, like you were just chatting with a friend you’d known forever.

A few minutes later, you heard the door open, and you looked up to see Lee Know walking in with Felix and I.N trailing behind him. He froze when he saw you sitting there with Seungmin, a strange look flashing across his face.

“Uh,” Lee Know said, his voice tinged with surprise and something else you couldn’t quite place. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought your bag,” you said casually, holding it up for him. “You left it at home. Seungmin was nice enough to let me wait for you.”

Lee Know shot a quick glance at Seungmin, who was now grinning, clearly enjoying the moment. “So you two are already chatting it up?”

“Yeah,” Seungmin replied smoothly. “We were just getting to know each other. Your sister’s cool.”

Seungmin didn’t just mean it as a compliment; there was a teasing note to his voice, and you could tell he was just enjoying the moment with Lee Know. But there was something in the way he spoke, as though he was daring Lee Know to be annoyed. You could tell it was playful – he wasn’t quite serious, and he didn’t think anything more would come from it. After all, he didn’t even want to start anything that might cause trouble. But for now, he wanted to tease Lee Know, especially since it was so easy to get a rise out of him like that.

You stood up, handing Lee Know the bag. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

You could tell by the way Seungmin looked at you that he wasn’t just teasing you; there was something more genuine behind the conversation. But of course, you’d never let your brother know that.

-----

Felix, ever the social butterfly, had exchanged numbers with you long before, and somewhere in the process of joking group chats and shared chaos, Seungmin had slid into your messages.

The texts started off simple.

A casual “thanks for the water” message after your first visit turned into occasional updates about Lee Know: "Your brother’s sulking because Changbin ate his snacks again" or "Did he always hoard laundry like this?" 

You didn’t think much of it at first. After all, Seungmin was easy to talk to. He had a quick wit that matched your sarcasm, and his humor always made you laugh harder than you’d admit. But the conversations had shifted somewhere along the way – becoming more personal, more frequent.

It wasn’t just updates about Lee Know anymore.

Seungmin: “Did you see that new ramen place on your side of town?” You: “I’ve heard it’s good. Why, thinking of coming all the way here?” Seungmin: “Maybe I just needed an excuse.”

It was subtle, these shifts. A lingering tone of something that felt like flirting but stayed safely within the lines of plausible deniability. But you caught yourself smiling at his messages more than you should.

The problem was, you liked him.

Not in a passing way or a harmless crush you could laugh off later. No, Seungmin’s steady humor and surprising kindness were becoming harder to ignore. He wasn’t just cute; he was the kind of guy who listened, who noticed little things, who made you feel at ease even when you were overthinking everything.

But every time you thought about it – about what it might mean – you hit a wall.

Your brother’s voice played in your head whenever you thought about crossing that invisible line. What would he think if he knew? Worse, what if it messed things up in the group? You didn’t want to be the reason Seungmin hesitated during practice or avoided Lee Know’s eye.

And Seungmin? Well, he had his own internal battle.

The teasing texts and playful banter were easy – familiar ground that didn’t require him to confront how he was starting to feel about you. But when you sent him a photo of the ramen you’d finally tried, captioned with "Guess you missed out", he stared at his screen longer than he should have.

It wasn’t the photo or the food. It was your smile, that small, effortless curve of your lips that had been stuck in his mind since the day you showed up at the dorm.

"Get it together, Seungmin," he muttered under his breath.

Lee Know was his friend, his brother in everything but blood. And falling for you wasn’t just breaking an unspoken rule; it felt like betraying that bond.

One night, after a long day of rehearsals, Seungmin found himself scrolling through your chat history. His finger hovered over the keyboard, debating whether or not to reply to your latest message. You’d sent him a photo of one of your cats – curled up in a pile of freshly folded laundry.

He smiled despite the unease feelings, typing back before he could second-guess it:

“Looks like you’re more of a cat person too. Must run in the family.” You replied instantly “I love my cats, but I don’t mind dogs either. Don’t tell Lee Know though – he’d probably disown me for even saying that.” and the conversation spiraled into a late-night exchange about pets, chaotic siblings, and everything in between. It was easy. Too easy.

And then you said something that made his heart stop.

“I always feel like I can tell you anything. Weird, right?”

He stared at the words, feeling a tug in his chest that he couldn’t ignore anymore. He wanted to feel proud of that – of being someone you trusted. But all he could think about was how wrong it felt to be the person catching feelings for you.

He set his phone down, rubbing a hand over his face. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You’d noticed the shift in his texts lately – the hesitation, the shorter replies. You felt a pang of guilt. Maybe he was pulling back, realizing that this… whatever it was between you… shouldn’t be happening.

And you couldn’t blame him. You’d thought about pulling back yourself.

But instead, late one evening, you found yourself typing out a message you weren’t sure you’d send.

You: “I feel like we’ve both been avoiding something. And I get it – I do. But… I can’t keep pretending I don’t care about you. And I don’t want to mess things up for you or my brother, so if this needs to stop, just tell me, okay?”

You stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity before pressing send.

Seungmin: “I care about you too. Probably more than I should. But I don’t want this to hurt anyone – least of all you.”

The relief of his words hit you immediately, but so did the weight of his hesitation.

You: “So what do we do?”

Seungmin hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard before he finally typed:

Seungmin: “We take it slow. We’re honest – with each other, with Lee Know, when the time’s right. And if this starts feeling wrong, we stop. No questions asked.”

-----

Seungmin sat in the practice room long after everyone else had left. He fiddled with his phone, the screen dark, but his thoughts racing. He had made a decision, one he couldn’t back out of now.

He unlocked his phone, scrolling to your name in his messages.

Seungmin: “I’m going to talk to him.”

The three dots indicating your reply appeared almost instantly.

You: “Are you crazy?”

Seungmin could almost hear your voice in the text – half incredulous, half offended.

You: “I mean, I get it. He deserves to know, and I respect that. But seriously… you’re telling him this?”

Seungmin: “I don’t want to go behind his back. It’s not just about this – it’s about the group, too. This has to be on the table.”

You: “Fine. But don’t expect me to save you if he kills you.”

He smiled faintly at the reply but couldn’t shake the nerves coiled in his chest.

When Lee Know walked into the practice room, his phone still in his hands, he paused, eyebrows furrowed. “What are you still doing here?”

Seungmin stood up, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Waiting for you.”

Lee Know gave him a wary glance, closing the door behind him. “What’s this about?”

“Hyung,” Seungmin started, his tone unusually serious, “can we talk for a minute? Like, for real?”

Lee Know’s expression shifted slightly at the earnestness in Seungmin’s voice. “Okay… What’s up?”

Seungmin sat back down on the couch, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s about your sister.”

Lee Know’s posture straightened immediately, his eyes narrowing. “What about her?”

Seungmin hesitated for a moment before forcing himself to meet Lee Know’s gaze. “Since she dropped off your bag… we’ve been talking. Just texting, mostly. Nothing serious has happened, and I swear it hasn’t crossed any lines. But… I like her.”

The room went uncomfortably quiet. Lee Know blinked slowly, his face unreadable.

“You like her?” he repeated, his tone flat.

Seungmin nodded. “Yeah. And I wanted to tell you before anything else happened because…” He exhaled, his voice softening. “Because I respect you, hyung. You’re like a brother to me, and I don’t want to screw that up by hiding something like this from you.”

Lee Know stared at him for a long moment, his expression somewhere between disbelief and scrutiny.

Finally, he sighed, crossing his arms. “I don’t even know where to start. First of all, you? Of all people?”

Seungmin let out a dry laugh. “What, am I not good enough?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Lee Know shot back, rolling his eyes. “It’s just… unexpected.”

“Trust me, it’s unexpected for me too,” Seungmin admitted.

Lee Know rubbed his temples. “You’re not messing around, are you? This isn’t some prank or… I don’t know, something stupid?”

“It’s not a joke,” Seungmin said firmly. “I mean it. And honestly…” He hesitated, then added, “Maybe it won’t even go anywhere. I don’t know. It’s early, and nothing has really happened yet. But I’d rather be upfront about it than hide it.”

Lee Know studied him for another long moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “Look, I’m not thrilled about this. She’s my sister, Seungmin. And you’re…” He gestured vaguely. “You’re you.”

Lee Know leaned forward, his voice dropping as he let out a soft groan. “But I get it. She’s great. And I can't exactly tell her who to see.”

Seungmin’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, relief flickering across his face.

“That said,” Lee Know continued, his tone sharpening again, “if you screw this up – even a little – I will make your life miserable. And I don’t mean in a fun, teasing way. Got it?”

Seungmin nodded seriously. “Understood.”

Lee Know leaned back, shaking his head. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t,” Seungmin said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Good. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

Seungmin stood up. “Thanks, hyung.”

As Seungmin left the practice room, Lee Know called after him, “And don’t expect me to go easy on you during dance practice!”

-----

Later that night, Seungmin texted you.

Seungmin: “Mission accomplished. I’m alive, and your brother didn’t kill me.”

You: “I’m surprised. I half-expected him to throw you out a window.”

Seungmin: “He might have, but I reminded him how irreplaceable I am. Also, he threatened me, so we’re all good now.”

You laughed at the text, shaking your head.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Lee Know.

Lee Know: “Seriously? The dog? I’m telling Songie, Dongie, and Dori that you don’t love them anymore.”

masterlist

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Slip Slidin' Away

12 Days of Christmas Prompt: Coat | Word Count: 1355 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Tags: Modern Day AU, Ice Storm, Neighbors Meet Cute, FYP Getting *Far* Too Local

Eddie reaches for his phone. It's buzzing against his thigh again. He's getting annoyed. His doorbell camera has been going apeshit for the last ten minutes, but every time he checks, nobody's out there. 

Another notification, another annoyance, and this time he actually pulls up the recorded clip instead of just the live feed to see what kind of insect has survived the freeze just to terrorize him. 

It's not a bug, though.

It's worse. It's a man, on a pair of ice skates, gliding up and down their frozen street. 

What in the actual fuck? Is he crazy? This guy isn't even wearing a coat, but he glides into, and then out of view, on honest to god skates. In the street. Who the fuck is this dude?

Eddie watches the rest of that clip, then a couple more, before he puts his phone out of his reach, not picking it up again until it actually rings.

"It's too cold for band practice," Gareth says by way of hello, and well, no shit. None of them should be out in this weather. Especially not Eddie, he's a terrible driver under regular circumstances. On ice? Recipe for disaster, for sure.

"What gave it away, the solid sheet of ice or the freezing temperatures?"

"Asshole," Gareth laughs. "I'm just saying. Don't come slip slidin' away over here. You'll die."

"Speaking of slip slidin', Simon, there's a dude skating in the street outside the house," Eddie tells him. "He keeps setting off my doorbell cam."

"Like, hockey skating or figure skating?" Gareth asks, and fuck if Eddie knows? 

"I don't know. He's got blades strapped to his feet and a death wish." 

"Sounds familiar," Gareth says.

Eddie ignores him. He's crazy and reckless, but he's not skate in the street crazy. There's a difference, surely.

"He's not even wearing a coat. I'd at least wear a coat to my death."

"Because you're a delicate flower with no circulation."

Eddie laughs. He's not delicate, but he is cold-blooded to his core. 

"How long is this ice storm supposed to last?" Eddie asks. He hates this kind of bitter cold.

"Three days, give or take."

Three days. He can handle three days without interacting with another human being.

Later, when he's laying in bed doom scrolling, he gets a text from Gareth:

Eddie opens the link, and it's definitely his street, and is the video of the skating guy. The other POV? He thinks that's the right term, but he wouldn't bet the farm on it. Either way, the account's name is Robin, and with a quick glance through her profile, he suspects she's the wife of Mr. Skates. 

These must be his neighbors. He's done a pretty damn good job at avoiding meeting anyone, but here they are, on his phone. Small world.

She's razzing the shit out of him in the clip, and Eddie thinks she's not wrong. Dude's lucky he didn't catch a rock taller than the sheet of ice with his skate and eat shit. 

He's gorgeous. It loops again, and again.

Eddie watches him lace up his skates, over and over, and hit the icy street, laughing the whole time. 

Why is this video an hour long? 

He lets it cycle through one more time, gives it a like and a favorite, and Eddie's not much for social media, or playing nice with neighbors, but he leaves a comment before overthinking it. 

It's not until the next night, back in bed, his phone in his hand that he realizes there's a metric shit-ton of notifications waiting for him. Mainly likes on his comment and then a couple responses. This video must have blown up today. Which makes sense, if it was pushed into Gareth's feed for him to even see to send to Eddie, lots of other people must have gotten it, too.

His neighbors have responded, but were mainly just bantering with each other:

Well, now Eddie's embarrassed. Nice moves? He didn't realize this was gonna go public. Especially since this guy is good looking. Way to make a fool of yourself in front of the hot, new neighbor. Jesus H. Christ. 

He really needs to think things through before he says — or types — them. 

Oh well. He'll avoid them. That hasn't been hard to do so far, last night's assault on his camera, notwithstanding.

The next morning, Eddie's carefully tiptoeing outside to retrieve his mail, trying not to bust his ass on the ice that just will not melt, three days his fucking ass, when a yellow blur is zooming towards him. It comes to an abrupt stop, ice dust flying, right on the iced over pavement right in front of Eddie's mailbox. It's kinda impressive.

"You're Ed, right?" he asks.

"Eddie, yeah. Steve?" Eddie questions, and so much for not interacting. But the guy nods, giving him a bright smile. They shake hands, and now Eddie's met his neighbors. Anti-social streak over.

"That's me, I can't believe you saw our video from next door!" 

Eddie doesn't think he needs to go into a bunch of details on how it was really Gareth whose algorithm got fed it, so he just nods along, "Small world, indeed." 

"Robin is dying that it went kinda viral." 

"Your wife?" Eddie asks, and Steve nearly falls off his skates laughing. 

"No. No way. Best friend. Platonic with a capital P. Hetero life mates, except for the hetero part." 

Eddie's ears definitely perk up at that. 

"Well, I feel lucky to be on the non-hetero side of the street, then." 

Steve grins, "Oh, you definitely lucked out. Mr. Hollins across the street is straight enough for the whole neighborhood." 

Eddie doesn't know who that is, but laughs anyway.

Then has an idea: 

"So, I have an important question," Eddie says, and Steve just looks at him, curious and expectant. 

"Are those hockey skates or figure skates?" 

Steve holds onto Eddie's mailbox and laughs, head tossed back, hair flying. It's perfect. He's perfect.

"Hockey, but that doesn't mean I don't have moves. I have moves for days. Don't you worry." 

"Moves, you say? Well, let's see 'em, big boy."

Steve smiles, and pushes off into the street. Eddie ribbed him for no coat last night, and now here Eddie is, outside, no coat, freezing his ass off as he's demanding his cute neighbor skate for him. 

He takes out his phone, and starts recording. Even he knows this will be a popular update to their little moment. 

Steve skates backwards, crossing his legs over each other. 

"Can you jump?" Eddie yells. 

"It's not advised!" Steve yells back, "But, since when do I ever listen to advise! Waltz!" 

He does a little jump, and lands on one foot skating backwards. Eddie hoots and hollers, and Steve takes a bow. 

And that's it. He skates over and Eddie can't stop staring at him. 

"You want to come in for coffee? Warm up?" Eddie offers, unwilling to let him just leave. 

"Hell yeah, sure," Steve agrees, and Eddie watches him skate up the driveway, and then stop on the porch to take off his skates. He holds onto Eddie's shoulder to balance himself, and Eddie can feel his warm hand, fingers gripping his skin, through his shirt.

He wants those hands in other places.

Oh, he's in trouble. Big, big trouble.

Steve has on big, thick socks and looks so cozy in his sweater as he follows Eddie in the house. 

"It's nice to have a good neighbor again. The last lady," Steve says, then gives two big thumbs down, blowing a raspberry.

Eddie laughs. He's never been considered the good neighbor before. Not with his shitty van, long hair and too loud music. 

He starts a pot of coffee, and looks in the fridge. He has a few things, and he wants Steve to stay as long as possible. Eddie has some wooing to do.

"You hungry?" 

"I could eat," Steve admits. "I can always eat. Hollow leg, all the sports will do that to you."

And Eddie starts fixing this hot guy, who's certainly way out of his league, no matter which sport, breakfast.

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun! 🧥

Notes: I saw a video of someone ice skating on the street, and their neighbor saw it and commented like, "Hey! That's my car in the background!"

Slip Slidin' Away is a Paul Simon song.

Hetero life mates is a Jay & Silent Bob reference.

[darnell-la]

A MANS GAME

summary: Eddie’s mind instantly went wild when he saw a woman prancing around like she loved bands and board games. when that same woman asked him to sell her weed, she couldn’t help but think he wasn’t being set up by the one and only Jason Carver. if y/n thought she could humiliate Eddie, and make him look like a fool, she was wrong. he was going to show her that.

warnings: misogyny, hate, delusion, drug deal, drug use, planned trap, semi kidnapping, unconstitutional drugging, unconstitutional fingering, SA, slight BDSM, rough sex, baby trapping, etc

note: hey... this is another requested dark-themed story, but with Eddie Munson who our number one fans know we’re obsessed with. do not read if CNC/SA makes you uncomfortable!

If you like dark-themed stories, follow our account @dark-authorr. Request us anything!

———

“And, what exactly is she wearing?” Eddie asked as he saw the new girl pass with a gamer shirt, that he’s never seen before, only rarely. “I think it’s some kind of game. Don’t know exactly,” Dustin said, not really paying attention to her.

“So girls like games now? Hm,” Eddie sarcastically said, eying y/n through the hallway as people complimented her style. “Yeah, which is hot, actually,” Mike said, making Eddie roll his eyes.

In his years of living, he has never met a girl who genuinely liked games, unless they had a boyfriend. She was new to the school, so there was no way she had one. He wouldn’t believe it if she said she was long-distance.

“Isn’t that, like, all you’ve been looking for? Or are you still on Christy? — She’s never gonna leave Jason Carver, dude. Especially not for you! No offense,” Sinclair said. “None taken,” Eddie said, knowing Sinclair was right.

For the rest of the day, Eddie’s eyes had been opened every time y/n walked by, stalking and watching her every move. There was just someone about her that he didn’t like.

He swore she was just another preppy, stuck-up girl who would do anything to get a little attention.

“Hey, uh, Eddie?” Y/n asked, now in front of his face. He had zoned out. “Yeah?” He asked quickly, hoping she wasn’t here to ask what his problem was for watching her every move.

“I heard you sell, and I just left Cali. You wouldn’t mind selling me anything, right? I-I have extra if you’re afraid I’ll tell,” y/n said, watching how Eddie’s eyes widen.

When she looked at him, she couldn’t stop but think how amazing he was. She barely saw men like this around in Hawkins.

“Sure, but, I gotta ask — Do you even smoke? Or is this like a, I wanna fit in, thing?” He asked, making her giggle at his thought process. “I really smoke, hun,” she smiled, flashing diamonds that were glued to her teeth. She was truly into what she dressed like, but, Eddie couldn’t seem to believe it.

“Hm, well, I’ve got some at the crib. Maybe stop by later tonight? My uncles outta town so, any late times doesn’t matter to me,” Eddie said, getting a dark feeling in the back of his mind, but he slightly ignored it.

“That’s fine with me,” y/n said before she slowly walked off after giving one last smile. “Yeah, we’ll see if you’re genuine, girly,” Eddie said under his breath, convincing himself that she had to be some kind of setup.

Eddie had horrible overthinking problems. No one throughout his whole high school career liked him, so why, now that he’s in college, would a girl randomly know he sells weed and would want some from him.

“Dude, you good? Looks like she’s got your tongue,” Sinclair said, making Eddie laugh loudly. “Her? Oh, Jesus, no — A girl like that is just a plant to see if I’d fall for it,” Eddie spoke, sounding delusional as always.

“What do you mean, plant?” Mike asked. “You see, she just had a class with Jason, and I saw them talking. I bet you he’s setting me up by swinging a girl like that my way,” Eddie said, truly believing what he was saying.

“And, how would he possibly set you up, Eds? She doesn’t even look like she’d do something like that to you. A stranger!” Dustin said as he rolled his eyes, tired of him seeing everything as some trap.

“Oh, but I bet, she would. You see, a girl like that doesn’t exist. I bet you tonight, she’ll come over, make some move then leave before we get to do anything, then tell the whole school how I thought someone finally liked me,”

The younger men looked at each other, confused about why Eddie was acting this way. She was nice. They barely hear that around here, and he’s always shutting her down.

“Okay, man, whatever you say,” Sinclair said before he walked off with his basketball team that had just passed. “You need to work on yourself dude,” Dustin said. “Seriously,” Mike added.

It’s currently late at night, almost so late, that Eddie thought she wouldn’t show up. That was until he heard a knock on his front door.

Eddie got up from his and made his way to the front. He had a few things to ask y/n to test out what kind of person she was.

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late,” y/n said as she walked in after Eddie stepped aside. “No problem, I was just looking at the band you have in your shirt, and I was curious,” Eddie got straight into it.

“This band? Oh, yeah, they’re kind of my favorite,” y/n smiled. “Ah huh — I realized they don’t really do music. They’re more into book writing,” Eddie said, which was correct.

“Yep, that's how I got into them. I love reading, and when I found out they had music, that was even better,” she said, making him chuckle low. “So you like sec?” He asked, making her laugh.

“Oh, uh- Yeah. Yes, I do,” she said as he scanned her figure. He hadn’t gotten a great look at her today, but now he did. Her body was more banging than he had thought.

“Hm, you into all that stuff they talk about? I mean, my bands are freaks, I’ve never seen one like yours. Especially with girls in them,” he said.

Y/n usually never felt off about talking about who she liked to watch and listen to, but there was something about the way Eddie came off, that made her feel weird.

“I guess, but I’m not really down to talk about that,” y/n said, warning Eddie that she was getting uncomfortable. “Oh, what are my manners- I’m sorry — Let’s get you your purchase,” Eddie said as he guided her to the back where his room was located.

Eddie stood to the side after he opened the door, looking at her for her reaction that he’d been waiting for all night.

Once y/n stepped into his room, her eyes slightly widened at his layout. She knew he was a metalhead, but she didn’t expect all of these sexual toys to be laid out. Some even looked fresh from the store.

“Over here — I’ve got a couple of pre-rolls, and this new hash I kind of whipped up myself, that’s It’s free. I want to see how my first costume feels about it,” Eddie said as he guided her to his bed.

The young man picked up this new roll-up he had made and handed it to the young woman. “Oh, I wasn’t planning on smoking now,” y/n said. “C’mon — Just one hit. I wanna make sure it at least smells, and tastes good,”

Y/n felt a bit off, but she didn’t want to shame the man. She knew he barely had people over, so she accepted what he was giving.

“Fine,” she smiled as she took the lighter that Eddie had lifted up to give her. “Sit down and get a little comfortable,” Eddie suggested as she hopped in his bed, and pat the spot next to him.

Y/n softly sat next to the man, ready to see what he’s created. She wanted to be a nice help, so she quickly lit the joint and took a hard hit.

She coughed a bit, not knowing it would be this strong. It barely had a taste of weed, more like something else that she couldn’t place her hand on.

“Take a few more,” Eddie pressured. “I don’t really think-“ y/n tried saying. “Hey — Just a few more, and I’ll even cut the price,” Eddie said, knowing exactly where he was going with everything.

Y/n took a deep slow breath before she took another hit. She didn’t exactly want to, but she’s driven a bit high before. She should be fine.

Y/n took another hit, each puff getting more smoke in her lungs, making it hard for her to feel what was happening.

“Feels good?” Eddie asked as he placed a hand on her thigh. “Actually does,” y/n said, surprised that she felt the high so fast. “Wanna know what’s in it, princess?” He asked, making her nod as she took another long drag.

“I knew you like California weed, so I put some pure hashish in the roll,” Eddie said as he rubbed her thigh, getting closer to her heat that she barely noticed. She felt him but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, and you wanna know what else?” He asked as his free hand slowly moved up to her face, so he could rub at her cheek. “What?” Y/n asked low as she turned his way, feeling her eyes get extremely heavy.

“For the fun ride, I sprinkled a bit of opioids and benzodiazepine, just to get you a little woozy,” Eddie smiled, knowing that would trigger her brain. “What?” She wanted to sound more upset, but she couldn’t.

“I-I’ve gotta go,” the young woman said as she tried getting up, but she was too weak. “Why? I thought you liked it here? The room was decorated just for you,” Eddie said as he slowly reached under her skirt.

“No,” was all y/n could let out when she felt him pull her panties to the side. “What was that, princes?” Eddie asked as he leaned into her face, wanting to see and hear her struggle.

“No,” she breathed out as a tear rolled down her eyes. “And, why is that? I thought these half-high fishnets were meant for foreplay,” Eddie chuckled as he slowly pushed a ringed finger into her cunt.

“N-No,” y/n stuttered, saying that word too many times for him to keep going. “Just relax, princess — I thought you liked it kinky? I bought the chains, the gags, the toys, and the drugs. Wasn’t one song called, drug me? I assumed that would be your favorite,”

Eddie had pushed another ringed finger into y/n as he leaned down to her neck and began sucking on a few spots. There was no way he wouldn’t get what Jason set him up for.

Eddie still believed she came here just to humiliate him. He didn’t regret setting this up for her. She deserved it for what he thought she was going to put him through.

“Eddie?” Y/n choked on her cry as her walls fluttered around his fingers. “Oh, no, no — You don’t get to cum yet,” Eddie said as he pulled out of her, and pushed her down into his bed.

“You’re gonna let me fill you up first — Then maybe you can cum on my face while I eat out your overstimulated pussy,”

Eddie sounded evil to y/n. His voice echoed through her mind like a nightmare, but she couldn’t yell at him like she wanted to. She couldn’t fight him like she wanted to.

“I’m gonna tie your arms behind your back, somehow tie your legs so they’re forced open, then gag you before I get started,”

Eddie didn’t lie and did just that in under five minutes. He had looked up videos and learned quick. She should feel special for what he’s doing for her, since this is what she likes, after all.

“Tied you down for a little, and you’re already soaked, Jesus Christ,” Eddie teased as he played with her folds, watching his juice spill out of her hole that he could’ve sworn gripped a few times around air.

“You want me, don’t you? Even if this was all a joke for Jason, you actually want me, and not him — You could've just asked me, princess. I would’ve still rocked your world, but I guess you wanted it rougher,”

Eddie happily pulled himself out of his jeans, and stroked, seeing he had already been leaking pre-cum. She was too hot to be this hard already.

“You knew wearing that would catch my attention at school. Fuck, y/n, you’re just some being else — I haven’t even fucked you yet,” Eddie was surprised at how he felt about y/n in under twenty-four hours.

“I’m gonna make you mine, princess. Being pregnant in college isn’t too bad right? Wasn’t one of the female singers pregnant in college too?” Eddie asked the slightly uncomfortable woman as he slowly pushed at her entrance.

“Doesn’t matter — You’d look amazing with my kids. I’ll give you more than one — That’ll show Jason not to mess with me again,”

Eddie had gone too delusional by now. He thought that impregnated y/n would make Jason upset that his plan didn’t work, or show y/n that playing with a man isn’t a good idea.

“E-Eddie,” y/n cried low as he filled her with every inch. He wasted no time to begin his thrust and taunt y/n for her moans that she couldn’t hold back. He was huge and reached every good area y/n couldn’t even reach with her toys.

“You like it? C’mon, baby, tell me you like it. I’ll be fuckin’ you every day to show you who I am. If you thought you could make a fool out of me, then you were wrong, princess. So fuckin’ wrong. I’ll show you,”

[lilmisshellfireswritingblog]

Make the Friendship Bracelets

Pairings: Rockstar!EddieMunson x Reader

Based off a Tweet regarding the tattoos and friendship bracelets Kieran Culkin was wearing at the Golden Globes saying it was Eddie as a girl dad at the Grammy's. I knew I had to write it.

A/N: This is probably the most healing thing I have ever written as someone with daddy issues my gods. I hope you like it too.

Warnings: Pure fluff. Tooth rotting sweetness. Dad!Eddie.

Separator banner credit to: sweetmelodygraphics.

It was a cool, crisp February night in 1990 and the soft hum of the television echoed through the living room where you sat with your four-year-old daughter, Melody, curled up in your lap. The Grammy Awards were in full swing, filling the screen with glitz and glamour as the biggest names in the music industry gathered to celebrate their successes.

For you and Melody, however, the awards weren’t just about watching the famous faces or listening to the grand speeches from musicians. Tonight was about Eddie — your husband, her father. Corroded Coffin was nominated for Best New Artist and you couldn’t be prouder. This moment had been a long time coming. You’d watched Eddie pour his heart and soul into the band for years, sacrificing so much just to get to this point and now, he was at the Grammy Awards, receiving the recognition he always deserved with his first ever nomination.

You were sure there would be more to follow in the years to come. 

“Mommy, is Daddy gonna win?” Melody asked, her voice full of innocent excitement. She didn’t really understand the significance of the awards or the industry, but she knew one thing: Daddy was her hero.

You smiled, brushing her messy curls she definitely inherited from Eddie from her face. “I hope so, sweetie,” you said, giving her a soft squeeze.

Melody beamed up at you, her bright eyes wide with trust. “He’s the best, right?”

You chuckled and nodded. “Yes, he is, Mel Bel.”

The moment was almost surreal. The camera cut to the stage and you saw Eddie for the first time tonight after he left the house. His wild hair, his signature leather jacket, and that mischievous grin that never quite left his face… He was so Eddie, and yet, tonight, even more so if it were even possible

He was about to win a Grammy. You could feel it.

“And the Grammy for Best New Artist goes to... Corroded Coffin!” The announcer’s voice rang out, and Melody squealed in delight, her tiny body bouncing on your lap.

“Daddy! Daddy!” she cried, her hands reaching for the screen as if she could touch him through the TV. Her face lit up with the kind of joy only a child could feel, pure and untainted by the weight of the world.

You laughed softly, hugging her close as Eddie stood from his seat, grinning from ear to ear. His bandmates cheered around him, and you could see the excitement in their eyes as they made their way to the stage. Eddie was already thanking the band and the fans and making his speech, but it was his last words that made your heart skip a beat.

“....Especially to my daughter, Melody,” Eddie said, his voice carrying through the microphone. His eyes glanced directly into the camera, and for a brief moment, it was like the whole world melted away. “I love you, kid. This is for you.”

You felt the warmth of pride fill your chest as you looked down at Melody. Her eyes were as wide as saucers, and she was absolutely glowing with joy. “Mom! He said my name! He said my name!” she squealed, her little hands clapping together in excitement.

You nodded, your heart swelling. “He sure did, sweetie. He’s so proud of you.”

But then something else caught your eye — something that made your heart stop and your breath catch in your throat. As Eddie held the Grammy, his arm extended, gesturing toward the audience, his sleeves slid up. That’s when you saw it.

His arms were covered — not in the usual tattoos you knew he had, but in bright, colorful, exaggerated fake tattoos. Dragons, flames, flowers, and skulls in every neon and pastel hue. The tattoos were so vividly out of place that you couldn’t help but smile. 

But also on his wrist were the friendship bracelets Melody had made over the past week — the same ones she had spent hours weaving together with tiny beads before handing it over to you to tie the string into a knot. 

Melody had made him a set for the Grammys and Eddie had worn them proudly, as though they were the most important thing in the world.

One bracelet had the word DAD spelled out in tiny, colorful beads. Another had stars and hearts, a masterpiece of Melody’s four-year-old imagination. Yet another with Corroded Coffin misspelled as Coroded Cofin. The mismatched colors, the mismatched beads — they were perfect. It was like a small piece of Melody’s world, her love, her joy, wrapped around Eddie’s wrist for all the world to see.

Melody gasped, her hands covering her mouth. “Mom, look! Daddy’s wearing them!” she cried, her voice filled with awe and pride. “He’s wearing my bracelets! The ones I made for him!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “Yes, sweetie, he’s wearing them,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “He loves them. He wouldn’t leave without them. I told you!”

Eddie didn’t seem to notice the camera zooming in on his bracelets or the fake tattoos that were so obviously out of place. He was too busy soaking in the moment and the excitement of the win. His attention was entirely on the band and the fans, on the Grammy Award in his hand, and on the world that had just opened its arms to him.

For you, the moment wasn’t just about the Grammy. It wasn’t about the fake tattoos or the glamour. It was about the fact that Eddie, in the middle of this massive achievement, had made room for Melody — her love, her creativity, her heart — to be part of it. It was as though, even in the middle of a world so far removed from the one you and Melody lived in, Eddie had made sure to carry a piece of home with him.

Melody was still jumping up and down on the couch, her eyes glued to the screen. “I’m gonna make him more!” she said, her voice full of determination. “Next time, I’m making him a whole sleeve of tattoos! Maybe even one on his head!”

You chuckled, wiping your eyes. “I think he’d love that, sweetie.”

As Eddie wrapped up his speech, his voice filled with gratitude, you couldn’t help but marvel at the way everything had come together. Eddie was a rock star, but to Melody, he was simply dad — the man who wore her creations with pride, who accepted her love in whatever form it came. Whether it was in the shape of a handmade bracelet or a silly fake tattoo, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was from her. 

And that was everything.

When the broadcast cut to commercial, Melody looked up at you with sparkling eyes. “Do you think Daddy knows I love him so much?” she asked, her voice suddenly quiet, almost serious.

You smiled softly, kissing the top of her head. “Oh, sweetie. He knows. I think he feels it every day. I know he does.”

You held Melody a little tighter, your heart full as you watched the rest of the show with your daughter in your arms. Tonight wasn’t just about Eddie winning a Grammy. It was about the quiet, beautiful moments that made up your family — the love that could never be measured by awards or accolades. It was about the joy you shared with each other and the way Eddie wore that love for the world to see, no matter how unpolished, no matter how messy.

EDDIE’S POV

Eddie Munson’s hands were shaking as he stepped up to the stage, his knees wobbling just a little. It wasn’t because he wasn’t used to being on stage. Hell, he had performed in front of crowds thousands of times with no issue. It was just that this moment felt different. This was the Grammys. The one award ceremony that, for so long, seemed like an impossibly far-off dream and here he was, walking up to accept the award for Best New Artist like it was no big deal.

To Eddie Munson, it was a big deal. This was his band and he had proved everyone wrong. 

He was trying to keep his cool but he couldn’t stop the wild rush of adrenaline in his veins. He tried to hold the golden statue steady after the announcer handed it to him, but his fingers kept twitching, like it was going to slip right out of his hand. His bandmates were already clapping behind him, grinning, cheering him on to make his speech. However, Eddie couldn’t focus on them right now. He had to think about what he was going to say as the frontman of Corroded Coffin. 

“Uh, thank you so much,” he mumbled into the microphone, his voice hoarse. “I don’t know what to say. This is… Jesus H. Christ…. This is crazy. Wow.”

The crowd laughed. He half-smiled at them, but his mind wasn’t really here. He was already thinking about the one person he needed to thank the most.

He looked out across the sea of people and felt the weight of their eyes on him. Everyone who had ever doubted him, everyone who had laughed when he said he’d make it, everyone who thought Corroded Coffin was just a phase.

But then he thought of her.

Of Melody.

The tiny girl back at home, probably jumping up and down in front of the TV with her mom. Probably waving her arms, shouting for Daddy like she always did whenever he was on television. Eddie could picture her now — her bright eyes filled with excitement, her little voice calling out to him. He could almost hear it. “Daddy! Daddy! Look! You won!”

He wasn’t just up here for himself. He was up here for her.

“First, I’ve gotta thank my bandmates,” Eddie said, his eyes scanning the faces behind him. “Couldn’t do this without them. We’ve been through hell and back together and this is just as much theirs as it is mine. And of course…the fans… We wouldn’t be here without you guys.”

They cheered, slapping him on the back and Eddie felt that familiar warmth spread through his chest. This was a team effort and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Then, it was time for the moment he had been waiting for. The moment that, no matter how insane this night was, was what truly mattered to him.

“I gotta thank my family, especially to my daughter, Melody,” Eddie said, his voice carrying through the microphone. His eyes glanced directly into the camera and for a brief moment, it was like the whole world melted away. “I love you, kid. This is for you.”

The words left his mouth before he could even think about them. Melody. His little girl, the reason he woke up every morning and pushed himself harder than he ever thought he could. He thought about her sitting on the couch at home, probably with you, smiling so big her cheeks must hurt. He thought about her little hands, the ones that had made him those silly fake tattoos, the ones that now decorated his arms. He had nearly forgotten about them, but now, looking down at his forearms, his heart swelled with pride.

The tattoos were ridiculous. There was no getting around it. Flames, dragons, flowers, skulls, all in bright neon and pastel colors. They looked like something out of a 1980s cartoon — over the top and completely out of place on a red carpet. But he didn’t care. Why should he?

What mattered was that those tattoos, every single one of them, had been made by Melody. She had begged him to let her put them on him. She practically climbed up his legs while he was getting ready. 

And he let her put every single tattoo on him. Every single one. He had to. Because, to him, they weren’t just tattoos. They were a piece of her. A piece of his heart.

He then caught a glimpse of the “DAD” bracelet that was wrapped around his wrist. It had been clumsily woven by Melody, each bead painstakingly placed by her small fingers, a little lopsided and uneven. But it didn’t matter. It was perfect.

“Melody,” he whispered into the mic again, his eyes glazing over with tears for a moment. “I love you, kid.”

He didn’t know if the crowd heard it or if they even cared, but it didn’t matter. As far as Eddie was concerned, Melody was the one who had truly given him everything. She was the reason he fought for this life, for this crazy, unpredictable journey. She was the reason he was standing here at the Grammys, looking out at the world like he didn’t quite belong but didn’t care either.

This was his moment, but it was equally hers too.

And if the world didn’t understand why he was wearing fake tattoos that had no business being on a rockstar’s arms, or if they thought it was silly or unprofessional, he didn’t care.

Because he wasn’t doing this for them.

He was doing it for her. (And it was metal as fuck.)

Yeah, I’m a mess, Eddie thought with a grin, glancing at the camera that had zoomed in on his tattoos and bracelets. But this is my mess. And damn, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The crowd’s applause grew louder and Eddie snapped back to reality. His heart was racing, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He raised the Grammy higher, the light reflecting off it like some kind of symbol of everything he had fought for.

He couldn’t wait to get home. To see her face. To hold her close. To thank her for making him wear those damn bracelets and for making him wear those ridiculous tattoos. He wanted to hug her tight, tell her how much he loved her and how much she meant to him. 

For now, however, he had this moment. He had the Grammy and he had Melody’s love wrapped around his wrist as a physical representation of her love for him.

“Thanks, kid,” Eddie whispered under his breath, walking off the stage with his bandmates. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Eddie Munson stepped through the front door, a quiet sigh escaping his lips as the cool night air from outside hit him. The house was still, a soft quietness settling over everything like a blanket. The weight of the Grammy was still heavy in his hand but it felt like it belonged there now. Like it was a part of him.

He kicked off his boots at the door, careful not to make too much noise. He hadn’t gotten home too late, but there was something about the stillness of the house that made him feel like he was walking on eggshells. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb anyone’s sleep. 

He glanced around the living room, his eyes immediately locking onto the stack of pillows on the couch where you must’ve been earlier. You had probably been watching the broadcast, cheering him on, sharing the excitement with Melody. A part of him wanted to burst in there, to see you both and tell you about the night, to hold you and laugh about the ridiculous tattoos and the fake dragons on his arms.

But another part of him, the quieter part, wanted to let the moment sink in, just for a second.

He walked toward the hallway, gently pushing open the door to Melody’s room. The dim light from the hallway spilled across her tiny bed, casting a soft glow on the scene before him.

There she was, asleep — his little girl, wrapped up in her blankets, her small body curled up in that familiar way she always slept. Her face was peaceful, her breath soft and steady. She was so tiny. So innocent.

Eddie’s heart swelled as he took in the sight. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, just watching her sleep. He couldn’t help it. The weight of the Grammy in his hand felt like nothing compared to this moment. This was the real prize. The thing he had fought for; the thing that made everything worth it.

His mind flashed back to the stage, the moment he had held that golden trophy up to the crowd, and then looked down at his arms, back down at the fake tattoos, at the bracelet that spelled DAD. He’d been proud to wear them. Proud to wear them for her. Proud to show the world that no matter how big he got, no matter what happened with the band, Melody would always be the one who made him feel like he had won everything.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he thought about the absurdity of it all. Fake tattoos. Friendship bracelets. He hadn’t even noticed until he’d been on stage just how ridiculous they were. To him, they were the most important thing in the world.

He stepped closer to her bed, kneeling down beside it, still clutching the Grammy in one hand. He leaned in slightly, brushing a stray curl from her forehead.

"Hey, kiddo," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "We did it. We won.”

He reached out, gently taking her tiny hand in his and squeezing it softly. She didn’t stir, just kept breathing evenly in her sleep, but Eddie smiled at the feel of her hand in his.

There was a moment when the weight of the night seemed to fall away, and for the first time in hours, Eddie felt calm. No stage lights, no roaring crowd, no flashing cameras. Just him and his daughter.

He reached for the Grammy, hesitating for only a second, before placing it gently on the little dresser next to her bed. The glimmer of gold caught the light, but it didn’t matter. The real treasure was lying right here, in this room. It was the way her hand fit so perfectly in his. The way she had made him those silly bracelets that he’d worn like a badge of honor.

"I’ve got everything I need right here. The Grammy is just extra," Eddie muttered quietly to himself, glancing down at the trophy again before turning back to Melody.

He sat on the edge of her bed, just for a moment, his heart full of love. He had made it. Not just to the Grammys, not just as a rock star, but to this — to this family. To her.

And as he sat there, his fingers lightly brushing the top of her head, he whispered again, just loud enough for her to hear in her sleep: "I love you so much, Melody. You’re my everything. This Grammy is for you. Always."

With that, Eddie stood, giving her one last lingering look before slipping out of the room as quietly as he had entered. He made his way to the kitchen, the house still as a tomb, and found a note on the counter from you, probably written earlier in the night while he’d been at the awards show.

It was simple, but it hit him like a wave: “I’m so proud of you, Eddie. We both are. See you when you get home. We love you so much.”

His lips curved into a smile as he ran his fingers over the note, the words sinking deep into his chest. 

Eddie could feel the weight of the Grammy now even while it wasn’t in his hand. Not in the sense of its physical heaviness, but in the way it was almost like a symbol — of everything he had fought for. Of everything he had gained. Not fame, not money, not recognition. But the one thing that mattered more than anything else: his family. 

His world.

That was the only victory that ever mattered.

For once, Eddie Munson felt like he had everything.