#someone get him a map please

[il-predestinato]

charles.exe has stopped working

[daftmooncretin]

so i watched the will ferrell nascar movie and now i cant get nascar! dean winchester out of my head (feat disgruntled sports journalist cas who does not want to be here)

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

oh my god the asura actually do literally throw you in prison for going out of bounds in Rata Sum????

HELP???

[kurooh]

HOT THINGS THEY DO ★ MY HERO ACADEMIA

⊹₊˚. featuring various characters being attractive in and out of the bedroom.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader but a few can be interpreted as gn. mainly suggestive / nsfw hcs

izuku’s eyes are always on yours when he’s listening to you speak—sometimes, in the middle of conversation, he tilts his head to the side. it’s completely unconscious, he’s just really focused on you. +bonus: he twirls his pen around between his fingers when he takes notes and he has such nice hands . . ykwim

in the bedroom, izuku’s open to anything. he welcomes change in the form of new kinks, positions, toys, etc but also doesn’t mind if something doesn’t work out. his willingness to experiment has almost always yielded a positive result and better sex.

katsuki is an amazing driver. safety and making yellow lights are very important to him. he usually drives with one hand, and he throws an arm behind the passenger seat to take a look behind him when he’s backing up. yes, he’s able to use the camera without turning to look back, but he prefers not to for safety. (he likes getting you a little flustered)

katsuki’s easily able to throw you around and manhandle you as much as you like. in addition, he’s got a filthy mouth, so by extension, his dirty talk is excellent. he’s able to fluidly switch between tones and leave you thinking about everything he said even days later.

shōto doesn’t understand why you’re fawning over him when he’s in the middle of working out. after a few sets, he tugs on the hem of his sleeveless shirt and uses it to wipe away the sweat gathered on his forehead. by the time he’s pausing to do so, he’s panting heavily and his abs clench sporadically as he tries to catch his breath. +bonus: sho’s tired and doesn’t gaf about a little mess when he’s sucking down some water, so it always ends up trickling down his chin

when you’re naked and ready for his touch while pinned beneath him, shōto’s easily able to read your body. he’s mapped out the spots that make you tick and committed them to memory; he’s able to figure out what you want and how you want it without you having to say a word.

eijirou often sits back lazily in chairs or on the couch, with his legs comfortably spread. in that position, his thighs always look extra thick and strong. when he catches you staring, he pulls you into his lap with a laugh.

when it comes to fucking eijirou, it’s clear that his pleasure is really yours—he gets off on pleasing you and makes it his top priority always. he’s cum untouched a few times with you sitting on his face or riding it.

denki is always smiling. it’s easy to tell how he’s feeling because he’s so open about it, and he’s also genuinely happy often. even when he’s nervous he tries to hide his little smile !

as often as possible and if the position allows, denki’s right up against your ear and softly making noise while babbling dirty or sweet nothings. he’s not at all shy to make noise and encourages you to do the same.

keigo is naturally protective. in crowded areas, he takes your hand in his and pulls you close while you walk together. if you’re walking around the city at night together after getting tipsy and someone threatening approaches, he steps between you and them while shielding you with his wings.

keigo builds tension perfectly through lengthy kisses and eager touches all over your body. it’s a little torturous for him to fight back the urge to cum when he hears you softly begging him to touch you. he’s shaking when he finally slides in, and his wings fan out uncontrollably; they’re always talking for him when he’s too busy making noise to communicate.

[empresskylo]

of fucking course simon riley has your location on. he needs to make sure you're safe. likes to keeps tabs on you. he says he’s completely normal about it, but that is a lie--he obsessively checks it.

and he knows all your common locations: your apartment, your friend’s place, the grocery store, the target you like to go to. so when he sees you at a random address one evening, your little marker on the map not moving,--meaning you’re not just driving past--he raises a brow. he immediately texts you. and when you don’t respond, he’s calling you.

and when you don’t answer… he’s in his truck faster than he thought he could move, beelining it straight for your mysterious location.

and when he pulls up in front of someone’s house, watching as you walk out the front door, laughing at something the man trailing you says, he’s furious. he was worried you might have been hurt. in a sticky situation. but cheating on him didn’t even cross his mind.

he storms out of the truck and you look at him with a gasp. “simon? what’re you doing—?”

“who the fuck is that?” he demands, gesturing to the guy behind you.

“simon…” you say exasperated. “i told you yesterday I was meeting up with friends to plan her bachelorette party.”

his eyes soften slightly, but he’s still reaching for you, hands wrapping around your arms. “doesn’t answer my question.”

“this is her childhood friend.” he glares over your shoulder at him, like he doesn’t believe you. like he wants to kill him. “her gay childhood friend.” you add, hands on your hips, a little annoyed he’d embarrass you like this.

when he hauls you into his truck, he takes a few beats before he apologizes. “m’sorry, love. you weren’t answering your phone and when i saw you at some random—“ he stops mid-sentence as he glances over at you in the passenger seat, expecting you to be glaring at him, ready to tear him a new one. but much to his surprise, you’re taking your shirt off.

“what’re you doing?” he asks, his hands tightening on the wheel to stop from reaching over and touching you.

“that was the hottest thing you’ve ever done,” you whisper, a little embarrassed to admit it. but protective simon? the simon who was ready to beat a guy up just for making you laugh? yeah, that turned you on even if it shouldn’t.

he’s thankful it’s nighttime so no one driving past can see you topless in his truck. he’s also thankful the roads are rather empty this late on a weekday.

“wait till we get home, yeah?” he asks, his voice strained.

you shake your head. “simon, please,” you whine. “i can’t wait.”

he groans in his throat, knowing your place is only 5 more minutes away. he’s already hardening in his pants, and he’s tempted to pull over and drag you into the back seat. but he doesn’t. instead, he reaches his large hand and slides it over your thigh, his eyes on the road as he pushes your skirt up. and you bite your lip, holding back a moan as he rubs you over your underwear. “so fuckin’ wet,” he says astonished.

you buck your hips up and he almost laughs. you weren’t kidding, you really couldn’t wait. he slips his fingers past your panties and dips them into your heat and you grab the door of the car for support, shutting your eyes. he starts a steady pace, his fingers making obscene sounds as they fuck you. you groan and mewl and simon worries he might not make it home either.

it takes you just about a minute to climax, your heat pulsing rapidly around his two fingers, earning a growl from simon. “fuckin’ hell, love,” he breathes, amazed at how fast and hard you came. loving that it was all because of him.

he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex and he’s storming around to your side, trying to get you to put your shirt back on, desperate to get you inside. he hauls you over his shoulder, his hand resting on your skirt so no one accidentally gets a free show. “naughtily little thing,” he hums to himself. “can't wait to properly punish you.”

cod masterlist

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩. ❞

┊ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: spending a gentle morning with your boyfriend, bucky barnes.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bucky barnes x fem!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.2K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut (mdni), established relationship, post-thunderbolts bucky, lots of fluff, soft!bucky, making out, thigh-grabbing, bucky is a little flirt, morning sex, oral sex (fem!rec), cunnilingus, female orgasm.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: so this is my first time writing for bucky despite being obsessed with him for 10+ years (please be gentle & feedback would be really appreciated!) I typically write him as more soft & a service top instead of rough, so hopefully this doesn’t turn people off. anyway, I hope you all enjoy! 🫶

Before the sun splits through a violet twilight, cresting over darkness and into dawn, Bucky is wide awake, smoothing one palm over his grizzled countenance.

It’s too early; though, it’s become something of a normality for him, waking up before the first light of daybreak. Muscles ache with the heaviness of sleep, coiled into knots, still echoing with soreness from a mission days ago.

A five o’clock shadow clings to his jaw, brunette tresses longer, bedraggled by slumber. A shallow exhale simpers from his lungs, slow and steady, something that grounds him to his surroundings.

Save for the pale glow of the light glittering above the headboard, his room is shrouded by an inky black, bathroom door left ajar.

Peering through the dim illumination, his gaze searches for you, back turned to him, swaddled in the comforter; leaving only a sliver for him. A soft huff splits past his lips, knowing that you can’t sleep unless you’ve got a blanket.

Even when the temperature gets sweltering and summertime swings through with a vicious humidity, you’re typically bundled in the sheets, covered, unwilling to go without it. He’s conceded to sleeping with a fourth of the blanket.

A low noise reverberates through your body, swallowed whole by the pillow as you turn, comforter tucked to your collar, now facing him.

Scrunched with slumber, you’re still sound asleep, curled comfortably beside the pillow. You’re huddled tightly beneath the blanket, a tangle of limbs, warm to the touch.

Ritualistic, Bucky’s often ogling you each morning, mapping out every detail that rests within your countenance, finding beauty in everything. Every time the sun comes up, he’s searching for you, drinking you in again and again.

You’re the first thing he sees when dawn splits dusk — the best thing he sees.

You only get prettier with each passing morning, with every sunrise, prompting his heart to gallop beneath his sternum, unable to smother his smile.

If someone told him years ago that he would’ve ended up with you, he would’ve scoffed at the notion; unlovable, unworthy — he’d changed his outlook drastically.

There’s something inherently soft about your relationship — pure, clean, built on a foundation of mutual trust and protection. Bucky never experienced soft, save for the forties; now, he was able to rest.

Unconsciously, you stir, crawling closer until your body wedges into his arm, flesh and blood, bicep firm as he adjusts, bringing you against his side. Still muddled by the haze of sleep, you exhale, cheek pressed into his shoulder.

He smooths a feather-light kiss to your crown, gaze drifting toward the ceiling; nondescript, too modern. The massive undertaking of renovating the former Avengers Tower was met with mild resistance from the team — plenty of needless additions, too.

The training room is entirely too large for how many people live in the tower — a meager seven, unless Valentina intended on recruiting. There’s buttons on the sofa in the common lounge, and he’s still uncertain of what they do.

Sometimes, it all feels too new, too sprawling — he’s always enjoyed the simpler things in life, the rustic and the unappealing.

Hushed, Bucky steals another glance, gaze fluttering over your visage, over the strands of loose tresses that stick to your temples. He sweeps them aside, vibranium arm a kiss of ice to your warm skin.

Slowly, he begins to shuffle, gently easing you aside and into the pillow, muscles stiff as he rolls to perch along the edge of your bed.

Dawn unfurls somewhere beyond the horizon, tendrils of muted orange whispering through the eventide. A soft groan slips from his lips, body still recuperating from a mission days ago, bruises bone-deep.

Early to rise before anyone else, he stretches, reaching for a black undershirt, dog tags sparkling through slivers of light. Tugging the fabric over his head, he trails toward your bathroom, making for the sink.

Palms splay flat over smooth granite, mirror revealing a rugged countenance, tresses disheveled. A tangle of scars lay where vibranium kissed flesh — old wounds, old memories interlaced into his skin.

Formed by him attempting to claw at the metal, they were a remnant of a ghost, a spectre he’d left behind. It was the piece of him that had healed entirely, leaving behind mere wisps — Bucky wasn’t him anymore.

The Winter Soldier was no more, only present in a name, a stranger left within the recesses of his mind; lingering still, no longer important.

Nightmares still nipped at his heels, less intense than they used to be, but still prevalent. There’s brighter days ahead when you’re around, presence comforting, able to soothe him without effort.

Screwing the knob of the sink, a rush of cold water tumbles from the spout, filling the basin with icy liquid. Dipping his vibranium hand beneath, he splashes a barrage of water against his face, a brief shock to the system, cooling over warm skin.

Droplets of water rolled over his chin as he scooped another handful into his mouth, allowing it to soothe his dry throat. A comfortable hush echoes through his room; it’s tranquil.

In the mirror’s reflection, he spots your writhing body, adjusting again, but this time, you’re awake. Through furrowed brows and mild confusion, you’re humming, limbs uncoiling, searching for Bucky.

“Bucky?” Through a barely-audible murmur, you notice the empty space beside you, indent still warm where a body once lay. With a low groan, you sit up, groggy as you blink to try and rid yourself of the sleep-induced haze.

Lingering in the doorway, Bucky makes himself known, bathed in blanched light from the bathroom, as if he’s caught in some glow. “Morning.” He drawls, his smile lilting into something lopsided, warm.

With a smile, you rub at your eyes, peering toward your phone, the time flashing up at you. It’s only ten-past-six, typically too early for you, but not for him. “Hi,” Wiping the blur from your sight, you shuffle beneath the comforter. “You okay?”

Bucky nods, reassuring as he dries off his metallic hand with a towel, watching you as if you’re the center of everything; you are. “Early riser,” He muses, head tilting to one side. “You can go back to bed.” He assures.

“I’m awake now,” You protest, squinting as you allow yourself a moment to adjust. Sleep’s thick fog still clouds your mind like a haze of steam, prompting you to stretch out your arms. “I might as well stay up.”

Through a half-sleepy smile, you comb your fingers over your crown, hand dropping to your side as you lay back down. Knowing that Bucky is up and will continue to stay awake prompts you to do the same, hands folding over your abdomen.

With a soft chuckle, he turns, tossing the towel back onto the rungs before crossing the threshold to your bed, sinking back down beside you. The black undershirt and silvery gleam of his dog tags is a good look for him — he’s handsome.

Swiveling around, you turn to face him, tucking one arm beneath your head, a smile still curling at the corners of your mouth. Instead of saying anything, you’re gawking, ogling him as if he’s the center of your universe.

Bucky can feel your gaze on him, and he turns, brows slightly furrowed, a half-smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “What’s wrong?” He rumbles, softening at the sight of you.

You’re breathtaking, exhilarating; he still can’t believe that you’re with him after all this time, steadfastly by his side. He feels your hand trace over his bicep, leaving fire in your wake, prompting him to inhale.

“Nothing, just … You’re pretty,” The tender cadence of your remark evokes a chuckle from him, nose briefly wrinkling, brows furrowing. “I’m being serious.” You assert, cheek nudging over his shoulder.

“I know,” Bucky counters, rolling over on his side to mimic your position, cool vibranium brushing over the exposed flesh of your hip. A metal thumb caresses circles over your hipbone, enough to make your breath catch. “Supposed to be telling you that.”

Ardor oozes from his gaze, cerulean hues traveling over the delicate slope of your jaw, across your body, which happens to be clad in one of his shirts. After being The Winter Soldier for a lifetime, Bucky has become exceedingly gentle.

Being callous, cruel, rough; it isn’t ingrained into his codex anymore, he doesn’t want it to be. Your presence evokes the gentler feelings, ones that he prefers to let guide him over anything else.

“We can tell each other,” You level with him, fingertips snaring over his dog-tags, nail tracing over the indents on the metal. “Did you sleep well, at least?” A tender hush wraps around your cadence, a soothing lull.

Bucky huffs, a light smile toying at the corners of his mouth, metallic digits still circling your skin. Gooseflesh spawns in the wake of his touch, spreading like wildfire across your spine.

“Yeah,” He muses, unable to peel his eyes away from you, gaze softening whenever you smile. Rest is better with you around — he feels safe, more aware of his surroundings. “Did you? Sorry for waking you up.”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you’re dismissive of his apology, digits gliding toward the collar of his undershirt. The constant touching is assuring to Bucky, something grounding. “Don’t be sorry. This is nice, being up together.”

Optimism has always been your strongest attribute, and he concedes, finding contentment in the smaller moments like these. “It is,” He hums in agreement, metal fingers smoothing over your waist. “You’re so beautiful.”

A scoff erupts from your mouth, as if he’s said something outlandish. “I think you’re still asleep or something,” You tease, feeling rather disheveled, undeserving of his compliment. “Like this, all messy from sleeping?”

Bucky’s brows momentarily furrow, mouth agape to make room for a quizzical chuckle. “Exactly like this,” Insistent, he takes a swipe at your brief moment of self-deprecation, dismantling it with ease. “You’re always beautiful.”

A droning groan slips past your mouth as you descend against the mattress, sprawling out, limbs somewhat untangled from the comforter. “Thank you.” Through a soft mumble, you feel your skin crawl with a constant warmth.

Biting back a grin, he shifts closer, propped up on his side, vibranium palm kissing your thigh, a burst of lce to your flesh. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” He murmurs, tone droning at a husky octave. “Getting shy on me?” He’s teasing you, now.

“Bucky,” In a feeble attempt to counteract him, your knee nudges against his abdomen, but he isn’t going anywhere. “No, just … You’re really sweet.” You mumble, staving off the bite of embarrassment.

“Hm,” Bucky clicks his tongue, a hint of amusement swirling within his eyes. “Sweet, huh?” The pitch of his voice is disarmingly gentle, stirring embers within the pit of your stomach.

Adjusting your leg, your knee sits over his waist, brushing against the fabric of his undershirt. “Very,” You muse, and the flustered feeling begins to dissipate, replaced by elation. “You can’t keep up the tough act with me.”

A ribbing scoff escapes him, faux disbelief creeping over his countenance. He’s so handsome that it hurts, stinging your chest, rousing butterflies within your belly. “Who says that I am?” He remarks, inching closer to you, the distance growing slim.

With a wrinkled nose, your mouth grows into a beam, melting beneath his gaze. He oozes with an effortless charm, one that’s drastically improved since the beginning of your relationship.

Warm fingertips card over your temples, stretching into your hairline as he partially hovers above you, head cocked to one side. You’re mesmerizing, he’s mesmerizing; you’re both awestruck.

He’s gazing at you, hues shamelessly flickering between your doe-eyed stare and the soft curve of your lips. Bucky finds a purpose, a semblance of tranquility within your heart.

The sensation of your palm pressing against his chest barely registers, lost within a labyrinth of you, fingertips roaming over your crown. Your hand sits soundly above his collar, over an old, steady heartbeat — he’s at peace.

Digits climb toward his collar, tracing the metallic chain of his dog-tags, higher still, until you reach the shadowed scruff that covers his jaw.

Bucky exhales, a contented noise that drags through his chest, steady and sure, throat bobbing as he swallows. The quiet is kind — it’s one that he allows himself to settle into, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Words aren’t exchanged, bleeding into the kiss he plants against your lips, nose brushing against yours. A hitch forms within the bottom of your throat, hand splaying over his jaw, involuntarily keening into his touch.

Vibranium tenses over your thigh, cradling, thumb drawing slow circles over the pliant muscle. The sensation is enough to make you quiver with exhilaration, lost within the labyrinth of his lips.

Something incendiary lingers within his kiss, a subdued restraint that he clings to, and you can feel it, too. He savors the feeling, fingertips ghosting along your cheek until he’s cupping your jaw.

With a soft sigh, you’re turning into him, chest brushing against his, other hand drifting to grasp at his bicep. Through a momentary gap, you exhale, warm breath pluming over his lips before you resume the kiss.

Mouths tangle into one another, deepening when he presses closer, slotting a muscled thigh between your legs. Another shiver rolls down your spine, digits tensing over his arm, heart hammering beneath your breast.

He’s deliberate, attentive; Bucky kisses you as if you’re the center of everything, tender as it stretches on for several moments. Kisses edge with something desirous, and you withdraw to catch your breath, visibly smitten.

Your head descends against the pillow, fingers flexing near the nape of his neck, toying with the brunette tresses there. “Could you wake me up like this every morning?” You mumble, lips curling into a smile.

Bucky huffs, mirroring your countenance as his hand still caresses over your leg, beginning to slip towards your hip. “All you gotta do is ask, sweetheart.” He affirms, still close to you.

The affectionate nickname fills you with a thinly-veiled delight, eyelashes kissing the skin beneath your eyes. “Noted.” With a gentle hum, you’re wanting to kiss him again.

“I have something else in-mind, if you’re willing.” Bucky chimes, cadence husky, curling around you like some pleasant haze. He kisses your jaw as if to hint at what he wants; you’re more than willing.

“Enlighten me.” Breathless, you’re attempting to pass as collected, calm, but when icy metal begins to tease the waistband of your shorts, your resolve wavers. His lips travel over the slope of your jaw, sluggish, as if he’s exploring.

Slivers of orange crest the horizon, fracturing dusk with pooling light. It’s still early, early enough for the both of you to hide within the shadows for a little while longer, before everyone else stirs.

Bucky shifts, now positioned between your legs, musculature taking up a decent amount of space. A sigh bubbles within your throat, hands clamoring to perch atop his shoulders.

His mouth works at you still, drifting from your jaw to the silky expanse of your throat, scruffy beard scratching pleasantly against your skin. A delighted half-whine splits your diaphragm, flesh burning with a newfound heat.

“Bucky …” A throaty moan floats from your lips, feeling his fingers curl into the hem of your shirt, gently easing it up towards your chest. Brisk air drifts over your exposed skin, gooseflesh erupting in its wake.

Each kiss makes you feel weightless, as if your bones have turned to molten liquid, stomach churning with anticipation.

After another string of kisses brand your throat, he descends, mouth ghosting below your breasts. His visage prickled over your ribs, sending a brief shiver of anticipation through you.

Cerulean hues flicker toward your face, vibranium hand pressed firm to the mattress, hovering beside your waist. Lips peppered themselves across your stomach, traveling to your hipbones before ascending again, a lackadaisical pattern.

Every kiss possessed meaning, a fervent love for you, etched into your skin as his mouth feathered across your lower stomach. He only came to a crawl when he found your waistband, stealing a glance at you.

“This okay?” Bucky inquired, tone a mere purr, husky as warm breath fanned over your abdomen. “It’s been awhile.” He wanted to taste you again, have you writhing against his tongue; he couldn’t help himself.

With an eager nod, you kept your legs parted, shivering when cool metal toyed with the elastic of your undergarments. “Yes,” You huffed, feeling his lips twitch into a smile. “Bucky, please.”

Unwilling to deny you, he nodded, hands curling into the soft cotton of your shorts and panties, easing them down your legs. Knuckles brush over your thighs, calves, until he’s discarding them near the foot of your bed.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Bucky sighs, reverent as he plants a kiss against the inside of your knee. Your breath hitches, words dissolving to ash in your mouth as he kisses a trail toward your thigh.

A familiar heat pools within your belly, arousal coalescing between your legs, thighs shifting together to relieve a sliver of tension. He continues, hunger stirring within him, ravenous.

Careworn palms caressed circles into your thighs, dragging from your haunches toward your knees, and then back again. Sweet kisses buried themselves along soft skin, inching closer toward the slick warmth of your cunt.

He’s methodical, intimate; there isn’t a need to rush into anything, which you’re thankful for. Instead, you savor his lips as they plume over the inside of your thigh, visage marked by a rugged scruff.

Bucky lowers, prone atop the mattress, threading your legs over his broad shoulders. Metal graces the swell of your hip, holding steadfastly as his other hand caresses your thigh.

With a broad stroke of his tongue, he raked hot embers over your core, hands steadying you, eager to please without an ounce of hesitation.

The unexpected surge of pleasure washed over you in an instant, stomach coiled into a knot of tension, mouth slack to make room for a moan. One hand flew to his crown, carding through brunette waves, urging him closer.

“Bucky,” A blissful whine flutters from your lips, goosebumps traveling over your body. He’s too good at pleasing you, and if you let him, he would’ve stayed buried between your thighs for an eternity. “Feels so good.”

A ripple of satisfaction blisters through him, coupled with his own want, but he’s able to put it aside, content to focus on you. He presses a string of kisses to your cunt before alternating with flat strokes of his tongue.

Lurching forward, your hips jolted, urging yourself onto his mouth with a twinge of desperation. His tongue continued to greedily lap at your slit, briefly teasing your entrance.

The tip of his nose brushes along your petals, tongue splitting deeper still, until he vigorously laps at your core. Your taste permeates his mouth, a bittersweet ambrosia that draws him into some wanton haze.

Thighs twitch, tense on either side of his head, not that he minds. Bucky is exceedingly tender with you, savoring your body, vibranium hand soothingly rubbing along your hip.

He can’t get enough, akin to a man drinking greedily from a desert oasis, chin steeped in your arousal. The shadow of his beard scratched against your supple flesh, leaving behind a prickling burn in its wake.

That taut heat within your stomach had been wound so tight, like a coil threatening to snap in two. His mouth was voracious, lapping and kissing wherever he pleased, pinning your hips down whenever you squirmed.

Fingertips perused through his tresses, gripping snugly near the base of his skull, back arched from the mattress. “B—Bucky, please!” A delighted moan rippled through your diaphragm, sending pleasant shivers through his spine.

A tremor gripped your legs, little spasms of delight making their way throughout your body. A sharp groan blossoms throughout his sternum as you incessantly tug upon his dark locks, urging him closer.

Bucky turns, mouth sealing a hot kiss to the inside of your thigh, metal palm kneading into your hip, drawing circles near your pelvis. Through a shadowed stare, he watches your face as it contorts with bliss.

His mouth hotly returns to your cunt, tongue stroking over your core, splitting past your folds. Oozing heat, he trails his lips toward your clit, pressing a lingering kiss over the sensitive clutch of nerves.

As soon as he pursed his lips around your clit, you nearly exploded, thoughts completely derailed, scattered into a blissful abyss. Your body reacted with shivers and tremors, hand gripping at the nape of his neck with a reckless abandon.

Hips surge forward, jolting into the greedy heat of his mouth, and he happily treats you to incessant barrages of his tongue. Shockwaves of pleasure strike at your belly with each stroke.

Absentmindedly, your hand darts to clasp over his vibranium one, chest tight with a flurry of excitement. The gesture is enough to make him shudder, and he continues, ministrations wrought with vigor.

Slurred cries of ecstasy slip past your lips, back arched, keening into any sliver of friction he offers. Your body was wound into knots, and you felt yourself being pushed towards the precipice of your release.

As his lips rolled over your clit again, your knees buckled, ecstasy mounting, electrifying your very veins. He did not cease, tongue stoking the fire, content to lap at your core, the sweetest agony of all.

“Close,” You huff, doing little to mask your cacophony of pleasure, moaning his name as if it’s all you know. Bucky indulges you without any hesitation, mouth pursing around your clit. “T—There, right there.”

A low groan stirred within his chest, reverberating within his throat as he went about teasing your clit, suckling on the bundle of nerves. A spasm passed through you, mouth slack, desperate moans leaving you in droves.

He doesn’t stop nor change pace, metal thumb stroking beside your wrist, the other hand clutching at your haunch. Bucky drags you close, flush, mouth buried against your cunt with such rapture.

Bucky gingerly suckled on your clit, feeling your fingers tighten within his brunette locks, gripping him tight. He wanted you to have your release, built upon this pent-up feeling.

“Come on, sweetheart,” His voice emerges as a husky lull from between your legs, pulling a whimper from your diaphragm. “I’ve got you.” He soothes, tone wrought with a warming tenderness.

He could feel your encroaching release, feel the tension in your grasp, the way you let your hips continue to lurch forward. Another cry of his name falls from your mouth, affectionate.

Without relenting, Bucky continued to suck at your clit, letting it intermingle with hot laps of his tongue, dutiful and fervent between your legs.

That heated coil within your stomach began to unfurl, bringing an onslaught of arousal with it as you bucked into his mouth. Pleasure washed over you in feverish ripples.

At last, your peak consumed you in a white-hot oblivion, and you very nearly saw the stars themselves. Another drawn-out moan crescendoed from your lips, visage contorted into sheer bliss, hand loosing from his hair.

Bucky slowed, lavishing kisses to your cunt as you shivered, body awash with a burning ecstasy. Spots still floated behind your eyes, heart hammering within your chest, blissed-out.

Withdrawing, he pressed a string of kisses over your inner thighs, which still twitched from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Planting another kiss to the crook of your knee, he sat back, chin glistening with your slick.

Left to recuperate, you were hot, as if you were bitten by a fever. Smitten, you searched for your panties, rubbing at the back of your neck. “That was amazing.” You sighed, as if it were the first time all over again.

Dragging his tongue over his bottom lip, Bucky ran a hand over his chin, a charming smile molding to his features. “I’d be worried if it was anything but.” He remarks, a hint of confident charm creeping in.

Before the ice, before the fall, Bucky was renowned for having a suave, gallant demeanor. He had it still, relearning what it all meant, and he enjoyed making you flustered.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Barnes.” You mumble, lashes fluttering as he wordlessly slips your panties back on, letting you tug them the rest of the way.

Daybreak slips through the windows, an ember-orange that slivers over your shared bed, painting him in some euphoric glow.

Bucky slinks forward again, wedged between your legs, vibranium hand firm atop the pillow. “Am I?” His smile warms your insides, and he exhales when your fingers find his face, cradling his jaw within your hands.

Hushed, he bends to kiss you, a gentle action threaded with heat. The kiss is clean, passionate — he handles you with care, and you make sure to do the same; it’s what he deserves.

“A little bit,” Mesmerized, you reciprocate his kiss, clinging to him like an anchor, foreheads dipping to brush against one another. When dawn strikes you both, your nose wrinkles. “Good morning, Bucky.”

“Morning.” He murmurs, lips stilling as he plants a kiss over your jaw. He gazes at you with ardor, and he knows that with every sunrise, he loves you just a little more.

[writersblockiskillingme]

Russian Roulette | The Salesman

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!reader

Summary: After doing everything in your power to find the salesman who got you and Gi-hun into all this mess, he unexpectedly shows up in your motel room.

Warning/s: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2!!, angst, unspoken feelings (until now), guns, playing Russian Roulette, threatening, mocking, blood, character death, cursing (maybe, idk), tears, talk about the games, tension, reader gives off femme fatale energy, also reader has longer hair to fit into a braid but if you don't just ignore it please, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: I just watched the first few episodes, and for a little while, I got out of the writers block. NO SPOILERS, PLEASE!

Prequel to this fic here!

Rain was pouring down like crazy, wind blowing around as I drove my black car with full speed as I tried to get to the Pink Motel that Gi-hun and I co-owned as fast as I possibly could after today's events. Gun that was placed on the seat next to me was jumping slightly as I drow down the road every time I hit a bump or such. My left hand gripped the steering wheel til my knuckles turned pure white as my right hand gripped the phone to the same extent.

"I found bloodstains there!" I practically shouted into my phone as I came to a stop, the images of blood seeping down the trash bags and the knife thrown on the ground never really leaving my mind. "Gi-hun is still looking, I'm sure they didn't get far from that alley."

"What do we do, miss?"

"Check all the CCTV and dashcam footage you can collect from the area and keep asking around." I continued to practically shout for him to hear me over the rain on the street, my braid swinging over on my left shoulder as I got out of the car, running towards the entrance to the Pink Motel.

"I'll join you soon." And with that, I ended the call, quickly putting my phone in the left pocket of my jacket.

I roughly pulled loose threads of hair that fell on my eyes as I quickly took out the key. However, I came to a sudden stop. Something wasn't right. I found myself freezing as I slowly moved my head to look around. That's when I noticed. The sign of the Pink Motel was lit up.

Someone is here, and they want me to know that.

I stood there in the rain for a little while before I decided to take a deep breath before entering. I walked up all the way to the fourth floor before entering, the light going on as I did. I walked into my bedroom as quietly as I could. But even before I could prepare myself for what I was about to see, just as I walked to the end of the first corner, I saw him.

After three years of endlessly, tirelessly trying to find him, he was here. Right in front of me. He was standing in front of my wall, a shining black gun in his hand, looking at the calendar on which I crossed the dates with red marker every single day for three years. Next to in was a map of the underground, every single route mapped out, drawn on, and my handwriting shone on it to.

"It's been a long time, Miss."

For a while, I said nothing. I was just standing there, soaking wet, the rain that I took with me inside dripping on the floor. I was staking in his appearance for a moment. He was just as tall as I remember, standing there in his suit. For a moment, it seemed like he didn't change one bit, like nothing changed from the moment that I fist saw him on the train station three years ago.

But it did.

His hair was longer, I won the games alongside Gi-hun, we weren't on the train station, but in my Motel room, he wasn't holding a briefcase, he was holding a gun and I didn't.

But his voice was the same, he was still as tall as I remember, I suppose his smile was the same, too. And maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the same feelings he did three years ago before I gained and lost it all.

I just sighed and moved towards the table I ate. There was a towel that I threw last night. I started to pat my hair, trying to dry it off as I looked around for some dry clothes.

"You should've gotten on that plane that day." He said, looking over at me as I paused.

"I changed my mind when I saw you there." I said before continuing to dry myself.

The moment of quiet continued as I put the towel away. He tapped the map with his gun before he started to speak again. I truly didn't know how to feel. After I wasted three years trying to find him, he just shows up at my motel room. Funny.

"It looks like you've been trying hard to find me, darling." I could just hear that ignorant smirk in his voice. Motherfucker.

"Don't let it get to your head." I told him slowly, my voice completely calm. "I just wanted to thank you." I said as I took off my wet jacket, throwing it in the corner.

"Thank me?" He asked as he sat down on one of the sofas by the table next to my bed. I turned to look at him slowly, a dry jacket in my hand. That's when I noticed blood on the collar of his suit and his face. Motherfucker.

"For inviting me to the game." I said as I approached him, his eyes on me as I sat down, opposite him. "I won and took a bloody fortune with me."

He kept quiet, listening to me, his dark eyes flickering all over my face as I spoke.

"So the decent thing of me to do would be to thank you for it."

"I'm just a messenger who delivers invitations." He smirked, but before he could say more, I continued, all off my anger resurfacing.

"And just who had you deliver those invitations, handsome?" I spoke, venom infecting my every word. "Let me meet him. I have something to say to him."

"Give me the message, and I'll pass it along." He continued, giving me a smile at the end. It appears that I was right. His smile is the same.

"Oh, dear." I mockingly pouted as I crossed my legs. "I'm afraid that it's not something I can discuss with an underling like you."

His smile quivered as he raised his eyebrow. Waiting on me to continue.

"You prey on people who are hanging by a thread and corner them at subway stations." I could feel myself slowly starting to shake from anger and despair. "Someone like you wouldn't be able to understand what I'm trying to say, of course."

For a while, there was silence yet again. We were just looking at each other. Our eyes never leaving each other's.

"You know what the funniest thing was?"

"What, miss?"

"For a moment, when I was hunting you down, I was just delusional enough to think that we could actually team up. You know? Take down the games and whoever was behind them. I liked you. And I liked to think that. But now I realize just how wrong I was." I whispered, turning away from him as I spoke. Yet I still felt his eyes on me. "And boy was I wrong. You will never change. You like the monstrous things that you are doing."

"How do you think I got to where I am now?"

"I don't fucking care." I spat at him as I turned to look at him again, his expression unreadable. "I don't care how you became their dog. I just want you to bring me your master."

He looked down, sighing as he cracked his neck, gun still in his hold. After a while he spoke again.

"I used to work in the games when I was younger. I removed and burned the bodies of countless people like you."

He was the pink guard once.

"'These things aren't human. They're just trash utterly useless in this world.' I kept telling myself that and worked hard for a few years." He spoke, suddenly smiling again. "Then they gave me a gun."

The triangle guard.

"It felt pretty good." He said as he lifted up his gun, examining it. "Like my existence was acknowledged for the first time in my life. I don't know which year it was, but one day, I was about to shoot a man who had lost a game. The guy seemed familiar. Guess who it was."

I kept quiet.

"My dad." He finally said. "My dad was suddenly standing in front of me. He was in tears, desperately begging me to spare his life."

He suddenly moved his hand, placing the gun in front of my forehead, but his suddenly, quick movement did not startle me one bit. I was used to it.

"I shot him right in the middle of his forehead, and realized, 'Ah. I'm cut out for this job.'"

He was looking straight at me, his dark eyes mad. I narrowed mine at him. Was I supposed to feel sorry for him? Maybe, but I didn't. Not only did he enjoy it, but he also has no idea how it was like for me. All the things Gi-hun and I went through. All of people we lost along the way... Ali... Sae-byeok... Sang-woo...

"Whether you shoot people in there or con them outside, it doesn't change anything." I said, slowly leaning over towards him. "You have always been nothing more than their dog."

He clicked his gun, putting his finger on the trigger, his expression darkening.

"Miss." He started, his hand shaking slightly as I kept completely still. "Do you think you're special because you won the game?"

I said nothing. My expectation still as I leaned forward just a bit more, pressing my forehead directly on his gun. His dark expression broke into one of shock.

"Someone like you could never know or understand how I made it out of there alive. And how it feels to play the games."

Suddenly, he pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. My expression barely changed, yet I could he on his face that my eyes old him every. Shock, disappointment and sadness.

He sighed before leaning over to me on the table that until now kept us at a distance. He was quiet for a while. I suppose he has always been that way.

"Let's play a game." He smiled at me.

I didn't say anything. He pulled out his phone and placed it on the table, letting a song play.

Time to say goodbye.

He leaned back against the seat as he lifted up his gun.

"I'm sure you've seen this in the movies." He started to explain, never breaking eye contact with me. "It's called Russian Roulette."

Motherfucker.

"Usually, you place one bullet in the gun, spin the cylinder, and pull the trigger." He said, clicking the gun in its place before pulling the trigger, explaining the game as he showed me what to do. "And before the next round, you spin the cylinder again. It rests the odds back to 1 in 6."

"I know." I mumbled and he smiled.

"But I'd like to make this game a little more serious." He smirked. "Because you're truly special, love."

"Cut to the chase." I glared at him and his stupid antics. He blinked at me and continued.

"We'll take turns pulling the trigger without spinning the cylinder again. The bullet will be fired within six attempts, and the game will be over." He paused. "What do you say?"

"Spin the gun." I frowned.

He smirked before gently placing the gun on the table. This could end badly on both sides, but for a moment, I found myself being selfish. Maybe, just maybe, if I lost this game after everything I went through, I could die and find peace with the people I lost. I could join them and leave with the feelings I have for him, that he possibly realized, unsaid. I could finally end it all. The night terrors, the time I spent searching for him, my cigarette addiction, mourning what I lost and what I couldn't have, yet at the same time not enjoying the money I got form the games. Who could enjoy that? Who could possibly enjoy living the life that I live.

He spinned the gun, and its tip pointed at me. Without a second thought, I took the gun and placed it by the side of my head. A few seconds later, not looking away from him, I pulled the trigger. Noting happened. That chamber was empty.

I put the gun on the table. I barely had time to move my hand before he took the gun, placed it by his head just like I did and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He sighed in content as he placed the gun back on the table, smiling at me almost lovingly. I knew.

I took the gun and placed it by my head again, but before I could just pull the trigger he spoke up.

"I've always wondered how you made it out of there alive." He smiled before he laughed a little. "For, one thing, you were even terrible at ddakji."

I said nothing, glaring at him. I pulled the trigger. Nothing happened once again.

He looked at me, impressed by my luck so far. I looked him straight in the eyes as I threw the gun on the table. It slid over on the other side, right in front of me.

He took the gun after he took a moment to just look at me. Not breaking eye contact, he took the gun. Leaned over to me until he was basically touching me, pointing the gun at me. Then he did something that I did not expect at all. He put the gun in his mouth.

Motherfucker.

He pulled the trigger. I winced a little. Nothing again. He laughed at my expression as I tried my hardest to keep myself composed. He slowly took the gun out of his mouth before sitting back, putting the gun back on the table.

I took the gun and as I was about to place it by my head he spoke up again.

"What's the matter?" He asked me, raising his eyebrows. "Is your mind starting to race?"

I scoffed slightly.

Motherfucker.

"Now your odds of death are 1 in 2." He nodded. "That's pretty high indeed. I'm sure you're afraid, darling. Lots going through your mind."

I said nothing.

"Let me guess what you're thinking right now." Motherfucker. "'The gun is in my hand. Screw the rules. Pull the trigger once or twice, and I can blow his face off.' Isn't that right?"

I kept looking at him, glaring as I did. All while he spoke. "If you and Gi-hun want to meet the person you mentioned earlier, the key is in my pocket." At that I allowed my eyes to travel all over him. "You can simply shoot me with that gun and take it. But I'll have you admit one thing."

He took a moment to pause, my hand still holding the gun by my head. He leaned over once again.

"That you're a piece of trash, just like Gi-hun, just like everyone else that was in the games." He leaned over more closely, our lips practically touching as he spoke. "A piece of trash who got lucky and made it out of the dumpster."

He laughed as I pressed the gun against my head, our lips barely an inch away from each other's. This was it, I thought to myself. This round will determine if I live or die. I tightened the grip on the gun, my knuckles turning white again. I pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He looked at me, then at the gun and then back at me. I started to chuckle lowly, like a maniac. Perhaps I was one. I watched his face closely as I pulled the gun away from my head. The grip on the gun still tight as I pointed it at his chin before slowly opening up my palm, waiting on him to take the final, real shot.

His hand touched mine. I felt him and myself freeze at the contact as he took the gun from my hand. I pulled my hand away as he looked at the gun.

"What's the matter?" I taunted him, my face mirroring the smirk that he always wears. "Is your mind starting to race?"

He said nothing as I spoke to him.

"That's right. Screw the rules. Now, with a single pull of the trigger, you could kill me." He looked pale at my words. "But... before you leave me forever this time. I'll have you admit two things."

He looked at me as I brought my hand at his cheek, wiping a little bit of blood on his face.

"You put a mask on your face and do whatever your master says. You run, bark, and wave your tail for them. You're nothing more than their dog." I told him before my voice became gentle.

He waited on me, his eyes soft.

"And regarding this." I said as I waved my hand slightly between the two of us. "You really are a dog. A dog that loves me. And... perhaps I am a fool, too. Because I love a dog that could've made it all work out for us but was too much of a coward to do so."

I leaned over to him, my hand landing under his chin, holding him.

"Admit it." I whispered as we looked each other in the eyes. "Admit that you love me, that you did ever since you gave me that fucking card."

For a moment, there was silence. His tortured eyes, looking at me. I knew. I always did. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, for a moment. This would be the last time that I spoke to him, that I could look into his eyes.

"I love you." He whispered.

All of a sudden, there was a loud sound followed by blood spraying my face as his body fell backward.

I stood up and walked over to him. I don't know how long I stood there, but after a while, I felt a tear sliding down my cheek. My hand touched my cheek as I whipped it away.

Motherfucker.

[jarofstyles]

Worshiped

Who doesn’t love a simp-y Harry? I’ve been in a kick lately of writing him but this is next level. He loves his girl and does not play about her!

Check out our Patreon for early access to almost 300 exclusive writings and series!

WC- 4k

Warnings- smut, soft dom!H but some switch vibes, praise kink, spit play, unprotected sex (wrap it up), slight pain kink on his end, oral, etc

With her standing there in the dress he had bought her, he found himself thoroughly distracted by the way the fabric hugged her body. A body he had no idea how whoever was the creator of life itself managed to sculpt, because just being able to see it was a gift from the gods. His hands traced her silhouette, starting from her shoulders and slowly moving down her arms, then around to her waist.

"Fuck me, Angel…." His lips muttered softly, more to himself than to her. "You have no idea how stunning you are, do you?" Thumbs gently traced the waistline of the dress, admiration clear in his voice. It would be hard for her to forget with how often he tried to remind her, but he still did wonder if she ever truly got it. If she could fathom how insanely other worldly she was.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm, golden hue over the room, highlighting her in a different way than the rest of the night had. The candlelight in the restaurant had been incredible to see her in, but this was special.. Any difference if lighting had him appreciating her in a different way, but something about the glow of their bedroom, the most intimate place of the house had him feeling it tenfold. 

Harry lingered behind her, unashamed as he allowed his ring clad hands to slowly explore the dips of her body. Y/N was a masterpiece he couldn't get enough of, as if someone had dipped their paintbrush into the depths of his foggy brain and brought his ideal to life. Nimble fingers traced the delicate lace detailing on the bodice of the lavender dress, feeling the soft fabric breathe heat against her skin. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to the back of her neck, grinning to himself as he felt her shiver at the touch.

"I need this off you, please." Returning to her shoulders, he made work of slowly pushing the delicate straps down her arms. As the fabric fell away, exposing her bare décolletage, he let out a soft puff of a breath against her hair. “You are… Unreal.” His words were quiet, but he knew she could hear them over the sound of the fabric being dragged down her form. In his mind, it was in the top five sounds he could hear from her, right underneath the breathy moan of his name and slightly above the little gasp she made when he smacked her ass. 

 Y/N simply stood there, letting him remove the dress completely until she was standing before him stripped bare. The dress fell from her body and onto the floor with a soft whisper, allowing Harry a moment to truly appreciate the view before him. Her body was like a damn map that he had become all too familiar with but wanted to study every day so he never had the opportunity to forget. The dip in her lower back that he loved to kiss. The waist that his hands loved to grasp. The pretty ass that he had smacked more times than he could count. Her long legs and those thighs that had his mouth watering, he had a hard time keeping it together. Her stomach, soft and sensitive every time he kissed it. Her breasts were made for his palms and nipples perfect to pinch. He loved her body. He loved her body. every single part of her called to the base level of his attraction. He couldn't help himself.

Harry had always been a man who appreciated a woman's body, but the higher power had truly outdone herself with Y/N's.

It was hard to not love her body. Especially when it fit every part of him like a puzzle piece. He loved how it was soft where he was hard- How it was round where he was angular. He had a hard time getting over the dip in her waist and how his large hands could span it. God, did he adore her thighs and how they felt wrapped around his waist. Sometimes his favorite was the curve of her ass and how it fit up against him when he bottomed out inside of her- but he was careful to choose favorites when he had so many. She was made out of a fantasy he hadn’t been creative enough to conjure up himself, only able to fathom it in front of his own eyes.

She let out a small hum, shivering slightly as his eyes worshipped her body. Y/N knew he loved looking at her naked. He was almost like an artist, taking his time to study every little thing. She trusted him implicitly with her body, so when she felt him press against her back, she automatically leaned back into him, letting her body mold against his like it always did. Her bottom pushed back against his crotch, making him grunt softly. Her head fell back against his chest, baring her neck to him. 

"Fucking beautiful." The man murmured against her skin, his voice husky as it remained quiet. His hand palmed her breast, his fingers splaying out to cover as much of her soft flesh as possible. It was selfish of him to want to be all over her, but it’s all he wanted. Really, it felt like a need to have his hands touching every inch of her even if it wasn’t fully possible. Kneading the soft mound of her breast, his thumb brushed over her hardening nipple with a soft coo. Feeling her react was a privilege he didn’t take lightly. His other hand wrapped around her waist, keeping her flush against him. Nuzzling himself into the crook of her neck, he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her sensitive skin.

 "God, you're gorgeous. Can’t get over it.” He whispered against her, his touch soft and slow. His fingers gently pinched her nipple, making her arch back against him with a soft whining sound leaving her swollen lips. "Look at you. My gorgeous girl…" The man murmured, taking her in. "You're a damn goddess. Every inch of you is made to be worshipped. N’I’m your main follower." His lips found the particular spot she liked underneath her ear, letting his tongue brush it before sucking softly on the skin. "Y’know I'm obsessed with you, yeah baby? Like dangerously obsessed?"

Y/N could feel his obsession in every touch, in every whispered word. She loved how he worshipped her and how he always made her feel cherished. Most of all, she loved how he talked to her like she was the most precious thing in the world to him. She loved his hands on her nearly all the time, like he couldn’t help but touch her- and how he always made her feel protected, honored. Even when he was filthy, in the depths of their passion, Harry had no issue with making her feel worshiped. She turned her head to the side, allowing him better access to her neck as she whispered back "You are. I love it."

It was the truth. Y/N had wondered if someday, someone would be able to match the amount of passion she knew she could bring into a relationship. It was hard to imagine someone feeling so intensely in the way that she did, but she had met her match when Harry had waltzed into her life.

"You love it?" he murmured against her skin, a coo of pleasure in his voice. He nipped at her spot to make her squirm a little in his arms, soothing the small sting with his tongue. "You love how fucking obsessed I am with you, my perfect girl?" His hand slid down her stomach, his fingers splaying out possessively. "You love how I can't keep my hands off you? How m’always touching you, kissing you, fucking you until I break? Because that’s what y’do to me. Ruined and saved me all at the same time.” He was waxing on and he knew it, but it was only her right to know how twisted up she managed to get him. “All I can think about is how much I love you,I spend my days dreaming about you. S’that make you happy?"

"Yes." The word came out breathy and needy as he continued to run his hands south. "I love how you can't keep your hands off me. I love how you make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world every single day." She met his eyes in the mirror as she continued in the whisper, despite there being no need to keep the volume low. The intimacy of it all had it cocooning them in their own personal bubble.. "I love how you speak to me like I'm your own personal heaven."

"Oh, but darling… You are." Harry groaned, his hand sliding between her legs to get a taste of it. "My own personal fucking heaven. If I’ve died n’this is where I end up, I don’t want anyone t’bring me back. I want to live here." The words were murmured against her neck, his fingers finding her wet and ready for him between her sacred thighs. "So sweet and so fuckin’ mine," he praised, his touch gentle and calculated as he pet her, making her gasp. "You're my everything, Y/N. My love, my life, my whole fucking world." His other hand came up to cup her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger again to get her to let out one of those pretty noises again. 

"My beautiful girl," He crooned, his damp fingers slipping through her slick folds, parting her gently. "My precious, precious love…" His fingers found her sensitive bud, circling it slowly and feeling her pulse against his fingertips. Having the key to his pleasure in the palm of his hand was a gift he wasn’t going to waste. "What am I going to do with you, hm? How should I spend my night ensuring you know just how much you make me feel?”

His fingers continued their maddeningly slow circles around her clit, teasing her mercilessly. "Tell me," he spoke, his voice a low rumble against her ear, "Do you want me to fuck this sweet cunt until you're screaming my name? Or should I worship it with my mouth until you're dripping down my chin, begging for my cock?" His other hand tweaked her nipple sharply, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. "How should I show my goddess that she's worshipped?"

"Both," Y/N gasped breathlessly, her body arching into his touch. "Fuck, please..." Her eyes fluttered closed briefly before catching his gaze in the mirror again. "I want... I want your mouth first. Make a mess on your face. I want to watch you worship me." Her hips rolled forward, pressing against his fingers that were still teasing her clit. "Then... God, then fuck me into the mattress." She was already panting, her body completely pliant against his. Even if he held the physical power, he would bend at the knee for her. His girl was the one in charge. 

"Knew you'd be a greedy little thing today. S’a good thing I love fulfilling all your desires." He loved how she wasn't shy about telling him what she wanted.  She knew exactly what she liked and how to ask for it, and it made his job of giving it to her a million times easier. "On the bed, then. I’ve missed that cunt. Show it off for me." He removed his hands from her body, albeit a challenge, giving her a gentle pat on the bottom to urge her forward.

Y/N's legs shook slightly as she moved towards the bed, feeling the familiar adrenaline light her up. It was hard not to feel on the good side of the edge knowing she had a man who never, ever failed on delivering what he promised. Once she was standing next to the bed, she slowly climbed on her knees, gripping the duvet with both hands. She looked back over her shoulder at him, her eyes burning with need. "Like this?" She asked hoarsely, spreading her legs wider to expose her glistening cunt to him.

Harry's gaze was riveted to the sight before him. his love, on her knees, bare and open for him. The sight was exquisite. he couldn’t believe how perfect she was. “Yeah, I love you like that. Fucking stunning.” He murmured as he slowly crept closer to her, crawling onto the bed. His large hands gripped her ample ass, his thumbs spreading her wide for his own inspection. “S’My favorite view.”

Harry couldn’t deny that it filled him with a sense of pride to see evidence of her arousal like this. He pushed his fingers through her messy slit, spreading her juices around. The sound of wet, squelching noises filled the room as he touched her, making her whimper softly. "God woman, you're so fucking wet." He muttered, dragging his fingers back and forth through her dripping cunt. It would almost sound like he was pissed but he was anything but. He was aroused, more than ever.

"Look at me." He commanded, his voice deep and authoritative as he continued to spread her juices around her slick cunt. She immediately turned her head to look back at him over her shoulder, her eyes glassy with need. Without breaking eye contact, Harry leaned down and spat directly onto her cunt, the warm liquid mingling with her own arousal. "So fucking filthy," he growled, using his fingers to massage the saliva into her folds. "Just like my girl should be."

Y/N felt slightly lightheaded at the view, the feeling, all of it. As filthy as he claimed for her to be, he was her perfect match. He knew how to make her crazy because he was just as insane. He brought his spit covered fingers up to her mouth, pressing them against her lips. "Taste yourself." Harry ordered. "Taste how fucking wet you get for me. How your cunt cries for me." He held his fingers there, not moving, waiting for her to open up and take them inside. "Go on, baby. Show me how you clean my fingers."

She parted her lips obediently, taking the digits into her mouth. Humming softly, the taste of her arousal sending a fresh wave of heat through her core. It was very dirty, something she wouldn’t have ever thought of liking before, but Harry had managed to open her up to all sorts of things she never thought she would like. Being spit on and cleaning off her taste off his fingers was one of them. As she sucked his fingers clean, she maintained eye contact, her gaze smoldering with lust and obedience because she knew what it did to him. Playing with fire? Perhaps. But Harry would give her what she wanted. After a long moment, she released his fingers with a soft pop, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his digits for a brief second before breaking. 

"Fuck, I love you." It was a strange time to declare it but seeing her do that stuff had him feeling every sort of insane that he ever could. He couldn’t get enough of how she tasted, how she looked on her knees, how she whimpered and begged when he touched her. Slipping his wet fingers back into her cunt, he let out as he moved where he wanted to be- with his mouth right on her. as he buried his face between her thighs, his long fingers curling up to hit that spot inside her that drove her wild and had her humping back to chase the feeling. "My filthy, perfect girl," he mumbled against her flesh, his hot breath making her shudder. "Spread wider f’me, baby. Let me in." He demanded, pushing her thighs further apart to give himself better access.

Finding her clit with his lips, Harry latched onto the sensitive bud and sucked hard, letting his tongue flick over it. Her taste coated on his tongue and he groaned in pleasure, the vibrations sending waves of ecstasy through her. His arm wrapped around her hips, pulling her cunt closer to his eager mouth as he devoured her like a starving man presented with a feast- his favorite meal. "Fuck, you taste divine." he murmured before sucking her clit back into his mouth eagerly. Harry had tasted plenty of people before and as cliche as it most definitely sounded, Y/N was by far the best he ever had. He could spend days here and not get tired, wear her on his skin if it was appropriate.

"Oh my fucking God," she whimpered, her hips bucking forward as she pressed against his face. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she reached behind to grab him, holding him exactly where she wanted him. "Right there, baby... just like that..." Her voice was breathy and urgent, completely lost in the sensation of his tongue against her sensitive nerves. She could feel every suck, every flick sending jolts of pleasure through her entire body. It was so hot having a man who wanted to make her feel good, but knowing he got off on it too? Hearing his groans and moans and feeling them vibrate against her? That was a whole other level.

"Harry..." She gasped, spreading her legs wider for him, because fuck, what wouldn’t she do for him in this position? " Holy shit." Her back arched slightly as he continued to suck her clit like it was his favorite candy. "Baby, wait..." She tugged lightly on his hair, her thighs tensing around his face. "You're- You're too good at this..." The whimper was lost as his fingers slid back inside her hole, curving up to hit that sweet spot again. "Oh my God." Her inner muscles clenched around his digits. 

Y/N was getting close, he could feel it in the way her legs trembled and her cunt clenched around his fingers. But suddenly, she pulled him away, panting heavily. "Wait, wait.” she gasped, turning around to face him. "I need your cock, Harry. I need you inside me right now." Her eyes were wild with desire, her chest heaving with every breath. "Please, baby. Fuck me." 

He wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to finish on his face this time around, but he wasn’t ever going to say no to being inside of her. 

"With pleasure." He growled, quickly unbuckling his belt and pushing his pants down. His hard cock sprang free, already leaking precum. Like she was weightless, there was no hesitation in grabbing her hips and flipped her onto her back, settling between her spread thighs. 

The days at the gym spent specifically to be able to toss her around were proving to be very successful, and Y/N made a mental note to test some of that out later.

"You want my cock, baby?" He asked, teasing her entrance with the head of his dick. "You want me to fill you up?" He leaned down to kiss her deeply, silencing the moaned response she gave. He knew what she wanted- that was his job.

With a deep groan against her mouth, his hips pushed forward, sliding his thick dick deep into her. He panted into her mouth as her walls stretched to accommodate him, wrapping around his shaft like a vice. "There we go. S’perfect. M’home." he mumbled against her lips, beginning to move his hips in a steady rhythm. It may be very cliche, cheesy to say, but nothing made him feel as at home as being close to her did. Nothing. He pulled back until just the tip remained inside, then pushed heavily back in, skin colliding with a solid thud.

"Ahh- fuck. Harry…" She cried out, her back arching off the bed as he filled her completely. Her nails dug into his toned back, sure to make the marks he loved as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. 

He set a slow, sensual pace, angling his hips to bury himself as deep as possible with each thrust. Harry wanted to feel every inch of her gripping his cock, each deliberate movement dragged his shaft along her inner ridges, have her feel it just as much. They were made for each other just based on how she took him and he wanted to remind her each and every time. "Feel that, baby?" He purred, his breath hot against her ear. "Feel how deep m’getting? Claiming every fucking inch of this perfect cunt."

He made love to her slowly, his touch everywhere as he adored her body. His thick hands roamed over her, his calloused fingers tracing her soft skin. "My beautiful girl," he murmured, kissing down her neck as he continued to fill her completely as she clung to him. "My precious, precious love..." His touch was soft and gentle the best he could, his movements slow and deep, taking his damn time with her. Every single time he got to be with her in this way was one he cherished, but it was hard to pound into her when he felt overcome with how much he loved the woman. "My treasure..." He whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "My heaven...S’what you are.” 

There had been no exaggeration on his end. Being inside of her, being close to her was what he considered perfection. Getting to have the woman he would have only ever dreamt about in his physical hands, feeling the heat of her skin on his palms and the pleasure of her wrapped around him like a lock to a key, it was unreal to him at times. Waking up to her face or her voice, getting to be the one she loved was everything he could have asked for. 

 "You're my everything," he breathed, his pace unhurried yet intense. Each thrust was deliberate, designed to hit that spot deep inside her that made her eyes roll back. All he wanted was for his sweet angel to feel good. His thumb brushed gentle circles over her clit in time with his movements, his touch light. "I worship you." The man confessed, voice hitching as she squeezed around him. "Your body... your heart... your fucking soul." He leaned down to capture her mouth in a deep, loving kiss, swallowing her whimpers and moans.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he murmured against her lips. His eyes met hers, burning with an intense, adoring gaze. The longer he was with her, the more the fire was stoked. He was engulfed in the flames of her but he never felt it burn. Only the most comfortable warmth someone could ever imagine. 

"I was a lost, broken man before I met you. But you... you put me back together. You made me whole again." His movements were slow and deliberate, each thrust meant to draw out their pleasure as long as possible. They were both too close and he knew it, but this wasn’t the end of their night. It was only the beginning. Burying himself deep inside her, his hips grinding against hers as he felt the nails dig into his back and her mouth open to whimper his name, he let out a breathless laugh as she lost herself on his cock. "Yeah- that’s what I want, baby. Let go on me. Give me everything, and M’gonna give it right back.” It was what he was meant to do. Harry didn’t know before Y/N, but he sure as hell knew now. “You're my redemption, my salvation, my fucking everything. M’gonna spend my whole life showing it"

[risuola]

FEELIN' LUCKY || GETO SUGURU

Suguru has a reputation of a playboy — and rightfully so. He likes to change girls, bedding them as he pleases. He thinks he can have them all. He's a player, a red flag and you show him he's wrong. It's a story about a boy who has everything but craves to have you.

contains: frat boy!suguru x nerdy!reader, pining, maybe a little slowburn-ish, flirting, smut (unprotected sex, some body worship, mentions of hooking up, booty calls, sexting), wc. 9420 ⋯ reader discretion is advised

kinktober '24 masterlist || art in the header: @/chu-cho on tumblr

Suguru knows how to navigate around the campus. He’s tried all the shortcuts, been on all the parties, talked (and fought) with all the teachers. He’s known around — troublemaker, a frat boy, a heartbreaker. It’s no news to anyone that Suguru Geto is a red flag personified; a ladies’ man, playing with every beauty he deems worthy of attention. And he’s lucky too, girls tend to love him, all of them. After all, bad girls love bad boys and good girls, unfortunately, do too. He’s a flame that attracts all the moths, a sin that tempts and renders every heart helpless. He’s a siren song luring women towards their doom. The ultimate playboy, reveling in the attention he gets everywhere he shows up, soaking it up like a cat basking in the sun.

It’s unfair, he jokes sometimes, when he aims to add another notch to his bedpost. Unfair how easy it is for him to have what he wants, how all that meets his gaze is heart-eyes and flushed cheeks. But he likes it, he likes to take, he likes to be wanted and pick from the crowd. It boosts his ego. He is, after all, drop dead gorgeous. He is, truly, with his long, raven hair and purple glint to his eyes, all surrounded by an air of sexy danger coming from his piercings, his clothes and the way he acts.

“Who’s that?” He wonders, mind rushing through the extensive catalogue of female students he knows. “She’s new.” Clearly. He doesn’t know you yet.

You’re pretty, too pretty for him to let you go just like that. You came to the party at the frat house, but you don’t seem to fit right in. Maybe you’re a transfer student? Or a friend of someone? It doesn’t look like you’re someone’s girlfriend. A man that’s sane would not let you wander around such place alone. Not in that dress. You’re gorgeous, breathtaking. You make Suguru’s heart beat a little bit faster, his pulse quickening and he can hear it in his ears, a steady thump echoing over the sound of music. It’s excitement — something he has not felt in a long time.

His friends say something. He’s not listening, eyes laser focused on you and only you. You move with grace, your hips sway from side to side like a pendulum as you find your way through the crowded living room. Your cup is empty, it’s clear from the way you tap it with your fingernail every time someone tries to stop you — you’re pointing on it, gesturing your intentions as you try to speak over the loud music and blurring chatter. You seem polite too, the way you smile brightens the area. He likes how it reaches your eyes, how your nose scrunches a little and the skin near your temples crinkle. Everything about you is hypnotizing, you know what you’re doing. You have to know what you’re doing. You’re magnetic and he wouldn’t be able to resist even if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

You push through the crowd and Suguru follows, a predator stalking its prey. You are, after all, like a sweet little rabbit tonight. His eyes never leave your back, watching the way your hair sways and bounces with each step you take, how the fabric of your dress hugs your delectable curves. You look soft, he’d love to touch you, to squeeze those plush thighs, to feel the pliable flesh of your rear, to have your chest squeezed against the hard planes of his muscular torso. He wonders how soft your skin is under the fabric, if it’s smooth and warm to touch. He wants to find out, to explore every inch of it until he maps out every mole, scar and birthmark. He licks his lips subconsciously, his tongue swiping over the piercing in his lower lip and he wonders if you’d like it — if the cold metal decorating his mouth would be something you’re into.

He catches you in the kitchen. You’re holding a can of strawberry flavored soda and looking around, and he knows what you’re searching for. “Hey there, beautiful,” he greets smoothly, flashing you a smile that’s known for making girls weak in the knees. “Allow me,” he reaches, taking the cold metal from your hands — his fingers brush against yours as your eyes met, the touch lingering a little longer than necessary but he’s content as he swiftly opens the can for you, earning himself a chuckle.

He’s already got you.

“Thank you,” you smile, taking the drink back and filling your cup with the pinkish liquid. It smells sweet, the delicate aroma of artificial fruit breaking through the typical mixture of sweat and alcohol that fills the room. It’s refreshing, the scent, the look of bubbles dancing at the edges of your cup. You take a sip, tasting the flavor on your tongue and he wants to try it too. From your lips, preferably. Those glistening, cherry-colored lips. Oh, you look delectable.

“I’m Suguru,” he grins again, his eyes scanning your breathtaking features and committing the picture to memory. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” He already envisions you below him.

“I doubt that too,” you nod and you know he’s attracted to you. It’s clear from the way he looks at you, eats you with his eyes only. Obvious from how his gaze lingers on your lips a little longer than he should but you allow him. You introduce himself too and he repeats, testing the name on his tongue.

“What brings a gorgeous woman like you to our little shindig?” He extends his hand out to shake yours, his thumb brushing over your delicate skin as his touch lingers.

“I got invited by one of my friends but I can’t seem to find her in this crowd. I’m sure she’s having fun somewhere though, it’s alright,” you explain, briefly looking over the students crowded in the main area of the house. Most of them are drunk already despite the quite early hour but you don’t mind it. A frat party is exactly what you expected it to be. “I wouldn’t honestly dare to call this a little shindig.”

Suguru chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Well, I suppose ‘little’ was an understatement,” he grins and sips on his own drink. “How do you like it so far? Do you enjoy the mingling masses and blasting music or maybe I could steal you away? My room is just upstairs.” His eyes flick down to your lips once more before meeting your gaze again, a hint of mischief dancing in their violet depths. One step closer and he’s invading your personal space just slightly. “Because I could show you a good time, if you’d like. Just the two of us, away from all that noise and chaos,” he finishes a little quieter, a little lower. His tone is meant to seduce, to tempt you and he knows it always works. In his mind, he’s already alone with you, he imagines tracing your curves as he trails kisses along your jawline. His touch feels electric against your skin and you have to give him that — he sure does know how to get the attention he wants.

“I appreciate the offer, but I came here for the noise and the chaos,” you reply, smiling as your hand finds his wrist in a gentle caress meant to put some distance between his fingertips and your skin. “It’s not every day I get to attend a party such as this one,” that said, you’re ready to retract when his free hand meets the curve of your hip. You hear a hum and he’s suddenly much closer, you feel his breath on your lips, a mixture of mint and something strongly alcoholic. A little sweet too. A coke, maybe. There’s warmth bouncing off of him, one that you feel tingling on your skin when he leans down to meet your height. The tip of his nose teases yours before it moves to the side, running over the lines of your cheekbone.

“Are you sure?” He asks, smirking as he waits for your resolve to crumble. Not a single girl before you had resisted his charms and you surely are not going to be the first. He enjoys the challenge you present. Most girls would have melted under his touch but you remain composed. He likes that. He likes a woman who knows what she wants. “We could make our own noise, create our own chaos.”

“I’m content with all that’s happening here,” you hum, slipping out of his embrace. “Thank you for the company, Suguru. It was nice to meet you,” and you’re gone.

He stands there, dumbfounded. He stands there, once more looking at your back and he cannot believe what happened. A bunny that slipped from the hands of a wolf, girl that rejected Suguru’s charms, A moth that said no to the flames of his lust. A challenge he’s not going to pass on.

He smirks.

Before, he just wanted to have you.

Now, he has to have you.

And he will do whatever it takes.

Over the next weeks, Suguru has not given up. He hasn’t been able to get you out of his head, his interest in you hasn’t diminished; if anything, it’s grown stronger with each passing day. He’s determined to unravel the enigma that is you, to uncover the secrets hidden behind your captivating eyes and sweet smile. There’s something about you that made him desperate. A mystery he cannot quite unravel, a puzzle he can’t solve. And he thinks of you. He finds himself lost in thoughts of you more often than he’d care to admit. He spots you around campus occasionally, always looking effortlessly stunning and each time, he feels that familiar pull, that undeniable attraction that draws him to you.

Maybe it’s him, who’s the moth.

He doesn’t like this. How you always brush his advances off, how sweetly you smile while doing so. Every time he wants to touch you, you slip right through his fingers. You have tainted him with longing he has never felt before, you ruined him. He doesn’t want other women anymore, the line of booty-calls and flings blocked and removed from his phone. The nights he spends thinking of you, fucking his fist and swearing to all gods above and below to change, asking for a chance to sink his teeth into you. Because he doesn’t want anyone else. And he doesn’t know what you have done to him.

“Fancy seeing you there,” he remarks, settling himself beside you on the bench outside the library. The afternoon is particularly sunny, warmth caressing your skin as you sit comfortably, engrossed in a book. “Mind if I join you?” He asks, but he doesn’t wait for the response, as he leans over to glance at the title of your read. “Ah, philosophy. A deep thinker, huh? I like that.”

“Do you?” You ask, nudging a bookmark between the pages. “You don’t strike me as a philosophical type. You seem to me more of a live-in-the-moment kinda guy.”

He chuckles. “You’d be surprised,” he replies, his tone light and teasing, “there’s more to me than just good looks and undeniable charm. Although, I won’t deny that those are pretty great assets,” he winks playfully. Suguru leans back on the bench, stretching his long legs out in front of him. The ripped, black denim exposes a bit of his thigh, the ink of his tattoos peeking through the dark threads, drawing your attention.

“Oh, the confidence. It’s much more valuable trait than the outside looks,” you hum, leaning against the backrest too.

Geto laughs, a rich, warm sound that carries easily in the quiet outdoor setting. Then, he turns to face you fully, his expression turning serious for a moment. “But you’re right, I’m not usually one for heavy books and deep discussions. I prefer to keep things light and fun.” It’s a confession, he admits to it with a hint of vulnerability that’s quickly pushed behind his typical grin. “Besides, a guy can learn a thing or two from a smart, beautiful woman like yourself.” He flirts, but there’s an underlying sincerity to his words. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Tell me, what’s so captivating about this particular tome? What insights does it hold to have captured your attention so thoroughly?”

“It’s a tale of a man discovering what really matters in modern life, a story of loss and reconciliation. The narrator, whose days are counted due to sudden diagnosis, meets the Devil who offers him an extra day of life in exchange of making one thing in the world disappear,” you explain briefly and he watches your fingers dancing over the front cover of the book, tracing the lines of the simple graphic of a cat. “There comes the question, how do you separate out what you can do without from what you hold dear? I think it’s something we don’t pay much attention to in our lives because we have everything within reach, but what if something just… disappeared? The narrator has to take responsibility for each one of his decisions. There’s no going back, there never will be, once a thing is gone, it’s gone.”

Suguru listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he absorbs your words. “That’s quite… It makes you think, doesn’t it?” He muses, nodding slowly. “It makes you wonder what you’d choose to erase if given a chance to live just a day longer.”

“The question of how to decide what’s okay to remove and what’s not is what makes me think the most,” you look up. The day is beautiful today, fluffy clouds travel sparsely over the azure blue sky, the sun warms your skin with its golden rays and the birds sing, hidden within the crowns of the nearby trees. You hear some chatter, somewhere from the distance where other students pass by, you hear the cars that honk impatiently as they stand in the traffic and you hear a dog barking. There’s a park not far away. “Some things that are insignificant to me might be the entire world to someone else.”

“So you think the burden of consequences might outweigh the price of life itself,” he notes, his eyes studying the lines of your profile. Your eyes, reflecting the blue of the sky, your cheeks flushed from the wind and sunrays. He thinks the color of your scarf makes your complexion looks brighter. “I don’t know if I would be capable of eradicating something from the world permanently. At first, I thought it might be easy, just get rid of something small and simple, but then it made me wonder if things I think are unimportant, truly are so.”

Truth is, Suguru doesn’t think he would dwell much about the topic if not you, but he wonders what if. What if he made a decision that would cause a war? Or someone else’s loss? What if a thing that he picks results in him not meeting you?

“That’s what philosophy does to you,” you chuckle, turning your gaze back to him, just to meet his eyes glued to yourself.

“But maybe that’s what makes life worth living,” he turns to you fully, his eyes wondering as he drops his usual playfulness and mischief. “It’s much easier to pretend we have control over our lives and the world around us rather than confront the harsh truth that we are all just tiny cogs in a vas, unpredictable machine. But maybe it’s the uncertainty, the constant surprises, the knowledge that anything can change in an instant what makes the journey worth the effort.”

“Maybe it is,” you nod, taking a moment to let his words sink in. “I wouldn’t expect you to engage in topics such as this. I apologize,” you offer a smile and he melts.

“You know, most people assume I’m just a pretty face. They don’t expect me to have substance beneath the surface,” he muses, his expression turning thoughtful before he lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess I do give them the reasons to do so. But I really enjoy talking to you. It’s nice to have conversations that aren’t just surface-level flirting and innuendos. There’s just something about you...” He trails off, reaching out tentatively, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger against your skin for a moment before falling away. “I like how you challenge me, make me think deeper than I usually do. You are a puzzle I can’t wait to solve.” His gaze locks with yours, his expression open and vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen from him before. “Can I see you again? Like this, I mean. Just talking, getting to know each other better.”

The question hangs heavy in the air as you consider it. You will meet him again, one way or another, somewhere around the campus or at another frat party. You will see him again as he targets another girl, flirting his way into another pair of panties. And you exhale, your lips curving upwards slightly as you lean your head on your fist, elbow on your knee.

“Suguru,” you begin, his name slipping over your tongue with ease you enjoy. But you know better than this. You have seen it all too well how he treats women. “I enjoy conversing with you and if it’s just talk that you want from me, then I will find time to meet you again. But I need you to know that I will not allow myself to be another notch on your bedpost. It’s easy to get swayed by your charms, but I know your reputation and I know it for sure that if I had to give up one thing in the world, it would never be self-respect.”

And he knows for sure that if he had to give up romance for the rest of his life just to have you, he wouldn’t think twice about it.

“I don’t want to charm my way between your legs,” he swears, too quickly, too desperate to make himself believable and he groans, annoyed by his own self. He nervously runs his hand through his dark, raven hair. “Just, please, give me a chance. I won’t lie to your face and say that I’m suddenly ready to settle down or that I’m done sowing my wild oats entirely. I know what kind of reputation I have and I can’t deny that I’ve played the field more times than I can count. I’ve earned it fair and square,” he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. All of the lustful nights flashed before his eyes, the nameless girls, the empty promises and unanswered calls afterwards. All the nudes, all the sexts, all the quickies in the locker rooms and dingy bathrooms. Suguru would give them all away if only earned a chance to be with you. “I want to change. I already started to change. You don’t have to believe me right away, but you are different. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something special about you. And I won’t lie that I’m not attracted to you physically. That would be impossible. But there’s more to it than that. Something worth pursuing beyond just a one-night stand.”

“And what change are you talking about?” You quiz. “Because as far as I am concerned, I’ve seen you flirting with some girls just yesterday.”

And he winces, unable to deny your accusation. “You’re right, I did flirt with them. It’s become a second nature to me, a habit I can’t seem to break easily.” He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair once more, frustrated. “But it didn’t go further than talk. I didn’t… I’ve stopped sleeping around. I blocked and removed all the girls’ numbers from my phone, deleted the pictures I had. Fuck, I even declined an invitation for a party with my pals, for the first time since high school. Look,” he leans in, his eyes locked with yours and his hand finds yours. You feel his thumb rubbing soft circles on your knuckles and you wonder if it’s to soothe you or himself. “Being with you, talking to you… it’s opened my eyes to what I have been missing out on. I’ve spent so long chasing meaningless encounters, never allowing myself to form real connections with anyone and now, I’ve tasted something more substantial and realized just how hollow my previous pursuits have been. I want to do better. For you, yes, but also for myself. I want to prove to you that I’m capable of more than just cheap thrills and empty promises.”

It’s true, everything he says. He is ready to drop the player mask, to shed his frat repute just to have a chance at something real, something that makes his heart flutter in his chest and his stomach bubble with butterflies. He is ready to say no to easy sex just to fight for your attention, your touch, your heart.

He is genuine, but you just hum, your expression unreadable as you weigh your next words. You like him desperate. You like how his violet eyes sparkle with puppy-like vulnerability rather than a flirty mischief. And he is beautiful, you cannot deny it — a man of impressive built, clad in ripped jeans and leather, heavy boots and a band tee. He looks like he bites, and you know he does. You take in the sight of his piercings, the large gauges, the snake bites in his lower lip, the piercing across the bridge of his nose, right between his captivating eyes and the one right above his left brow. You wonder what kissing him would feel like. Would the metal come in the way? Or maybe it would add to the experience?

“I’m not sure what to tell you,” you sigh. “I will give you a chance if you think you can change. But you’ll need to prove it. Think about it.”

And he did.

The lonely nights he spends at the frat house, laying in bed instead of partying with his friends, he wonders where the path of his change will lead him. What if it’s him, confronting the devil and having a chance to lose himself just to earn a day with you? He thinks he’d take it. He’s sure he would. He flips on the mattress, his eyes squinting as the lights from his phone blinded him with a new message. An unknown number. He opens it, it’s a picture, a bare body that he recognizes by the butterfly tattoo on the ribcage. A nude from one of his exes. She must have gotten a new number because he remembers vividly how he blocked her. Usually, he wouldn’t think twice about it, he’d reply with something cheeky, possibly send an explicit picture of himself, maybe set up a meeting or invite her over. His fingers typed the message before his brain managed to intervene and once he hit ‘send’, he cursed out loud.

“Fuck, you idiot!”

A pillow flew across the room as he stared at the ceiling. Would it hurt to go once more with no strings attached? It’s been some time since he’s gotten laid and the vision of tension coming off of him was a temptation beyond measure. But what about you? What about a change he had promised?

Is the change even for him?

Suguru stares at his phone screen, the message he sent glowing mockingly back at him, a shameful reminder of his weak self-restraint. The girl already replied, they always reply so fast, and he doesn’t know what to do. He knows he fucked up, he knows he shouldn’t have responded. He shouldn’t have even entertained the idea of hooking up with his ex, or any other girl. It goes against everything he told you, everything he promised.

With a heavy sigh, he tosses his phone aside, despite the notifications flooding his inbox. More pictures, the location, the time — an annoying ding makes his blood boil and he groans, burying his face in his hands. He feels conflicted, torn between his desire for physical release and growing feelings for you. He wants to be better, to be the man you deserve, to be the man that deserves you. He wants to prove to you that he’s serious about changing, but old habits die hard. The temptation is still there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, waiting for a split second of vulnerability.

He tosses and turns in bed. His thoughts race with the pictures of you, his mind replaying every conversation, every shared laugh and stolen touch. He remembers the way your eyes sparkled when you discussed philosophy, the passion in your voice as you told him about the importance of self-respect. He realizes that those moments were more fulfilling than any other fleeting pleasure he’s experienced before.

But he gets up anyway, he pulls up his dark-washed jeans and a hoodie, socks and boots and he’s ready to go. With a jacket grabbed in the hallway and a phone in his hand, he leaves the house. The crisp air of near winter hits him the moment he steps outside, cooling the blood in his veins and clearing his thoughts.

12 unread messages.

He groans again, this time into the nightly silence as he strides through the pavement, legs leading him in the direction of his doom. Suguru slips the earphones in, plays on the music but the melody and lyrics are helpless against the chaos in his mind.

It’s pointless, to resist his own body. He knows it’s pointless, he knows he has control over his legs and deep down he knows he would reject the booty call if he truly wanted. You deserve a better man anyway, not a player that fucks around like it’s a sport. You deserve someone who would worship the ground you walk on, a man of culture and manners with whom you’d engage in long, deep conversations late in the evenings, not a man-boy who cannot control his own dick. But fuck, does he wants you.

He wants you so bad, he wants to be all those things for you. He wants those discussions about philosophy and life, he wants to kiss your knuckles and be the knight in the shining armor, carrying you in his arms and shielding you from the world and assholes such as himself.

He lights up the cigarette, taking a deep breath in and looking up. The night is pretty. Calm. He wonders if you are already sleeping. Or maybe it’s one of those nights that you pull in order to study and secure your grades. The semester just began but he learned it already that you care about your future more than he does about his own. You’re a little nerdy. He thinks it’s cute. He can imagine himself wrapping a blanket around your shoulders when it’s late and carrying you to bed when you’re falling asleep on top of the books and notes. You would fit perfectly in his arms.

“You fucking moron,” he slanders himself quietly, already seeing the motel in front of him. He shouldn’t be there but he moves forward anyway. He knows his ex is already waiting for him, he can tell by the lights in the room they always used to book for the casual encounters. He stops before he enters, giving the smoke few more moments to burn. He can feel it in his lungs, somehow calming as he checks his phone, scrolling through the notifications.

One of the messages is from you.

It’s innocent in the sea of suggestive texts. There’s an apology for the late hour and a book title that you promised to send him a day before. The one you’ve been reading for the last few days and the one that made him rethink his entire life’s choices. There’s not much substance in the message, but it shakes him awake.

The turn he takes is aggressive, it’s resolute. Heavy boots thudding against the concrete panels as he walks away from the motel. ‘Sorry, not coming.’ He sends the message and blocks the number, feeling lighter the second he removes the nude picture and the unwanted contact.

It takes just an hour before he knocks at your door, the dormitory silent in the nightly time so he keeps himself quiet. You open after a long moment, dressed in a make-shift pajama. He likes the way your hair is messy from the pillows, how you smell like vanilla and flowers and coffee. You look so pretty like this, so undone, so unexpecting yet not entirely disappointed to see him. You seem… content?

“Suguru?” His name comes from your mouth and you usher him inside, afraid of someone seeing him. Once the doors shut behind him, your eyes search him for answers.

“Brought you some food, I thought you might need it,” he grinned, showing off the box of pizza and a bottle of soda. “I figured you’re studying tonight and might need some fuel.”

“So thoughtful,” you tease, but the smile that shapes your mouth reaches your eyes, so he knows it’s genuine. He follows you to your bedroom and he’s not surprised seeing the notes all over your bed and scattered on the floor. The papers full of sparsely highlighted knowledge that you want to transfer into your brain take most of the space before you gather them onto a neat pile. He sits right there, on the newly uncovered spot on your mattress. It feels intimate, to be in your room, to rest on your bed, to see you in your pajama. He wonders if you know what the sight of your thighs does to him, the plush, tender flesh begging to be touched, kissed and kneaded. Suguru thinks your skin would look beautiful with bitemarks all over.

“So, pizza,” he clears his throat after letting his eyes linger for way too long on your bare legs. “I took pepperoni, I hope you like it.”

“It’s perfect,” you smile and separate the barely cut pieces for easier access. “I appreciate the thought, really. But there was no need for you to leave the house just to do this.”

“For you, I would do it at every hour,” he says and then sighs deeply. “But truth is, I didn’t plan this.” Suguru feels like he’s inside the confessional. It’s a foreign tension, completely different from the one he felt just hour before. The knot in his stomach has nothing to do with lust and desire and all to do with stress and regret. “I’ve received a booty-call from my ex. That’s why I left the house,” he spats it out quickly, thinking it’ll hurt less if he does it in rush. “I didn’t go there though. I told her I’m not coming, blocked the number and came here instead.”

You stay neutral, chewing on the pizza as your tired eyes size him up. “Old habits die hard, huh?” You mock, slightly amused by his tormented expression. His eyebrow creases before he lets himself drop back onto the mattress, a soft grunt escaping his mouth as he covers his face with his hands.

“I meant it. I want to change and I’m working on it.” He says, his voice quiet and devoid of his usual cheekiness. “I fucked up when I entertained the idea of hooking up with a random person tonight but cut me some slack, I didn’t do it.”

 “Good boy,” you mock-praise and he groans again, but then his entire body tenses when you lay next to him. He feels your breath against his cheek, the tip of your nose prodding the flesh. He doesn’t move, too afraid to ruin the moment. “Do you regret it? Not going, I mean. Be honest, don’t say what I want to hear.”

“I don’t,” he replies, his tone resolute. “I don’t regret not meeting my ex and not having sex tonight. I was pent up — fuck me, I still am, and when I replied to her text, I didn’t think much about anything except for my dick. But I don’t regret not going because I didn’t want to go. And I’m grateful that you texted me because you reminded me what really is important. Right now, it’s you.”

It makes you smile. He’s torn inside of his mind but you take it as a win anyway. Before, Suguru wouldn’t second-guess pulling his pants down and now you made him think. Now, you made him reconsider; wonder who he is without the façade of the charismatic ladies’ man. He will have to learn to navigate social situations without relying solely on his charm and wit to get what he wants. But he can do this. For you.

Before he speaks again, you’re asleep already. Sideways on the bed, most likely uncomfortable but right next to him and he doesn’t dare to move a muscle in his body. You’re sleeping, your face just an inch from his own. The soft fragrance of your skin fills in his nostrils and not even the smell of pizza nearby can disturb it. There’s a hair somewhere around his face, he doesn’t know if it’s yours or his own, but it tickles his cheek every time you exhale. It’s fine.

An hour passes and he finally gathers the courage to shift, as carefully as he can, he turns to his side, to face you. You’re a vision he takes in with his eyes wide open, committing the picture of your peaceful expression to memory. He likes everything about you, every hair of your eyebrows, every freckle and beauty mark. He likes the way you look so unbothered, so comfortable next to him. He wants to touch you. Oh, how much he craves to caress your cheek, to thread his fingers through your hair. His heart thumps in his chest, reaching speeds matching those of sprinters. The feeling is foreign. Is this…? It cannot be. Suguru Geto is not about… that. His entire life he believed he’s meant to have fun, no strings attached, no responsibilities. What did you do to him?

You move and he stops breathing. It’s an instinct, he thinks, that you shift closer to him, but he tells himself you want that. And you fit so well against his chest, your head below his chin, your hand around his middle. The room spins and he wraps you in the embrace of his arms.

He feels your heartbeat, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing and suddenly, he calms down. It sinks into his mind that it’s where he wants to be. All the years of empty flings, the mediocre orgasms, the shameless pursuits could never compare to the feeling of you in his arms. That’s what he has been missing on. And he will do everything to be the man deserving of you.

Time passes, and Suguru slowly falls into the rhythm of his newfound resolve. It’s easy to decline hookup invitations when he can spend time with you, but maybe he did feel a little too confident when he decided to attend the big, annual party at the frat house. It’s Halloween, after all, how could he not go there when everyone will come? Quickly he falls into familiar routine of charms and alcohol, nursing a beer from a red plastic cup and chatting playfully with attractive attendees. His friends push him towards temptation, inviting more and more girls to the crowd and Suguru feels drawn to the lively atmosphere, the flirtatious banter comes as easy as breathing.

That is, before a pretty sophomore dressed in a devil costume takes a seat next to him — a seat he has kept for you, because you promised you’ll come, despite the need to study. It’s fine if the girl sits there for a moment or two, he thinks, as he engages in a conversation. He knows, it’s as obvious as day, that the second-year beauty is interested in getting into his pants — her hand on his thigh, the fluttering eyelashes and pouty lips say everything about her intentions. As the night progresses, he finds himself more and more… uncomfortable. Surprisingly.

And so, he feels relieved when he sees you in the crowd, late but looking absolutely adorable in your sweet bunny costume. It’s simple yet makes his pants grow tighter as he takes in the way the plain black dress hugs your curves. The fluffy tail bounces with each step you take through the filled living area and the long, pink-lined ears swing just slightly along with your hair whenever you move your head around, looking for something — for him and his heart skips a beat. In that moment, everything fades away — the raucous laughter, the pulsing music, even the sophomore girl next to him.

Excusing himself from company, he forces a smile as he brushes the invasive hand off his thigh and gets up from the sofa, making his way over to you. “Hey there, cutie,” he greets, pulling you into a hug and you melt into his chest in an instant. “Glad you could make it.” He breathes in your scent, letting it calm his nerves but it does little to calm other things down. Fuck, you look perfect.

“How could I miss my favorite frat boy sporting a vampire costume?” You quiz, backing up a little to take in his attire. He’s wearing all black, a dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, pants that make his legs look even longer than they are. His eyes are smudged with little bit of black eyeliner but it works for him, he looks sexy. “Aren’t you a pretty one. I might consider letting you bite me,” you tease, and he knows you’re joking but it doesn’t stop the blood in his body to travel downwards.

“Careful what you wish for, bunny,” he muses, “I might just take you up on that offer and sink my teeth into that delectable neck of yours.” His fingers intertwine with yours as he lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he leads your arm up onto his shoulder. “God, I missed you,” he murmurs as he lowers his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He feels you chuckle, your nails scratching at his scalp as you thread your fingers through his dark locks. Once more you proved him that the change is worth it, because it’s you who’s on the line. “Dance with me?” He asks and you move with him towards the makeshift dancefloor.

Suguru pulls you closer as you enter the rhythm of the music, one hand resting on the small of your back while the other twirls you around gracefully. You’re giggling, amused by the undivided attention he pays you — he’s sweet when he has his eyes on the target, when he has to work for something. He dips you dramatically and your hand tighten on his shoulder, but it’s secure, the way he holds you as if he wished to protect you from all the bad in the world. His eyes lock with yours as he pulls you back up, flush against him. The heat radiating off both your bodies mingles together, creating an intoxicating aura that threatens to consume you whole.

You don’t really listen to what’s playing, a melody mellows in the background as his hands trace patterns along your sides and hips, follow the line of your spine, sometimes teasing the fluffy ball that is your tail. His touch ignites sparks wherever he grazes, leaving trails of fire in its wake. He’s hungry, for you, and you are too. It’s hard to deny it any longer and you think that maybe, just maybe he is ready to commit to something more than just a fleeting romance. It’s been months since he began pursuing you and his attention has been focused solely on you, despite the obstacles and temptations of his life. A reward wouldn’t hurt now, would it?

“I need a drink,” you tell him and he’s quick to react, taking your hand and leading the way towards the kitchen. He knows what you like, snatching a can of strawberry soda from the counter. When you nod in approval, he opens it, too hasty, too eager, that he doesn’t realize the way it bubbles over, spilling over the aluminum container and his fingers. Before he can react, your lips are already on his skin, licking away the sticky trail of pinkish liquid.

Suguru freezes as he feels your tongue glide across his skin, tasting the sweetness of the spilled soda. A shiver runs down his spine at the sensation, his breath hitching in his throat. Desire darkens his eyes, pupils dilate as he watches, transfixed, how you lick the sugary mess from his fingers. The sensation sends jolts of electricity coursing through his veins, pooling in the pit of his stomach. He breathes out your name, but you’re quick to shut him up.

You pull him down, your hand in his hair as you press your lips to his own. He tastes the strawberry sweetness of the soda on your tongue as it dances with his own, the flavor mixing deliciously with the taste of you. The dripping can is soon forgotten on the fake-marble countertop as he scoops you closer, arms wrapping around your waist securely. He can feel the heat of your body through the thin fabric of your costume, the softness of your curves molding perfectly against the hardness of his muscles. He’s eager, he moans lightly into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips. You feel the cold metal rubbing against your face, it’s interesting, it’s addicting. You like it.

“Always wanted to try that,” he pants out when for a moment you pull back. He chases your mouth, hungry for more, desperate.

“The soda?” You ask, pressing soft pecks to his pout.

“You.” He lounges forward once again, unsatiated and you don’t stop him. You don’t hear music anymore, all that’s rumbling in your ear is the sound of your heartbeat. You feel the heat in your veins, the flooding of ecstasy filling your cells one by one. There’s no space left between you, but you take a step forward anyway. You feel his hips rolling, a desperate cry for any sort of friction and when you slip your hand down, palming his groin through his pants, he groans into your mouth as his hips buck involuntarily into your touch. “Please,” he begs, eyes locking with yours as he leans his forehead against your own. He can feel himself throbbing beneath the confines of his pants, straining desperately for more of your attention. “You want me too, please tell me you do. I can’t… It hurts, I crave you so much, it hurts.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you murmur. “Your room is upstairs, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he breathes out. “But I won’t take you there. You deserve better than this place and my filthy bed. Let me take you to my apartment.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and you follow him anyway, your hand incased in his large one, sticky from the spilled soda but none of you seem to care as you saunter through the dancing crowd of young people. Just to get outside.

The walk is a blur, you don’t remember much of it and so does Suguru. The night air is crisp, sending chills down your spine and the boy teases you about it, promising all the warmth he can produce in just few moments. You laugh with him, unbothered by the cool wind that tousles your hair. “It’s just around the corner,” he promises and you hum, matching his pace as he leads you through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. The world blur into nothing, all you see is the man that holds your hand, the blue-ish hint to his hair whenever the lights fall on it just right, the sticky heat of his palm. You can still smell the faint strawberry aroma; you can definitely feel it on your tongue even though you didn’t manage to truly take a sip of it.

And you laugh again when he fumbles with the keys to his apartment. “Nervous?” You tease him playfully. “You have no idea,” he replies, smiling sheepishly and the entry finally swings open. He ushers you inside, kicking the door shut behind him and flicking the lights on.

Suguru wastes no time, pulling you flush against him once more as he presses you against the nearest wall, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. His hands roam your body greedily, mapping out every dip and curve, learning the shape of you and you do the same. He shrugs the jacket off and you’re quick to explore the broad lines of his shoulders, the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. You feel him everywhere, the hungry touch devouring every inch of your form. He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down the column of your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin and you whimper breathily — the sound undeniably similar to his own name.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, guiding him lower as he reaches your chest. His kisses grow more wet and delicate as he meets the soft mounds of your breasts, tightly confined by the neckline of your dress. He breaths in your scent, an intoxicating mixture of sweet and floral. It makes his head spin, it’s addicting. He wants more.

It’s easy to slip the dress off of you — first the straps and then the garment goes down, inch by inch revealing the smooth expanse of your skin to his starved gaze. He drinks in the sight of you, his eyes roaming hungrily over the newly exposed flesh and in that moment he swears he has never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life. His fingers skim along the edges of your bra, tracing the lace delicately before he leans in again, kissing your lips with softness that speaks more than any words could. He wants you, but he wants to worship you. He doesn’t want to make it all about lust and desire, he wants to make it about you and him. About whatever is this feeling that bubbles between you.

And so, he moves down slowly, lips mapping out the curve of your collarbone and down the path to your sternum. His hands follow your curves with gentleness he doesn’t recognize in himself. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his hot breath meeting the skin of your stomach, “just breathtaking,” he lowers himself to his knees — something he has never done in his entire life, used to have women at his feet.

“Suguru,” you breathe out but he doesn’t listen. Not when the skin of your thighs feels so soft against his cheeks, not when it tastes so delicious as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses along the plush flesh. Your fingernails find a way into his hair and he dives between your legs, encouraging one of them to hook over his shoulder. He savors the scent of you, his nose rubbing against the fabric of your underwear, prodding at the little wet patch. He licks it, his tongue flattening over the cotton, catching a hint of your taste — and that’s enough to make him go crazy for you.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet,” he breathes out, every exhale that meets the wetness of your panties sends jolts of electricity up your spine and back down to your core. He presses his lips to where he thinks your clit is, you feel him sucking gently and it’s enough friction to feel yourself pulsating. You moan quietly, the sound escaping your parted lips easily as your hold on his hair tightens. There’s no denying that you want him just as much as he wants you. He’s desperate but so are you.

Your knee buckle as he continues the torture and he coos sweetly. “Let’s take you to bed, you sweet thing,” his tone is sugary, a melody dripping with honey as he smiles at you in a way that makes you blush. There’s adoration written all over his face, his cheeks are flushed, lips red and glistening. You want to follow him when he stands up, but he swoops you off your feet, carrying you bridal style towards the bedroom. It makes you giggle.

“Practicing already?” You muse and he just smiles.

“Perhaps.”

Your back meets the cold bedspread as he lays you down delicately. No time is wasted before he’s right above you, right on you — you feel the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress. No complains about it. He feels good, his hips rolling in a way that has his bulging erection grind along your panties. You hate the fabrics between you two, you hate how they make you feel less of him.

So you move your hands, slide them between your bodies, fumble with the buttons of his shirt. “Impatient much?” He teases, but helps you, pulling the shirt over his head, saving you trouble of the bottom fasteners. His lips find yours in a kiss that burns and you whimper into it, feeling the warmth spreading all over your body.

You reach down. Button, zipper. Your hands tremble as you push the fabric off his hips and he kicks it down. He helps himself with a hand and soon, his pants are on the ground, along with his socks and your bra, that you impatiently toss away. Suguru’s heart rumbles against his ribcage as he takes in the sight of your bare chest. It’s perfect, you are perfect and he cannot believe the luck he has — after years of chasing simple pleasures and meaningless peaks, he had finally found someone he wants to call his.

He feels your heart underneath his cheek as he leans down, inhaling the scent of your skin — his nose trails patterns over the soft flesh before he presses his lips to it, kissing his way towards one of your nipples. It pebbles beneath his touch, hardening as he latches onto it, sucking and teasing it with teeth, twirling his tongue all around. He matches his ministrations with his fingers, not letting the twin feel left out. Your taste is of pure heaven and the sounds that leave your mouth are ones of an angel.

There’s a patch of wet on his boxers, right where the throbbing head of his cock strains against the fabric — the precum oozing out as he grinds his hips against yours. It makes him insane how you reply with the roll of your own, to match his moves, to cause more of that delicious friction that sends both of you into a spiral of desire.

Unable to wait any longer, you hook your fingers at the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down and Suguru replies with the same — pulling the soaked cotton off of you. He wants to taste you, and he will, but not now. He reaches down, guiding the tip of his cock between the folds of your pussy, the head sliding with ease as your slick mixes with the pearly beads of semen. He loves the way your thighs tremble every time he glides over your sensitive clit, how your breath hitches and eyes close.

“Ready?” The question falls and you nod fervently, your hands finding his shoulders for balance. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“I’m ready,” you assure and then, your back arches off the mattress. He slides in inch by inch, stretching you, filling you so completely, making you go blind for a moment. The pain burns just faintly, losing its flames to the flooding of endorphins and pleasure. He goes in to the hilt, his body shuddering as he drops his head to the crook of your neck.

The feeling overwhelms him. The way your pussy grips him, like a vice that almost pulls him in more and more. It’s delightful. Ecstatic. It’s something he’s never experienced before. Is that what love feels like? He moves, slowly backing his hips until there’s nothing but a tip nestled inside you before he pushes forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs and his own too.

You paw at his arms, his back and chest. You want him closer, you want to feel all of him. Stars are clouding your vision, the world ceases to exist and there’s nothing else in it but you and the man on top of you. He feels so good, like he’s meant to be right there with you and Suguru feels the same. Like he found home, like he belongs there, in the warmth of your embrace, in the tightness of your walls. He loves the way you cling to him, the way your nails dig into his skin and your heels dig into his ass, urging him to go harder, faster. He complies, his hips snapping against yours as the wet sounds of your bodies colliding echo through the room, alongside your moans and gasps.

He changes the angle, shifting his hips to hit that spot inside you that makes the stars glitter before your eyes. He knows he’s found it when your back arches off the bed, your nails scoring down his back and a scream tears from your throat. He loves the sound, he loves the sight. He loves how you come undone, how beautifully blissed out your expression is, how your eyes lock with his even though you see nothing but haze. He grins, a smile lost against your skin as he continues pounding into you relentlessly, chasing his own high. He can feel it already, it threatens to consume him. His balls draw up tight, his heart races in his chest.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his groans and whimpers against your tender flesh as his hand grips your hip tightly. You match him thrust for thrust, nails leaving angry red marks in their wake. You feel the pleasure building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you feel you might explode. Your walls start to flutter around him to the rhythm of your heartbeat and the desire coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Suguru gasps, his voice strained with exertion. He knows you’re close, it drives him insane. “I’m gonna—” He cuts himself off with a guttural moan as his climax hits him like a freight train. He follows you into the pit of pure delight, headfirst, no thoughts. Just pure, overwhelming bliss.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, as his hips buck forward few more times, riding out your highs with stuttered thrusts. You both lay there, panting and sweating, basking in the afterglow of passion. His softening cock slips out of you, followed by a gush of combined fluids but none of you worries about the mess, too blissed out to care about a thing.

“Wow,” he breathes, nuzzling his face into your neck, finding your pulse with his lips. “That was incredible.”

You giggle softly, carding your fingers through his sweat-dampened locks. They feel like silk, soft and luxurious. “Mm, it certainly was.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he exhales, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms. He presses a tender kiss to your temple, marveling at the intimacy of the moment. It feels new, like an uncharted territory that he wants to explore further. With you. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmurs, his voice barely above whisper and sincere. “I want to be better. To be worthy of you.”

You hum, lifting your head to look at him and all you see in his violet eyes is raw honesty and a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. “I believe you,” you tell him, leaning in to capture his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. There’s no more rush, no more lust — just pure, soft affection. “And I want to help you change. Together, yeah?”

Suguru smiles against our mouth, his heart swelling with love he never knew he was capable of.

Together.

[brucedefender4eva]

As much as I love when fanfics give a character who has been traumatized in their media (but their writers don’t ever show them affected by the horrors) having realistic reactions to what happened to them (anxiety attacks, PTSD, trust issues, etc)

Their family helps them through their problems and the issues that they’ve gained from it. Showing them that it’s okay to be vulnerable and they’ll always be there for them

I also equally love the opposite. Instead of a character being affected by the horrors, they’re just… completely fine

Everyone else around them is freaking out and expecting a meltdown of some kind, completely ready to support them in any way possible, but it never comes

It’s just another fucking day. No panic attacks, no flash backs, nada. Family thinks that they’re hiding it from them when in reality the person affected is confused on why everyone is hovering around them

The batfam is waiting for the other shoes to drop with Bruce constantly. You’d think that after this man became a short term paraplegic from Bane breaking his back that Bruce would be wary about facing the man again

Maybe even refuse to do so?

They get an alert on the Batcomputer and Bane is causing havoc in the city. He’s pumped up on Venom and destroying everything in his way.

They’re glancing at each other like “Oh shit. What the fuck do we do? Do we wanna put Bruce through all that again?”

And Bruce is just… suiting up. Doesn’t fucking phase him in the slightest. He’s fought Bane a million times before and he’ll do it a million times again. He just really wants to punch someone with all his might, knowing they won’t die from it

His kids are exchanging nervous glances as Bruce maps out a plan and as they’re leaving Alfred hands them small med kits to keep with them

“Master Bruce, please be careful.” Alfred says through his coms as he’s jumping from building to building, his voice unusually tinged with worry. Alfred only ever comes on coms and tells him to be careful when the villain that he’s facing is of considerable risk to himself or his children

Bruce is fucking confused. Why would he need to be more careful than he already is? He’s Batman

“It’s just Bane, agent A.”

“B… he broke your back…” Oracle chimes in quietly

“Right, he did do that didn’t he? I forgot that happened.”

“?” The boys look at each other in confusion. Did their Dad really just say that

“You forgot?” Cass asked, her voice incredulous

“Not that big of a deal.” Bruce shrugged, glancing over in confusion as all of his kids stopped, instead turning to face him

“Dad… are you serious?” Tim asked, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline

“As I’ve stated, not a big deal.” Bruce doesn’t know why they seem to be making a huge deal out of this. It’s been years. It’s not like anyone brought it up

“Bruce, you don’t have to be strong in front of us.” Dick whispered softly, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. Even with the mask Bruce could tell his eldest was looking at him with those deep soulful eyes he has whenever he’s trying to comfort someone.

“I’m not??” Bruce said, looking around to see his kids doubtful faces. “Seriously I’m not. It happened and I got over it.”

“You don’t just get over being paralyzed Bruce.” Barbra’s said soothingly, using the same voice she does when she tries to calm down terrified children.

“Seriously old man, we’ve all been through some shit. If you wanna sit this one out, we understand.” Jason said, in a rare moment of kindness toward Bruce.

Unfortunately, it was completely unneeded and just made Bruce even more annoyed.

“Oh I get it. This is a rouse. You all want to get out from patrol tonight.” Bruce said, figuring out what all the concern was about (he didn’t figure out shit). “If it wasn’t a school night I would’ve just brought Robin.” Bruce mumbled under his breath.

As Bruce grappled away to another building, still intent on hunting down Bane and taking him back to Arkham, all his kids could do was stare after him in disbelief.

“He seriously doesn’t care…” Steph chuckled softly, shaking her head in astonishment. “Bruce is so fucking weird.”

[chow0w]

could you design Qibli? he’s my fave character!!!

Don't worry, Qibli is actually one of the more requested characters. @shionin and @fantasykiri5 also asked to see a Qibli redesign, and here it is!

(I kind of thought Qibli was second-most requested, but it's actually Queen Scarlet which is really surprising)

Either way, here's my Qibli redesign! I've loved Qibli since his introduction, so this was honestly really great to finally do - although I will admit this redesign isn't very similar to how I imagined him as a kid, since most of my interpretations of the WoF characters were based on MAPs which generally made Qibli less orange. Regardless, I'm pretty happy with this design and I feel like it fits him in its own way.

Moving over to the details: Qibli's scales haven't really been changed too much: he uses a color pallet similar to most canon interpretations, with the added full-body freckles and sunspots to keep things consistent throughout his design. I always wondered why the freckles were only on his face? Although that does make a lot of sense actually... a lot of people only get freckles on their face, me included. (Now I'm wondering why that didn't make sense to younger me!) Qibli's frills and wings had the most drastic change - I added a lot more orange/umber hue to them, and focused on sunstreak/spotty/sun-like patterns - I was definitely running with that freckle theme a little.. but it's also kind of cute because it parallels Sunny, and you could argue that Qibli and Sunny are both Thorn's kids.

Speaking of; Qibli still has his outclaw band, as well as a few other sparse alt accessories. Deciding his alternative-ness was something I debated a lot on: While I think it's reasonable that Qibli would lean heavily into alternative fashion because of his outclaw status, I also think he would have toned it down slightly out of a desire to appeal to the other students at jade mountain. Sad, but very in-character for someone so concerned with the opinions of others.

--

As always, I'm so grateful to all of you who've read this far and continued to support my redesign blog!! I appreciate all of the notes, asks and messages you've left me - and I'm so excited to keep posting!

If you're looking to request a character to be redesigned, I have an open askbox - but please check my pinned post to see who's on the list already. By the way, it's totally okay to hit up my inbox just to ask if you can get tagged for a certain character's redesign!

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter twelve

⭐︎ You're a bandit like me. Eyes full of stars

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact! hurt/comfort, grumpy x sunshine, post apocalypse au, mentions of death, mentions of killing, mentions of sex, alcohol consumption

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 15k

Author's note: Here it is friends! I've been so excited for this chapter (and I hope you will be too, this has some good stuff). I struggled so much writing this, I have no idea why, it's literally one of my favorite moments in this story so far! But here it is now, and I wouldn't have done it without @hellfire--cult , she wrote a good portion of this (aka all the fun stuff between Steve and Sunshine hehe) so please give her some love ♡

series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

“We can cut through Idaho, Colorado, or we can drive straight through Utah.” Eddie explains with his hand. His eyes are focused on the map before him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes concentrated. 

Steve is standing beside him with his arms crossed, nodding as he thinks of what road seems the best. 

“Wasn’t Colorado crawling with infected when the news was still airing?” Steve mumbles. 

“When was that, Steve?” Eddie shrugs at his friend. “A year or two back? The cold temperatures have either wiped out the infected or they have moved down south by now.” 

Steve nods his head, “yeah, you might be right. What do you think, Nance?” 

Nancy isn’t focusing on the map, she isn’t even listening to them. Her eyes are set on you. You are sitting on the steps of the RV, your head leaning against the door frame. You are staring into blank space, fiddling with the loose string on your flannel. 

Someone who doesn’t know you would think that you are just enjoying the sunlight kissing your face, but it’s not that; she wishes it was that. You are quiet, and you have been quiet for the past few days now since the attack. She understands it, but she is concerned about you, scared that you are losing yourself and that there is nothing she or the guys can do about it. 

Steve’s eyes follow, and his face only falls further. He has been trying to get through to you for days now but it’s like your mind stayed there. You don’t talk much, you barely eat, and your lips are in a permanent straight line. He knows you need time and that you aren’t gone completely because even with your mental absence and your silence, you still let him hold your hand, you still sleep in the same bed with him, you still let him hold you at nights – it became a regular thing, after that day especially. 

Steve needs you close, he needs to feel you in his arms, he needs to know you are there, or else he can’t breathe, he can’t sleep, he can’t function. You are on the same page and, without much debating, you settled on spending every night, every perimeter check, every run into towns together. He knows that he is now going against everything he promised to himself when he first met you, but he can’t help it, he can’t help the way he feels about you now, the way he needs you around. 

He misses your voice, even more so, he misses your laughter and your smile. 

“A few weeks, give or take, and we’re in Nevada. That is, if we don’t get into too much trouble on the road. I’m talking weather conditions, blocked roads, hoards of infected–”

“You just said they moved south.” Nancy frowns, not looking away from you just yet. “Now you are talking about… hoards?” She squints her eyes. 

“Probably, yeah. I think they moved south, but I can’t know for sure, Wheeler. There might be a hoard gathering somewhere – which we’ll deal with, no problem. There also might be more demo shit monsters out there which we had the luck of avoiding so far. We don’t know what kind of trouble we’ll run into the rest of the road. Maybe we’ll even have to lay low for a while,” Eddie exclaims, throwing his hands up. “The winters are brutal out here, we’re lucky if we don’t get snowed in.”

“We will get snowed in at some point. I was stuck in a cabin for two weeks last year, I almost starved and froze to death.” 

Your voice catches everyone by surprise. Eddie and Steve glance at one another before they look at you. You are still staring straight ahead. 

Your words make Steve’s heart ache in his chest, even more so when he thinks about how he treated you when he first met you. How awful he was to you, how much he wanted you to leave, push you out the gates where you would have been all alone again, fighting for survival on your own, fighting the kind of people you have killed for him. 

“It’s gonna take two months or more until we get there.”

“It doesn’t matter how long it will take, Sweetheart.” Eddie says softly. “What matters is that we’ll get there and we will. You’ll see your family again!” He tries to lift you up, to make you see the point in this trip again. 

You will see them again, yeah. 

But what will they think of you after what you have done? 

Eddie notices the way your shoulders tense at his words, the way you suck in a sharp breath, the way your eyebrows furrow as you stare at the ground now. You suddenly get up and move forward. 

“I’m gonna check for more supplies,” you murmur as you walk towards the gas station that Eddie and Nancy have already gathered supplies at. 

Steve follows you without a second thought. Eyes filled with concern and body tense just like yours, “Sunshine–”

“I need a second.” You mumble without looking back. “Just one second…” 

One second to yourself. 

Steve’s face is etched with pain. Sadness flashing across his features, twinkling in his eyes. He halts in his tracks, staring at you in deflation. He wants to follow you, knowing exactly what is troubling you. He so badly wants to take you into his arms and comfort you, but he can’t, not when you are like this. 

Both Eddie and Nancy take a look at him. Pity flashes in both their features, he doesn’t have to look at them to see it. He hates it, hates the way they can see right through him. 

“Steve–”

“It’s fine, Nancy.” Steve grumbles as he takes a few steps back again, he leans against the side of the RV and crosses his arms over his chest. 

She sighs and looks back down at the map before her. Giving you the space that you need, giving him the space as well. 

But Eddie stares at the door you have shut behind you, watching you through the dirty window as you mindlessly walk around the store. His jaw clenches, not in anger at you but in anger for how you feel about yourself. He sees the way you avoid mirrors, the way you stare at your hands for a little too long. He can practically feel the horror you feel towards yourself. 

“I’ll talk to her.” 

Steve pushes himself off the RV again, eyes widening as he watches Eddie stomp after you. 

“Eddie–”

But Eddie doesn’t listen, and he flips his hand up, telling him to stay there. He opens the door and walks inside, not bothering to look back. He closes the door softly, not wanting to startle you. 

He is careful not to step on any broken cans or boxes that fell from the shelves as he looks for you. He walks past the aisles, looking into every one for you. He furrows his eyebrows, wondering where you had disappeared to so quickly in the second he had looked away. 

He searches for a moment until the sound of shuffling lures him into what once used to be an office or a break room. He finds you there, standing in front of a table with your back turned to him. You are holding something in your hand, staring down at it. 

Eddie walks inside, clearing his throat so he doesn’t startle you. You don’t budge. You stand still. He takes a deep breath before he looks over your shoulder and his shoulders tense, a frown appears on his face. 

A mixture of sadness and anger creeps up inside of him. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers as he steps even closer and takes the note from your hand. He glances down at it one more time. He skims over it a second time: ‘If you turn into a monster is it still you inside?’ Eddie crumbles it up and throws it on the ground. 

He doesn’t know whether to pull you into his arms or to scold you. 

He wants to do both. 

Eddie wraps his hand around your bicep and he turns you around, forcing you to face him. 

“Look at me.” 

You hesitate but look up at him after taking a deep breath. 

Eddie’s gaze softens when he sees the vulnerability in your eyes. His shoulders slump and he sighs. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers as he moves his hand up to your shoulder. “Don’t even think about it, don’t let your mind go there. You are not a monster.” 

You don’t regret what you did, not in the slightest. You would do it again and again if it meant saving your friend, if it meant saving him. You would do anything for your friends. You would do anything to keep him safe. 

“I murdered them–” 

“Monsters. You killed monsters.” He gives you a pointed look, trying to get it through that thick head of yours. “Do you think that’s what we think of you now? That you are some kind of monster too?” 

Your silence answers his question. 

Eddie shakes his head wildly, gripping your shoulder tighter. 

“You did what you had to do, what we couldn’t do but don’t… don’t think for one second that I, that we wouldn’t do the same for you. I would have ripped those bastards apart one by one to save you, and I know that Steve would have done the same.” 

Your eyes soften at his words. You know he is telling the truth, the look in his eyes is so determined and truthful. 

“You saved him, you saved us. I don’t care how you did it, you could have fed them to the infected – hell, I would have helped you drag them to their dinner table. But stop being so hard on yourself, stop living in there,” he taps your forehead. “I know what that evil part of your brain is trying to tell you and I can promise you that it’s all bullshit, okay? You’re a fucking saviour, Sweets. You are fucking hero.”

The tension on your face disappears little by little. Your lips start curling up a bit. 

“You’re not a monster, we don’t think that about you, and your family won’t either. Hell, your brother will be proud to have such a powerhouse as a sister.” 

A smile tugs on the corner of your lip, and you can’t help but chuckle, “stop that now…” 

Eddie feels successful when your laughter fills the room again. He squeezes your shoulder, smiling at you. 

“It’s nothing but the truth. You’re strong, really fucking strong. This world hasn’t gotten to you in all that time you’ve been out there by yourself. Don’t let it get to you now, not over some pieces of shits who had it coming – god knows how many potential victims you have saved.”

You nod at his words. You know he is right. He is right about them, they deserved it, every single one of them. 

“I don’t regret what I did,” you shrug, “I just… I didn’t know that I could turn into this.” 

“There’s a different side to everyone, Sunshine.” Eddie speaks softly and carefully. “Sometimes we have to resort to it… to save and protect the ones we love.” 

His eyes flash with something else, a distant memory that never strays away from him, always reminding him of the night he protected everyone too, the scars on his skin a forever reminder. 

You nod at his words, knowing that he is right about everything. 

“You sacrificed a little part of yourself… that doesn’t mean that you are lost completely, Darling.” He whispers as his eyes flicker to the forming scar on your cheekbone. 

Warmth spreads through you, and you feel the kind of comfort you always got from your brother whenever things got tough. He is like him – in a lot of ways. 

“Like you did…” You whisper, knowing about the night he almost gave his life to save everyone. 

His throat bobs as he nods. His dark eyes flashing with horrors that night tortured him with. 

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” You whisper, knowing how painful it must be to think back to that night. 

He gives you a smile, a soft and comforting one. 

“I’m sorry too,” he mumbles and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around. He tugs you into his comforting embrace. Giving you a warm, big hug. 

A sigh falls from your lips as you close your eyes and wrap your arms around him, squeezing his waist. 

Eddie is a little surprised that you hugged back so quickly, but a satisfied smile appears on his face. He loves hugs. Unfortunately, Nancy hates them and Steve… is well Steve. He only allows you to get close nowadays. 

You stay in his embrace for a while, only now realizing how much you needed it, how much you needed the reassurance and the comforting words of someone who is now like a brother to you. 

“You smell really nice.” Eddie blurts out after a long few minutes of silence. 

You furrow your brows as an amused smile makes its way on your face. 

Eddie sniffs at your hair causing you to giggle, especially when you pull away and he follows. 

“What’s that scent? Is that raspberry?” Eddie questions, tilting his head to the side. “How do you smell so good?” 

You push him away with a giggle, rolling your eyes at his genuine curiosity. 

“I wash my hair? Duh.” 

“I wash mine too, smarty pants.” He rolls his eyes at you, poking your cheek. “Mine never smells like that.” 

“Gotta find yourself a new shampoo then.” You shrug and look down, blushing a little. You always made sure that you look decent, that you don’t smell, which isn’t always easy in a world like this considering you sometimes run out of water and have to resort to wet wipes until you find a lake to fill up your water tanks again and Eddie tends to use way too much of your body wash. 

But you always do your best to stay clean, to smell nice – especially, especially now that you share a bed with Steve and somehow always end up in his arms or even on top of him. 

You may or may not have a secret bottle of perfume hidden in one of your boxes. 

He hums, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyes you slowly. 

“It’s not the shampoo, is it?” He squints his eyes as a smirk tugs at his lips. “You got some sort of body spray or perfume hiding somewhere, don’t ya? No one can smell that nice from shampoo or body wash alone.”

You shrug, humming, “I do.”

But Eddie can see the way you avoid his eyes, the way a blush creeps up your face, and you grow flustered. He knows exactly why. 

He can’t help but poke your waist, chuckling when you flinch, “you little liar! You got perfume hidden somewhere, don’t you? Wanna smell nice for Stevie boy, huh?”

Your eyes widen and your lips part as you begin to stutter. 

“Oh, I knew it!” Eddie laughs loudly. “I mean, I get it, if I shared a bed with someone I have a big fat crush on, I’d do the same.” 

You roll your eyes at him and push his hand away, turning around, you walk back into the store. 

Crush is an understatement, you are way past that point. 

Eddie’s smile never fades as he follows you. “You didn’t deny it.” 

You didn’t, no. There is definitely no point in denying something so obvious. Eddie already knew it when you attacked him with that wet shirt. 

“Do you want me to deny it?” You scoff. 

“Nope. I know it already anyway,” he shrugs, following you with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Tell me, have you kissed yet?” 

You halt in your tracks, cheeks burning at this point. 

Eddie almost walks into you when you stop so suddenly. He raises his eyebrows as he stares at the back of your head. 

You turn around to face him, not bothering to hide your flustered face. 

“No…” You mumble, shaking your head. The thought of kissing Steve makes your cheeks burn hotter and your chest flutter. There was a moment, a fleeting moment, where you thought that he would kiss you, where you thought of making the move yourself and closing the gap between you, but he pulled away before you had the chance to. 

Your eyes flash with something that makes Eddie’s smile fall slowly. The teasing no longer evident in his eyes when he sees something more serious in your features. 

“You hesitated,” Eddie points out, tilting his head at you. “Did you try to…?”

You shake your head. Your mind wasn’t there in these past few days and before that you were too insecure to even think about it. But you want to, god, you want to kiss him so badly. 

“No. There was a moment…” 

Eddie raises his eyebrows at you to continue. 

You take a deep breath as you glance out the window, even through all the dust and the dirt on the glass, you can still see him. He is standing with his arms crossed, face etched in concern as he waits for you to come back out. 

Eddie’s impatient huff pulls your attention back to him. 

“When I saved the cub, Steve pulled me into his arms… to warm me up– Don’t look at me like that, he would have done the same for you or Nancy!” You frown, blushing furiously when the teasing grin is back on his face. Though the thought of Steve holding Nancy the way he held you makes you feel sour for some reason. 

“No, he wouldn’t.” Eddie snorts. “He’d throw a blanket over our shoulders and call it a day. Now, continue.” He waves with his hand. 

You huff at him, rolling your eyes as you look down at your hands. 

“There was a moment where he moved closer… and I-I thought that maybe… he would kiss me.” You shrug, trying to act like it doesn’t affect you that he didn’t do it. “But then he moved back again… so maybe I just… saw something that wasn’t even there.” 

Eddie’s eyes soften, and a sad smile tugs on his lips. You don’t even see the way he looks at you. 

“Sweetheart–”

“No, it’s fine.” You shake your head, hating that exposing vulnerable feeling rising up in you. 

“You wanted him to kiss you, didn’t you?” 

You bounce your knee and bite your lip as you feel the nerves clinging to your heart. Your ears burn too now. You don’t answer his question but you look at him through your lashes, allowing him to look into your eyes. 

Eddie’s eyes light up, his dimples show when his smile widens. 

“Aw, Sunshine.” He giggles as he leans closer and pinches your cheek. “You’re adorable.” 

“Stop!” You groan in embarrassment, pushing his hand off. 

“I mean I already knew there was something between y'all but… damn… just make the first move. What are you waiting for? For him to sweep you off your feet and kiss you stupid before putting his cowboy hat on you so you can–”

“Oh god,” you interrupt him, rolling your eyes, though with a smile on your face. 

“You make the first move, you’re an independent, strong woman, Sweetheart. Don’t wait on the guy, I think he lost all his charm, you gotta be the one to make the first step here.”

You shake your head, “nope, I don’t think he likes me like that.”

Eddie sighs at your words, “listen, my sweetheart used to bully me when we were still in high school, we hated each other, turned out we just needed to fuck to see the potential between us,” he shrugs. “Steve wasn’t a bully to you… but… he kinda was. Still, I saw him checking you out, even when we were still in Hawkins.” 

Your eyes widen, “w-what?”

“Oh, Honey.” Eddie chuckles, his eyes flickering with amusement. “You are so oblivious. You’re telling me you don’t notice when his eyes are glued to your ass?”

You swallow and you shake your head, feeling as though you will suffocate if you don’t get out of here. 

“I thought women notice that shit.” He chuckles. 

You only stare in response, not knowing what to say because no, you don’t notice. 

Eddie tilts his chin down and lowers his voice, “you’re telling me he never got hard during one of your cuddle sessions–”

“Eddie!” You slap his chest, blushing harder than ever before. Your reaction giving you away yet again. 

He laughs loudly, eyes widening. “Oh, so he did!” 

“Shut up!” You mumble as you turn around and continue your way towards the door. “He said it was… wasn’t like that…”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, still laughing behind you. 

“He just got hard for the fun of it?”

You roll your eyes and turn back around, “it was cold, it was before I got sick, when we hid in the car during the storm… We warmed each other up and he… you know.” You say quietly. 

Eddie didn’t know that. Steve told him about the part where you had to ditch your clothes and cuddle to warm up, but he left this very interesting part out. 

He crosses his arms over his chest, unable to fight the smirk off his lips. 

“It doesn’t work like that, you know? At least not to me, I’m not gonna get hard because of someone I’m not attracted to, Sweets. No matter how close they are.”

Your eyes grow hopeful, and he sees it. 

“Besides, you can’t tell me that wasn’t the only time…” Eddie says slowly. 

You and Steve have been sharing a bed since you got sick, and more than once, Eddie walked in on you cuddling in your sleep. 

You breathe in sharply and Eddie laughs again. Oh, he is gonna enjoy his next conversation with Steve. 

“And you haven’t mounted that horse yet, Cowgirl?” 

“I am done with this conversation!” You say with a high pitched voice as you turn on your heel and make your way out the door. You breathe in the fresh air, hoping for the coldness to cool off your burning cheeks, but the moment your eyes lock with his, you are done for. 

Eddie clears his throat as he steps out behind you, he stops laughing, though the amusing smile on his face gives away the kind of conversation you had in there. 

Steve pushes himself off the RV, his concerned eyes moving across your face. Unlike before, you don’t seem tense, and your expression is softer, though there is something else now troubling you. You are flustered, he can tell that much, especially by the way Eddie is smirking. 

Eddie picks up the pace when he notices that Nancy isn’t outside anymore. He catches up to you and reaches out for your arm, wrapping his hand around your bicep, he leans down and whispers, “also, you better talk to that poor man again; he follows you around like some lost puppy.” 

Guilt surges through you as you glance at Steve, whose eyes are softer than ever as he eyes you. You know you have been neglecting conversations with him, struggling to talk the way you did before the attack. The look in his eyes is why you avoided eye contact with him – it’s killing you now. 

Who would have thought that you would ever turn him into this? 

Steve furrows his eyebrows as he looks between you, noticing the flustered look on your face right away. 

Eddie brushes past him after letting go of you, he pats his shoulder before he disappears into the RV, giving you a moment to talk. 

Steve never takes his eyes off you, his body moving on its own accord, towards you. His name falls from your lips softly. His voice forces you to look up at him. 

“Are you okay…?” Steve whispers, his hand slowly reaching towards yours. 

You nod, looking into his hazel eyes, feeling warmth flooding through you, settling in your chest and in your stomach. The feeling of comfort holding you strongly every time you are near him. 

“You know that you can talk to me, right?” He doesn’t even try to hide the desperation in his voice. He knows Eddie tried to get through to you, and he might have done, but he wanted to be the one. 

“I know,” you whisper, sighing as you look down at his hand. You can’t help but reach out and slowly wrap your pinky around his. 

Steve’s heart flutters in his chest, he looks down and envelopes your hand fully, giving it a squeeze. 

“I just… I needed some time.”

Steve nods, understanding it more than anyone. 

“But Eddie…”

“Eddie is just like my annoying brother. Impatient and forcing me to talk.” 

Steve doesn’t know why he feels the weight of relief at the words ‘Eddie’ and ‘brother’ in the same sentence. He was fearing that you might have a more special bond to Eddie than you do to him. 

He cracks a smile, his shoulders slumping as the tension slips off. You notice it, how his eyes soften and a breath of relief falls from his lips. It gives you a shimmer of hope. 

“I wanted you to talk to me but I didn’t want to pressure you,” he murmurs softly as he takes a step closer to you and looks down at you with an expression that hasn’t faltered, not even after that night. You were so scared to look into his eyes, to see fear or disgust after how you handled things but you find none of those things – if anything, the look in his eyes is even softer now, making you feel stupid for even worrying, for thinking that he could see you how you saw yourself.

“I would have talked to you,” you whisper. Your own eyes soften, your voice filled with guilt. You didn’t mean to push him away, you didn’t mean to be so distant. 

“Yeah?” Steve tilts his chin down, looking deeply into your eyes. 

You nod. 

“Good. I thought you might have ditched me for Eddie,” he jokes, caressing the top of your hand with his thumb. “Thought you’d kick me out of our bed to snuggle him instead.”

Our bed. 

Your heart skips a beat, cheeks burning hotly at the choice of his words that you like a little too much. 

“Never.” You giggle, your eyes glinting with amusement. 

Steve’s stomach flutters, his heart yearning to hear more of that sound. His eyes light up and his hand squeezes yours tighter. 

“I missed that.” He blurts out, redness taking over his cheeks. 

“Missed what?” 

You tilt your head to the side in a way that makes him feel weak, you just look so damn cute, with that line between your eyebrows and the slight pout on your lips. 

“Your smile, your laughter.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart nearly exploding. 

He missed your smile? Your laughter? 

The look on his face is serious, his eyes vulnerable. You never thought that you could have such an effect on the guy who didn’t even want you around at first. 

Now he is holding you in his sleep, needing to feel you in his arms at nights, yearning to see you smile, to hear your laugh, to have you with him. It drives you crazy. It makes you yearn for him even more. 

Lost puppy is what Eddie had called him, the look in his eyes resembles just that. 

You can’t even fight the sudden urge to hug him, you take a step towards him and let go of his hand to wrap your arms around him instead, strongly. It certainly is not your first hug but it still catches him off guard, especially after days and days of your silence and distance.

You lean your head against his chest and close your eyes, breathing in his scent and melting into his embrace when he slowly wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you back after a second of hesitation caused by surprise. 

Steve’s face crumbles completely, his eyes softening even more if that is even possible. His heart beats so strongly, threatening to expose the way he feels about this. He takes a deep breath, an inhale of your sweet scent that sets all his insides on fire every goddamn time. His breathing turns shaky as he leans down and tightens his hold on you. 

You don’t know how long you stay that way for, but a few minutes pass – and if it was up to you, both many more could pass, but you need to move, you need to get back on the road. 

You pull away reluctantly. He keeps his hands on you, not pulling away completely yet. Your eyes meet and they speak to each other, the way your hearts do too. If only you could voice out your feelings. 

You are a hopeful person; you have always been one. It isn’t easy to be one in a situation like this though – even when a part of you, the smallest one, hangs onto the weak string kept together by the little moments of his eyes flickering down to your lips or his hands holding onto you tightly, searching for your touch. 

Could he feel the same? Could he feel a sliver of what you are feeling? 

If so, will he ever make a move or was Eddie right about what he said about him? 

Will you have to be the one to try? 

You aren’t sure if you are ready to try but you know that you will regret it someday if you don’t take the leap. 

You notice the way he stares at your lips, you feel the way his fingers tighten around your arms. 

Your eyes move across his face, tracing every mole, every scar, his pink cheeks, his lips that look surprisingly soft given the cold weather. Too many nights you have gone to sleep wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. 

This isn’t the right moment, it definitely isn’t. 

But you have to test the waters, you just have to. 

“Come on, we should hit the road,” you whisper as you take another step closer, moving onto your tippy toes, you press your hands against his chest, avoiding his eyes as you lean closer and press your lips against his cheek, pecking it softly. 

Steve’s eyes widen and his breath hitches in his throat. The spot your lips touched tingling as his heart threatened to jump out of his throat. 

He stands there for a while, even after you have pulled away to make your way back into the RV. He stands there processing what just happened. 

It was an innocent kiss. It was the smallest peck, a sweet kiss on his cheek – nothing he hadn’t felt before, and yet it made his heart beat in a way nothing else ever did before. 

He can’t help but crave more, he can’t help but want more than just this. 

When he returns to the RV, his cheeks are still burning, his heart's still pounding. He tries to act like nothing happened, like this little moment didn’t affect his emotions. He closes the door behind him, locking it. 

He clears his throat as he looks around, his eyes meeting Eddie’s, who is smirking at him, eyes glinting. He saw the whole thing, of course he did, he watched it. 

Though the metalhead says nothing and only turns back around, getting comfortable in the passenger seat as Nancy throws the map into his lap. She glances over her shoulder after fastening her seatbelt, looking at you before her eyes meet his. 

“Ready?” 

Steve nods, scratching his neck awkwardly as he moves towards you and takes a seat beside you. 

“Hit the road, Nance.” Eddie hums, but not without looking back at you one more time, giving you a wink that doesn’t go unnoticed by Steve. 

He glances at you, though you turn away from him, blushing. 

Steve raises his eyebrows, still looking at you – so he isn’t the only one getting teased by the metalhead. 

That sparkle of hope lights up inside of him. And he doesn’t know how to feel about it because it grows fastly and strongly. 

When after a few minutes of the drive, you lay your head on his shoulder, his heart nearly combusts as his skin starts burning up. The little sparkle will quickly turn into a flame and then… what?

How will this end for him? 

He doesn’t want to think about it, he doesn’t want to worry. 

But it’s in his nature to worry, to drive himself crazy with the what if’s. 

But for now, he reaches for your hand and he intertwines his fingers with yours. 

The squeeze of your hand makes his heart flutter wildly and it shows him nothing but the fact that he is screwed, so very screwed. 

-

You have always heard about the harsh winters in Wyoming, the sudden snowstorms, the heavy wind, and extremely cold temperatures. Though you didn’t think that it would hit you so suddenly, the way it did, given the warmth of the sun you were grazed with earlier today. 

You’ve only spent three hours on the road before Nancy had to stop driving due to the worsening weather conditions. The snow started falling harder, making it difficult to see. Thunder started rumbling, the red lightning in the distance made you all a little anxious. 

She parked the RV on the side of the road, close to a sign leading to a town. Her and Eddie left to find shelter for the night but they had been gone for an hour now and the wind had picked up since.

You look out the window, bouncing your knee anxiously as the snow covers more and more of the road and the trees. 

The howling of the wind makes you feel slightly uneasy. You feel it, it’s causing the RV to sway, making the tires creak beneath you. 

Steve is pacing back and forth, unable to find rest, knowing his friends are out there and the storm is getting worse but you couldn’t all go together, it’s too risky to leave the RV standing on the side of the road. 

“They’ve been gone for an hour.” He stresses. 

“They’ll be fine.” You assure him as you pull away from the window and sit down on the bench. “It’s not that bad out yet. I’ve been stuck in worse storms.” You shrug, trying to act like you aren’t afraid, like he is. 

“Have you?” He asks softly, his eyes finding yours as he stops pacing. 

“Yeah. It was one of those storms.” You murmur as you gesture to the red lightning in the distance. 

Steve frowns as he glances at the sky. He knows that this means nothing good. The storm, the red lightning, means the town ahead of you is crawling with monsters. 

The thought that you have been stuck in one of those makes his heart clench in his chest. The thought that you could all get stuck in that again, makes him feel the paralyzing fear that he hates so much. 

“We should have kept driving.” He mumbles as he thinks of everything that could happen. 

“No, we could’ve gotten stuck right in there. We are still a good distance away from it, we just need a more stable… shelter for the night, and after that we can figure out how to avoid this area.” 

You are right, he knows it, yet he can’t stop his fear from spreading inside of him. 

The door bursts open, making both you and Steve flinch from the sudden noise. Nancy rushes in first. Her scarf is covering half of her face, her clothes are covered in white snow. She removes the scarf, revealing her red nose and her trembling lips. 

Eddie curses under his breath as he slams the door behind him and removes his scarf as well. “Jesus, it’s cold as shit!” He breathes as he rubs his hands together. His nose is glowing red too. 

“We found something.” Is all that Nancy says before she makes her way back into the driver's seat, not wasting any time to start the engine. 

Steve looks between her and Eddie with furrowed eyebrows. “Found what exactly?” 

Eddie keeps rubbing his hands together as he brushes past Steve and plops down into the passenger seat. “Big place with a garage and everything, we can leave the RV in there, no problem–”

Steve sits down beside you before Nancy starts driving. 

“Any infected?... Monsters?” 

Eddie shakes his head at him, “just one infected outside the gate, nothing else. We checked the area and the mansion–”

“Mansion!?” You ask, your eyes widen. 

Eddie chuckles at your reaction, he holds onto the back of Nancy’s seat as she drives down the road. He looks between you and Steve. “Yeah, the place hasn’t been touched in years, we checked inside as well. It’s clean, nothing except for dust in there.” 

“Yeah.” Nancy nods. “Looks like it was some sort of vacation house.” 

“Mhmm.” Eddie hums, his eyes flashing with something that you can’t read. “You’re gonna love it, Sweetheart.” 

“Why?” You tilt your head at him. 

“You’ll see,” he chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

You and Steve look at each other, both frowning in confusion. He takes a deep breath and turns back to Eddie when the RV suddenly lurches forward. You begin to slip off your seat, gasping in surprise as you reach your hand out to grab the handle behind you, when you feel Steve’s heavy arm around your body. 

With his arm around your waist and your back pressed against his chest, he holds you tightly, saving you from the fall as he holds onto the table beside the bench you are both sharing. 

“Wheeler!” Eddie breathes, holding his hand to his chest as he stares at the girl gripping the steering wheel tightly. 

“Sorry! Must’ve been the infected!” She shrieks. 

You grab Steve’s wrist, holding on tightly even though the RV is moving normally again, driving smoothly. 

“Jesus!” Steve grumbles behind you as he turns around to face the two in the front. “You drove over an infected?” 

“I didn’t see it until it was too late!” Nancy snaps. 

“Doesn’t matter anyways, it was dead, it was also dead when I killed it.” Eddie shrugs as he settles back into his seat. “Now we know for sure! Nance sealed the deal!”

Nancy shakes her head at Eddie, huffing at him. 

The sound of your giggle fills the silence in the RV that followed after Eddie’s attempted joke. Steve freezes behind you, his hold only tightening around your body as his heart skips a beat. 

A smile tugs at Nancy’s lip as she glances at you again, watching the way you lean your head against Steve’s shoulder who is looking down at you like you are the sweetest thing to walk this tainted earth. 

“Oh man,” Eddie whispers quietly enough for only Nancy to hear. She narrows her eyes at him before she returns her attention back to the road. 

“Ten bucks she’ll make the first move,” Eddie murmurs as he leans closer to her. 

“Money has no worth anymore, Munson.” Nancy snorts. 

She straightens her back as she leans closer to the steering wheel, a soft smile appears on her face. “I’ll get you two packs of cigarettes if you’re right but I have faith that he’ll make the first move.” 

He is intrigued, he didn’t think that she would agree to this. A smirk tugs at his lip, he moves closer to her. 

“And what do you want if you win?”

Nancy hums, “a shotgun.” 

“Why did I even ask?” Eddie chuckles, shaking his head as he leans back again. 

“I don’t know, now shut up, I need to focus.” She mumbles. Her eyes squint as she drives through the snowstorm, getting heavier by the minute now, the sky darkening. She could almost sigh of relief when she saw her flashlight in the distance, guiding her towards the garage. It was her idea to leave it there, knowing she wouldn’t be able to see the roads with the falling snow.

You could still feel Steve’s arms around your waist as the RV kept swaying, and then, you felt a slight drop making you squeal and Steve’s grip only tightened as he cursed under his breath. Your eyes turned to the windows and it was pitch black. You frowned, slowly getting on your feet with Steve as Eddie got up from the passenger’s seat.

“Let’s lock ourselves up, and we’ll go inside.” You blinked a few times, looking down at your waist. Steve followed your eyes, and he ripped his hand off you, feeling himself burn in embarrassment from holding you even after you didn’t need holding anymore. He feels as if he had been caught red handed. 

“DON’T FORGET MY FLASHLIGHT!” Nancy yells as she sees Eddie walking out of the RV with a wave of his hand. She sighs, shutting down the RV and sighing out of exhaustion. “I can’t wait to just relax…”

She gets up from her seat and turns around to face you both. Instantly, her eyebrows furrow when she senses the sudden awkwardness as Steve is blushing furiously while trying to busy himself with taking out a few cans of food to take into the house. You are sitting down still, looking up at him with a flustered look on your face. 

She can’t help but chuckle. However, when you both turn to her, she covers it up with a cough. She takes a step towards the door and opens it. 

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, garage is locked.” Eddie’s voice echoes in the garage. “Let’s go inside! Sweets come on, you’re gonna wanna see this!” 

You jump up from your seat and make your way out the RV. It’s too dark in the garage to see anything, only the flashlight Eddie is holding lights up the space around you. 

“Come on,” he tilts his head into direction of the door which you assume leads into the house. 

Eddie is grinning at you as he opens the door. He uses his flashlight to guide you inside. You make your way inside, curiously looking around, but you can’t see much yet. 

“They have a generator in the basement, but we couldn’t find any gas.”  

“That’s fine, we can light up some candles and the fireplace if there is one.” You murmur as you walk further into the house with every step that you take. 

“Romantic.” Eddie chuckles as he turns around, pointing the flashlight at Steve, wiggling his eyebrows at him. 

The former jock only rolls his eyes in response. 

“Oh my god!” 

Your shriek startles everyone, but Eddie quickly recovers when he sees what you’re so excited about. 

“Give me that!” You rip the flashlight from his hand and point it at the wall, gasping.

You start jumping up and down, bouncing on your feet as you squeal in excitement.  

Steve steps closer to you, noticing how your eyes light up like the ones of a kid on christmas morning. His lips curl into a smile, a small chuckle falling from his lips.

The wall in the long hallway is decorated with cowboy hats and western style pictures, giving away the kind of people who lived here before. 

Nancy and Eddie laugh at your reaction as you stare at the collection of cowboy hats, already looking for your favorite one. 

“This is like Wayne’s collection except we were poor and these people were rich rich.” Eddie murmurs as he looks into the big living room. 

“Hey,” Nancy steps closer to you. “You wanna take a look in the closet upstairs? I think you’re gonna like it.” 

Your wide eyes meet hers, and even in the faint light, she can see the excitement swirling in your eyes. 

Steve doesn’t tear his eyes away from you, loving the genuine surprise in your features, the happiness that slowly makes its way into your eyes. 

“Looks like a couple lived here and they were gone before shit hit the fan,” Eddie mumbles behind you as he gestures to the plastic covers over the furniture but you aren’t even listening to him. Your eyes only light up even more as you stare at Nancy. 

Steve’s own eyes widen in surprise when he suddenly feels your hand holding his, and you begin to drag him away from the hallway and towards the big staircase in the middle, “come on, Stevie!” 

Nancy’s laughter echoes in the hallway, the look on Steve’s face is more than just amusing. 

“Stevie.” Eddie murmurs under his breath to her, chuckling softly. 

“Shush.” Nancy slaps his chest as she watches you both move up the stairs. “Come on.” 

“I knew she would love this.” Eddie smiles as he and Nancy follow you up onto the second floor, which they have checked out before already. “Do you think she’s gonna force Steve into a cowboy outfit?” 

“Is that even a question?” She chuckles. 

When Nancy mentioned a closet, you didn’t imagine it to be a walk-in closet, let alone one filled with clothes your heart desires the most. You look around with wide eyes, spotting the variety of cowboy boots on the shoe shelf, the leather jackets, the jeans and vests.

“Holy shit!” You whisper as you slowly let go of Steve’s hand. 

Steve squints his eyes as you walk away from him, leaving him in the dark as you use the flashlight to take a closer look at the clothes. 

“That is like a dream come true,” you whisper, putting the flashlight down to grab a pair of boots. “I wonder if these will fit me.” 

He leans against the wall as he watches you move around, his eyes soften, and a smile appears on his face. His heart melts, the tension slowly slips off his shoulders. It’s nice to see you like this again.

“Why don’t we dress up?” Eddie speaks from the doorway, smirking cockily at Steve, expecting him to shake his head though Steve only shrugs. 

“Are you kidding? Why do you even ask?” You exclaim as you start looking through the jeans, tapping off the layers of dust that have unfortunately covered the clothes. 

Eddie chuckles at your expression, at the bewildered look on your face. He steps closer to Steve and pats his shoulder, “why don’t we find you an outfit to impress the girl, cowboy?” He whispers to him. 

Steve glares at him, though only because his cheeks heat up at the thought of your reaction to him wearing something that you love. 

“Let’s do justice to your new nickname.” Eddie chuckles as he pushes him towards the side of the closet that has all the male clothing.

“Where is Nancy?” You frown, already picking out an outfit for her. 

“Looking for batteries for a table lamp.” Eddie explains. “Go on, get dressed, Sweets.” 

You shrug and turn your attention back to the clothes, picking out an outfit. You grab the pair of boots you liked the most before you start making your way out of the room. 

Steve’s eyes follow you until he can no longer see you, with a soft gaze and rosy cheeks. 

“Be right back, fellas!” Your giggle echoes in the hallway.

Eddie’s hand is still on Steve’s shoulder. His smirk bigger than it was before, eyes flashing with mischief. 

“Oh boy.” Eddie murmurs, enjoying Steve’s reaction already. “She’s adorable.” 

Steve's smile slowly falls, his expression hardens as he turns to face his friend. 

“Hey now, I didn’t mean it like that.” Eddie chuckles, his smirk never fading. “She’s all yours, man. Matter of fact, you can make her all yours tonight. We’re safe here, nothing’s out there and if there is, the storm will take care of it, nothing survives that shit out there,” Eddie points out the window, the snowstorm now raging stronger than before. 

Steve’s shoulders tense up again and he frowns, shaking his head. 

“Eddie–”

“Don’t. I know what I see, and I can see right through you. Whatever is going on in that big head of yours,” he pauses, flicking his forehead, making Steve frown harder. “Whatever is holding you back, delete that shit out of your brain, man. Don’t let her slip through your fingers. You waiting on that perfect moment? You got it now, perfect chance.” Eddie whispers, spreading his arms out as he gestures to the big space they’re standing in. “There’s even a king sized bed, you ain’t getting that opportunity again.”

“Dude.” Steve shakes his head, blushing at the last comment. 

“Don’t dude me,” Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. He turns away from him and starts looking through the clothes. “Just watch the way she will drool when she sees you in… these… tight pants.” He murmurs as he hands him a pair of jeans, pressing them against his chest. 

Steve looks down, lifting his hand up slowly, and he grabs them, a sigh falling from his lips. 

“This is ridiculous–”

“Guys!” 

Eddie looks over Steve’s shoulder, taking a look at you. It’s dark in the room, the flashlight only gives little light but just enough to see you. His eyes widen, and he puts his hand back on Steve’s shoulder. 

“Tell me I look like a real cowgirl!” You giggle as you twirl around. 

Steve stares at you, not even blinking, not moving, not breathing. He is just staring. His lips are parted as he eyes you up and down. 

The jeans you are wearing are tight,hugging your curves, and your ass perfectly. The brown belt low on your hips. You could have chosen one of the many flannels in the closet, but you didn’t, instead you opted for a jean vest with a very low neckline. You buttoned it up, but it is still very open, very exposing – exposing to the point where he can see a little of your bra, the lace standing out underneath. You opened your hair, removed the hair ties around your braids. 

His eyes keep flickering between your ass and your chest, unable to look away. His stomach making somersaults at the look of you, his skin heating up beneath his clothes. 

“Well damn,” Eddie whistles at you, chuckling when you stand in front of the mirror and check yourself out with a squeal. “You look hot, Cowgirl.” He smirks, squeezing Steve’s shoulder. 

Steve swallows, unable to tear his eyes away from you. 

“What do you think!” You turn around, facing Steve. 

His eyes widen at your attention, his cheeks reddening underneath your gaze. He looks away from your chest and into your eyes, though finding it hard to after checking you out like a perv. 

“Y-You…” His voice breaks, which makes Eddie cackle behind him. Steve clenches his jaw, taking a deep breath. “You look amazing, Sunshine.” 

A giggle falls from your mouth and you bite your lip as you look down at the jeans in his hand, “come on, it’s your turn!” You smile excitedly, making your way towards him. “Let me pick out the rest of your outfit!” 

Steve and Eddie step aside, letting you do your thing. They both watch as you pick a flannel and a vest for him to wear. 

“You need any assistance, Eddie?” 

The metalhead chuckles, shaking his head as he keeps on watching Steve. 

“Nah, I got it. Just help this Cowboy here out.” 

Steve feels a little relieved when he finally gets to leave the room after you hand him the rest of his outfit. He takes a deep breath once out in the hallway, earning an amused smile from Nancy when she walks past him with the table lamp now in her hand. 

“You okay there?” She asks, glancing between his face and the clothes and boots in his arms. 

“Peachy.” He grumbles as he steps into the closest room he can find privacy in. 

Nancy can’t help but chuckle, already sensing what she will walk into. She steps inside the walk-in closet, lighting up the room with the lamp she found. Her eyes widen when she notices your new outfit. 

“Oh wow! You– Your ass looks amazing in those pants!” Nancy gushes over you, looking you up and down. 

A laugh falls from Eddie’s lips when he sees how flustered you get. 

“Nancy isn’t the only one who thinks that.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “You should keep them.” 

“Eddie!” You huff, slapping his shoulder. But you can’t fight the blush off your cheeks, thinking about how he might have checked you out. 

“Just telling the truth.” He cackles, stepping away from you and towards the hallway. “I’ll be right back, I got the best one.” 

Nancy crosses her arms over her chest, shaking her head at him with a smile. She takes a seat on one of the armchairs and glances at you. 

“Aren’t you cold?” She asks, eying your exposed arms. 

“I am, but I wanna enjoy this moment in this pretty vest.” You say, turning back towards the mirror. “Are you not gonna get changed?” 

Nancy shakes her head, “nope and don’t even try to convince me, this is not my style. It looks amazing on you though.” 

You pout at her, “not even a pair of boots?” 

She shakes her head, “I’m satisfied with my own. I’ll take a look at the rest of the clothes though, I’m sure there’s something other than western stuff, right?” 

“Let’s take a look.” You shrug. You busy yourself with the big closet, standing next to each other as you look through the drawers. 

Nancy opens another one, her eyes widening. 

“Wow.” Nancy whispers, blushing as she pulls out a thong. “You want those?”

You narrow your eyes, glancing at the lace in her hand. 

“Wear them during one of your cuddle sessions with Steve,” she giggles, wiggling her eyebrows at you the way Eddie always does. 

“Nancy! You are sounding just like Eddie.” You whisper and grab it from her hand, making her chuckle. You shake your head at her, cheeks burning. 

The floorboards creak in the doorway, causing you both to look over your shoulders. Your eyes widen as Nancy gasps. 

Eddie stands there, hair hanging loosely down his shoulders, cowboy hat on his head. He is wearing a black leather vest with nothing underneath, his tattoos and his scars on full display. You look down and you can’t help but laugh loudly. The leather pants are a little too tight on his crotch, leaving no room for imagination. 

“Ew, Munson! I can see your dick!” Nancy screeches and covers her eyes. 

Eddie walks over to the mirror, ignoring her reaction. A wide smile appears on his face as he checks himself out the way you did before. 

“Oh, I am definitely taking these! My sweetheart will love this!” 

You giggle at both his and Nancy’s reaction. 

“Don’t ever wear this in front of me again!” Nancy stresses, turning back towards the closet with red cheeks. 

“I’m wearing them now, Wheeler.” Eddie mumbles, not paying attention to her. “Just don’t look at my dick, perv.” 

“Fuck off.” 

You can’t help but shake your head in amusement at their interaction. 

“I think I get it now, Sunshine. I’m kind of digging this.” Steve mumbles, appearing in the doorway. 

You turn around to face him, opening your mouth to speak, though before you can even utter a single word, your breath gets caught in your throat and your eyes widen at the sight of him in this getup. Your lips part and a weird sensation rushes through your body as you take him in. 

He left the shirt under his vest unbuttoned at the top, showing off his chest hair. You eye the scar around his neck, taking a quick glance at his face to see him staring back at you already. You bite your lip without noticing as you take in the way the jeans hug him, the way the vest looks on him, the boots. 

He doesn’t even look dressed up, it just looks… good on him. 

Your heart flutters as he brings his hand up and runs it through his hair. 

You take a deep breath, sighing softly as you tilt your head. This is it, this is your cowboy. 

Nancy presses her lips together, holding back her laugh when she notices the way you stare at him. 

And Eddie, he only shakes his head at how obvious you are. 

“So…” Steve murmurs, smiling as he finally looks up. “What do you think, Sunshine?” 

You blink. 

Steve raises his eyebrows at you. He places his hands on his hips, eying your expression. Satisfaction grows strongly inside of him when he sees how flustered and speechless you are. 

Eddie looks between the two of you, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“Do you like what you see?” Steve adds, tilting his head down towards you. 

Finally, you blink yourself out of your stupor. Your whole body is burning up now, your lower stomach tingling, your knees weaken. 

“I-I… you look… you look—“

Nancy cringes a little at your stuttering, knowing that you are dying inside. 

“Yeah, Stevie looks hot doesn’t he?” Eddie chuckles, taking pity on you. “But not even he can beat this.” He gestures to himself, which luckily forces Steve’s attention away from you and towards him. 

Steve eyes him, his smirk falling as his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Dude…” He grumbles. “Are you trying out for your next job or…?” 

Nancy bursts out laughing, nodding. “I did see a dancing pole somewhere in here, might as well practice.” She jokes. 

Eddie’s smirk only widens at their teasing, “I would make a good stripper.” 

While the three of them continue to joke about Eddie’s potential stripper career, you are still staring at the pretty brunette, feeling taken aback by the effect he has on you. You have been attracted to people before, your ex-boyfriend for one, but it was never like this. He never stole your breath, he never made you feel weak in the knees, he never made your heart beat so strongly, not even when he broke it. 

You are screwed and it scares you a little. 

Your heart flutters strongly when he offers his arm out to you, acting charming. 

“Care to join me for dinner ‘round the fire, ma’am?” Steve attempts to imitate a southern accent. 

Your eyes widen and a surprised giggle falls from your lips. 

His eyes light up, his rosy cheeks glowing beneath the golden light of the table lamp. 

You hook your arm around his, biting your lip as you step closer to him, “why yes, sir. Do you have a horse to take me there?” You play along, using the same accent.

Steve chuckles as he leads you out of the room, grabbing the flashlight on the way out. 

Nancy watches you both leave the room with a smile on her face. 

“He sure does have one.” Eddie murmurs under his breath, chuckling. 

Nancy’s smile falls and she rolls her eyes at him, slapping his chest. 

“Why do you always have to be so gross?”

-

The fireplace in the living room is burning brightly, lighting up the room in a golden glow, the wood is crackling, music is playing softly from the radio Eddie had carried inside before dinner earlier.

You hear the howling of the wind outside and look out the window every once in a while to make sure that nothing followed you out here but both Nancy and Eddie keep repeating that you are safe for the night, that nothing will come even close to this mansion without getting stopped by the storm raging outside. 

They are right, you know they are but the red lightning in the distance makes you feel a little unsettled knowing that you might have to go through there tomorrow. 

“I have a proposition to make.” 

You push away from the window and draw the curtains close again, turning around, you face Eddie. 

He had changed into a different outfit earlier, a comfier one but you saw him stuffing the leather pants and vest into his backpack. 

Steve who had been looking at you, sitting close to the fire, tears his gaze away from you and glances at Eddie who is keeping one arm behind his back. 

“What is it?” Nancy murmurs without looking away from a book she found. 

Eddie grins as he reveals the whiskey bottle that he had been hiding behind his back. 

“Before anyone protests, I would like to remind you that this might be the only opportunity we have to relax and have some much needed fun.” He says, holding back a smirk as he looks between you and Steve. “We are safe here, you guys know we are, and we don’t know when we’ll ever get such an opportunity again.” 

Steve’s eyes find yours again. 

“You two deserve it especially.” He points between you. “You guys need to let loose.”

Nancy clears her throat and sits up on the sofa. 

“I think we all deserve to let loose. If these two are getting drunk, then so are you and I, Munson.” 

Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise, he turns to face her, “Wheeler, you never fail to impress me.” 

“Like you said, we’re safe here,” she shrugs. “And if anything happens, I’m an even better shooter when I’m drunk.” 

Eddie chuckles at her confidence. “Alright then,” he murmurs, turning back to you, he raises his eyebrows. 

You look between him and the whiskey bottle. The desire to forget about everything for a moment, to let loose, to have fun, is so strong. 

“You’re feeling better now, Sweets. You can drink,” he grins, tilting his head to the side. “Cowboy doc over there won’t say no, not tonight, am I right?” 

Steve licks his lips, taking a deep breath as he takes in the desire in your eyes. 

“No.” He shakes his head. 

“Okay…” You murmur, nodding. “But only if Steve drinks too.” 

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles as he makes his way back to the bar in the corner of the room. “He’s already made his decision.” 

You make your way towards Steve, giving him a small smile as you sit down next to him. Nancy grabs a blanket and a pillow to sit on, throwing it down across from you, she plops down on it, giving you a curious smile, “when’s the last time you got drunk?” 

Eddie sits down beside her and places the cups on the ground. Opening the whiskey bottle, he fills them all up. 

“Uh… well, I haven’t had a single sip since all this shit had started,” you shrug, squinting your eyes. “Can’t even remember when that was.” 

Steve eyes your side profile, watching the way your dimple appears in your cheek when you smile. Your skin looks so soft beneath the golden light. There’s a scar forming from where you have been hit, he traces it every night, like he wants to cover the painful memory with another one – the way you do to him with his own scars. 

“Happy drunk or sad drunk?” 

You grab the cup and tilt your chin down as you raise it up to your lips, smelling the alcohol. 

“Happy drunk.” 

“Good, good.” Eddie nods. “This is gonna be fun then.” 

Steve pulls his knee up to his chest, grabbing the cup Eddie pushed towards him, he presses his hand against the floor, close to where yours is resting. 

“Do you get drunk quickly?” Steve asks as his fingers brush against yours. 

“Hmm, given the fact that I haven’t had any alcohol in over a year… probably yeah.” You nod. “But I am no lightweight usually!” 

Steve chuckles softly, finding you endearing. 

“Whatever you say, Honey.” 

Your cheeks heat up, and you look away from him, which makes his smile widen even more. The urge to tuck your hair behind your ear is growing strong. 

“Let’s drink!” Nancy cheers. 

Steve’s eyes stay on you, watching how you raise the cup to your lips and how you knock back the whiskey in one go, not even scrunching up your face in disgust. He gulps down his own and scoots closer to you, patting you on the back softly. 

“Atta girl.” 

You try to not feel affected by his words or his soft touch but it’s hard not to, especially when he speaks to you like that. 

You know this won’t be the only moment tonight that will make you feel weak in the knees, and you know that getting drunk might not be the best idea here, especially now with your feelings being so overwhelming. 

But you don’t care because one drink turns into two, two into three, and then into four. By the time Eddie is pouring your fifth cup, you have gone into a complete state of bliss. A permanent smile is stuck on your face, giggles fall from your lips at every joke made. 

And Steve feels no different, he is in the same state as you are. You have both scooted closer to each other, leaning towards one another every time you burst into laughter. His hand finds yours every time you fall into a fit of giggles at some stupid joke Eddie makes or tells a story from the past.

And in your drunken haze, you grow a little more confident, a little more daring, though waiting for an opportunity when it ends with just the two of you. It doesn’t take long for that to happen because soon Nancy passes out with her head on Eddie’s lap, the latter leaning against the couch, slowly falling asleep as well. The two of them too tired from driving all day. 

But you and Steve are far from it, not interested in sleeping at all. He is the first to get up, keeping his balance even with the alcohol in his system. He grabs the whiskey bottle that is half empty now. 

“Come on, Sunshine.” He whispers, turning to face you with a lazy smirk on his face. He reaches his hand down to you, “let’s get out of here.”

You giggle, gazing up into his eyes. Your heart flutters at the sight of his messy hair. His cheeks are rosy, sleeves rolled up, revealing all the veins in his arms. 

“Where are you taking me, sir?” You whisper as you put your hand in his and let him pull you up onto your feet. Your blanket falls off your shoulders, and you leave it on the ground, not caring to take it with you. 

“We’re gonna explore, Cowgirl.”

You giggle at that and he quickly moves his finger towards your lips, shushing you. “We don’t wanna wake them up.”

Your eyes widen, though a smirk tugs at your lips, “why, do you want me all to yourself?” You whisper, your head tilting to the side. 

All the worry, all those insecurities, all those what if’s that were coursing through his mind before are gone at this moment, and he can’t find it in himself to care to hold back. A part of him feels confident, the other intrigued, and the biggest part of him feels desire and yearning for this, for you. 

“What if I do?” He murmurs as his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips, expecting you to get flustered, but instead, you take another step closer to him. 

“Well, you got me all to yourself now.”

Steve hums, his stomach flipping at your comment. He takes your hand, squeezing it as he smiles at you, “come on.”

You both tip toe out of the room, making sure not to wake either of them. You step out into the hallway, trying not to step on any creaking floorboards. 

“Where to first?” Steve whispers as he grabs the flashlight from his back pocket after handing you the bottle of whiskey. You instantly raise it up to your lips, taking a swig. 

“Hey now,” he shakes his head at you, “easy with the whiskey, little lady.” 

You can’t help but giggle at the deep tone in his voice and at the plastered frown on his pretty face. You take a step away from him, not letting go of his hand just yet. 

“Or what?” You raise your eyebrows. 

Steve lowers his eyebrows, a suggestive look flashing in his features. His eyes follow the drop of whiskey that rolls down your chin. Sober Steve would think about it but not do it, drunk Steve acts on his feelings though – he steps forward and brings his hand up to your face, cupping your cheek as he wipes away the drop of whiskey. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat at his action. Your stomach flipping with excitement and desire. You sink your teeth into your lower lip as you look into his eyes. 

Everything happened so quickly, so suddenly. It went from zero to one hundred. You don’t even know how it happened, how you went from shy touches to this but you aren’t complaining, not when he looks at you like this, not when he touches you like this, not when you see the chance of something more happening between you. 

The alcohol in your system makes this feeling between you so much stronger, like you threw fuel into the fire and the flames are burning higher and brighter now. 

Steve is looking at your lips, you are looking at his. All it would take is for one of you to make a move, just one step closer, just one. 

You aren’t your usual selves tonight, barely anything is holding you back and yet, the smallest part, the smallest voices in your heads, manage to break this moment apart. You don’t know who pulls away first, but a few seconds later, you are moving through the hallway again, still hand in hand. 

“I’ll pick out a hat for you.” You whisper to him, looking up at the collection of cowboy hats on the wall. 

“You don’t wanna wear one?” Steve asks, looking down at you. 

“No, I want you to wear one.” 

Steve aims the flashlight at the wall, though he isn’t looking at the hats, he is looking down at you. His heart thumping strongly, his stomach burning in desire. A mixture of emotions rushing through him. 

He watches the way your eyelashes flutter, the way you keep biting on your lip, the way you scrunch your nose up at certain hats. Steve swallows, the desire growing stronger with each passing second. Then his eyes move down to your neck, to the very revealing vest on your body, the black lace peeking out, your skin, your boobs–

“This one!” 

Steve blinks, swallowing harshly as you pull him out of his stupor. 

“I can’t reach it!” You pout as you look back at him, still holding your arm out towards the black hat. 

Steve doesn’t even think before he moves. He puts the flash light down and grabs the bottle of whiskey from your hand, placing it down on the ground as well before he steps up behind you. “I got it,” Steve murmurs into your ear, his lips getting caught in your hair. Instead of just taking the hat himself, he grabs your hips and he lifts you up with ease. 

You almost squeal in surprise, but you manage to hold it back. Your body heats up, burning like the flames in the fireplace, but you enjoy the moment, a little too much. His hands are big, his arms strong – you always knew, but this is making everything in you flutter. 

“Got it,” you giggle as you grab the hat off the hook. 

Steve puts you down again but he doesn’t let go of your hips just yet. His thumbs brush against your bare skin between your vest and your belt. Your skin is so soft, and you smell so sweet, so intoxicating. Your scent drives him crazy, every night when he goes to sleep with you, every morning when he wakes up with you in his arms but now… now it all feels more intense. 

His touch makes you feel weak, it brings out feelings in you that weren’t there before. And when you feel his breath on your neck, his nose in your hair, you almost lose it. Almost. You take a deep breath and turn around to face him. His hands are still holding your hips, grip never loosening. 

You bat your eyelashes at him as you rise up on your tippy toes, holding eye contact as you bring your hand up to fix his messy hair, the bang sticking up. 

His grip tightens on you in response, the feeling of your hands in his hair doing things to him that he can’t even explain. 

“There,” you whisper as you place the hat on his head. “Pretty Cowboy.”

Despite the cocky smirk appearing on his face, he also feels the heat spreading, feeling himself blushing, strongly. His heart skipping in his chest at your compliment. If only he could act upon his desire – he is already doing so, but still holding back. 

“Come on,” you whisper, reaching for his hand again. You bend down and retrieve the stuff from the floor. You press the whiskey bottle into his free hand and keep the flashlight in yours.

Steve tries to not look at your body when you walk up the stairs before him, but it’s hard not to do that when you move your hips the way you do, when your ass looks so good in those tight jeans. 

He swallows harshly, his eyes glued to you. His lower stomach flutters, and his breathing turns shaky. His desire for you had always been there, but never like this. The more he gets a taste of what it could be like to have you, the more his hunger grows. 

You make your way through the darkened hallway upstairs, finding a room that looks like it used to be an art room once. 

“Oh wow…” You breathe as you walk in further, eying all the drawings on the table, the paintings on the wall. You let go of Steve’s hand and pick up one of the wooden sculptures. 

Steve already misses the touch of your hand but he lets you explore the room. He looks around as well, noticing the camera on the shelf. He makes his way towards it, squinting his eyes because of the darkness in this room. He blows the dust off and picks it up, surprised to see it still turning on. He puts down the whiskey bottle, giving his entire focus to the camera. 

He polishes the camera lens with the sleeve of his flannel. He glances at you to see you standing close to the window now, the light of the flashlight kissing your features subtly. A smile tugs at his lips when your eyes light up. You look so beautiful. He raises the camera up, squinting one eye as he tries to get the perfect shot of you. 

You are so focused on the sculpture shaped into a horse that you don’t even hear the snap going off. 

“This is so nice,” you smile, putting down the sculpture. You turn to face Steve. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see the polaroid camera in his hand, not even noticing how he stuffed something into his back pocket. “Oh my god!” 

You rush towards him, taking the camera from his hand. 

“I’ve been looking for one everywhere!” You gasp, turning it in your hand. “Is it still working?” 

“Try it.” He smiles innocently. 

Your eyes flash with excitement as you take a step back. Bringing the camera up to your face, you aim it at him. “Perfect, now I get to keep a reminder of this.”

Steve chuckles. The never fading blush stays on his cheeks as he poses just for you. Not in a million years would he act this goofy with anyone. But he does it for you. So he holds the edge of his hat, almost tipping it as if saluting the camera, and his right hand is hooked on one of the belt loops of his pants. He hears the camera shutter going off, and you are smiling widely, bouncing on your feet as you hold your hand to the device to grab the picture developing already.

Once in your possession, you look at it in awe as you shake it, fanning it so it develops faster, and soon enough, your cowboy appears in the picture. He was born to wear these clothes. He sure is going to kill you someday. Your heart can barely handle it right now, but maybe the alcohol is helping with that one. The camera gets taken out of your hands, making you look at Steve, who is smirking already, a dangerous smirk that almost sends your knees to the floor.

You are startled when you feel a hat being placed on your head, his hat, and your thighs clench. You giggle a bit as you bite your bottom lip, your eyes finding his through your eyelashes, your hand stuffing the picture into your backpocket.

“Do you know the hat rule?” He tilts his head in question, a lazy smile on his lips, his body dangerously close as he moves a strand of your hair behind your ear. His voice almost a whisper.

“Why don’t you tell me?” He honestly doesn’t know what you are talking about but he also doesn’t even know when he got this close to you. He didn’t realize it. He also didn’t realize how his fingers were playing with your belt, and how your fingertips were running up and down his arms, almost without your knowledge.

“No, it’s more like… something that has to be shown.” Your eyes are fluttering and his chest is brushing with your own body and his lips are some tippy toes away. Your heart is hammering in your chest thanks to your emotions, to the alcohol, and to the heavy tension that hangs in the air, that hangs between the two of you. 

He wobbles in his place for a second, dizzy by just looking down at you. How bad leaning down could be?

But a rough rattling makes the two of you jump in your place, something having hit the side of the house and you wouldn’t be surprised it was either a tree or an infected. He steps away from you, feeling a bit more awkward than courageous now. He had to change the situation back to friendly. He had to. He points at you with the camera, a smile on his lips.

“Pose for me, cowgirl.” You smile widely, heading a few steps back, heading towards the large porcelain horse sculpture in the corner. Steve frowns because, when did that spawn? He shrugs, following you until he sees you pose, holding onto the horse that is standing on two of its feet. He snorts when you pretend to give the horse a kiss, and is that jealousy he feels for a piece of inanimate porcelain?

He swallows when you pull your vest down tighter, a more provocative pose. More skin of yours being revealed, more of your flesh that he wants to touch. He takes a picture and he is trying to think of something else to distract you from taking that last one for himself. He pretends to jump and turn around in his place. 

“What’s in the other rooms? I wonder if Eddie went into one of those.” He lies as he moves away and you jump up, rushing to get the whiskey bottle and following Steve as he holds the flashlight and camera. 

“Wait for me!” You whine. Steve is biting his bottom lip as he looks at the developing picture in the same hand he holds the flashlight. Mission accomplished. He sees you rush forward in front of him and– His eyes stuck to your ass again. You really should stop moving like this. Today is not the best day for you to show off that you look this good in tight jeans.

He sees you open the door from the room that is next to the one you two were just in. 

“Holy fuck…” A plastic wrap covers the entirety of it, protecting it from dust, bugs and humidity. Your eyes open like plates as well, sighing in surprise as you approach the massive mattress. 

Your hands immediately grab onto the plastic and you start ripping it off. Steve walks over to the dresser, wiping the surface off before placing the camera and then the flashlight on it, making it face the ceiling to turn it into a pretend lamp. It is very dim, but it works. He wobbles towards you, helping you with the weight of the plastic wrap. He almost tumbles a few times, which only makes you giggle. Once the plastic is off, you get on the bed, standing in the middle of it with your knees. 

“Sunshine–?” His voice gets cut off when you start bouncing, your hips going up and down and up and down, and your breasts and your body and– 

“Oh, this wasn’t made just for sleeping!” You giggle as if unaware of the images you just gave him. The fucking fantasies that flashed in his mind in a milisecond. You had just conjured images of yourself in many positions and with much less clothes than you had now, and you managed all that by just bouncing on a bed. 

He has to focus. The alcohol is making it all go south. It is going faster by the minute, and he is afraid of not being able to stop it. He feels sweaty, suffocated, and then you plop down on the bed with a huff, taking off the hat, you throw it on the bedside table. Laying on that bed would not be a good idea. Drunk Steve should leave. Drunk Steve should look away. Drunk Steve should leave you alone for the night.

But he can’t control himself. He wants to be near you. He wants to be close to you. So he lies down next to you, looking up at the ceiling. His head starts spinning in a good way, and oh fuck, he is sure having a hangover tomorrow. 

“I’m so fucking drunk that I feel so good, Stevie…” You mumble out, and he smiles, nodding.

“Me too.” He turns on his side to look at you properly, and you are still looking up.

“Does sex feel this good too? I imagine it does.” Your question catches him off guard. Sober Steve would have become nervous and wouldn’t have known what to properly say. He hums, making you look at him.

“It depends.”

“Depends?”

“Mhm. You can have sex, sure, but if the other person only cares for their own pleasure and is selfish? Kinda sucks. Or sex without feelings, that also sucks too.” You are caught off guard by his answer, making you turn on your side to face him. Despite the wide bed, you two are close, too close. Maybe one hand away from each other.

“So, you never had sex just because?” You ask, and he chuckles, nodding.

“I have, that’s why I can tell you that sex like that sucks.” You blink a few times, feeling a lump in your throat. Your head is spinning, and your heart is singing, and you don’t know if it is nausea or butterflies in your belly, but maybe it is a mix.

“And… would you do it again?” His eyes find yours at your question, and one of the qualities alcohol had was that it made you honest.

“Sex without feelings?... No. I wouldn’t, Sunshine.” And for some reason, that answer of his made you want to sigh out of relief. But the answer made you think a bit more, your eyes moving down from his.

“I wouldn’t do it normally… but I don’t think there’s another way for me to experience it… So I guess I would.” His heart plummeted at that. You would give your virginity away if the situation were to present itself. He felt his throat closing up at the thought of it, and rationally he should not care. Rationally, he should nod at it, and if it happened, good for you.

But fuck does he feel sick thinking of the possibility of another man touching you.

The horrible thought gets interrupted when you let out a big sigh, your eyes slowly closing.

“I hope my kids don’t get to see this, the world as it is now.” Your words shock him, making him raise up using his elbow for support, which kind of makes him dizzy.

“You… what kids?” You open your eyes to find his alarmed ones, making you giggle as you shake your head.

“I don’t have kids now! I meant– I meant my future kids, if medicine allows me to have them.” Your giggle dies down when you find him just staring at you. You feel a little intimidated and shy, making you pout. “I like the idea of having kids, sue me! I’m 22 years old!”

His heart becomes a furnace of pure warmth with your words, making his mind feel a little foggy, a little heavy. His eyes drift down for a second towards your belly… just one second. Fuck, oh no.

“I didn’t say anything, I was just surprised.” You see him lay back down with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “I want kids too. Six, to be exact.” 

“SIX!?” You yell, the emotion coming out naturally at the surprise. 

"I know, I know, it's a lot and the world isn't the best place to be right now but... I just want a big family. I always did.” He admits to you for the first time. Your eyes are looking at his profile, your mind filled with possibilities, with images of a future that started including little details you never expected.

"That sounds... nice. A big house... with a pool. A dog. Maybe one set of them are twins..." You start with your rambling, your eyes looking up at the ceiling as the image forms right in front of your eyes. Steve smiles, as if connected to you, as if he could see what you were imagining.

"Get to take them to the lake. Buying a suv." You giggle at those words, but nodding nonetheless. He follows you with a chuckle, looking at you at the same time you turn your head to look at him.

"Can't forget the family movie nights." He nods at that, and his voice starts lowering, his stomach flipping into itself as the words slip out of his lips before he could contain them.

"Yeah... and then when the kids are all sleeping, I can finally be alone with... my wife, partner. Have that solitude for each other." And you hum for a minute in thought, not realizing how Steve was looking at you.

"Honestly, with six kids? I think the one thing I would do is sleep." And you giggle but Steve keeps looking at you. Just looking at you.

"Yeah... you would definitely sleep." Steve smiles, still staring at you, never looking away from you, not even when he catches himself thinking of that future with you. Of walking into the living room after putting the last kid to bed, ready to spend the night on the couch with you, only to find you sleeping. The image of that is so endearing to him. His warm smile widens, his chest flutters with warmth. 

You close your eyes, humming at his words. A lazy, yet happy smile lingers on your face as you move closer to him, searching for his warmth, for his touch. 

“You getting tired, sleepy head?” He whispers, his eyes softening as he watches you snuggle up against him. 

You only nod in response. 

Your hand brushes against his, and he looks down, moving without thinking. He envelopes your hand in his, pressing his larger palm against your own. 

You open your eyes, and you are so close now that your nose almost brushes against his. Your breath hitches in your throat as his own does too. 

Steve’s eyes flicker across your face, staying on your lips for longer than they should, for it to mean nothing, for it to be friendly. You look down at his lips too, craving them on your own so badly. 

Your heart skips a beat. You want to kiss him, you want to kiss him so badly. And everything in the way he looks at you, in the way he squeezes your hand as he finally entwines his fingers with your own, tells you that he wants it too. 

And yet, neither of you make the final move. 

Neither of you step over the line that you both want to cross so badly. 

But you won’t lie and say that all his reactions, all his actions tonight, didn’t fill you with confidence. 

For tonight, you move closer, giving him one last smile and a squeeze to his hand before you curl into him, snuggling against his body and tucking your head under his chin. And your confidence only grows when he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, to squeeze you, and pull you into his embrace. 

And then… he presses his lips to the top of your head, and your final decision is made. 

So maybe you won’t kiss him tonight, but you will kiss him tomorrow. 

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx @bananasplits-world @myharrington

[darqx]

😈

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

I drew Demon Strade from memory and have absolutely 0 recollection how big he actually is lmao. Side note the subtitle for this in my head was "it's dangerous to go alone take this" except its not Strade saying it XDD)

Rire will put someone into any position he feels like (because honestly manoeuvrability is not a problem for him) so lets just say...a lot of them.

Would you even be able to reach his head lol

I would say that he mostly travels (as sometimes it also depends on who/what he's collecting and whether anyone is technically looking for him - ie did someone murder these people wth?). Keep in mind that one of Rire's powers is that he can, essentially, step sideways into a Gate in one country, navigate a void space for a few minutes/seconds, and then exit from another Gate somewhere in another country lol.

There's a bunch of different AUs/verses (because i like sticking my characs in them for fun) where he's technically an "ordinary guy" and to answer your question in ever single one of them he is in some position of power :d Eg: Headmaster, mafia boss, compound leader in a zombie apoc, high ranking military official, rich and popular college kid (this one somewhat debatable as BTD!College AU doesnt specify whether Rire is actually human or not XD) etc.

What has Saturn ever done for me? 🤌🏻

Check the bottom of this one :d

Every single Royal in the Nether is considered a dictator and Rire is no exception. His subjects consider him one of the more preferable ones because a) kind of leaves them alone for the most part, b) if he is inflicting terror on them/someone it's usually for a reason (as far as they know) and c) the economy has been doing great since he came into power.

You can consider Rire more of an...acquirer. Meaning that if he can't do something, he has an extensive network of people who owe him a favour or several that might be able to. Also loopholes exist hahahahah

If he's not exchanging for your soul, he's folding you into this network, that's how he works.

Rire's ego is not so big that he wouldn't be calculatively thinking about how best to exploit this |D

Oh yeh he def has servants to do a bunch of stuff for him! However, he has only been a Royal for a relatively short amount of time so he does actually know how to cook etc by himself if required.

Not a game but he will be plot B in a comic. As for being inserted into YKMET lore that's up to Gato XD

Warm tone gold type colours

Nah he heals pretty well. Also I feel like if he did get a serious enough wound that looked like it was going to scar then he'd use some sort of medical cream or whatever to make sure it didnt.

He'd be a little shit and vague about it ("oh somewhere quite far from here"), and if people keep trying to guess would literally give his Sector name from the Nether and later agree that it's in one of the random countries that were being guessed. Ah but so well hidden you won't be able to find it on a map, sure, try if you want.

Anon even i don't know in what context you are using this word lol.

The sense factor for this essentially 🫲🏻"is a demon (and a feeling of how powerful they might be)" and 🫱🏻 "is not a demon" which usually means a human lol. For your qs case, maybe only if said human was exceptionally powerful (so that the oddness registered as something "off" human) OR if they were using said power at the time (as happens with Battle Priests).

I haven't thought about a lot of things and i can clinically say that's one of them lol.

[samerpal]

Gaza: The City of the Flour Zombies

My brother and I went out after midnight, like the rest of the starving souls in Gaza. Our first stop was at the General Security intersection, trying to figure out where the flour trucks might pass. Then we moved north, toward Al-Helou Station and Badri & Hania Company, only to find hungry people sleeping in the streets — unconscious, or so it seemed. We had to step over them, stumble among them. There was no light but that of the full moon, which occasionally vanished behind drifting clouds.

We found a somewhat safe spot near Al-Andalus Tower and sat down briefly. Then we decided to move closer to a metal shack known as “Ma’rouf’s Bricks,” across from a bombed-out building with a canopy. We stayed there for a while, talking quietly about how far we’ve fallen and the state we’re living in. We hadn’t even noticed there was someone sleeping right beside us until he stirred, mumbled a few words, and drifted back into sleep.

With no signal and barely a working phone call, someone on the other end said, “Move to the Al-Tawam intersection.” We knew this place well — or so we thought. When we reached it, we didn’t recognize it anymore. We looked east and were stunned to see lights on the border — something once impossible to see.

A sudden explosion in the eastern area, behind a thick smoke cloud, shook us. We tried to see the people around us, but their faces were covered. They were sleeping on the ground, on the ruins of demolished buildings. People were lying everywhere.

We sat on a small hill, trying to map out the path: would the aid trucks come from the west or the north? Would we even be able to get anything? Should we split or stay together? After some discussion, we made a pact — to stick together. If one of us could get something, he would go directly home. We picked a few backup meeting spots, but in the end, we agreed: head home after securing something.

Around 2 AM, we saw people suddenly moving west toward the sea, hoping the aid would enter from there. We didn’t move — nothing seemed certain yet. But five minutes later, thousands started rushing back from the west shouting, “They’ve arrived! They’ve arrived!” We realized the trucks had come from the north instead.

The once-sleeping masses rose in chaos — sprinting like zombies, possessed, desperate. It felt like a scene from an end-of-times movie. But it wasn’t a movie. We were in it.

We moved quickly — half-running, half-stumbling over the rubble, iron rods, and sharp stones left by the bombardment. You couldn’t even walk safely, let alone run. At the far end of the street, lights appeared. People raced toward them. Then, we heard someone yell, “Tank! A tank is coming!” Panic spread — those who thought it was aid now feared it was death.

We froze in place, not knowing what to believe. Then we saw two trucks from the World Food Programme… and behind them, more trucks! They were real — the aid had arrived. We sprinted faster than ever before. My brother and I got separated in the chaos. My heart whispered a prayer: “God, please protect him. Let him get his share.”

The trucks advanced toward us. People surged like a flood. And there, for a brief moment, I was lucky. I managed to grab a sack of flour, threw it on my shoulder, and ran as far as I could from the moving trucks — they didn’t stop for anyone. It wasn’t courage that drove me. It wasn’t recklessness. It was hunger, fear, humiliation, and a desperate unknown that pushed me forward.

Thousands were still arriving, begging, “Is there anything left for us?” But the trucks were emptied in seconds. People searched for scraps. I held onto the flour like it was my own child, refusing to let anything happen to it, dodging looters and thieves, desperate to get to a safe place.

By the grace of God, I made it back to my tent. We had agreed: if one of us gets something, go home — don’t wait.

Another night ended, another nightmare survived. We keep waking up, hoping this nightmare will end… but we don’t know how.

From Gaza — the city of the flour zombies

@dirhwangdaseul @b0nkcreat @tamamita @chokulit @3000s @apas-95 @pitbolshevik @ot3 @punkitt-is-here @vampiricvenus @turtletoria @paper-mario-wiki @valtsv @omegaversereloaded @i-am-a-fish-stinks @catsgifsarefun @spongebobssquarepants @postanagramgenerator @feluka @nyancrimew @90-ghost @beserkerjewel @neechees @memingursa @certifiedsexed @afro-elf @11thsense @sawasawako @spacebeyonce @skipppppy @beetledrink @fools-and-perverts @dailyquests @evillesbianvillain @wolfertinger666 @taffybuns @ankle-beez @sabertoothwalrus @meshugenist @isuggestforcefem @hotvampireadjacent @marxism-transgenderism @90-ghost @a-shade-of-blue @nublicious @zagreus @el-shabazzgifted @tamamita @rhubarbspring @heritageposts @dirhwangdaseul @neechees @butchniqabi @socalgal @finalgirlabigailhobbs @newporters @pikslasrce @vampiricvenus @danlous @loumandivorce @jackiedaytona @deepspaceboytoy @autisticmudkip @nashvillethotchicken @femmefitz @pitbolshevik @innerchildabortionclinic @omegaversereloaded @hotvampireadjacent @boobieteriat @mens-rights-activia @ot3

[bvrnesher]

❝ Jealous headcanons ! ❞ ― jason grace !

tap here for chb masterlist ! here for reqs info

warnings: nsfw/sfw content.

— ✦ pairing: Jason grace ! reader.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ꪆ ✦ 𑊁 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

— ୨ৎㅤ˳ NSFW

Jason doesn’t know what to do with his jealousy. He was trained to lead, to protect, to stay composed. So when he feels that sharp, ugly twist in his gut because someone else touched you, looked at you, laughed too long at your joke? He just… shuts down. Goes quiet. Withdraws.

He’s not loud about it—he’s intense. His shoulders tense. His jaw tightens. He watches you with that controlled Roman stillness, eyes like a brewing storm. When you ask what’s wrong? He lies. “Nothing.” But his hands are clenched into fists and he keeps checking where you are in the room.

It festers. And later, alone with you, it snaps. His fingers wrap around your waist harder than usual. His kisses are hungrier, rougher—uncharacteristically so. His voice is low when he says “Mine, okay? You’re… you’re mine.” And he hates how desperate he sounds.

He’s not used to feeling this out of control. So when he finally pushes you against the wall, panting, rutting against you like he’s trying to claim every inch—you realize: he’s embarrassed by how much he wants you. By how easily you make him fall apart.

He’s still Jason, though. He still asks. Even when he’s jealous, even when he’s already inside you—he pauses. Whispers, breathless, “Tell me you want this.” Because he has to hear it. He needs to know you’re choosing him. Not just because he’s strong or golden or “praetor.” But because he’s Jason.

You notice he gets more vocal in bed when he’s jealous. Not dirty talk—reassurance. He calls you “baby,” “sweetheart,” “mine.” He moans your name like a mantra, like he's trying to bury it in your skin with every thrust. His forehead presses to yours, lightning humming under his skin, and he begs: “Stay with me. Please.”

He holds you tighter. Kisses you deeper. After he comes—usually deep inside you, as close as he can get—he doesn’t move. He stays on top of you, arms wrapped around you like he’s scared you’ll slip away the second he lets go. His heart thunders against your chest.

And later, in the dark? He admits it. Not easily. Not without guilt. But you hear him whisper, raw and ashamed: “I got jealous. I know it’s stupid. I trust you. I just—” His voice breaks. “I want you so much it hurts.”

It’s not dominance with Jason—it’s devotion. He doesn’t fuck you because he’s possessive. He fucks you because he loves you too much and doesn’t know how else to cope. You make him feel—and that terrifies him. But gods, he wants more.

He kisses like he’s drowning. When the jealousy’s fresh in his chest, when he’s still shaken from the idea of losing you, Jason doesn’t ease into the moment—he dives. Mouth hot and open against yours, tongue sliding in with a soft groan, like he needs to prove something. His fingers thread into your hair. His chest is heaving. He doesn’t come up for air until he’s breathless and dazed.

His hands roam like he’s mapping your body. Every dip, every scar, every place you gasp when he touches it. He presses kisses to your sternum, trails them down your stomach. He pauses at your hips—just holding them for a second like he’s grounding himself—before pulling your underwear down slow, reverent, like he’s unwrapping something sacred.

Jason eats you out like it’s redemption. Face buried between your thighs, arms wrapped under your legs to keep you close. He licks slow at first, savoring every moan you make like it’s permission. But when you tug his hair or roll your hips against his face? He groans low, tongue stroking deeper, more desperate. You come with your thighs trembling around his ears, and he doesn’t stop. He keeps going like he wants to prove you belong to him—through pleasure.

He gets painfully hard from giving. When he’s focused on you—kissing you open, feeling you writhe under his mouth—his cock aches untouched against the bed, leaking into his boxers. He ruts into the sheets a little, barely aware he’s doing it, because the sound of you falling apart is enough to push him right to the edge.

He makes the softest, filthiest sounds when he’s inside you. Not cocky. Not performative. Just breathy, vulnerable little gasps every time you tighten around him. His voice cracks when he moans. His fingers shake where they’re tangled with yours. When you whisper his name, he chokes on a curse and thrusts deeper, like his whole body is pleading—don’t let go.

Jason fucks like he’s making love even when he’s jealous. Especially when he’s jealous. He’s not trying to prove he’s better than anyone. He’s trying to show you that no one else would care this much. His thrusts are slow but hard, grinding deep with every movement, foreheads pressed together, lips brushing, hands clinging like he can’t stand an inch of space between you.

He loves when you touch his chest while he’s inside you. Fingertips brushing his collarbone, nails dragging lightly down his stomach. You call him beautiful, and he blushes so hard it hits his ears, hips stuttering while he presses deeper into you, like he needs to feel all of you in return.

He falls apart when you squeeze around him. You clench, whisper how good he feels, and Jason breaks. He groans into your neck, thrusts turning messy, his whole body trembling with the effort of not coming. “I-I can’t—” he gasps, voice wrecked, burying himself deep one last time as he spills, pulsing inside you with a strangled cry.

He loves to stay inside you after. He softens slowly, but he doesn’t pull out. Not right away. He kisses your cheeks, your jaw, your chest. Whispers how much he loves you. You feel him twitch every time you clench around him again—sensitive, overstimulated, but so content to be as close as possible.

He wants to mark you—but gently. He won’t leave bruises unless you ask. But he’ll suck kisses into your inner thighs. He’ll bite lightly at your shoulder while you ride him. His fingers will linger on the curve of your hips where he gripped you during the worst of his jealousy, eyes locked on the faint red marks with a possessive sort of awe.

Jason gets the most intense afterglow when he’s worked up. He’s floaty. Warm. Smiling in that dazed, lovesick way while he pulls you to his chest. He’ll stroke your hair, kiss your temples, whisper “Thank you” over and over because he’s not used to being allowed to need this much. To be jealous. To feel everything.

He gets a little shy about how desperate he was. Once he’s calmed down, he buries his face in your neck and groans. “I don’t know what got into me.” You tell him you liked it, and he flushes all over again—grinning, but a little overwhelmed that you want him like this. Still.

He’ll go down on you again if he’s still feeling insecure. You tease him, say he doesn’t have to. But he insists, kissing his way between your legs, eyes soft and burning with love. “I just want to take care of you.” And he does. Slowly, with tongue and fingers, until you’re begging, shaking, pulling him up for a kiss as you fall apart.

Jason is feral for praise in the moment. Not dominance—praise. Tell him he’s making you feel good. That no one else could ever touch you like this. That you love how deep he is, how gentle, how intense. His eyes flutter shut, his pace falters, and he whispers something like “I love you so much” just as he starts to come again—hard, full-body spasms, head thrown back, moaning into your name like it’s grace.

He doesn’t want to be your only—he wants to be your favorite. That’s where the jealousy lives. Not in control, but in fear. And when you let him love you through it? When you show him that he is enough, with your hands and your moans and your body trembling under his? That’s when he truly, finally believes it.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ꪆ ✦ 𑊁 ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

— ୨ৎㅤ˳ SFW ㅤ

He tries to be the "good guy" about it. Jason’s first instinct when he’s jealous is to keep it together, to act like it doesn’t bother him. He’s used to being the leader, the protector—the one who’s supposed to have his emotions in check. But if someone else gets too close to you, it eats at him. He might stay quiet, but you can tell he’s a little more tense, a little more rigid.

Internal conflict: He wants to trust, but it’s hard. Jason is a natural protector, and his jealousy often comes from a place of wanting to make sure you're safe and cared for. He doesn’t want to doubt you, but when someone else makes a move, it stirs up that feeling of not being enough. He can’t help but wonder, What if they’re better for you? This internal battle is what causes the most strain on him. He wants to be the hero, but he doesn’t always feel like he’s your hero.

Subtle actions to “claim” you. When Jason’s jealous, he might not say much, but he becomes possessive in small ways. He’ll wrap his arm around your waist when someone else is getting too close, or his hand will rest on the small of your back—almost like he’s trying to anchor you to him without saying a word. His touch is subtle, but the meaning behind it is clear: You’re mine.

He becomes quieter. When jealousy strikes, Jason tends to withdraw a little. He might not snap at the person who’s making him uncomfortable, but he’ll give short answers or focus on something else, like the task at hand. His mind is racing, and he’s trying to push those thoughts down, but they always come bubbling up. You’ll notice the sudden shift in his demeanor: the way he zones out or his quick, clipped responses.

He’s hard on himself. Jason’s jealousy triggers feelings of inadequacy. He’s constantly questioning himself: Am I enough for you? Do I measure up to the other heroes around you? This self-doubt can cause him to retreat into himself, especially if he feels like someone else is offering something he can’t. He won’t admit it easily, but it’s there—the constant battle in his mind.

Protective, but not overbearing. Jason’s protective nature comes out more intensely when he’s jealous. If someone flirts with you or makes a comment about how great you are, he might find an excuse to put himself between you two. He won’t start a fight, but his presence becomes like a shield. His stance will shift—more rigid, more authoritative—making it clear that he’s the one who gets to be close to you.

He tries to hide it, but the little things give him away. Jason’s not one to show his jealousy outwardly, but you can tell by his body language. He might look at you a little too long when someone else is talking to you, or his gaze will flicker to the other person before returning to you, almost like he’s making sure he has your attention. He might fidget with his sword or tap his fingers against his thigh, a sign that his mind is racing.

He needs reassurance, but he won’t ask for it directly. After a jealous moment, Jason will likely withdraw, not wanting to admit his feelings. But he’ll need you to remind him that he’s your choice. He won’t say it outright, but you’ll notice him seeking small moments of closeness—lingering touches, quiet words, a soft look that says more than he’s willing to say aloud. He needs to hear that you chose him.

He’ll confront it, but only when it’s overwhelming. If his jealousy goes unchecked for too long, Jason’s emotions might come to a boiling point. He won’t get angry or yell, but he’ll pull you aside and quietly tell you that he’s feeling a little insecure, not knowing if he’s measuring up to what you need. It’s not a confrontation; it’s a vulnerable confession. He’s asking for reassurance without demanding it, and he’s trusting you to help him work through it.

His jealousy isn’t about control—it’s about fear of loss. Unlike like Leo, whose jealousy often comes from his own insecurities and need for validation, Jason’s jealousy is more about the fear of losing you. He doesn’t want to control you, but the thought of someone else stealing your attention, making you feel seen in ways he can't, hurts him deeply. He doesn’t want to be possessive, but sometimes the fear of losing you overrides his rational thoughts.

[revlw]

𓏵 CTRL//OBEY

YAN! ITRAPPED X READER

Warning : obbsessive behavior , yandere themes , stalking , worshipping , self aware , ITrapped.

Note : Please do not romanticize real stalking or abusive behavior. This is for fictional and horror purposes only. Art : @/MrMiao_Noir on X

You hear about ITrapped before you ever see him.

Rumors. Whispers. A name spoken in hushed tones by survivors in the campfire light. Most describe him with confusion. “He’s not like the others,” someone mutters. “Doesn’t chase you like a normal killer… doesn’t even look like a monster.”

He doesn’t. Not at first glance.

When you finally see him, it’s under flickering lights in a run-down hallway. A basic noob avatar, low-poly and harmless looking—except for that Ice Crown on his head, glowing faintly, coldly. He stands motionless in the dark, head slightly tilted, as if studying you. Not attacking. Not even moving.

Then he vanishes.

You think it was a glitch.

It wasn’t.

His obsession begins not with violence, but with access.

You start noticing strange things in your rounds. Generators you just touched regress by themselves. Doors that should’ve been opened glitch out and lock. Items flicker in and out of existence. But these things only happen when you’re nearby.

At first, it’s frustrating. Then it’s unsettling.

You complain to others, but no one else sees it.

Except him.

ITrapped always appears briefly—standing in the background of your match, not lunging at you like other killers, not roaring or hunting. Just… watching. Frozen. Calculating.

Eventually, the sabotage stops targeting you. Instead, it starts protecting you. He disables traps you don’t see. Breaks paths for other survivors—but not you. You’re allowed to move freely, untouched.

You haven’t done anything to earn his favor. That’s what scares you.

You’re not playing the game. He is.

You begin to realize he’s more than just a presence in the matches. He’s altering the game itself.

Somehow, your matches always start with him now. The map selection glitches until it favors the ones he prefers. Load-in screens freeze when you try to quit. Your inventory resets to a “default” version, and the only item that stays is a strange crown-shaped charm he leaves in your loadout.

Players who get too close to you start having issues. One survivor who stayed by your side the whole round disconnects mid-match and can’t rejoin the server. Another finds their controls reversed. One player swears their Roblox account briefly locked when they tried to message you about him.

Still, he never harms you directly.

When you’re injured, he lets you limp away. He never tunnels you. He lets you finish generators—if you’re alone.

You realize, eventually, that he doesn’t want to kill you.

He wants to isolate you.

The first time you speak to him is accidental—proximity voice, maybe, or a glitched chat prompt.

You don’t even know what to say, but you try: “Why are you following me?”

There’s a pause. A long one.

Then a quiet, unreadable line of text appears in chat:

“I used to fix broken things. Then I saw you. I don’t need anything else now.”

You feel a chill—not from fear, but because the message auto-deletes seconds later. Like the system itself didn’t want you to remember.

But you do.

From that point on, he no longer hides. He orbits you in every match. Other survivors grow suspicious. Some stop queuing with you. Others start blaming you when their matches glitch out. You’re alone more often now.

Which is exactly what he wants.

He never refers to you by your username. He calls you “buddy”—the way he once referred to Chance. The way someone might speak to a pet project, or a favorite possession.

You stop seeing him as just another killer. He’s no longer playing the game.

He’s rewriting it.

Your escape routes begin to vanish. The hatch doesn’t spawn when you’re the last one. Exits flicker with ERROR signs when you touch them. Sometimes, your screen goes black mid-match, and when it returns, you’re in a custom map no one else seems to recognize. He’s always there, standing still in the center.

“You’re the only file I didn’t want to delete.”

You can’t tell if he’s speaking in metaphors or literally viewing you as code.

Either way, you’ve stopped feeling like a player.

You’re Already His.

Eventually, he stops appearing to other players entirely.

Only you see him now.

You’re told he’s “disabled” or “removed” from the rotation, but he still shows up in your queue. You report it. Nothing happens.

One night, your screen boots up without you clicking anything.

The message appears in familiar black font:

“Game loaded: You + Me”

And when the round starts, you’re alone.

No teammates. No map.

Just him.

Just you.

Just silence.

And you could feel that he’s smilling.

@revlw 2025