#<- tag for the subject going forward

[tummy-bump-king]

What's the pregnant lord carrying? 👀

just a normal baby! this is what I have for him so far:

He is trans and stealth; nobody except his (now deceased) parents and his wife know. currently toying with the idea of him having taken the place of a brother who died when they were children

he cares for his wife, but their marriage was a political one, an effort to unify their families, as a power struggle had begun to ramp up in their parents' generation, and there was increasing risk of coup/assassination/etc. he is banking on both his lady's affection for him and the fallout her reputation would suffer if she told anyone, to keep his secret

he has a relationship with his head guardsman- that's who the other father is. the lady knows and consents, and the baby was accidental. the relationship was meant to be casual because they both know they can never commit to each other fully, but they fell much harder than they expected

they had just discovered the pregnancy, and he and the lady were making plans to keep it and spin the optics as her being the pregnant one when the story begins. they are dragged out of bed by strange soldiers in the middle of the night. the last thing our lord sees before being pulled away is the bloody body of his guardsman in their antechamber

they spend a long night in terror and uncertainty before it is revealed that the perpetrator is the lady's family who is responsible when her father comes to gloat. they had been dissatisfied with the minor power granted to them with only a daughter in the ladyship, and with the long (a few years) wait for offspring, so they finally decided to seize power for themselves

the lady's family know there would be much more political risk, like backlash from other members of the peerage or even the crown, if they were to commit an all out hostile takeover. so instead, they are going to keep the lord and lady alive, to parade around as the nominal rulers, while they make the real decisions.

most especially, they want the lord and lady to seem lazy and incompetent, so that they can justifiably install themselves as regents when their lands begin to fail, and the lord and lady have every appearance of abdicating in all but name. when the lord's belly begins to swell visibly, this only adds to their narrative that he is fat and complacent

the lord and lady are kept in separate rooms, only permitted to see each other extremely sparingly. while it is not a dungeon, their cells are normal stone rooms in the castle, but with almost all the furnishings removed and restraints added, so it might as well be. this also means that no outsider would think their residence odd unless they were to physically enter the rooms, which they cannot do

obviously the pregnancy is revealed eventually, I would say around the 6 month mark, when it becomes clear that it is not possible for the lord to continue growing in this way with the food he's given and the conditions he's kept in. once the lady's family discover the truth, they adopt a similar plan to the lord and lady's original one, to present the child as of the lady, and then to rule through the child as a puppet heir.

I don't have an ending put together yet, but basically heavy on the angst and whump. I'm contemplating a miscarriage or stillbirth, because theres only so much hunger, cold, and physical injury a fetus can take, and only so much the parent can take before it rejects the extra strain. I do plan on an ultimately not tragic ending, so our poor lord isnt going to die in pain and ignominy, he is at least going to escape with his life. I will have to think on it more

[brutal-nemesis]

Taking my new son Xavier around for show and tell before I lock him in the torture room

tomorrow i am going to being ripping that goddamn smile off of his face

1 | 2 | 3

[thatswhatsushesaid]

didn't anyone ever tell u it's rude to interrupt, da-ge

[eepiebeepy]

wrote an inordinately long and detailed comment about my stance on veganism and morality so i’m just gonna post it here too, because i’m a freak like that

(in response to an individual stating that veganism is “inarguably more moral” due to less lives being lost in plant harvesting than in harvesting plants, feeding an animal, and then killing that animal)

“inarguably more moral”

is a fox immoral for eating a rabbit? is an orca immoral for eating a shark? in the first case the fox is eating an “innocent” and the only lives lost to feed the rabbit were plants, in the second the shark has probably eaten dozens of other animals, ending their lives to further its own (which is ultimately ended by the orca). does this make the orca less moral than the fox due to the number of lives it is consuming in a meal?

the part where people get tripped up is thinking that we aren’t also animals, who evolved from wild creatures who did what they needed to survive. we are naturally omnivorous. we’ve been eating meat for thousands of years. we are only able to attach morality to the action now due to a position of privilege and abundance— when meat may be all that gets you through the winter, is it more moral to starve yourself in search of kindness?

the act of eating meat is not immoral in and of itself. what i believe to be immoral is the way we harvest our meat in modern times. raising animals in terrible conditions just to be slaughtered is unnecessary and cruel, and therefore immoral. meat from animals hunted in the wild, where they have a chance to live a natural life, or from animals raised in ethical captivity (as ethical as we can make it) is about the most moral we can hope to get. this is especially true in a day where vegan alternatives and even regular plant consumption also devastate the environment; crops raised over and over again on vast swathes of land eat up wild spaces and inordinate amounts of water, on top of sucking all nutrients from the soil if done improperly. the real way forward, in my eyes, would be food forests and multi-level greenhouses to maximize food production on minimal space. until we get to that point, arguing that you are more moral for choosing not to partake in an act we’ve been doing for millions of years is moot. advocating for healthy and ethical environments for animals raised as meat, as well as more sustainable farming practices, is “inarguably more moral” than standing on a soapbox and projecting sadness about the life of the poor little piggy that died to feed us. the real world is a lot more complicated than that, and evolutionary biology is a lot more complicated than that.

as for the inevitable argument about us being “smarter and more evolved therefore having the capacity to make more moral decisions”, the animals do not know this. they are the same prey they’ve always been, and we are the same predators. we just put on nicer coats.

i hope you have a lovely day!

[mothmans-mothballls]

i hope it's okay for me to add to this but i learned about this as a woodworking apprentice! we can still grow wood with dense growth rings like this, but the wood plantations fertilise the trees to make them grow faster, creating all that space between the rings and making everything less dense and durable. bc faster growing trees mean you can cut them down sooner and make more money. when it comes to wood from conifers, slower growth means more hardness and durability, since the dark wood in the rings is harder than the light wood. (there are other types of wood where fast growth makes it stronger, paradoxically) your best bet for sturdy new conifer wood is stuff grown far up north where the short growth period forces slow growth. this is also one of the reasons why if you have, say, wooden windows from the 70's-ish and before, even if they're a few hundred years old, as long as they're not rotten you're better off maintaining them than replacing them. I could go on a long tangent about restoration but i don't know the english terminology and also it'd be a side track.

tl;dr once again we could have nice things if not for a comparatively small number of people's greed

(p.s. the point about loss of old growth forests isn't lost on me it's a huge problem that cannot be solved quickly and it goes way beyond human need for construction material)

Evidently the difference between the more flammable, more breakable, more rot-prone wood we build modern houses out of vs. the kind of old growth trees we irreparably depleted in under a century

[amplexadversary]

I wonder if a really dedicated collection of book nerds could get those Elaine Duillo style cover illustrations a foothold in the publishing industry again. There are certainly enough artists who can achieve that level of intricacy that a really really popular Trend might be able to do it.

Perhaps any of those bookbinding hobbyists might want to try to go pro and pair up with an artist to refurbish something well enough to hook the really rich art snobs into buying unique, custom pieces for a fuckton of money.

[dollyfetti]

౨ৎ❆ ₊˚♡⊹ jingle bell rock - katsmas

❄️︵︵　summary: you and your friends (more like terrified followers) decide to recreate the iconic mean girls jingle bell rock dance for your school's holiday show. but then, you hear from one of your lackeys who heard from umi-- whatever, it doesn't really matter. point is: bakugou katsuki, the notorious jerk of the school was heard jerking off to you in the bathroom!  🍫︵︵　notes: popular!reader x popular!bakugou, nsfw (no smut tho), alcohol mention, male masturbation, college au, and the end sucks i lowk hate this </3 🎀︵︵　word count: 2.2k

being the head of your sorority wasn’t exactly challenging. every single girl fell in line with whatever you said, eagerly sharing gossip without hesitation and practically memorizing your every move. well, most of them did...

you scoff, shoving a coffee cup into a girl’s hands. "i asked for three pumps of vanilla, nejire. go get another." you wave off your little errand girl as she mutters a quick apology, while your three minions exchange smirks behind you. you pick up your stride across campus, heading toward class while the trio of lackeys trail closely behind.

"what’s on your to-do?" a suck-up blonde named kumi asks, clutching her ipad and apple pen like they’re part of her identity. you sigh, flicking a glance at your perfectly manicured nails.

"i need a nail appointment at my usual spot. book it for 11:30, please. after yamada's class, i’m heading to the library to study. you should all join me, but i won't force you," you add sweetly, applying a fresh layer of lip gloss in the reflection of your tiny compact mirror as you strut ahead.

two of your girls end up free to tag along, and you settle into a cozy corner of the library, your nose buried in a textbook. meanwhile, as you're fulfilling your student duties, your lackeys giggle quietly, sharing whispers that sound more suited for high school than college. you look up with a curious expression. "what is it?"

their eyes flash to you instantly, wide with excitement. "bakugou was staring at you in yamada's class, and he canceled his 'hangout' with camie. he’s probably going to talk to you!" one of them grins, her head dropping into her hands dreamily.

you blink, your lashes kissing your cheeks as you try to recall who they're talking about.

after a few seconds of silence, it clicks, and you frown. "ohhh, that jerk? hard pass," you say, dismissing the thought with a flick of your wrist. "anywho, i was thinking about what we should do for mei's birthday next week. ideas?" your eyes brighten, always excited to plan something fun and flashy.

the two girls stare at you suspiciously with their mouths hanging open.

one of them pipes up, "well yeah, he's a little rude sometimes, but girl, he is sooo fine!!!" she giggles, twirling her hair flirtatiously.

she's not wrong. you do somewhat recall seeing him around campus and seated in your lectures with his feet kicked up on the desk. his blond hair and thick muscles were gorgeous, but really, there are plenty of supermodel-worthy guys around. the bare minimum is to be friendly, you think.

"if you wanna go out with that delinquent, be my guest." you lean forward, eyes narrowing. she gulps, her smile fading as the girl next to her quickly changes the subject.

"alrighty then...!" she clears her throat. "moving on, the santa costumes should be here in like, two more hours!"

you clap your hands lightly with a happy grin. you and three of your sorority sisters were recreating the iconic mean girls jingle bell rock dance for your little holiday party. you’d managed to get a frat boy to throw it, since sororities, annoyingly, aren’t allowed to host their own big bashes.

your phone pings with a message just a second later. you grab your pink phone, exhaling with a scoff as you read nejire’s “where are you??!!! i got your coffee :D” text.

"mine is too small!"

the night of the party arrived, and you and your friends were hidden in a large, echoey bathroom to get dressed for your upcoming performance.

laughter fills the room as the girls help each other adjust their tight two-piece outfits.

you grin, fixing your rubbery skirt in the mirror. you were absolutely in love with your outfit resembling the movie perfectly-- a red tank top with fluffy white trim, paired with a matching red latex skirt and topped off with a cute santa hat. your black gloves fit perfectly, complementing the thigh-high black heels that complete the look.

"who should we kick the boombox into?" mina giggles half-jokingly, fluffing her hair beside you.

"ugh, monoma for sure!" kento chimes in with a rolls her eyes.

you squeal, glancing at the time on your phone. "oh shit, we gotta go!" you giggle, swinging open the bathroom door. "we'll take pics later," you offer, dragging a whining mina out into the living room with the other two girls following behind. the crowd of students erupt into cheers at your outfits, immediately getting the reference.

you spot your lackeys all huddled together, giving you thumbs ups and cheesy grins. you smile happily, giving them a little wave before getting into position. one of your minions stands beside bakugou, and you hesitantly do a double take, not having expected to see him here. he's not in any kind of festive wear. his arms are crossed with his face set in a clearly bored scowl. you notice your lackey mouth the words "can i get your number?" to the blond, and you can't help but roll your eyes.

the music begins to play, and you all perform flawlessly. mina, sadly doesn't end up kicking the boombox into anyone's face, just nudging it slightly forward with her foot. regardless, it was still a huge success. the audience cheers with pleasure, and you all strike cute little curtsies before heading to get drinks.

by the hot cocoa (and other beverages) stand, you meet up with two of your minions, the one ogling bakugou not present. they fawn over your dance skills, and you graciously accept their compliments. then, out of breath, the missing girl rushes up to the group.

"what happened to you?" kumi smirks, already laughing to herself.

"yn! i was standing next to bakugou, trying to score a date with him, right?" she starts, her eyes wide and eager. you nod along, interest piqued from the unexpectant story. "so he left to go to the bathroom in the middle of your dance, and i followed him, but when i got there..."

you and the other two exchange glances as she trails off, waiting for the rest of the story.

she leans in closer, cupping her hands around her mouth. "he was groaning..."

you all gasp, your face instantly heating up.

"i swear on every pair of heels you own, he was totally beating it to you! kinda jealous, can't lie, but oh my gosh??!" she squeals and bounces up and down on her heels.

you huff, shaking off your flustered expression and folding your arms. "so what? we're not in middle school, i couldn't give a shit if we got him turned on,"

this is half true. part of you thinks he'd be a really great fuck buddy. i mean, seriously! his toned body could get your mouth watering if you'd ever stared at it for longer than five seconds. that is, if you even did the whole "lets fuck and then never speak again" thing.

"who's we?" the girl chuckles, leaning closer to your ear. "he was whispering your name...!"

you can't help the grin slipping past your lips. you got the prideful katsuki bakugou all bricked up with a little christmas dance? you giggle, eyes flicking over to the bathroom door, still closed shut. "i'll be right back..." you mutter, twirling a strand of hair between your fingers as you strut away from your group, ignoring their little cheers and moans.

you stride up to the bathroom, leaning against the wall. you hum quietly to yourself as you wait for bakugou to come out, even though you're not really sure what you're doing. you know your girls are watching you, you can still hear their immature mewls from your spot. you inhale sharply, oh gosh, you hope your hair isn't a mess from--

the door swings open, interrupting your thought with a flushed and grumpy bakugou. his eyebrows raise at your presence. a muscly arm raises to the back of his neck, scratching awkwardly. "hey," he grunts.

you grin at his avoidance of eye contact. "hii," you coo, fluttering your lashes as he steps to the side of the door, inviting you to go next. you shake your head. "oh no, i don't have to go. i was waiting for you actually,"

he coughs, visibly startled. "what?" you could practically see his heart drop to ass as his grumpy expression falters.

"relax," you tease, "i just wanted to make sure you're uh..." you trail off, turning slightly to hide the little smirk tugging at your lips. as you spin to face him again, his expression is a perfect mix of confusion and feigned annoyance. "i just wanted to know if you're all... situated?"

the blond rolls his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets. "shut up,"

"hey i'm not judging, it's completely understandable!" you shrug with an easy smile, tilting your head back against the wall.

"listen up." his growl cuts through the pumping noise as he folds his arms. you swallow as he towers over you, blocking the bathroom entrance. "jus cause you looked-- good or whatever-- doesn't mean i wanna fuck you," he chuckles almost mockingly. you scoff. what a pretentious ass.

"nobody said anything, about us fucking, first of all." you retort, eyeing him up and down, though that does little clear your flustered state. "i don't do just anyone, unlike you. and anyway, can't i just want to help my fellow students out of the goodness of my heart?"

bakugou flicks your forehead, earning a loud scoff from you, swatting his hand away from your face. "and just what the fuck do you mean by 'helping' then?" he challenges.

for the first time in a very long time, you're stuck. you have no idea how to respond-- shit! bakugou notices your hesitation and laughs again, leaning down to tap your cheek with his finger. you huff through your nose, but seemingly frozen in place as his intense red eyes bore into you. then out of nowhere, his expression softens. "y'look pretty,"

your eyes slightly widen. wary, you keep your guard up, tossing your hair over your shoulder. you half expected him to walk away and move on with his life but he doesn't, clearly interested in you. "thank you, playboy." you reply cautiously.

he stares at you, his face falling into a disappointed frown. "playboy? fuck off," he grunts.

you regret the term. you of all people should understand rumors and false assumptions. realizing your mistake, you backtrack. "i'm sorry-- no, i-"

your lackey, kumi, suddenly pops up at your side, giving bakugou an ogling once-over as she puffs out her chest. she turns to you with a naive smile. "hiii, I know now's probably not the time, hehe, but I was thinking about what you said earlier-"

"kumi? doll? hi," you interrupt, sharply spinning towards the dumb girl as you plaster on a fake smile. "uh, i don't have time for this, so if you could..." you point towards the dancing crowd, rubbing her shoulder with feigned kindness.

she looks between you and a bored blond before nodding to your words and mousily rushing off.

"so what're you, regina george?" katsuki chuckles, snatching a drink from a partygoer scrambling past.

your mouth falls open in surprise, totally ignoring his comparison. "you've seen mean girls?"

for a moment, your words go unanswered as the gangly junkie curses at bakugou. the blond merely rolls his eyes. "go do some coke or somethin," he says with a groan, shoving him away. "fuckin loser," he spits under his breath.

katsuki quickly turns back to you. "my ma loves that kinda stupid shit," he replies.

you can't believe you're standing away from your posse to talk to katsuki bakugou. but minutes pass, and here you are, completely absorbed in conversation with him. you've felt multiple vibrations from your tiny purse, definitely from your group chat. the onslaught of messages are probably just desperate pleas begging for you to return... they wouldn't know what to do without you. but you ignore your phone altogether, too engaged in this unexpected exchange.

a soft hum escapes your lips as your eyes sweep the room, gathering a hint of courage. "we should hang out sometime," you suggest, voice playful yet sincere with a smile and a touch of hope in your glance.

katsuki narrows his eyes like he's assessing you, making sure you're for real. he grunts, gaze briefly flicking over your outfit before he speaks again.

"fine. only if you were more clothes though, goddamn."

you can’t help but giggle, the sound light and teasing as you loop your arm around his. "you like it, though, huh?" you grin as he leads you to the dance floor.

"shut the fuck up."

[wholoveseggs]

Hello love, I love your storiess <33

Could you maybe write something with Elijah and the reader being in a relationship for years now, and they have really good sex, but the reader is annoyed that he never lets go and tries to rile him up and turn him on and in the end the reader gets fucked by a very annoyed Elijah.

It would be so cool if you'd include like maybe he spanking her with his belt or maybe he edges her

Behind Closed Doors

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!reader} You knocked on the red door. Elijah answered.

♡♡ Thank you for the request beautiful anon!!! This is pure filth...enjoy♡♡

5.4k words - Warnings: smuttt, some {tender} red door elijah, rough sex, light bondage {with a belt}, spanking (also with belt), oral {m receiving}, overstimulation, chasing, giggles, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, choking, teasing gone wrong {or very, very right}, possessive behavior, mild blood-drinking, some sibling gossip && elijah hating pda ...

Rousseau’s was packed.

The music was low, thudding underfoot, glasses clinking somewhere behind the bar, and the warm press of bodies made the air thick. You had squeezed into a corner table with Rebekah, Kol, Klaus, and Elijah... which meant it was already a little cramped.

When Kol stole your chair…loudly and dramatically, claiming his legs hurt … you didn’t even hesitate. You just smiled sweetly and slid sideways into Elijah’s lap.

His body tensed the second you settled there.

You felt it, the way he stiffened under you, like a live wire pulled too tight. His hand landed on your thigh almost instinctively, meant to steady you, but his fingers dug in a little too firmly to be casual.

You pretended not to notice.

You leaned back against him, all innocence, tucking your legs across his lap and resting your head lightly on his shoulder.

Across the table, Kol snickered into his drink.

"Looks like someone's getting cozy tonight," he said, raising his eyebrows at Elijah.

"You steal my chair and then comment on where I chose to sit next? Rude," you quipped back.

He chuckled and shook his head. "Oh no, darling. You can sit wherever you want." He winked. "I'm just not used to seeing my big brother allow such blatant PDA."

"What's PDA?" Elijah asked, his voice calm and even, his face carefully blank.

Rebekah and Kol burst out laughing, and Klaus shook his head in amusement.

You didn't say anything. You just smiled, sipped your drink, and ran your fingers lightly over the back of Elijah’s neck. 

"PDA, brother, means public display of affection," Kol said, still snickering. "It's not your style. Always the gentleman, never letting on what goes on behind closed doors."

"How enlightening," Elijah replied coolly, taking a long sip of his bourbon. 

He didn’t look pleased that this was the subject of conversation. He was still tense under you, jaw set, breathing measured. He was clearly holding himself back, fighting his darker instincts. You knew Elijah tried very hard to keep his more violent urges locked away, hidden behind that invisible red door he never fully opened for anyone.

Not even you… at least not yet.

Klaus raised his hand to order another round, and Rebekah and Kol began discussing the latest gossip in New Orleans. You didn't contribute, too busy pressing a soft kiss to Elijah’s neck, just below his ear.

"If only they knew what you're like in private," you murmured, lips brushing his skin. "They'd never look at you the same way."

He turned his head slightly, looking down at you. Not amused … but you could see the heat burning in his eyes.

"Don't start something you don't intend to finish," he warned, it was clear he wasn't in the mood for your teasing.

"What would the gentleman do if I did?" you prodded, unable to resist chipping away at his resolve, biting his earlobe softly.

"Careful," he said, an edge sharpening his voice now.

"Or what?" you asked, tauntingly.

He ignored you, turning back to his siblings. Rebekah leaned forward, smirking playfully.

"So, you know how I keep in touch with Matt Donovan?" she began, looking around the table.

"Unfortunately," Klaus said dryly, earning a chuckle from Kol.

Rebekah shot her brothers a glare but continued. "Well, apparently Elena and Damon were caught in a rather compromising situation."

"Classy," Kol snorted, shaking his head.

"Wait, there's more," Rebekah insisted, eyes glittering with mischief. "Stefan was the one who... uhh, discovered them."

"Ooh, scandalous," Kol joked.

Klaus tilted his head thoughtfully. "I never understood the doppelgängers' fondness for Damon. He always seemed rather insufferable."

Kol snickered loudly. "We all know you'd choose Stefan, Nik, you don't have to say it."

Klaus raised an eyebrow, amused. "What do you think, then, Kol? Damon or Stefan?"

"Please," Kol scoffed dramatically. "Neither. Elena is far too lovely for the Salvatores."

"Aww," Rebekah crooned. "That's rather sweet coming from someone she killed once."

"I'm a man of forgiveness," Kol shrugged. "I'm willing to let bygones be bygones."

Klaus smirked. "You want to sleep with her, don't you?"

Kol raised his hands, laughing. "Who here wouldn't?"

There was a brief silence before they all began laughing again.

"I'd be lying if I said no," Klaus chuckled.

"She does have a certain charm," Rebekah agreed with a grin.

Elijah sighed loudly, drawing all eyes toward him. "Frankly, it’s beneath us to gossip about the romantic entanglements of a young woman we are no longer associated with."

You had to fight not to smile at the irritation in his tone.

"Yes, yes, old man," Kol sighed dramatically. "We were only having a bit of fun."

"You have a strange definition of fun," Elijah shot back dryly.

You decided it was the perfect moment to step in and make things worse. "So if I were to call her up and ask her to join us in the bedroom," you said sweetly, looking up at him through your lashes, "you would object to that?"

His siblings barely contained their giggles as they waited eagerly for his answer.

Elijah's jaw tightened slightly, but his tone remained measured and diplomatic. "I only have eyes for you, my love. And I do not share."

"Oh, I'm so lucky," you crooned dramatically, reaching up to pat his cheek lightly.

His siblings laughed, raising their glasses in a mock toast, and the conversation drifted into lighter territory. It was the perfect cover.

You leaned in again, kissing his cheek, "You're wound so tightly tonight," you whispered, tracing a fingertip slowly down the sharp line of his jaw. "I can't wait until we're alone. I wonder what will happen…"

You felt him swallow hard, his entire body going taut beneath you. His fingers tightened almost painfully on your thigh, betraying the effort it took to keep his composure.

"Careful," he breathed, so quiet that only you could hear him.

You smiled softly against his skin, knowing you had finally broken through. "I keep thinking about how good your cock would feel stretching my throat right now," you murmured, deliberately filthy, knowing every word would hit its mark. "How heavy you'd be on my tongue…"

His breathing went ragged, uneven, his composure visibly fraying at the edges. You knew you had pushed him to the brink, soon to shatter whatever remained of his careful restraint.

You sat back, smiling innocently at his siblings as if you hadn't just whispered pure filth into Elijah Mikaelson’s ear.

The others were completely oblivious, still joking and laughing, watching a live performance that had begun. But Elijah was silent, his eyes dark with barely-contained heat.

"When can we leave?" you asked quietly, so only he heard.

Elijah turned his head just enough to brush his lips against your ear again. His voice was velvet-soft, but held a promise sharp enough to make your breath catch.

"Be careful what you wish for."

You barely made it through the lobby of your building before Elijah’s footsteps were right behind you. Sharp, deliberate, closing in fast.

Your heart was pounding, breathless laughter bubbling out of you, caught somewhere between genuine excitement and playful panic. The stairwell echoed with your footsteps as you raced upwards, gripping the railing, nearly stumbling in your haste. 

For a fleeting second, something primal tightened low in your belly. It wasn’t fear exactly, but the dizzy, thrilling knowledge that the man chasing you wasn't just anyone. There was something else prowling beneath his skin, something he kept caged behind that door you were foolish enough to keep knocking on.

"Elijah-!-wait!" you gasped, voice pitching up into a squeal when you felt his fingers just brush the edge of your dress. But you didn't want him to wait… not really… and he knew it, because he laughed softly, a low, wicked sound that sent heat pooling between your thighs.

Your laughter dissolved into a breathless gasp as you rounded the landing, fumbling for your keys. He was right there, close enough to grab you if he wanted, but he let you feel the rush a little longer, your blood pumping wildly.

You barely got the apartment door open before Elijah made his move, catching you easily around your waist and hauling you off your feet. You shrieked in delight, your pulse hammering wildly as he kicked the door shut behind him, pressing you firmly against it, trapping you between his body and the wood.

His breath was warm and ragged against your ear, his voice low and dark and deliciously threatening. "You wanted my attention," he whispered, lips brushing the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. "Now you've got it."

Your head fell back against the door, a soft moan slipping past your lips as he pressed closer, his mouth trailing a hot path down the side of your neck. Your knees felt weak, your mind cloudy, drunk on adrenaline, desire, and the heady sensation of being hunted.

You didn't have to worry about staying upright, not with the way his strong hands were pinning you to the door, lifting your thighs so that you could wrap them around his hips.

"What are you going to do with me now that you have me?" you breathed, trying and failing to keep the needy tremble from your voice.

Elijah chuckled darkly, nipping at the soft skin at the base of your throat. "Oh, I think you know."

One hand tangled in your hair, pulling just hard enough to expose your throat. His fangs sank into your neck, a sharp, stinging bite that made you gasp and squirm. He drank deeply, tasting the wild, heady rush of your adrenaline … it made his own heart beat faster.

When he pulled back, his pupils were blown wide, his eyes clouded with lust.

"You're so hot like this," you cooed, brushing your fingertips across his bottom lip, smearing your blood there.

Elijah smiled, flashing his teeth, and then his mouth was on yours. Warm and demanding. The kiss was all fire and friction, teeth and tongues, messy and rough.

Still holding you against him, Elijah scooped you away from the door, your legs locked around his waist as he strode swiftly toward the bedroom. His mouth never left yours, the taste of your blood still sharp on his tongue.

Clothes became an obstacle and Elijah dealt with them swiftly, tugging your dress up and off in one fluid motion, barely breaking the kiss to do it. You fumbled impatiently at the buttons of this shirt, fingers shaky with need, then finally pulling it open and pushing it from his shoulders.

He dropped you onto the bed, his eyes dark and dangerous as he stripped away his pants. Your pulse hammered at the sight of him above you. You had never seen him quite this worked up, you knew you were scratching at that door again, daring him to open it. Daring him to show you what he hid behind it.

Elijah moved over you, his head dipping to capture your lips, his hands pressed into the mattress next to your head, caging you beneath him. Your hands slid along his biceps, down the strong planes of his chest, fingertips dragging over the lean muscle. You could feel the power coiled there, the strength he always kept leashed. He was the perfect predator, and you were helpless against him.

But you enjoyed being kept under him, to let him do what he wanted. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your heart beating fast, eyes wide and vulnerable as you looked up at him. Because how he used all that power, how he wielded control, was absolutely delicious.

Elijah trailed his mouth down your jaw, nipping and sucking, his fangs pricking your skin, one of his hands sliding along your ribcage, fingertips grazing your lower stomach, just above the edge of your panties.

"Why would you say such crass things in public?" he whispered, his tone soft but firm, like a scolding, "where I could not properly respond to them?"

You giggled breathlessly, your head tipping back as his mouth moved over the sensitive skin of your neck.

"Because I know exactly how to drive you wild," you teased.

His tongue swept a long, slow line across the top of your breast, and your hands instinctively gripped his shoulders, a soft gasp falling from your lips. You desperately wanted him to keep moving lower, but he had other ideas.

"You're a clever thing, aren't you?" he asked, his tone amused.

"I thought that's why you kept me around," you said, your words dissolving into a loud, startled gasp as his hand came down on your inner thigh, just below the lace edge of your underwear, the slap sharp enough to sting.

You felt a rush of heat as his fingers curled around the fabric, ripping it off without hesitation.

"Elijah—"

"Hush," he cut you off sharply.

You bit your lip but couldn't contain a needy whimper as he dipped his head, giving you one, slow, tantalizing lick, all the way from your entrance to your clit, and then he pulled back. 

You groaned, frustrated, and squealed in surprise when his hand came down on your cunt, a firm, sharp slap that had you gasping and shaking.

"What did I say?" he scolded, his tone dark and dangerous.

"Please," you begged, not caring how needy you sounded.

"You aren't listening." 

You yelped as he grabbed your hips, flipping you over and hauling you up onto your knees.

"Keep your face down, and don't move," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You felt his weight leave the bed, heard the soft rustle of his clothes as he picked them up, then the unmistakable sound of his belt sliding free from his pants. Your heart was pounding, anticipation and fear and a rush of arousal tangling in your chest. You didn't turn to look, didn't dare disobey, even though every instinct screamed at you too.

His belt cracked through the air. A sharp, commanding sound that made you flinch, even though he hadn't touched you yet. You waited, counting your breaths, knowing he was watching.

"Will you listen? Or should I bind you?" he asked.

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to taunt him, knowing you were already playing with fire. "I'll listen," you promised.

"Good."

The bed dipped under his weight, his hands curling over your ass, his thumb brushing along the curve. And then his palm cracked against your bare skin, hard enough to make your whole body jerk forward, your thighs trembling from the impact.

"We’re going to play a little game," Elijah said softly, dangerously, his fingertips gently stroking the reddened skin he just marked. "You count each one. If you lose track, I'll bind your wrists and do what I please with you. Understood?"

You swallowed hard, heart hammering in your chest. "Yes."

"Good."

His hand cracked down again, swift and merciless, making you jolt forward with a gasp.

"One," you choked out, fingers clawing into the sheets.

Another, sharper than the last, the sting blooming across your skin like fire.

"Two," you moaned, your thighs clenching helplessly.

Again. Again. The blows fell steady and cruel, each one breaking you down a little more, scattering your thoughts like leaves in a storm.

"S-six," you whimpered, your voice trembling with more than just pain now. With need.

Elijah paused, dragging his fingertips across the burning skin of your ass, the touch almost worse than the blows … too light, too knowing.

"Already struggling," he murmured, his voice dark velvet against your ear. "I thought you wanted to play, sweetheart."

You shuddered under his hand, humiliated, aroused, desperate.

Another crack. Another shuddering gasp. You barely remembered the number. "S-seven," you stammered, unsure.

He chuckled, low and wicked, the sound sinking into your bones.

"Poor thing," he crooned. "Already losing that clever mouth."

Two more sharp slaps, delivered in quick, brutal succession.

You cried out, your body jerking helplessly … pleasure and pain tangled so tight you could no longer tell the difference.

"Eight—no, Nine?" you whispered, wrecked, unsure, desperate to please him and failing.

Elijah's hand smoothed up your spine, his touch almost tender. Almost.

"You lost count," he murmured, with something dangerously close to affection. "You know what that means."

Before you could even beg, the belt was winding tight around your wrists, binding them behind your back. "There we go," Elijah whispered, kissing your shoulder. "Now we'll do this properly."

He guided you carefully onto your knees, his hands firm on your shoulders. Your wrists were still bound tightly behind your back, your heart hammering wildly at the helplessness of your position. 

The sting across your ass flared sharply as you shifted, the tender, bruised skin aching with every tiny movement. Elijah stood before you, one hand cupping your jaw, his thumb sliding across your bottom lip.

"What were your filthier words earlier?" he pondered, the dark velvet of his voice wrapping around you. "Something about wanting my cock stretching your throat?"

You felt your face heat, your pulse fluttering with embarrassment and need. But you didn't shy away, didn't back down. Instead, you parted your lips obediently, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Good girl," he praised softly, guiding the head of his cock to rest on your waiting tongue.

Your mouth stretched around him, a muffled moan vibrating in your throat as he pressed deeper, inch by slow inch. Elijah watched you intently, his eyes dark, his jaw tight with restraint, taking his time even as your breathing grew unsteady and tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

He began to move, slow and controlled at first, sliding carefully in and out of your mouth. Your throat tightened around him instinctively, fighting the invasion, making you gag softly. He groaned at the sensation, gripping your hair and holding your head steady as he began to thrust harder, faster.

"Look at you," he breathed, his voice ragged and low. "So desperate for me, aren't you?"

You whimpered around him, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth, slicking your chin. It was messy, filthy, but you didn’t care. You were entirely his to use, bound and at his mercy, and you loved every second.

The raw throb of your spanked skin only made you more desperate, made you squirm helplessly against the burn, even as you fought to stay still and take him deeper.

He fucked your mouth brutally now, deep and unrelenting, the thick head of his cock battering the back of your throat with every thrust. Tears spilled down your cheeks unchecked, your jaw aching, your breath coming in short, shattered gasps whenever he gave you the mercy to take one… but he didn’t slow, he knew you could take it.

"You begged for this," he rasped, tightening his grip in your hair until your scalp burned, forcing you to look up at him. His vampire nature was bleeding through, dark veins spreading beneath his eyes, his pupils blown wide, a flash of fangs catching the low light.

"Such a perfect, filthy little thing for me," he growled.

Your eyes rolled back helplessly, the combination of his voice and the relentless way he was using your mouth sending your mind spinning, lightheaded and dizzy with need.

"There," he crooned, as he wiped the tears from your cheeks. His voice was wrecked with arousal, slowing his thrusts just enough to grind deep on every pass, causing you to gag around him with every deliberate stroke.

You sucked him eagerly, your tongue curling and swirling around him, moaning brokenly. He let you, let you work him over as he twitched against your tongue.

"You like this, don't you? Having my cock buried in your throat? Knowing how good it makes me feel?" he whispered, his voice low and dark, filled with pride.

You whined in agreement, desperate to please him, your eyes fluttering shut as he kept up his perfect rhythm. He groaned at the way your hands twisted in their bindings, at the sight of his cock disappearing over and over into the warmth of your mouth. You were so eager, so willing, taking him as deep as he wanted, moaning around him, begging without words.

He pulled out abruptly, leaving you gasping for breath, a strand of spit stretching from your lips to the head of his cock.

"On the bed," he snapped. "Ass up. Now."

You scrambled to obey, your body trembling, your wrists still bound tightly behind your back, leaving you helpless, vulnerable. The bed dipped violently under his weight as he shoved you down, yanking your hips high into the air.

The second your knees spread, the raw sting of your earlier spanking flared across your ass, sharp and punishing, and you whimpered brokenly, pressing your flushed cheek into the sheets.

Elijah didn’t wait. He didn’t tease. He grabbed your hips, lined himself up, and eased into you with a brutal thrust that punched a broken scream from your throat. You sobbed beneath him, unable to move, unable to breathe, the stinging throb of your bruised ass and the unbearable stretch of his cock wrecking you completely.

"You're mine," he growled. "Tied up and dripping, taking every fucking inch like you were made for me."

He drove into you hard and deep, the headboard slamming against the wall with every brutal thrust. Your bound hands strained uselessly against the belt, your body arching into him despite the merciless pace. Without warning, he brought his hand down sharply across your sore ass. You screamed, the fresh slap setting every nerve on fire, your pussy clenching around him.

"You are the one who wanted to make a show out of our private life," Elijah snarled, spanking you again, making you jolt and squirm helplessly under him. "This is what you get."

His pace was punishing, ruthless, his grip bruising, his voice rough and dark. You whimpered, overwhelmed, the angle letting him hit your g-spot with every thrust, sending heat racing through your veins.

"You wanted them to know what you turn me into?" Elijah growled, his hips pounding into you hard enough to shake the bed. "You wanted to show them the side of me you alone get to see?"

You sobbed out a broken yes, barely coherent, every nerve-ending lit up from the brutal pleasure of his cock pounding into you.

"Careful," he murmured, slowing his pace just enough to make you feel the full, aching stretch of him. "You might just get your wish, sweetheart. Maybe next time I'll fuck you on the bar table while they watch. Let them see what I do to you."

He shifted slightly, angling his hips until every brutal snap of his body against yours crushed that sensitive spot inside you again and again. You couldn't hold it back even if you tried. The orgasm ripped through, tearing a raw, broken sob from your throat as your body clamped down around him, your vision going white.

"That's it," he purred, slowing only slightly, fucking you through the aftershocks, wringing every last drop of pleasure from your trembling body.

You collapsed into the bed, boneless and whimpering … but Elijah wasn’t finished. Not yet.

Somewhere, dimly, you realized you had gotten exactly what you asked for. You had teased the gentleman and unleashed something far darker, far hungrier, from behind the red door he had always kept locked.

And now there was no more pretending, no more polite restraint … only Elijah, brutal and merciless, intent on taking every last piece of you.

Without warning, he pulled out, flipping you roughly onto your back. Your hands were still bound behind you, your body trembling, your eyes glassy with pleasure-drunk need.

He leaned over you, his face fierce and devastatingly beautiful, his fangs flashing just slightly behind parted lips. For a moment you felt real fear, a flutter of instinctual panic. Perhaps you had pushed him too far, that he wasn't temporarily indulging or even pretending, but actually taking what he wanted.

He seemed to sense it, and his expression softened slightly, just for a moment, his eyes dark with hunger, but not malicious. He leaned down, nuzzling the soft skin just below your jaw, the tenderness a stark contrast to the violence of his need.

"You're mine, understand?" he murmured against your ear, his voice rough. "You belong to me."

"Yes," you breathed.

His hands curled under your thighs, lifting and spreading them, pinning them back toward your chest, the angle made you feel so exposed. his dark eyes locked on yours, watching your face as he pushed slowly into you. You were slick, swollen, but still so sensitive that his sudden return had you squirming against him, whimpering with overstimulation.

You let out a strangled gasp as you felt the slow, maddening drag of his fingers over your clit. Light, teasing, circling, while his cock stayed buried deep inside you. You whined, needing more, hips twitching against his restraint, but Elijah only shushed you gently, his fingers never lifting, his cock grinding slowly inside you with the barest roll of his hips.

"So sensitive," he whispered, his lips brushing your own. "My poor girl..."

Your bound wrists were pinned and straining under you, your head nodding frantically, overwhelmed, tears spilling down your cheeks from the sheer intensity of it, from how tender and ruthless he was all at once.

"You're going to come again and again and again...," he said, his voice so calm it almost broke you. "You're going to milk my cock like the desperate little whore you are. And I'm not going to stop until you're begging properly."

You tried to protest, the words barely formed on your tongue, but Elijah cut you off with a kiss, "Do you like this?" he whispered, swallowing your cry as he sank deeper, mercilessly rubbing your clit, lighting every nerve.

"Elijah," you pleaded, the word almost a sob, caught somewhere between a plea and a moan.

"I'll take that as a yes," he murmured, his smile wicked, his eyes dark.

You weren't sure how long he worked you over, how many times he pushed you to the brink, only to let the waves subside, keeping you suspended in blissful torture. He kept you balanced on the edge, a desperate, needy, writhing mess. It was too much, you couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All of your senses had narrowed down to only him, to the heat of his body and the smell of his skin, the feel of his touch.

He watched you intently, the way your face flushed, your eyelashes fluttering, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the soft, helpless whimpers falling from your lips. You were perfect, utterly his, and completely undone.

"Come for me," Elijah whispered against your ear, thrusting just a little deeper, rolling his hips in tight, devastating circles. "Show me what a good girl you are. Show me how you come apart on my cock."

You shattered with a scream, your entire body locking up, pulsing and spasming around him, stars bursting behind your eyes as your orgasm ripped through you. But Elijah didn’t stop … his eyes black and wild as he fucked you through it. He kept his pace slow and punishing, wringing every trembling aftershock from your wrecked body, his fingers still teasing your clit, driving you past the point of reason.

"I know, baby," he breathed when you sobbed, trying to squirm away. "I know it's too much. But you can take it. You always take it for me."

Your body trembled violently, tears streaming freely down your cheeks, but your pussy kept clenching around him, your body betraying you, desperate for every slow, deep grind of his cock inside you.

"You love it," he whispered, reverent. "My good, beautiful girl. You love being so full of me you can't think straight."

He leaned down, claiming your mouth in a kiss, licking away the salt of your tears, sucking and nipping at your lips.

"One more," he coaxed, his voice low and gentle. "Come on. Give me one more."

"I can't," you begged. "Please, Elijah, I can't—"

"You can," he murmured, his hand curling around your throat, the pressure careful but firm, holding you in place.

The angle forced you to look up at him, his expression so tender and adoring, a sharp contrast to the roughness of his movements, the tightness of his grip. Your hands clenched helplessly at the belt binding your wrists, unable to stop the soft, choked moan that fell from your lips as he began to thrust faster, harder. His vampiric nature had taken over entirely, his face savage and feral, his eyes black and wild.

And then he struck, his fangs piercing the skin of your neck, a bright, burning flash of pain. His bloodlust was raw and desperate, but he still had control, drinking only enough to push you over the edge, not caring about the mess you made on the sheets as you came with a helpless, broken wail.

You could barely breathe, could barely hear his broken, stuttered groans, could barely feel the rush of wet heat as he spilled inside you, reaching his own release. You lay there, shaking, limp and helpless, as his mouth found yours again. A tender, lingering kiss, filled with something far deeper than just the passion.

"I've got you," he murmured against your lips.

It took several long moments, and his careful, steady hands, before he was able to untangle the belt from around your wrists, tossing the leather aside. Your arms dropped limp once Elijah finally freed them, tingling and sore from being pinned so long. He caught them gently, brushing kisses along your wrists and the palms of your hands, checking the tender skin for damage.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his expression worried. "I didn't mean to be so rough."

"I'm fine," you hummed lazily, letting him fuss over you a little, sprawling back across the sheets like you had all the time in the world. You were wrecked, sure, your thighs still trembling, your whole body aching, but you felt good, wild and fucked-out and smug about it.

"I'm sorry," Elijah insisted.

You sighed, sitting up, cupping his cheek in your palm. "Hey," you murmured, drawing his gaze back up to yours. "Don't apologize. That was amazing."

"I hurt you," he said, his brows drawing together in worry.

"Yeah, and I loved every second," you teased, smiling up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "It's kind of the point, remember?"

His expression softened slightly, his arms winding around your waist and pulling you against him, your foreheads pressed together.

"You're a menace," he said, voice rough but amused as he brushed his lips against yours. "A beautiful, dangerous menace."

"Can't help it," you murmured, grinning. "You bring it out of me."

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated against your skin. "Apparently I do," he admitted, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, his voice softening, turning vulnerable. "Did I truly live up to your expectations?"

"Oh, Elijah," you breathed, tilting his face up to meet your gaze. "You always exceed them."

He smiled, his hands running soothingly up and down your sides, his lips grazing softly over the fresh bite mark on your throat.

Until you broke the moment.

"So," you said, voice a little too innocent, "would you really never consider sharing?"

Elijah stilled, then lifted his head enough to give you a dry, unimpressed look.

You batted your lashes shamelessly.

"I mean, Elena’s cute," you mused aloud, dragging a lazy finger down his chest. "Or Stefan. Broody in a hot way. Perhaps even Damon if I’m feeling particularly generous."

"You're impossible," Elijah groaned.

"I'm not hearing a no."

He sighed, "No, sweetheart," he said firmly, the hint of a threat in his voice. "I would rather gouge out my own eyes than offer you up to the Salvatores." His lips found yours again, the kiss hungry and possessive, filled with promise. "They're not worthy of you."

"I don't know," you whispered against his mouth, grinning. "Maybe I like the idea of you getting jealous."

Elijah growled under his breath, a low warning rumble, and kissed you again, even harder, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

When he pulled back, he hovered over you, his eyes dark.

"Say one more word about anyone else," he murmured, "and I’ll fuck you against every surface in this apartment until you forget their names."

Your thighs squeezed around him instinctively.

You smiled, smug and wrecked and unbothered. "Worth it."

Elijah shook his head, exasperated but smiling despite himself, the faintest trace of a blush coloring his cheeks. "You truly are a menace,”

You just laughed breathlessly, reckless and happy, already plotting how you would break him all over again.

[gourmand-cookie]

The One Who Hears Him

inspired by @odileeclipse's beautiful and yummy oneshot The One Who Sees You, a Shadow Milk Cookie POV of the events that happened and perhaps a little more

—What was better than stealing such an unlooked treasure from that pathetic thief?!

Apparently, one that walked right onto his stage to be his centerpiece.

tags: Shadow Milk Cookie/Reader, One-sided Pure Vanilla Cookie/Reader, Mentioned PureLily, Slow Burn-ish (In terms of Timeline), Character Study, Love, Loyalty, Bittersweet, Happy Ending, Angst, Shadow Milk Cookie Has Abandonment Issues, Shadow Milk Cookie Submits to the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known

If he could be honest for once in his second life, he didn't think you'd listen. Shadow Milk Cookie figured he'd have to put in the effort, make a real glamorous show to keep your attention, was looking forward to it even– What was better than stealing such an unlooked treasure from that pathetic thief?!

Apparently, one that walked right onto his stage to be his centerpiece.

"Come one, come all! Well, I suppose that's still one of you, to witness the comedy of The False Heroes!" You had scoffed, you had gazed at him then with a raised brow and exasperation but you stayed to listen to his fantastical, fanatical retelling.

And that was all that mattered, really.

You didn't participate at first, merely an audience who watched his antics with quiet eyes and a tired face, but oh were you enraptured, he just knew it.

(Look at me. Look at me.

I'm looking.)

"I can see you, darling." He crooned, bowing low, hand held out, eyes filled with mirth, dark amusement has his slitted pupils dilating with anticipation, "I said you'd be part of the show, didn't I?"

There's something funny about this, coaxing you to step into the backstage with him, out of the spotlight shining down on you, into the shadows to play with the puppets he's made just for this spectacle.

"But then I won't get to 'witness' it." You rebuke but you've already made a step forward, grasping onto his hand and he could feel your breath hitch with how solid it feels against your own dough.

"Oh but that's the best part, little star! You won't get to just witness it. We'll be spinning the narratives ourselves~"

He pulled you in before you could think, it was just so easy.

And yet he's never had more fun playing with you, it must be because the plan was going well, it definitely is!

(He's already fallen once.

What's one more?)

Your kingdom reminded him of a fortress, walls built tall and high, hidden away– So how did he end up here?

He knew why, this was what he had been striving for after all, months of late night talks, whispered ponderings and soon enough, secrets told were what lead to this.

He just didn't expect to find himself inside palace walls so soon, trailing after you as you quietly greet your subjects, just as loyal, just as patient as you, they'd been waiting for your return, never once wavering in doubt for your arrival.

He watched you, silent for once, taking it all in, you were a walking tragedy all on your own.

It's funny. It isn't.

"He's not going to greet you like this." A lie. He would, just not in the way you wanted, he would say your name with warmth, perhaps reach in for a hug, but his frame wouldn't soften in the way it would have, reserved for someone else that wasn't you.

"I know." Your replies grow more and more neutral, used to this song and dance the both of you have started moons ago.

Shadow Milk felt his mouth twitch, this was good, he could use this–

And yet.

"Hey, hey, won't you be the star of my show?" You paused, turning around to see his waiting hand.

He ignored the rush of warmth when you don't even hesitate anymore in taking it.

"Just for tonight?"

"Ah," He found himself laughing, a new plan stringing up his mind, "Don't stars always shine every night?"

He pulled you along, taking you with him, his hold firm and unwilling to let go. You may not wish to take what you want but that was fine, he could be selfish for the both of you.

(Plans never survived with contact from the enemy.

He knew this, of course. He just didn't think you were a threat.

Now, his heart starves for something to fill it once more.)

"Would you wait for me?" He asked it on a whim, there was something he wanted to see, check on that thief's kingdom if it had fallen to ruin—

"Of course." Your voice trembled but your words hold a truth that burned him into a wide eyed stupor.

(Oh.

Oh.)

He doesn't know how long the both of you stayed in that moment, a revelation, the climax, of what has become of the both of you.

"Oh, my little star." Shadow Milk breathed, crowding your glassy eyed face with a too wide grin, grasping your cheeks as he felt the truth crush him once more.

"Did you really think I won't come back? I might not!" A lie. The biggest he's ever told.

You listened and laughed wetly, leaning in to press your forehead against his, tethering him to this world, stronger than any crack in that damn seal ever could.

"And miss tonight's show?"

(He came back just before night fall.)

"Are you truly happy?" He paused at his other half's question, one he could never find himself to ask themselves, what good was the truth anyways? All it did was–

"I am." You didn't even hesitate.

Something settled in his chest, left him breathless, so heavy and warm, he might just think his body was truly real.

He giggled from where he was draped over you and he delighted in seeing you smile at the sound.

"Is that a smile I see? Ah, no no, don't look away from me, my little star. I saw that!"

(And if tonight was a fullblown musical– well, who didn't love a good song?

You certainly did.)

[cutehoons02]

Do you want to kiss my face?

*pairing: hot loser Sunghoon x tiktoker Girl

*trope: grumpy x sunshine

*synopsis: What would happen if for almost a year you had fallen into a situanship with the boy of your dreams as well as Sunghoon and that day you had thought to play with him, Try to make it fall at your feet with a simple trend seen on tik tok where you had to fill all the face of kissing your boyfriend but maybe you did not realize that maybe it was not you who won but him!

*tags: Trending Tik Tok, a lot of fluffy moments but at the same time they tease each other, Sunghoon is really an underdog for her but is afraid of his feelings, fake innocent girl, a lot of kisses, sucking, nipple games, masturbation (f. receives) unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) jealousy, groveling, possessiveness, pet names (angel,baby) (hoon,hoonie)

5.1k (💋)

(English is not my native language)

A situationship is that ambiguous territory where you find yourself with someone you like but without clear labels. You are not officially a couple, but you act as if you were: spend time together, share intimate moments, and care for each other, but without the "serious" that often accompanies a relationship. It is like living in limbo, where you are both aware of feelings but avoid facing them openly.

With Sunghoon, you were stuck in this situation for almost a year. You loved it, but he always seemed a little distant, a little cynical, and every time you tried to clarify your situation, he avoided the subject. But that day, something had changed. While you were scrolling on TikTok, you came across a funny and affectionate trend: a video where you had to kiss his face, from side to side, then take it back and finally show it covered in kisses.

A cunning smile spread across your face as you pictured yourself doing it with Sunghoon. Maybe this would break the ice, you thought. And so, with a renewed determination, you decided to go into his dorm room and try to drive him crazy like you usually do.

When Heeseung one of Sunghoon’s roommates opened for you, the apartment had the usual chaos experienced: jackets thrown on a chair, a pair of sneakers forgotten in the corridor, glasses left on the coffee table, bowls full of ramen and in the living room there was a huge amount of cables connected to the TV to play those nerd games on the TV.

With a nod, you took off your shoes and headed without hesitation to Sunghoon’s room and knocked twice before opening it without even hearing "an forward" from the master of the room.

He was lying on the bed, illuminated only by the cold light of the monitor. On the screen, a scene from a horror film: screams, blood, disturbing shadows. He had one hand under his head, the other on the keyboard, ready to pause. When he saw you, he lifted himself slightly on his elbows, looking at you with a mixture of surprise and mistrust.

«What are you doing here?» he said suspiciously.

You leaned against the doorknob of his door with a cunning smile and a grin that brought no good.

"Wow, what a warm welcome," you said crossing your arms

«You didn’t answer the question.» said the half-lying boy on the bed while not taking his eyes off you

"And you didn’t say 'hi'. You said with a grin.

Sunghoon sighed and ran his hand through his hair, had seen you countless times in the university halls, at sorority parties, and at the bar of the university but every time he saw you his heart was always beating more than it should and this thing made him crazy because he was the one who hated to show his feelings to people or even worse his emotions that felt.

«Hi. Now answer my question» You stepped forward, looked at the screen, and raised your eyes.

"Are you spending the evening watching horror alone?"

«Better than going to those parties you love so much.» he sighed

"Or maybe you would have preferred to be with me," you insinuated, leaning slightly forward and Sunghoon stared at you for a moment, then looked away, suspicious.

«Wait a minute... why are you here, exactly? You didn’t have to be in some club having fun with your friends...»

You sat on the edge of the bed, deliberately ignoring his scrutinizing gaze.

"Can’t I just want to spend some time with you?» you said, lightly touching the tufts of his tuft that were growing ever.

«No, because when you make that face, you have something in mind.» a small smile complicit curled your lips. Sunghoon knew you better than yourself sometimes and this thing scared you because he was the only one who could put you in your place and not let you behave like a spoiled girl.

"Maybe so," you said in a funny whisper

Sunghoon leaned against the back of his bed, crossing his arms.

«I knew something was up. Tell me what you want right now before I get more scared than the movie.»

"Oh, Hoonie, trust me, what I have in mind is much scarier than any horror!"

He looked at you, unsure whether to worry or give up immediately.

«I don’t like the way it sounds.»

"But I’m sure you’ll like it."

Sunghoon gasped, but the blush on his ears betrayed him.

«I have a terrible suspicion that I will regret it.»

You laugh, reaching out to grab the mouse and pause the movie.

"Come on, you’ll only find out if you listen to me." Sunghoon stared at you for a moment, then sighed theatrically.

«This is a terrible idea and I don’t even know what you’re going to do to me.»

"Bad ideas always become the best if you make them with the right people!" And as he sat down reluctantly, he already knew that he would have no escape.

You took out your phone and got closer to Sunghoon, with a little smirk on your lips.

"Okay, Hoon, I want to try this trend with you." Sunghoon didn’t even bother to look at you with his eyes still fixed on the screen.

«No,» he said without hesitation

You snorted, showing the video you had saved on TikTok with enthusiasm

"But look what it is!" you said with a frown while you teased his biceps

«I don’t care,» he said as he tried not to listen

"Come on! All my friends are doing it with their boyfriends!"

At those words, Sunghoon slowly turned to you, looking at you with a suspicious expression.

«So what?»

" I want to do it too!" you said with a smile full of hope but he blinked, then raised an eyebrow.

«Little problem: I’m not your boyfriend.»

You stood for a moment in silence, surprised by his answer, God could not stand when he behaved like this, All the people when they saw you thought you were engaged but he had never dared to ask and well you were stubborn and did not want to give in and so crossed your arms with a frown visible in the eyes of Sunghoon.

"What a nice way to tell me no." Sunghoon sighed and went back to watch the movie as if the conversation was already over but you, you just snapped out of bed.

"All right then, I’ll go find someone else," you said as you walked out of his door

«What?!» Sunghoon snapped at you with the film completely forgotten.

"If you don’t want to do it, I’ll find someone else. Maybe Heeseung is available," you said with a smirk, and Sunghoon’s expression darkened instantly.

«You will not do it with Heeseung,» he told you so coldly and you stared at him with a smirk.

"Why not?" you said innocently and he clenched his jaw, visibly annoyed by your spoiled child behavior

«Because it’s ridiculous.»

"Oh, so if I do it with someone other than you is ridiculous, but if I do it with you isn’t ridiculous anymore?" Sunghoon snorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

«It’s a problem if you do it with Heeseung or any other guy who isn’t me,» he said, touching my hair in frustration.

"So are you jealous?" you asked with a clever smile.

«No,» he replied too quickly and you looked at him, amusing yourself.

"If you say so... then I’m going, eh."

You tried to turn around, but in a moment Sunghoon reached out and grabbed you by the wrist, holding you.

«Wait.» you turned, holding back barely a victorious smile.

"Yes?"

He avoided your visibly battered look, then puffed.

«Take the lipstick. But don’t abuse it.»

"So you do it?"

Sunghoon glanced at you, cheeks slightly flushed.

«... Better me than Heeseung.» You laughed, taking out the lipstick from the bag.

"Good one, Hoon. I knew you’d give in." He sighed, taking a last look at the film.

«I’ll regret it, won’t I?»

"Nah," You answered, approaching you with lipstick in hand. Sunghoon put the computer away with a sigh and settled more comfortably on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest.

«Okay, let me see this ridiculous trend."

You sat down beside him with enthusiasm and showed him the video on your phone screen. Sunghoon watched in silence as the girl in the video gave a single kiss on the boy’s cheek, then the video cut him completely covered with lipstick prints all over his face and neck.

He stood still for a couple of seconds, then turned to you with his eyebrow raised.

«You do realize this is an assault, right?» you laugh, shaking the lipstick between your fingers. "Oh, stop it. That’s cute!"

«For whom? For you, that you enjoy torturing me?»

"Exactly." Sunghoon puffed, but the look he gave you was more amused than irritated.

«All right, let’s get it over with». You smiled triumphantly and approached, riding on his legs without thinking too much.

Sunghoon stiffened at once, his eyes wide open in shock.

«What-what the hell are you doing?»

"I make things easier for both of us," You replied with a natural response as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He remained petrified for a few seconds, the look glued to you, then slowly laid his hands on your hips, the big fingers closing with a slight hesitation.

«You’re dangerous,» he murmured, trying to seem impassive, but the blush on his ears betrayed him and you laughed because he was adorable.

"And you’re adorable when you pretend to be indifferent." Sunghoon sighed, trying to relax.

«Let’s move on before I change my mind.»

You picked up the phone and started recording, came closer and gave him a light kiss on the cheek, then walked away with a satisfied smile.

"See? Easy." Sunghoon nodded in a feigned professional tone.

«If it ended here, I would say that it was even pleasant.»

"But that’s not the end of it," You said, laughing

Before he could protest, you reapplied lipstick with a diabolical air and started the second part.

The first kiss was on the jaw. The second is near the corner of the mouth. The third is on the cheekbone. Sunghoon had started with a cynical expression, but as you continued, his breath became slightly deeper, his hands on his hips clenched instinctively.

«That’s an abuse,» he muttered, but his voice was strangely lower than usual and you smiled at his skin.

"Oh, stop it. You like it."

Sunghoon didn’t answer immediately, but when you came down with kisses along the neck, you felt his fingers clench even more in your hips.

«Wait a second»

"Shhh." You left him a kiss right under his ear, and you heard Sunghoon hold his breath for a second.

«...You are the devil.» he finally said in a slightly more husky voice.

"And you’re my favorite loser," You replied, chuckling as you walked away to admire his masterpiece. Sunghoon leaned against the headboard of the bed, eyes closed for a second as if he was to recover. Then he looked at you with an amused expression.

«Finished?» You checked the phone and smiled satisfied, the video had come out great and it also looked very funny but the thing that made your heart warm was how Sunghoon was looking at you and you couldn’t hold it anymore.

"Finished. You’re beautiful." Sunghoon snorted, but the smile on his lips betrayed him.

«If anyone sees this, I will move to another country.»

"Too late, I post it on TikTok."

«You don’t- wait, you won’t really post it!»

You laughed while he tried to rip the phone out of your hands but you were faster and you had just published it and there were already likes on the video. Sunghoon speed took your phone and watched the video there was a video of himself, completely covered in kisses, with the caption: "With my fav loser bf ❤️💋"

He was petrified for a few seconds. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward her. «Tell me you didn’t post it."

You just laughed, rocking slightly while still sitting on his lap.

"Come on, it’s so cute! Look at the comments, people love us."

«We are not a couple,» he replied immediately.

You shook your shoulders carelessly, pretending that his words did not hurt.

"BF stands for best friend." When Sunghoon heard those words you stuck, best friend. Did you just consider him a simple best friend?

His brain instantly jammed. They had never been friends. Not in the true sense of the word. Not when he spent his evenings watching you laugh, wondering if it was legal for someone to be so bright. Not when his heart made a small leap every time you got too close and certainly not when he imagined you in much less innocent contexts, like with that damn lipstick smudged because of him.

Best friend?

The cock.

Without thinking too much, his hands on your hips squeezed slightly and, with a smooth movement, he pulled up a little, getting closer to you even more and you looked at him surprised.

"Sunghooon?" He did not answer. The dark eyes fixed on yours, the fingers pressing lightly on your skin, the breath heavier than usual.

And then, without a moment’s hesitation, he pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss was not sweet, it was a direct hit, a statement, a warning. His lips moved on you with an almost frustrated intensity, his hands held you in your hips, as if he was afraid that you would run away from him, and when he came off, your breaths were entangled. You looked at him with your eyes wide open, completely speechless and Sunghoon ran his tongue over his lips, tasting the taste of lipstick again. Then, with a low and confident voice, he said: «I’m not your best friend.»

You stared at him, the heart that beat a thousand, and a funny smile formed in your lips again savoring the sweet taste of his lips that had kissed you a few seconds before.

"Oh,." He tilted his head slightly.

Oh?» he repeated, raising an eyebrow. «Is that all you have to say?»

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, the brain desperately trying to recover. Then, finally, you let slip a clever little smile.

"So... if you’re not my best friend, then what are you?"

Sunghoon looked at you for a long moment, then slowly ran his hands down your hips, getting closer still but you saw that he didn’t really know what to say and you were tired of seeing him so confused, this time it was you who kissed him. Your lips melted to hers in a deep kiss, initially sweet, but that soon turned into something more intense. Your hands went up his neck, fingers intertwined in his soft hair. Hoon hesitated for a moment, surprised, but then his arms stretched around you with possessive force.

The kiss continued, the beating of your heart accelerated, and your breathing intertwined. When you finally came off, his look was uncertain, but his lips were slightly closed, red and shiny for your lipstick. It made you smile to see him so vulnerable and beautiful. With your thumbs trembling, you brushed the contour of her lips, spreading the lipstick slightly out from the edges.

"You’re beautiful," you whispered, as your breath touched her skin.

Hoon swallowed, Adam’s apple moved visibly, and you noticed the redness on his cheeks. But before he could say anything, you tilted your face and began to kiss his neck but this time no longer sweetly but you wanted them to know that he was yours. You felt his body stretch under your touch, and a low moan escaped from his lips as he uttered your name.

«Angel, you have no idea what you are doing to me,» he said in a roaring voice, and you felt the heat rising in your body.

Without thinking about it, you pulled off the sweatshirt and wow,

His biceps looked even more sculpted than the last time you saw him. You did not resist the temptation to run your fingers over it, your red nails left a slight shiver on her skin. " With these biceps, you could make another TikTok trend, the one with the bow..." you laughed.

He puffed, but the smile that bent his lips betrayed the fun. «You can do what you want with it, Angel.»

You lit up with a cunning smile and began to kiss him on the chest, going down slowly to his navel. You felt his breath become irregular as if he was holding something. But you wanted him to go crazy, you wanted him to completely lose control. So, with the same gentle slowness, you continued, leaving a kiss just below the navel.

His reaction was immediate: his breath became heavier and you felt its length grow under the suit. You looked up at him, biting your lip with a mischievous smirk. "Is anyone excited?" You provoked, rubbing lightly against him.

Hoon blinked, as if he was trying to maintain his lucidity, then grabbed you firmly by the hips, pulling you closer. «I shouldn’t call you Angel, but hell,» she whispered with a grin, before catching your lips again in a deeper, more desperate kiss.

Hoon was fucked by you. In that moment, but also others, you were the one who had control, and seeing how you rubbed over him made him lose his mind. He felt his cock getting harder and bigger in contact with your center as you swung slightly and with his arms took you by the hips and laid you down in bed. He climbed up on you and with a satisfied smirk said:

"Let’s see who laughs now.» You still laughed, but the sound of your laughter soon turned into a thrill when he took off your shirt with a single gesture. His eyes darkened at the sight of your red bra, and he noticed how your tender buds were already turgid. He did not waste time, took it away from you without asking and when he saw your breasts slightly bouncing in plain sight, he lost all control. His big hands grabbed your breasts, squeezing them slightly, causing a shiver down your back.

«Damnation, angel...» he muttered before bending down and kissing your breast, licking your nipples with exasperating slowness, nibbling them just to tease you; Your breasts were perfect for his big hands and he saw how sensitive your buds were when they touched his cold fingers or contact with his tongue as he sucked you and tickled them and felt how hard they were.

You rolled up your back, his attentions were driving you crazy, and you felt his length getting harder and harder, rubbing against you through the clothes.

«My sweet and innocent angel is so needy of my attentions?» he provoked you with a roaring voice and amused, continuing to torment your body.

You gave him a defiant look, biting your lower lip. "I’m not as innocent as you think."

He laughed but stopped abruptly to leave a kiss on your navel. Then, without warning, he lowered his hand and touched your center still covered by panties, making you shudder.

«So wet and needy for me,» he whispered, with a voice charged with desire and malice.

His dark gaze, burning with desire, rested upon you and his mischievous smile made you hold your breath.

«All for me," he whispered, with that low, husky voice that drove you crazy as she took off your panties and his fingers brushed your clitoris with a delicacy that made you tremble. And then, without warning, he pushed a finger into you, ripping off a choked-out groan.

"Hoonie..." his name slipped from your lips without you being able to stop, and it was your ruin.

His eyes darkened, his lips bent in a satisfied smile, and he immediately added another finger, moving them with studied precision, as if he wanted to carve you into pleasure. You felt trapped, but at the same time, you didn’t want to run away. Because you knew he would keep on begging you.

«Look how responsive your body is to me,» he whispered, leaning over you as his fingers did not begin to stop. «You like it when I take control, don’t you?»

A groan, louder than expected, confirmed his answer.

«I knew it...» he laughed softly, his mouth hot against your skin. «Always so stubborn, but look how you melt for me.»

With his other hand, he moved on your breast, stroking and teasing your sensitive buds until another whimper was torn from you. Then, as he kept moving his fingers inside you, her thumb found the clitoris again, brushing it with perfect pressure, which made you completely lose control.

Sunghoon kept pumping his fingers inside you and they were full of your excitement and he thought he could come in that exact instant while you moaned his name, took his fingers well, and diminished yourself to get more and more from him.

«You’re so tight around my fingers... who knows what it will be like when there’s my dick in their place»

You felt overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure that shattered you, your body trembled and your breath was broken. Hoon stopped only when he heard you relax under him and come between his fingers, then pulled back his fingers and brought them to his lips, tasting you with a smug smirk.

«So, good» he muttered, keeping his gaze fixed on you as his tongue touched his fingers. «But I want much more, Angel.»

Your fingers trembled slightly as you undressed his boxers, and your breath slid down your throat. Gosh. It was long, full, tense with desire for you, with a drop of clear liquid shining on the tip. Instinctively, you licked your lips, eyes chained to its length.

Hoon laughed softly, his voice low and husky. «You’re so impatient, angel...» he whispered as he sucked his cock slightly. «Tell me how much you want it.»

You looked at it, your face lit up, the desire that clouded your mind. "I want it," you murmured. "I want it as much as you want me."

A dark flash crossed his gaze, his lips curled into an arrogant smile. He grabbed the base of his erection and, without warning, passed it slowly over your bright, excited entrance, touching your swollen clitoris, and making you shudder beneath him.

"Hoonie..." your impatient whining made him laugh again, but there was a tension in his gaze as if he was about to lose control.

«Don’t be capricious, little one," he murmured against your mouth, the tip of her member pressed right where you wanted it most. «You like to be teased, don’t you?»

"You’re an asshole..." moans, nails sinking into his shoulders as he kept torturing you with those slow and provocative movements.

«Mm, yet...» He pushed himself in with a single, fluid thud, filling you completely, and a high moan escaped from your lips. «... You are so tight around me, angel.»

A choked scream escaped you, but he was quick to cover your mouth with one hand, his eyes shining with pure lust. «Do you want the whole dorm to know that I’m fucking you so well?»

You shook your head frantically, but when he came out almost completely and then went back in, deeper, stronger, your body betrayed your voice and another harsh moan escaped you.

Hoon licked his lower lip, smug. «Baby, it seems like you want everyone to know that you’re all mine.»

Hoon had always made you crazy, but never as in that moment.

Hoon had always made you crazy, but never as in that moment. His hands held your hips with a firm grip as if he wanted to mark you, hold you still beneath him as he sank deep inside you with a slow, deep thrust, making you feel every inch of his excitement and his cock filled you so deeply that you never had enough.

His dark eyes were pointed at yours, full of desire and pure dominion. He licked his lips, watching you writhing beneath him, your groans choked by his fingers playing with your swollen and pulsating clitoris.

«Tell me, angel... who is winning between me and you?» whispered with a perverse smile, her voice husky and low as the thumb began to massage your swollen clitoris more firmly.

You were hungry, the pleasure that ate you made it impossible to talk, but Hoon was not the kind to wait. His big hand slid up your throat, squeezing it slightly as his gaze grew even more intense.

«Answer, baby,» he ordered, sinking deeper into you, making you moan loudly. «You feel so good below me, but I want to hear you say it."

"Y-Yes... you’re winning. I’m coming," you panicked, your body trembling at the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you mercilessly.

A satisfied grin appeared on his lips. «Good girl,» he murmured, bowing down to bite your ear lobe, while with one last push your body gave in completely to pleasure, making you scream her name.

To hear you hold him so tight made him crazy. «Fucking perfect...» He growled against your skin, increased the rhythm with powerful and fast movements, the bed that slammed against the wall at every stroke. «God, you are mine... Only mine.»

"H-Hoon... I want you inside me," he groaned, his body still in the throes of orgasm spasms while he wouldn’t slow down.

«You know what I want, angel?»

growled against your neck, giving you a small bite while with two last, violent pushes she let go inside of you, filling you completely. «I want you to remember who made you feel this way.»

He remained within you for a few seconds, gasping, as his gaze burned against yours. Then, with a smug smile, he bowed down to kiss you on the lips softly, with a sweetness in contrast to the intensity just before.

He looked down to the point where they were still joined and caressed your inner thigh, watching her seed slowly dripping out of you and the various strands of semen coming from your pussy. His grin became even more mischievous as he ran his tongue over his lips.

«You are so beautiful,» he murmured, with a husky and satisfied voice. «All full of me...»

He looked up to meet yours, dark eyes full of desire and possession. «And now don’t even try to run away, because I’m going to fill you up again.»

And with another slow and deep push, he made you realize that that night was still long.

Hoon was still lying on the bed, his breathing heavy and steady as a hand caressed your bare back. You were leaning against his chest, but your mind was far away, full of doubts and insecurities that you didn’t even want to admit to yourself.

Yet, the more time passed, the more a strange feeling gripped your stomach.

What if it was just a game to him? The thought tormented you. You didn’t want that night to be just a passing moment, an impulse he would forget the next day. Sunghoon had always been important to you. He was never just a friend, never just a crush.

You realized that you were torturing the nails of his nervous hand, while with the other you played with Sunghoon’s fingers, drawing little circles on the back of his hand.

«Why are you so serious?» he asked suddenly, his voice slightly hoarse. «It’s strange to see you so silent.» You shook your head, avoiding his gaze.

"Nothing, it’s just that..." You took a deep breath, then you pulled yourself up slightly. "Maybe I should go home." Sunghoon immediately rose on his elbows, confused.

«Wait, what? Why do you want to leave suddenly?»

Bite your lip, fight. You didn’t know how to tell her without looking stupid, without looking too much.

"I don’t know," You said finally, angry with yourself for not being able to find the right words.

Sunghoon stared at you for a long moment, his face slightly frowning. Then, with a more sweet and chattering tone, he asked:

«Did I do something wrong?» That question made you explode.

"No! That’s the problem!" you slammed, clenching your fists on the blankets. " Me, you did nothing wrong is just that for me it wasn’t just..." you interrupted, narrowing your eyes as if to find the courage to continue. "For me, it wasn’t just sex, it wasn’t a game. I really want you, Sunghoon."

He stood still.

"I want something serious." You kept your voice lower, more vulnerable. "And I’m afraid it was just... a moment for you."

The silence that followed was almost deafening.

You felt ridiculous. Maybe you shouldn’t have told him. Maybe you ruined everything.

But before you could add anything else, Sunghoon moved.

He approached and with an unexpected delicacy took your face in his hands, forcing you to look into his eyes.

You deglutites.

"I... I don’t know." Sunghoon sighed, then ran his hand through his hair, frustrated.

«I’m terrible at these things,» he admitted, looking down for a moment. «I don’t know how to say it right, but-fuck, do you think I’d let anyone kiss me like you did if I didn’t really care? Do you think I could want any girls like I want you, how this evening?»

You looked at him surprised, and he continued, the hands that came to clasp around his.

«I want you. Always. I never wanted to be just your friend, but I didn’t know how to tell you, and you are always so bright, so damn out of my reach... » he interrupted, squeezing his lips in a thin line, then sighed. «But if you really want me, then I am yours with my strengths and weaknesses»

You felt the heart skip a beat.

"Really?" You asked quietly. Sunghoon nodded, a slightly embarrassed smile on his lips.

«Seriously. But on one condition.»

"Which one?"

He gently pulled you towards himself, making you lie on his chest again, and whispered in her ear:

«That TikTok we do it again, but this time the caption will be right and you’ll write that I’m your boyfriend, not your BEST FRIEND!»

You laughed, and the knot in your stomach disappeared completely and maybe that tiktok trend had formed a new pair.

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[steddieas-shegoes]

i don’t know why i can’t take my eyes off of you

for @steddielovemonth day one using You and Me by Lifehouse

rated t | 1186 words | no cw | tags: future fic, second chances, mutual pining, idiots in love, songwriter Eddie, teacher Steve

🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒

Steve’s walking down the frozen section of Melvald’s when time stops.

Not literally. The watch on his wrist is still ticking. The clock on the wall at the front of the store is still moving. People around him are still grabbing their groceries.

But Eddie Munson is standing in front of the ice cream section like he belongs there.

Eddie left Hawkins five years ago.

He kissed Steve on the lips, then the forehead, and left.

Steve’s thought about it, about him, every day since.

Eddie hasn’t noticed him yet. Maybe Steve should leave before he does. Last he’d heard, Eddie was working at a recording studio as a songwriter, halfway making his dreams come true.

He’s happy, or at least that’s what all the kids have said when he’s brought up. They don’t know about the kiss, at least Steve doesn’t think they do. He’s never told them.

It’s busy enough in the store that Steve’s pretty sure he can sneak away before Eddie sees him. He starts to back away, but immediately bumps into an old woman.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He’s asking, and she’s brushing him off and saying she’s fine. He feels terrible.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice is like music, always has been a melody made specifically for Steve.

“Eddie,” Steve says as the old woman walks away. “Hey.”

Steve forgets he’s in public as the world around him fades and all he sees, smells, wants, is Eddie.

“I didn’t know you were still in Hawkins,” Eddie says quietly, leaning forward on his toes. He’s got a new battle vest, though it looks well-worn. Steve wonders if he knows that his old vest is hanging in his closet, if he knows that Steve pulls it out every once in a while so he can put it on and feel a little less alone.

“Yeah. Never left.” It sounds worse than it is. Steve always said he’d leave when all the kids left, but once they did, he didn’t know where to go. It’s not like he could follow them around, couch-surfing across the country a month or two at a time, burdening them with his self-imposed loneliness.

“You look good,” Eddie says, changing the subject.

Leaving Hawkins was a touchy subject for Steve the last time he’d seen Eddie. It still is. Eddie must sense that.

“So do you,” Steve breathes out. He does. He looks healthy and happy, something Hawkins had completely drained from him before. “What are you doing back?”

“Just visiting Wayne. Usually he comes to see me, but he insisted he didn’t wanna deal with the ‘big city’ this time. And I’m the best nephew, so I said ‘sure, old man, I’ll go back to the town that hates my guts!’ And here I am trying to find my favorite ice cream at the store. They don’t have it,” Eddie shrugs. He rambles when he’s nervous, still. “He hasn’t mentioned seeing you around or anything, though.”

“Yeah, I guess we don’t cross paths much,” Steve laughs awkwardly. He can’t remember the last time he saw Wayne. Must’ve been around Christmas, when Steve was helping Joyce with her decorations while Hopper worked overtime and Wayne stopped by to drop off some lights. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s good. Stubborn as hell. Won’t retire even though he could,” Eddie shakes his head. “Think he’s scared of being bored.”

“Or lonely.”

The words escape Steve before he can hold them back.

Eddie’s face softens, but it’s not full of pity. Everyone always gives Steve this look, like they know he’s putting on a brave face. Not Eddie.

“Wayne’s always been content alone. He’s got friends, and he calls me when he has something new to argue about,” Eddie leans in closer. “I don’t really worry about Wayne. Other people, sure.”

“Like who?” Steve swallows.

“You settle down yet?” Eddie asks in response.

Steve’s so shocked by the question, he doesn’t answer.

“I figured the kids were just being nice by not telling me if you did, but you’re not wearing a ring and you’re grocery shopping alone, so…” Eddie rambles again. Steve feels his heart flutter in his chest.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Are you dating someone?”

Steve shakes his head. “Haven’t really found anyone interesting.”

“Interesting? Since when does Steve Harrington want someone interesting?”

Since the most interesting person he knows kissed him and then left. Since everyone else is boring in comparison to you. Since he realized he was dumb to let you go.

“I guess what I thought I wanted is different now. Has been for a while,” Steve shrugs.

It’s strange how easily Steve becomes wrapped up in Eddie’s orbit, how quickly everything else didn’t matter the moment Eddie started talking to him. It’s just the two of them.

“Excuse me,” a man says to their left. Steve jumps back and apologizes for blocking where he needed to be. Eddie’s eyes never leave Steve.

When the man walks away, Steve clears his throat.

“How long are you in town?”

“How long will it take me to convince you to come back with me?”

Steve chokes on his next breath. “What? Come back with you? To…”

“New York or Chicago. I’m getting a promotion and they’ll let me pick where I wanna go. I’ve been leaning towards Chicago because more of the music I enjoy is making a mark there,” Eddie explains. “And there’s plenty of options for you there, too. Dustin said you just finished your teaching degree.”

“Dustin talks about me?”

“Only when unprovoked,” Eddie grins. “Have you been waiting for me?”

It’s blunt, but Eddie always has been. Steve can hide a lot of emotions from people; It’s been a survival tactic for most of his life.

He’s never been able to hide shit from Eddie.

“Not on purpose.”

Eddie looks at his basket of items. He was really only here for a few things, but he saw his favorite cookies were on sale and he couldn’t resist stocking up. He looks between the basket and Eddie’s eyes.

“You wanna come to mine for dinner?”

“Is dinner cookies?” Eddie laughs, poking at the package closest to the top.

“That’s dessert,” Steve laughs, too. He finds it easy. He never thought it could be this easy after the time that’s passed, the distance they had between them.

“First dessert.”

“What are we, hobbits?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s jaw drops open. “Steve, please. Not in public.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you read it!” Eddie groans, but he’s smiling, so Steve’s not actually worried.

“I’ve read a lot of things! I’ve been waiting for you, remember?”

An announcement starts in the store— someone’s car is blocking a delivery truck entrance— and they both take a step away from each other. They were much closer than they should be in the grocery store.

This is still Hawkins, and people already don’t like Eddie. Looking cozier than two dudes normally would might be dangerous for both of them.

“So. Dinner?” Steve asks again. It’s easier to remember there are other people around with some distance between them.

“Sure. Dinner.”

Time starts again.

[7s3ven]

Guys, I’m going feral over thinking about deer hybrid! Reader x Philip Graves. Might make this into a series if I’m bothered LOL. I like the idea.

Imagine in this au, hybrids are rare. Especially you who looks entirely human save for the white and brown freckles adorning your skin and the gentle doe ears that flick occasionally.

You were a tagged hybrid, slang for a hybrid in danger of becoming nothing more than a test subject. You were prized for your unique blend of both human and animal characteristics. However, the company holding you captive forgot one thing. You were still part animal and it was in your instincts to run.

You met Graves after you collapsed on the road while sprinting away from the laboratory, your keen ears picking up the shouts coming from the guards.

You thought yourself as lucky that a car had been passing through the area when you fell. “What is it?” Someone exited the vehicle followed by another.

“It’s a hybrid… a deer one. I think. Can’t really tell.”

“It’s clearly a deer. What else would it be? A bird?”

They bickered amongst themselves before one had the initiative to pull out a walkie talkie. “Boss, we’ve encountered a hybrid on the road. Not sure how old she is, maybe late twenties? She’s a deer hybrid, has a few wounds, and she’s tagged. Your orders? Over.”

The pair waited half a beat before there was a response.

“Why would I want a hybrid?”

“She’s one of the valuable ones, sir. Maybe she can be useful. She was running quite fast before she blacked out. Doubt she’s been fed so to run at that speed on an empty stomach is impressive.”

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. “Fine, bring her in.”

You didn’t officially meet Graves until a week later when he finally paid you a visit.

He watched in concealed awe at the way you gracefully moved, even when you were confined to a bed. You stared up at him, your soft doe eyes burning holes. He found you strangely captivating and it was in that moment he realized you could be useful after all.

Your aim with a gun was surprisingly good. If Graves was going to keep you, he needed you to be capable of protecting yourself. He spent at least a few hours each day just watching you fire a round of shots. His presence was no longer required but you seemed to enjoy his company.

Apart from Graves and the two Shadows who picked you up off the road, you didn’t speak to anyone else. You were shy to the point where sometimes, you didn’t even utter a word to Graves.

Within months, it became apparent as to where your loyalties lay. You answered to Graves and him alone. To you, his words was the law. If a command did not come from Graves, you did not follow it.

Some people found it annoying… but Graves adored it.

You followed Philip Graves everywhere he went, which also meant you tagged along on his shared mission with the Mexican Special Forces Operator and Task Force 141.

BONUS

You were his personal sniper, a gun gifted by Graves strapped to your back.

“Who’s the pretty lass?” A Scottish man asked as you trailed behind Graves. He gazed at you curiously, tilting his head.

Graves barely spared him a look. “My sniper.” He cockily answered, an undeniable smugness to his sharp words. “You don’t need to know her name.”

There were questioning looks exchanged between the teammates before Graves clicked his fingers, effortlessly gaining your attention. He leaned down, fully aware of the eyes following his every move.

“Doe.” He uttered the pet name you were accustomed to. Then he spoke in a foreign language, one only you could understand. Then he pointed at a tree nearby. You didn’t need any further instructions as you stepped forward, grasping your rifle. The others watched with raised brows, patiently waiting for something to happen.

There was a loud bang as you pressed the sensitive trigger of your gun. The bullet flew through the air, hitting the tree with pinpoint accuracy. You fired three more shots, hitting the exact same spot and drilling a hole into the trunk.

With practised ease, you lowered the gun. You heard Graves chuckle before he spoke. “Trained her myself.” He beckoned you back to his side and you obeyed without another thought.

He wrapped an arm around your waist as an act of dominance to the others. “She listens to my commands and mine only so don’t think for a second that her loyalties will change.”

Graves reached out to grasp your necklace, showing it to the whole group. It was a heart with his name engraved on it. “She belongs to me and if any of you muppets even look at her funny, it won’t end well for you.”

[skzophreniic]

⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content. degradation, power play, light choking, semi-public fingering, light coercion (entirely consensual), dirty talk, wet panties, messy fingers, brat taming, felix is a fucking menace in a silk shirt

⍣ ೋ notes: changed the color!! idk if im burning out already but i decided to switch it up a bit just to see if it would make it better. kinda missing the pink already.

🧾 FORMAL INVESTIGATION REPORT

Filed by: ERROR Subject: ERROR Staff Member Under Review: ERROR Guest Involved: ERROR

INT. SKZOTEL – CONFESSIONAL ROOM (A.K.A. MAINTENANCE CLOSET WITH A RING LIGHT)

[Camera clicks on.] Felix is already in frame, lounging sideways on a folding chair like he owns the place. His uniform is pristine, hat tilted a little too stylishly. In his hand, a crumpled guest complaint—folded once, then again, then probably kissed before he slipped it in his back pocket.

FELIX (grinning): "Okay, so technically... this was supposed to go to Aeryn."

He holds up the complaint letter between two fingers, like it's something precious. His grin widens.

FELIX: "But I may or may not check the internal submission box every morning before she gets in. You know—just to be helpful."

He leans in, eyes sparkling with mischief.

FELIX: "This one? Yeah, this one's about me. And look—before anyone starts pointing fingers, I was doing my job. I did help the guest with their luggage. I was polite, charming, responsible… bordering on adorable, honestly."

A beat. His smile turns wicked.

FELIX: "And maybe... just maybe I lingered. Just a little. But can you blame me?"

______________________________________________________________

You didn’t think he’d actually read it. The note was meant to be private. Filed. Forgotten. Handled discreetly.

But now?

That unmistakable voice cuts through the spa corridor, slow and molten, thick with a smugness that curls heat right between your legs.

“Room 630,” Felix drawls behind you, syrup-sweet and scathing. “Is that what they’re calling you?”

You stop like you’ve been caught—and you have. You know that voice. That accent, dipped in honey and sin.

You turn slowly, spine straight, face schooled, but your heart’s already thundering.

And there he is.

The bellboy.

Leaning against the hallway wall like it belongs to him. Button-down loose, too many buttons undone, collarbone sharp, pretty smirk even sharper.

Your complaint’s in his hand.

Your complaint.

The one you slipped into the concierge box with trembling fingers.

His eyes are on you like he’s reading your mind.

“Didn’t even sign it,” he tsks, folding the paper once, twice—stuffing it casually into his back pocket. “Didn’t use my name. That’s rude, babe. I gave you so much to work with.”

He takes a step forward, slow and deliberate. You take a step back, eyes flickering to his name tag.

“Felix—”

“Oh no,” he cuts you off smoothly, “you don’t get to say my name now. Not after this.”

Another step.

Your back hits the wall.

And suddenly he’s right there. Crowding your space. Shadowing you. Hand against the wall beside your head.

His breath ghosts along your jaw as he leans in, tilting his head just enough to speak right into your ear.

“You think tattling makes you innocent?” he whispers. “You wrote me up, baby. Like a brat who didn’t get what she wanted. Like a needy little bitch too scared to ask for it.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“But you did.”

His hand skims down your waist, hot and possessive, just the barest tease of touch.

“Don’t lie to me. You knew exactly what you were doing. All those soft little looks, letting me carry your bags, ringing that bell like you wanted me on my knees.”

You gasp as his fingers dip under your dress, the brush of his knuckles ghosting your thigh.

“What was it?” he murmurs, voice low and wicked. “Was I too slow? Not flirty enough? Or were you just pissed I didn’t bend you over the cart right then and there?”

Your breath hitches. He feels it. Smiles.

“God, you did want it,” he laughs, cruel and soft. “Didn’t even bother hiding it. Could’ve just said, ‘please fuck me, Felix.’ Would’ve made this so much easier.”

His fingers slip beneath your panties, and you choke on a moan.

“Shit,” he groans, forehead pressing to yours. “Already soaked. You liked writing me up, huh? Got yourself wet filing a formal complaint like a desperate little whore.”

Your cheeks burn. He eats it up.

“Say it,” he whispers. “Say you got off on it.”

You look away. He grabs your chin and forces you back to him.

“I said—say it.”

“I—got off on it,” you breathe. “Wanted your attention.”

He laughs—a wicked, delighted sound.

“There she is. My needy little mess.”

He pushes two fingers in deep, no warning—so fast and smooth you swear your knees might give. The stretch is sudden, perfect, and he knows it, groaning right against your ear as you choke on a moan.

You gasp, back arching, thighs trembling.

“Ohhh, yeah,” he groans. “Tight little cunt. All this for me?”

“Felix—someone could—”

“Let them. Shit—listen to that,” he pants, pulling his fingers back just slightly. The obscene slick, wet squelch echoes in the quiet hallway, and he laughs, low and filthy. “That’s you, baby. That’s how bad you want me.”

He curls them, finding your spot with practiced ease—pressing, teasing, dragging along that sweet bundle of nerves over and over until you’re clawing at his shirt, thighs trembling around his wrist.

“You write me up,” he hisses, fucking you with slow, deliberate pumps. “You tattle on me. But your cunt’s telling me the truth.”

His thumb drags up, just brushing your clit. Barely a touch—but it’s enough to make your hips jerk, to make your breath stutter out in a pathetic little gasp.

“There she is,” he growls. “There’s my needy little girl.”

His fingers start moving faster—deep and rough, the perfect rhythm that makes your mind go white. He’s relentless. Curling, thrusting, grinding his palm against your clit until you’re whining into his neck, hips grinding down like a slut in heat.

“You feel that?” he grits out. “Feel how tight you’re squeezing me? Like this hole’s been waiting for me.”

You whimper, trying to hold on, but he’s everywhere—his breath hot on your cheek, his fingers wrecking you, his voice in your ear like a brand you can’t shake.

“Gonna cum just from my hand, aren’t you?” he sneers, licking a stripe up your throat. “From getting finger-fucked in a hallway like the desperate little whore you are.”

Your whole body shudders.

He laughs again—meaner now.

“I can feel it,” he whispers, breathless. “You’re close. So fucking close. Gonna make a mess all over my hand, huh? You gonna ruin your cute little panties for me?”

You nod, too far gone for words, and he snarls—

“No.”

He rips his hand away like he’s punishing you—like you did something wrong—and your whole body screams from the loss, thighs clenching uselessly as the orgasm dies, denied and dragging like a blade.

You sob—a soft, broken sound—and he moans at the sound of it, gripping your jaw with his clean hand.

“Look at you,” he breathes, dragging his soaked fingers up between your legs and spreading them in front of your face. They glisten in the dim lighting—shiny, sticky, dripping.

“You see this mess? This fucking disaster of a cunt? All because I said your room number.”

And then he taps your cheek.

“Open.”

You do—so automatic, so eager it makes his pupils blow wide with satisfaction.

He pushes the fingers into your mouth, slow and deep. You moan around them, tongue greedy, sucking like it’s the only thing tethering you to the earth.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, eyes locked on your mouth. “That’s what I thought.”

He pulls them out—slower now, watching the spit trail cling to your lips before snapping messily to his knuckles.

“You taste how much you wanted me?” he whispers, filthy and smug. “Next time you need attention, you don’t go crying to the concierge.”

He leans in, mouth a breath from yours.

You moan, shameless now, licking him clean like it’s what you were born for.

He leans in closer, mouth brushing your ear.

“You wanna cum?” he asks.

“Yes—please—”

He smirks. Leans down, lips hovering over yours.

“Beg.”

You hesitate. He wraps a hand around your throat—light, a tease of pressure, just enough to make you still.

“I said—beg.”

“Please, please,” you whisper. “Please make me cum.”

“Louder.”

“Please—fuck—please, I need it, need you—”

He grins. A slow, devastating thing.

“There we go,” he purrs. 

And then?

Then he tugs you into the nearest guest suite—unoccupied, unlocked, perfect. He bends you over the bed before the door even clicks shut.

His voice is the last thing you hear before your moans drown everything else out:

“You want to file another complaint?” he hisses in your ear. “Better make sure it’s legible with my cock down your throat.”

INT. SKZOTEL – CONFESSIONAL ROOM (A.K.A. MAINTENANCE CLOSET WITH A RING LIGHT) [Camera clicks back on.] Felix is back in the folding chair, this time looking a little less pristine. His hat’s missing, hair mussed. One button too many undone. His fingers glint faintly with something that’s definitely not ring light residue.

He licks the edge of his thumb, slow and casual, then flashes the camera a crooked grin.

FELIX (shrugging): “Guest's satisfied. That’s all that matters, right?”

He reaches into his back pocket, pulls out the now much more crumpled complaint, and fans himself with it.

FELIX (mock-innocent): “I’d file a report about it, but... turns out my hands were kinda full.”

He lifts his fingers to his lips again—tastes the air like he’s savoring a secret. 

FELIX (deadpan): “And if Aeryn asks why the formal complaint never made it to her desk...”

He leans in, voice low and conspiratorial.

FELIX: “Tell her I handled it.” [END OF RECORDING]

series taglist: @nightmarenyxx @miyaluvvsyou @jisuperboard @fackeraccount @silly250 @lov3rachan @lze325 @angel-writes-here @jesuisstay @lov3rachan @lze325 @scribblesnsketches05 @jesuisstay @slut4junho @wickedbutlovely @woozarts @pixie-felix

[karinab00bs]

Vacation

Karina x named reader

tags: smut, first crush, swearing, pool sex, rough sex, blow jobs, teasing, flirting, dirty talks, dirty jokes, dirty thoughts, hair-pulling, biting, begging

Karina hadn’t anticipated the long journey to visit her parents, who lived quite a distance away from her current work and living situation. However, seizing the opportunity of a rare two-week break, she arrived at their doorstep, suitcase in hand, greeted by the warm sun above. The familiarity of her childhood home flooded back as she climbed out of the taxi.

Deciding against informing her parents of her arrival, Karina didn’t want to inconvenience them if her holiday plans fell through last minute.

Her father's joyful face upon opening the door made the trip instantly worth it, enveloping her in a bear hug and leading her inside.

"Why didn’t you tell us you were coming!?" he exclaimed happily, guiding her to the kitchen where her mother was busy cooking.

Their much-awaited reunion was interrupted by a knock at the door just as they settled down for dinner.

“I’ll get it,” her mother insisted, giving Karina a quick squeeze before heading to the door.

“So pumpkin,” her father started, looking a bit disappointed, unable to resist using the old nickname.

“Your mother and I had booked to go away tomorrow, for our anniversary. But if you want us to cancel, we will,” he offered, but Karina quickly stopped him, not wanting them to change their plans for her.

“Don’t you dare cancel that! We can celebrate when you guys get back. I do have two weeks off,” she reassured her dad, who visibly relaxed.

Before he could respond, her mother returned with a man Karina didn't recognize at first. Then it hit her, that is her childhood friend.

“Karina, honey, you remember Ethan,” her mother smiled, introducing Ethan as he stepped forward, all charm and green eyes.

Suppressing her smile, Karina shook his hand, noticing the size of his hands with a silent observation. “Ethan Lee, right?”

“Right,” he confirmed, maintaining his hold on her hand. She watched as his tongue swiped across his lips, unable to look away.

Finally releasing her hand, Ethan cleared his throat and turned his attention to her father. “I was just coming over to ask if you wouldn’t mind me doing the pool tomorrow, rather than next week,” he asked respectfully. As Karina’s mother handed him a drink, he thanked her before returning his gaze to her father.

“Of course. Is everything okay?” her father inquired, still engrossed in his meal as Karina resumed her seat, observing the exchange.

“Yes, sir. Just made some plans for Sammy’s birthday; he’s back in town for the next few months,” Ethan explained proudly, giving her a subtle wink as he caught her watching him.

“Yes, all fine with me, but we won’t be here so you’ll be dealing with Karina here,” her dad remarked with a roll of his eyes. Karina playfully slapped his arm when he chuckled, unable to suppress the nostalgic smile that crept onto her lips. His deep chuckle reminded her of her childhood.

“I’m sure I can handle her,” Ethan grinned directly at her, while her mother distracted her father.

“We’ll see, Lee,” Karina smirked, swiftly changing the subject to avoid losing her composure.

”So, how is Sam anyway?” Karina inquired, turning in her seat to look up at him where he stood.

“He’s good, not so little anymore. Got a fiance and he’s a lawyer,” Ethan informed her proudly as she stood by the kitchen counter, refilling her drink.

“Always thought the two of you would end up together,” Ethan revealed, completely confusing her.

Hearing her mother laugh, Karina's eyes widened. “Oh no, this one here had a thing for his b-” her mother stopped abruptly, noticing Karina's flushed face and the way she was looking at her.

Before her mother could say anything else that Karina would regret ever telling her, she led Ethan to the front door, he laughed, willingly following her. That is until they reached the door frame; he stopped, turning to look down at her.

“So best friend, or big brother?” he smirked, his green eyes practically sparkling. Karina thought to herself, cocky son of a bitch.

“See you tomorrow, pool boy.”

“Are you gonna come keep me company, while I do a favor for your parents?” he asked cheekily, throwing an arm above his head to lean against the door frame.

“I might,” Karina shrugged off her answer, wishing that he didn’t still have this insane effect on her after all of these years, but she tried not to let him get to her.

“Wait, you mean that’s not your only job?” Karina asked mockingly. Ethan smirked when she stepped closer, shaking his head at her.

“Nope,” he winked, popping the 'p'.

“My job, my real job, involves me getting a lot dirtier,” he revealed, licking his lips when he noticed her staring. She swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling the heat of his chest against hers.

“I’m a mechanic, sweetheart,” he added at her confused expression, and okay god, it got worse.

“R-Right, yeah. Makes sense,” she stuttered, and there were the nerves she remembered so well.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow then, sugar.”

“Yeah, sure,” Karina replied quietly, watching him walk away. He headed over to the car parked in the drive, the one that used to be his dad's.

Closing the door, Karina turned to find her mother behind her, quickly noticing just how sheepish she looked.

“I’m so sorry, baby! I completely forgot!” her mother rushed to explain, and all Karina could do was laugh it off.

“Stop it! I swear, it’s all fine! A little embarrassing admittedly, but still, it’s okay,” she assured her, pulling her into a hug. Her mother quickly relaxed against her, wrapping her in her arms.

She pulled back with a watery smile.

“I’m so glad you’re back, baby, we really missed you,” smiling, she cupped Karina's cheeks, like she was trying to memorize her face.

“I know, mom, let’s go eat.”

The night passed quickly, talk of the old days and how Karina was considering coming back home. Before she knew it, she was waving them away, watching the taxi disappear.

She looked at the time, swearing under her breath. Her dad had told her Ethan would be over in the next hour, and she really wanted a bath before he got here.

Taking a longer bath than she meant to, Karina left herself only ten minutes to slip into her new red bikini and shorts.

It was so hot outside, and she was determined to drive him crazy. He wanted to be all sexy; two could play at that game. She’d put up with it enough when she was younger, having a somewhat filthy crush on her best friend’s big brother was definitely not ideal.

She just about heard the knock at the door, which was quickly followed by the unmistakable noise of the doorbell. Heading downstairs after a quick glance in the mirror, taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

“Mornin’ Karina,” he winked, giving her an appreciative once over before walking past her into the house.

Closing the door behind him, Karina frowned.

“Really, Ethan, jeans? You are cleaning the pool, right? So why not wear shorts?” she questioned as she followed him into the back garden.

“I don’t do shorts, sweetheart. Why? Do you wanna see some more skin or somethin’?” he asked suggestively, unlocking the shed to get the things he needed. She didn’t see his face, but she was sure he was smirking to himself.

She scoffed at him, moving aside as he began pulling things out of the shed.

“No. I just wondered, it’s so damn hot today. Seems kinda odd weather for that,” she stated, nodding at his attire, brushing it off as easily as she could.

“Well, something is definitely hot” he grins, eyeing her shamelessly as he pulls off his shirt, hanging it on the back of the chair. “There, better?” he asks knowingly, a smug look on his face when Karina choke back a moan, almost swallowing her own tongue.

He doesn’t wait for an answer as he locks the shed door, leaving her to stare at his back.

The sunlight bounces off his tanned skin as he walks over to the pool with the equipment, and Karina realise that she never seen someone with so many muscles in their back. She can just imagine dragging your nails down it as he–

Karina manage to stop that train of thought before it gets out of hand. But she can’t stop herself from watching the very slight swing of his hips, how those jeans fit so snugly against his toned ass and legs, sitting perfectly on his hips.

All she can do is watch him walk away. Safe to say he gives as good as he gets.

Slightly bewildered, Karina follow him after a moment longer of staring, taking her seat on the sun lounger by the pool. She watch him work closely, seeing those muscles visibly rolling under his skin. He seems to be biting on his tongue as he concentrates on the job at hand. Something particularly stubborn makes his jaw tense.

Karina slip out of your shorts easily, letting them fall to the floor, she lay back, deciding to at least try and relax while Ethan works.

It wasn’t like she could stare at him all day, right?

A little while passes, the sun beating down on her is much needed. However, Karina’s sunbathing is interrupted by a large shadow, which completely blankets her body. Shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand you open them, quickly meeting Ethan’s.

“You should probably put this on sweetheart.” He instructs firmly, holding out the sun cream to her.

Karina can’t help but notice the sweat that coats his skin, glistening in the sun, she pause reaching for the bottle with an idea in mind.

“Is that an offer, Lee?” Karina question sweetly as possible, crossing her legs at the knees as she run her fingers from the top of her thigh to her knee, acutely aware of the way his eyes are taking in her body.

He shrugs with a smug look on his face, “Sure, we can’t have you burning can we,”

Karina hum in approval rolling onto her front, she rest her head on her folded arms. Turning her head to watch as Ethan's kneels beside you.

“Such a gentleman.” Karina reply sarcastically, smiling against her arm when he chuckles.

The second his cream covered warm hands touch her skin goosebumps cover her body, she bite back a moan, a little unsuccessfully when his thumbs press into the muscles of her shoulders and around her shoulder blades. Pushing under the strap of Karina’s bikini top, where he’s so close to brushing the sides of her breasts.

Ethan's hands are so big, as they rub the cream into Karina’s skin it doesn’t take him long to reach the bottom of her spine.

Karina arch back into his touch even more, when his thumbs push just under the top of her swimming bottoms, fingers curling around the front of her hips, digging in but not quite the same way. After a few minutes he continues down her body, his touch remaining firm as he quickly does just under Karina’s ass cheeks. Spreading her legs a little as his hands move down her thighs, the perfect amount of pressure against every muscle.

Karina knows that she’s wet, this is without doubt the best massage she’s ever had and very unexpected, god she hope he can’t see it.

“Fuck.” Karina hear him grit out quietly, as his hands move down her calves.

Gently he taps Karina's ankle and clears his throat.

“Turn over, I’ll do the front.” Ethan rasps out, voice breaking a little with each word.

Swallowing hard, Karina as nervous as hell, but there is no way she's backing out now. He’d started this, she's weren’t about to stop him if he wanted to finish it.

Closing her eyes she turn onto her back, shielding her eyes with her arm.

Ethan starts on Karina's legs, the higher his hands get, the more her muscles tense and her pussy starts to flutter. His hands run along the line of her swimming pants, right in the crease of her groin.

The moan that slips past Karina's lips couldn’t have been stopped if she'd tried, she feel the wood creak beneath her as Ethan climbs between her legs on the sun lounger. His calloused hands rubbing cream into Karina’s stomach, fingertips slipping beneath the cups of her bikini top, running along the underside of her breasts.

Ethan leans over her further, and Karina feel his hard cock brush against her thigh as he takes her arms, rubbing the cream in. Karina finally dare to blink open her eyes, the wild beating of her heart and the blood rushing in her ears are unbearable.

Biting into her lip when her eyes meet his again, Karina watch him squirt more cream onto his palms, before placing the bottle on the table.

Ethan's hands move over Karina's chest slowly, pushing the straps down her shoulders, she tilt her head back when he rubs the cream into her neck, his hand resting on her throat as he leans in closer.

“Ain’t even been swimmin’ yet and your panties are soaked.” Ethan groans, moving in closer still, but she stop him before he gets too close, resting her hand on his bare chest.

Pushing him back gently, watching the way he sits back on his feet, eyes completely focused on her as she sit up. Karina slip out from beneath him, smiling at the look on his face.

“Better make sure you’ve done your job properly.” Karina smile seductively, loving the way he watches her as she make her way over to the pool.

When Karina reach the steps she turn to find him standing from the sun lounger. Clearing his throat he rearranges himself in his jeans, but the thick line of his cock is still clearly visible, he quickly focuses those green eyes back on her.

“You coming, pool boy?” Karina ask cheekily, as she lower yourself into the cool water, watching the smirk that appears on his plump lips.

“You remember that I’m older than you, right? More like the pool man,” Ethan quips, undoing his belt and leather slaps against leather. Leaning against the pool’s edge as Karina's chin resting on her arms and she look up at him.

Just in time to watch him pop the button of his jeans and pull down the zipper.

“Guess you’ve got me there. So, since you don’t like shorts, are you wearing boxers?” Karina ask curiously, trying but failing to hide her smile.

Ethan laughs at that, dropping his jeans and pulling them off his legs, “Normally you would’ve been right, but on this occasion” he leaves the reply hanging in the air. Letting Karina's eyes drop with his jeans, she couldn’t even be disappointed that he was still wearing boxers. Not since the sizeable bulge was still very much present and accounted for, even more visible in the thin fabric.

Sitting down on the side of the pool Ethan's legs dangle in the water, his ass right on the very edge. Karina swimming over to him and stand between his open legs. Looking up at his face as she rest her hands on his thick thighs.

“So what’s the verdict sweetheart, did I do a good enough job?” Ethan questions leaning back on his hands, grunting in surprise when Karina’s breasts brush against the bulge in Ethan pants.

“Not too bad, for a part timer.” Karina giggle watching the comical eye roll he gives her. The image of him in overalls and covered in grease hits her. Karina almost certain he would look even better dirty than he does clean, which is saying something.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing just how good you are at your real job though, see how dirty you get.” Karina reveal, chewing on her bottom lip as her hands slip into the legs of Ethan boxers. Ethan hisses at the sting of the pain, when her nails sink into the tops of his thighs, his rock hard length laying untouched between them.

“You should come down the garage some time, I’ll show you just how dirty I get” Ethan grunts through gritted teeth.

Licking her lips, Karina hum appreciatively, “I’d really like that.” She admit, dragging her nails back down Ethan's thighs, feeling his muscles tense beneath her touch. Leaning up against the pool’s side on her elbows, Karina tuck her fingers into the sides of his boxer shorts.

Ethan seems to be nervous as he looks around the garden, like he’s expecting someone to pop out.

“Everything okay, Ethan? You look nervous.” Karina acknowledge cheekily, as he debates lifting his ass for literally a second, seeming to ignore any doubts he has he finally lets her tug the boxers down, over his ass and down those strong bow legs.

Karina watch Ethan's Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he glances around one more time. Then he focuses back on her, as her small hand wraps around his cock. That perfect green of his eyes has almost completely been swallowed by the black of his pupils when his eyes meet hers again.

Ethan shifts where he sits, trying to wiggle closer to Karina when she start to move her hand up and down his thick length. Karina other hand rests on his strong thigh, helping her keep her balance. Karina lean forward, licking her lips, hearing Ethan swear under his breath when her lips wrap around the swollen head of his cock. Running her tongue over his slit, moaning when the taste of his pre-come hits her tongue for the first time.

“Fuck, sweetheart that’s it,” Ethan groans, tossing his head back, hand fisting in Karina's hair as she take him further into her mouth, Karina's tongue pressing to the underside of his cock.

Karina love the way his hand tightens in her hair, short nails that dig into her scalp.

Karina's hands are now resting on both his thighs, as his cock bumps against the back of her throat. Ethan thrusts his hips, letting himself go a little, she watch him, almost positive there has never been a sexier sight in the world. The speed in which he snaps his hips causes her to gag a little. But even after his surprised gasp, Karina continue when his hips stop moving, letting her take the control back.

Karina continue to take him as deep as she can, saliva leaking from the corners of her lips. Nails sinking into his thighs when she swallow around his cock. Then it slips into her throat briefly and Ethan can’t stop the choked out whine that slips past his perfect lips at her actions.

Ethan's tugging on Karina's hair becomes more insistent, she finally relent, gasping for air when his cock is popped from between her lips, smacking back against his stomach.

Karina's pussy is still throbbing almost painfully, she look up at him and lick her lips, with her most seductive smile she step back, further into the pool, beckoning him towards her with a single finger.

Taking a moment to catch his breath he watches her, reminding her somewhat of a tiger ready to pounce on their meal.

Then all the air gets stuck in Karina's throat and she have to fight not to choke on it, when Ethan slips into the pool, skin still slick with sweat and he looks like a male model. He’s fucking stunning, slipping beneath the water briefly, he reemerges, running a hand through his now dripping wet hair as he walks towards her slowly, Karina suddenly not sure if she even remember how to speak.

The confidence from before is slipping and she sure that he can see it, which is made clearer when the corner of his mouth curves into a half smirk. Clearly someone catching the two of them was the last thing he was worried about now.

Crowding Karina back against the pool’s edge, Ethan presses himself close to her, resting a hand on the edge behind her, while his other hand tucks some wayward hair behind her ear.

Leaning in closer his nose nudges hers, hot breath fanning across Karina's lips, and she finally manage to swallow the lump in her throat.

“How’re you still so nervous about kissing me, sweetheart? With what this perfect little mouth just did, felt fuckin’ incredible wrapped around my cock”

Ethan pauses to let his thumb brush over Karina's parted lips, she lick her lips as his hand moves down slowly and he captures her chin. “I still remember that time at that end of year house party, the one which you and Sammy snuck into” he smirks, causing her to suck in a breath when his free hand grips her ass roughly, pulling her closer to him.

Karina blushed like crazy at the mention of that night, “You were drunk off your ass Ethan, I didn’t b-” Karina cut off by Ethan plump lips pressing against hers in a demanding kiss, his big hand cups her neck, thumb pressing into her jaw as he angles her head right were he wants it.

It takes her mind a moment to catch up with her body but she finally breathe, relaxing into the kiss. Ethan's free hand moves behind Karina's back, tugging the ties of her bikini top until it falls loose and Ethan tosses it away. Moving those big warm hands down Karina's body Ethan cups her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples with his rough fingers and thumbs.

Karina's lips part at the same time as Ethan's, her tongues effortlessly moving together. As Ethan pulls back she capture his bottom lip between her teeth, delighting in the groan that bubbles up in his throat. He doesn’t stop there, kissing and nipping his way down her neck, sucking marks into her soft skin.

“You believe me now?” He all but growls against her ear, she nod quickly, tugging at the strings of her bikini bottoms, pulling them loose.

Ethan pulls away from Karina's neck, finally meeting her eyes again, his wet hair spiked up in all sorts of directions from the pair of her carding her hands through it. Water still clings to his eyelashes, dropping from the tip of his nose, water droplets rolling down his chest distracting her a little.

“Yes Ethan, I believe you.” Karina answer obediently, taking his hand and positioning it between her own thighs.

Ethan looks down the very small gap remaining between the two of them, sliding two fingers between Karina's folds, she grab at his shoulders when those fingers push inside her. Karina's walls stretch around his fingers, one of her hands falls from his shoulder, dropping beneath the water she wrap her small fingers around his thick cock.

Karina's forehead drops against his, panting breaths begin to mix together. Hitching a leg over his hip Karina rock against his fingers, feeling his cock pressing into her thigh.

“You want my cock in your pretty pussy baby? You wanna fuck the pool guy, like a dirty little girl?”

“Jesus Ethan,” Karina moan as his filthy words wash over her. No guy had ever spoken to Karina like this before and there was no denying that she were loving it, but she don’t have a clue about how to respond to him. “Not so worried about the neighbours seeing us now then?” Karina question breathlessly, as Ethan carefully pulls his fingers out with a final tap against her clit.

“Fuck it, let ‘em watch.” Ethan grits out when Karina release his cock. Karina running her hands up his chest then grip his broad shoulders, using them to balance when he roughly grabs her ass and squeezes, she jump a little, hooking her other leg over his free hip.

As Karina rocking her hips, Ethan’s thick cock easily slides against her slick pussy, nudging between her folds he repeatedly taps against her clit, she can’t help but whimper, clinging to his broad shoulders.

Pausing for a moment Ethan lifts Karina higher, “You ready sweetheart. C’mon talk to me? You want my cock baby?” Ethan questions huskily smirking when Karina bite her lip, his thighs shaking trying to resist the urge to just snap his hips forward.

Karina moan pushing her ass harder into his hands, hoping that he’ll give her what she need. Ethan lines up with her entrance, so that the head of his cock nudges teasingly against her opening and she meet his darkened green eyes.

“C’mon pool boy, show me what you’ve got.”

A long drawn out moan leaves Karina lips when Ethan finally breaks, slowly lowering her onto his hard cock. Clenching his jaw, veins becoming more visible in his neck as he enters her slowly inch by tortuous inch.

“So fuckin’ tight.” Ethn groans dropping his head forward, so that he can suck and bite marks into Karina's neck. Karina cling to him, curses and whimpered plea’s leaving her lips.

Tugging on Ethan’s hair harshly Karina force him to look up at her.

“Fuck! I need it Ethan, please!” Karina begging but she don’t care, because the words are barely out of her mouth before Ethan gives her what she need, snapping his hips forward, filling her in one blissfully hard thrust.

Ethan's fingers are digging into Karina's ass when he starts thrusting, the movements slow and rough but precise, hitting her g-spot on every movement. Karina's feet dig into his ass, water splashing around them with every powerful movement.

“You feel so good baby, shit.” Ethan pants breathlessly, pulling his head away from Karina's neck and his gorgeous green eyes lock onto hers. Karina pushing her hands into the back of his hair as she kiss him, tongue meeting his and messy uncontrolled kiss, angling her hips just right she start to rise and fall on his cock.

Breaking apart only when she feel her pussy beginning to clamp down around his thick length.

“Ethan.. please I’m g-gonna come..” Karina gasp out as she begin to lose her rhythm.

“Fuck, C’mon baby give it to me. Come all over my fucking cock!” Ethan practically snarls low in his chest.

Karina hooking legs over his arms a squeak of surprise leaving her lips when Ethan starts fucking up into her more faster. He’s so deep, it’s like a fire is building in her stomach.

Karina cling to him, his rough movements cause the water to create waves around her. Ethan feels so fucking good that Karina barely notice, she drop her face into the crook of his neck, hot breath fanning against his skin. Sucking and biting marks everywhere she can reach, then out of nowhere Karina orgasm hits her full force, causing her eyes to roll almost painfully, she have to sink her teeth into his shoulder to stop herself from screaming his name.

Ethan hisses as the pain throbs against his skin, carefully he lowers her legs letting her feet touch the floor again. Feeling a little dazed, Karina run her fingers along the bite mark on Ethan's skin, she can’t help but wince a little.

“I’m sorry pool boy, got you all marked up.” Karina giggle lightly, biting into her bottom lip when those eyes turn on her again.

A growl bubbles up in Ethan's throat, he spins her in his hold; roughly pressing Karina into the side of the pool, his chest pressed tightly against her back. Karina spread her legs as his lips press against her ear.

“Oh you wanna see marked up sweetheart, I’ll show you.” Ethan snaps harshly, causing Karina skin to practically buzz as he drags his teeth over her earlobe, those big hands spread her ass cheeks and his cock nudges at her slick entrance again.

“I’ll give you fuckin’ pool boy.” Ethan grunts as he pushes inside Karina in one thrust and bottoms out, muffling her screaming moan with his hand.

Karina fall over the side of the pool with a whimper when Ethan releases her mouth, grip tight and unyielding on her hips. His thrusts are nothing like they’d been before and she can’t get enough, the water sloshes over the edge of the pool as Ethan’s hips bounce off her ass with every brutal thrust he delivers.

“You’re so deep.. Fuck! Feels so good Ethan,” Karina cry out loudly, completely giving up on keeping her voice down, Karina push her ass back meeting his thrusts the best that she can.

“Shit, Karina! I’m gonna come.” Ethan grits out as his hips begin to stutter. His big hands move further over the curves of Karina body, wrapping those talented fingers around her ribs, and she sure that bruises will form there the same way they were beginning to on her hips.

Ethan shifts so that his knees are resting on the ledge between Karina legs, leaning over her so his body is almost draped on top of hers.

“Give it to me Ethan! Please, I need it! Don’t stop.” The words leave Karina lips without her really thinking, nobody has ever had her this wound up and ready to snap, not this fast and definitely not for a second time.

Pushing a hand between her legs Ethan rubs rough circles around Karina clit, forcing her orgasm forward, It’s practically bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Squeezing her eyes shut Karina feel her thighs start to shake. Ethan stills behind her, a broken moan leaving his plump lips when he finally comes, her pussy clamps down on his cock as he spills inside her.

His fingers and hips keep moving, his hands feel like they’re everywhere. Karina can’t take it anymore, she gasp his name and with a final rough thrust of his hips pushing her into the side of the pool, she fall apart around him all over again.

Karina shivering as her body collapses against the cold stone in front of her, Ethan's sweaty forehead drops to the bottom of her back, his soft lips pressing kisses into her skin waiting for her to come down.

Karina breathing finally slows down and Ethan helps you down, back into the water, he turns Karina in his arms. “Fuck that was the sexiest thing that’s ever happened.” Ethan grins happily, pulling her body against his as he kisses her, she melt against his lips.

Smiling when she pull away, she push the wet hair from his forehead.

“Think we’ll be remembering this for a few weeks.” Karina giggle, running her fingers gently over the marks on his skin, as his fingers skim across the bruises he’d left behind on her body.

Biting his lip his eyes move across Karina body, still standing so close to his own.

“Oh yeah sweetheart, I’d say so.”

“Trouble is Mr pool man, you’ve definitely got more work to do.”

Ethan rolls his eyes, but she can see the smile that’s curling at the corners of his lips, when he dangles her bikini bottoms from his finger, right in front of her face.

“Oh you ain’t gettin’ out of this one young lady.”

Karina squeal as he tosses the bottoms aside and throws her backwards, she land in the water with a splash. Karina re-emerge from the water, gasping for breath and glare right at Ethan.

“Oh you’re so fucking dead, Lee!”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiesportsau.

We Know What You Can Do

Prompt #4: High School Sports | Word Count: 1348 | Rating: M | CW: Mention of Weed, Nearly Fade to Black Sex | Tags: Eddie Munson Lives, Time Skips, Pre-S1, Post S4, Steve Harrington Needs Something From Eddie Munson

1981

"Just ask him!" 

Eddie is standing behind the line of trees, cigarette pressed between his lips, listening to the bickering that's happening on the steps leading up into the woods, just outside the track, on the outskirts of school property. Usually he's alone out here, but today he's fairly confident Harrington and Hagan are trying to work up the courage to solicit his services. 

Fucking freshman. 

Well, tough luck, boys. He doesn't even have his lunchbox on him today, and even if he did, he doesn't sell to little goody two-shoes, anyway. Rich kid narcs. Not in their pressed polos and penny loafers. They'd fold like cheap suits if caught, and he's not stupid.

So, he doesn't step forward, doesn't do anything, because it's fun to listen to them argue back and forth, knowing they aren't gonna get what they want from him. Eddie relishes saying no. He's gonna savor the build up, only to crush their dreams.

Suddenly, Hagan is pushed forward into Eddie's line of sight.

Eddie just raises an eyebrow as Hagan wipes his hands on his jeans. Oh, this should be good. 

"We have a question," Hagan says.

"We? You have a toad in your pocket?" Eddie asks, taking another drag off his cigarette. 

Hagan reaches backwards, and pulls Harrington into Eddie's line of sight with a fistful of his shirt.

"Ah, we. The boys who think they're gonna rule the roost of Hawkins High."

Hagan scoffs like he's offended, but Harrington just smiles. But neither say anything. If they have a question, they have to actually ask it.

"Ask me what? Use your words," Eddie says, because he enjoys watching them squirm. And will enjoy it even more when he gets to say no and they walk away empty handed. 

"So, like, we've seen you. And we know what you can do," Hagan says, as Harrington shoves his hands deep into his pockets. "And if we paid you, we were wondering if you'd be willing…"

Hagan trails off, and Eddie's getting bored of this. If they can't say it, they can't smoke it. Those are the rules. Eddie has lots of rules, and he enjoys enforcing them.

"Uh, you know that Paul broke his ankle, right?" Hagan asks, changing the subject, and Eddie just stares at him.

Yeah, he knows Paul DeWitt broke his ankle jumping out of the back of a pickup. That's what Eddie heard anyway. But he's not sure why that matters. Do they think some pot is gonna fix him?

"I guess I've heard that," Eddie says. He's seen him on crutches in the hallways, but it's not like he knows the kid. 

"He was on our relay team," Harrington says.

Now Eddie's really lost.

"Okay, and…?"

"Would you take his place?" Harrington asks, looking at Eddie from beneath his coiffed, and far too hairsprayed, bangs. 

"Say what?" Eddie asks with a barking laugh. They can't be serious.

"You're fast! You used to win the blue ribbon during every track and field day in grade school! I remember!" Harrington says, voice getting louder and louder.

Eddie just laughs harder, "I thought you two wanted to buy weed. You want me to run? On purpose? No fucking thanks."

"C'mon. Please. We made it to State, but now we're one guy short. We'll give you twenty bucks," Hagan whines.

"Not my problem," Eddie says, and this is the dumbest thing he's witnessed in at least a month. Did they really think he was gonna join their little sports cult? For twenty bucks? Unreal. "The answer is no."

Hagan wilts, and starts bitching under his breath that they could have gone to state as freshmans and now if they go it'll have to be with Craig Pollard and he is slow as molasses. 

He can't believe they honestly thought Eddie was an option. He pushes off the tree, and starts walking away.

"Wait!" Harrington yells, "What if I paid you in another way?"

Eddie quirks an eyebrow. This should be good.

"What are you gonna do, Harrington? Suck my dick?"

Harrington flushes, a blush coloring his cheeks, "No! I mean, uh, Coach Griffin said if we could convince you he'd give you a C in PE. You'd pass."

Eddie pauses. He's failing Freshman PE for the second goddamn year in a row, and he really doesn't want to take it for a third time next year. 

God help him, he's actually being tempted.

"One race?" Eddie asks, and Harrington bounces on the balls of his feet.

"One track meet," Harrington says, "we'd have to practice the handoff. That's the only part that's hard."

Eddie thinks about it. One track meet, and a little practice time might be worth it if he doesn't have to take PE again. He can run. He is fast. They aren't wrong about that.

"Fifty bucks, the C, and no promises that we'll win."

Hagan pumps his fist in the air, and Eddie already regrets this decision.

1987

"Coast is clear."

Eddie slinks around the corner of the gym, and slides through the door being held open for him. He walks across the wooden gym floor, his shoes making the wood creak with every step. He still hates being here. He never thought he'd come back after everything that happened.

But here he is.

He looks up at the banner hanging in the gym. The one that haunts him.

State Track & Field. 1981. State Champions. Tommy Hagan. Steve Harrington. Tim Killan. Eddie Munson. 

It horrified him when it went up, and it horrifies him now. Nobody said there'd be a banner.

And now it's his greatest shame that he ever let those two doofuses talk him into running a fucking race for fifty bucks and a passing grade.

Eddie leans against the wall under it. This is another stupid decision, and if they get caught, they'll revoke his diploma that they very reluctantly gave him in the first place after that goddamn Spring Break from hell. 

Steve leans the ladder up against the cinderblock wall and climbs. Eddie holds onto it, and watches as Steve unhooks the banner, and tosses it over his shoulder before climbing back down. 

When he reaches the floor, he grins, "There. It's gone."

They'll probably replace it. Eddie knows that. But he appreciates the effort, nonetheless. 

Steve shakes it out, and wraps it around his shoulders like a cape. He grins, eyes all soft and locked on Eddie's. It's stupid, and silly, but Eddie's fucking smitten. God help him. 

Sometimes it's hard to reconcile that the kid who asked him to run in that race is somehow the same man that Eddie's so fucking in love with today. It doesn't seem possible.

"I think you asked for another form of payment," Steve says, and before Eddie can ask what he means, Steve is sliding to his knees in front of Eddie. Fingers working open his belt buckle, and then his jeans. "You wanted me to suck your dick. I guess I still owe you."

Steve Harrington doesn't owe Eddie anything. He saved his life. And then, for reasons Eddie still doesn't understand, he decided to stick around and love him. 

If they get caught doing this, the stolen banner will be the least of their concerns. But for some reason, Eddie can't find it in himself to say no. Not with Steve kneeling before him, that stupid green banner draped over his back, and his hand wrapped around Eddie's cock.

Then he sinks down, taking Eddie into his mouth. It's not the first time. It's not the twentieth time, but Eddie's never gonna get used to this.

"Goddamn, Harrington," Eddie says, and Steve pulls off and laughs. 

"I don't default on my debts, Munson."

Eddie touches the side of his face. He could say lots of things. Soft, mushy, sentimental things. He lived. Steve Harrington made sure of it. But Steve knows all those things. They've had those conversations during all the healing. Late at night, whispering in the dark.

Instead, he smiles.

"Well, then. You better pay up, Harrington. With interest."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesportsau and follow along with the fun! 🏃‍♂️

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.8 a little cottage on the countryside

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 8/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 13.5k (...i'm gonna go take a nap lol)

a/n. hello hellooo my dear kickoff readers, hope you're having a nice day so far! this is the longest chapter yet, so i hope you enjoy <3 it's also got one of my favorite tropes everrr hehehehe you could probs guess what it is halfway through. see you at the bottom and happy reading! sorry if there are typos i didn't proofread this one as much as the others haha

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

You don’t cry much these days, but when you do, it’s usually out of nowhere. 

Like now, as you stand in the school’s photo lab, developing the shots that you took for UTokyo’s game against Osaka last week, and you have to swipe at the tears on your cheek threatening to fall all over the captured images of grass, benches, nets, banners, stands, and him. 

One of the photographs catches your eye, and you pick it up from the table. It’s a candid moment you took of Gojo on the field right before you confessed to him. You had spotted him first while the team was doing their warm-up, and you thought he looked nice from the way he had that concentrated look on his face that you’ve learned to love. But right before you clicked the shutter, he had turned away, chasing after the ball, and so all you could capture was his back facing you as he looked off ahead into the distance. You wondered if that was how it’s always been this whole time–with you looking at him while he’s looking off at something else. It was a depressing thought, but your mind had a tendency for sadness since that day.

The sound of the photo lab door opening jolts you back to reality, and you quickly straighten your posture and wipe your cheek with your sleeve, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible, then set the picture down. Your fellow film major greets you quietly, asking if you’re still using the developer liquid, to which you say no, then hand it over to them. You stuff your photographs into a folder and head out the door.

You make it across campus to the Film & Media Studies building, then up to the third floor where your professor's office is. His door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering.

He looks up from the photographs he was grading. “Oh, y/n, hello. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you, yourself?” you ask, taking a seat on the chair that was fixed to face his desk. You pull your tote bag into your lap.

“Great, thanks. How can I help you?”

You slide the folder to him over the scraped, worn burgundy wood of his desk. “I still had to turn in my photos for the assignment due last week. I appreciate the extension.”

“Ah, right,” he says, taking the folder from you. “I’ll get around to grading them. I’m curious, what did you end up choosing for your subject matter?” He tucks the folder underneath the pile that was to his side.

“I took photos of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni on Thursday last week,” you tell him.

He frowns at you. “Film cameras don’t have that level of zoom, though. I do hope you followed the rubric guidelines for central object to frame ratio, otherwise I’ll have to take off points.” 

“Oh– I did. I took the photos from the sidelines,” you tell him, panicking already. 

His eyes widened. “From the sidelines? On the field?”

You nod at him, fidgeting with your bag in your lap.

“Wow, I can’t say I’ve ever had a student take photos like that before. That’s pretty challenging to pull off, though,” he says, sitting up straighter, “...you mind if I take a look at them right now?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

He pulls your folder out from the bottom of the pile, then gently slips the photos out of them, rearranging them all across his desk. He leans down closer to study some of them, tilting his head curiously at others, furrowing his brow in concentration to a select few. “These are incredible.”

You take in a deep breath. “Thank you, professor.”

He nods at you with acknowledgement, and you watch him as he studies the images quietly for another minute, then looks up at you. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks when he notices you’re still seated.

“Ah…yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?” He taps his pen on the desk.

“I was wondering if you could write me a letter of recommendation for the film graduate program.”

He nods, like he was expecting the question. “Yeah, of course. Just send me your resume and portfolio.” He taps eagerly on one of your images. “Please send me digitals for these, too.”

You let out a relieved exhale. “Yes, I will. Thank you so much, professor, I really appreciate it.”

You left the building feeling extremely relieved about your professor agreeing to write your recommendation, but also feeling sad because you couldn’t tell Gojo about it, since this was the full-circle moment for the little arrangement the two of you had. There’s a thought that considers texting him, and you take out your phone then go to his name, but your thumbs just can’t bring yourself to send him a message.

The days of the week go by in a blur, and between every single little moment in life, your mind always wanders to him. It’s hard to get over someone when you’re surrounded by them. Like late at night while you’re editing the digitals of the game last week to send to your professor, and you find yourself staring at the pictures you’ve taken of him. It’s hard to get over him when the school worships the soccer team and you’re forced to see promotional banners and posters all over campus with his stupidly beautiful face in them. You didn’t have the heart to block him on Instagram, because you remember that time he teased you about how you didn’t follow him back, and you wonder if it would make him sad if you blocked him, so you just resorted to deleting the app instead. And although you were the one that asked for space from him, you were growing increasingly annoyed at how good he seemed to be at keeping it. 

The library wasn’t even much of a safe space either, since you overheard a group of girls the other day at a table arguing about which of the players on the team is the hottest, and so you find yourself doing your homework on a lovely Wednesday morning at your apartment instead. 

You lean back in your chair and look up at the ceiling, and then jump when you hear your phone ring, quickly turning it over to read the caller ID. Nobara. You accept the call, placing her on speaker, then set your phone back down on your desk. 

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up?”

“Hey, nothing much. Just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out,” she says.

“Oh, I would love to, but I’m working on homework right now. It’s due in a couple of hours,” you sigh.

“Boo, you whore. For what class?”

“My stats 130 elective,” you say. “I’m a film major, why do I need to know statistics?” You tap your pen to your chin. “Actually, it might be valid.”

“Is that the class with the creepy professor?” she asks. “The one that got caught with a PornHub tab open while he was presenting his lecture slides.”

“Yeah.”

“I took his class last semester! I still have all my homework for it,” she exclaims on the other end, “do you want me to send it over?”

“Yes, omg, I could kiss you right now,” you groan, resting your head on your arm sprawled across your desk in exhaustion.

“So definite no to hang out?” 

“Sorry, I’ll reach out later though,” you sigh, “also, my car is still in repair…apparently something came up with the engine. So we can’t go far unless we invite Mina.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to come if we invite her just to chauffeur,” she says sarcastically. “By the way, how’d the pictures come along? For the newsletter?”

You lift your head up off of the desk in a panic. Shit. You were so focused on turning in your digitals of the game to your professor that you totally forgot you were supposed to send them to Utahime as well. “Oh my god, I forgot. When do they finalize the release again?”

“Isn’t it today at noon? I sent over film club’s photos this morning,” she says. 

You glance at the time. 11:56am. 

“Nobara, I’ve gotta go. I need to call Utahime, sorry,” you say. She acknowledges you, telling you to hurry, and then you hang up.

You call Utahime and scribble down on a sticky note to paste on your wall as a reminder to buy her a loving gift basket one of these days because of course she extends the release deadline just for you. You finish touching up the digitals and then send them to her via email, and after you finish your statistics homework, she calls you again to meet up somewhere nearby.

“Thanks so much for coming here,” Utahime says as she sits across from you at one of the local cafes you frequent. “Also, this chai latte is so good, I’m honestly surprised.”

You nod at her. “This place has great drinks.” You slide a folder across the table to her and she sets her drink down to accept it.

“Sorry if it was a hassle, but I just had to ask for physicals of these photos,” she sighs as she pulls them out. “They’re amazing, seriously, I gasped when I saw them. I’m used to sifting through a lot of professional sports photos for the newsletter, for all of the teams on campus, but I’ve never seen photos as charming as these. It could be the film photography aspect, since most of the ones I see are digital, but I’m seriously shocked you could capture shots like this at a rowdy men’s soccer match.”

You’re shaking your head at her. “Please don’t compliment me so much, I’ll cry. And it’s no issue, I had a spare set of physicals from when I developed them. You can keep them.” 

She smiles at you. “Okay, well then, I think it goes without saying that I’ll definitely be including them for the sports recap this week. I’ll send you the money soon, too.”

You clap your hands together and interlock your fingers. “I’m. So. Grateful. For. You.” 

She laughs across from you and takes another sip of her latte before sitting back slightly, glancing at the photos spread across the table. “Hm…how busy are you for the rest of the semester?”

You tilt your head at her and bring your coffee to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down. “Not terribly busy, I quit my job last month so I’m just taking my assignments as they come and go.”

Utahime nods at you, a thoughtful expression on her face, and she smooths down the fabric of her shirt. “Okay, well, I got an email from the school this morning that one of the newsletter photographers for the men’s soccer team is moving to a different city, so they’re looking to fill in the position as soon as possible and they asked if I knew anyone,” she mentions, resting her elbow on the table and then placing her hand on her cheek. “They usually only hire professionals, but if I put a word in for you, they’d probably offer it to you.”

Your eyes widen at her from across the table, heart beating a bit faster in your chest. 

“They pay really well for a part-time job. It’s essentially full-time pay for part-time hours,” she continues, “but it’s probably because you’ll have to travel with the team to their away games, including unofficial matches and conferences. If you’re not that busy for the next two months, then I think it’d be a good opportunity for you to build experience.” 

You purse your lips together, considering her words. Although it’s a bit different from your long-term career plans, it was still a great way to get experience before graduate school. And besides, you needed the money, considering you quit your job last month and your savings were starting to run thin–never mind the fact that your car repair bill went from a few thousand yen to somewhere in the tens-of-thousands. And you would prefer to still be able to afford rent. Oh, and eat. Possibly still pay for Netflix.

But then there was the fact that having that kind of job meant that you would be spending a lot of time with the soccer team, and therefore increases the chances of running into Gojo. And you’re supposed to be staying away from him to get over your feelings. 

“It sounds like an amazing opportunity, really,” you start, “...but I can’t.”

Utahime frowns at you and sits up straight. “Really? I thought you’d be excited. Why not?”

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“y/n…” Utahime starts, “I don’t really know what’s going on in your head right now, but isn’t this your dream? For your work to reach people? I know it’s only a stepping stone, believe me I know very well the path to becoming any sort of artist is an uphill battle of hell, but I’ve known you for a while now. And I know how much your dreams mean to you, and how hard you’re willing to work for them.”

Your heart swells in our chest at Utahime’s words. She was right, and you were starting to get really sick of letting your fears hold you back from what you really wanted in life. “...you’re right, I’m sorry. I’d love to be considered for the position, if you could recommend me.”

She smiles and nods at you. “Will do.”

–

The email for the job offer comes surprisingly fast, and you quickly read through it before accepting. It wasn’t a horrible time commitment, given you’d only have to take pictures during active play during matches, give or take a couple hours before, and the photographers rotate between who takes up each of the conferences so the work was split up. You were able to meet a few of the newsletter photographers & journalists during the game last week, so you already knew some of them. The offer letter came attached with a full calendar of the soccer team’s practice schedule, official match schedule, unofficial match schedule, conference schedule, and other publicity schedule, and you’re shocked at how busy all the players must be. The fact that they still have time to be students–and for most of them, active participants in fraternities–was honestly beyond you. 

It seemed like they only had four more official matches left, two being away matches, along with a couple of unofficial matches that they may or may not participate in depending on how the season goes for them. 

Their next game was on Friday against Kyoto university, and you were scheduled to shoot for their sports conference the day following as well. So you find yourself on a train embarked for the countryside, and you peer out of the window with a nervous feeling in your stomach. The sparkling skyscrapers and bustling crowds of Tokyo gradually started to give way into sights of expansive lush greenery, picturesque and charming towns, and winding rivers surrounded by trees. The closer you got to Kyoto, the sky became more gray until a steady drizzle began to fall against the train window. When you reached the final station, the rain had dissipated, and the taxi ride to the hotel was only about fifteen minutes. The journey felt exhausting, and you were so incredibly ready to pass out in a comfy bed. 

You stood underneath a small sidewalk roof near the vending machines lining the outside of the hotel, trying to keep your bag and suitcase with all your equipment in it dry from the remnant soft mist of rain still lingering in the air.  

“Hey, Utahime, sorry to bother you so late,” you say, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear, “but is it the Hilton on 3rd street? Or on Main? Because if it’s the one on Main, then I may have messed up-”

You stop speaking when you hear a masculine voice down the road towards the left, echoing off of the lined up small shops along the sidewalk, and your heart could have recognized the sound anywhere. You’re swift to turn and face that direction, almost dropping your phone in the process, and you see him– the object of all your suffering lately. 

Gojo stood there, wide-eyed and stopped completely in his tracks as the recognition of you under the dim street lighting flashes across his face. He’s in pajamas– a red long-sleeve cotton shirt that looks so stupidly soft and comfortable it almost makes you emotional, with some matching checkered red pants. It was the most casual clothing you’ve ever seen him in. His hair appears damp, slightly tousled, from what you could assume was an effort to dry it off fast. And he had crocs on. In sports mode. You make a mental note to ask him about his charms and if he’s willing to trade any of them with you. But maybe some other day. When it doesn’t hurt to think about him.

“y/n?” he calls your name out, astonished. He’s looking at you like he’s just seen a ghost but in the best way possible. 

You blink at him, heart skipping a beat just from the mere sight of him, and when you hear Utahime’s voice on the line you’re shaken out of your trance. “Oh, sorry, I’m still here. I…I think I just had my question answered. Thank you, have a good night.” You pull your phone down, gaze lingering on your screen for way too long because you can’t brave yourself to look over at the man to your left, and you end the call.

There’s the sound of remnant puddles of water splashing as he takes a few steps closer to you, and you can see his reflection in the water of the one in front of you. The expression on his face matches the one that was there when you last saw him outside of the UTokyo stadium at the west side exit. It’s an expression you could still see every time you close your eyes.

Finally turning to face him, you purse your lips together. “Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, voice laced with confusion and you see him take in your appearance with eager flicks of his gaze all around, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him right now.

“Satoru!” another familiar voice calls out. “Did you get the orange-flavored ones too? Choso’s a fucking idiot and got the grape ones instead. I hate those. They taste like medicine. And ass. Not that I would know what–” You see Geto emerge from the darkness to Gojo’s side, and now he’s looking at you with a surprised look too. “Oh, it’s y/n. What are you doing here?”

“Hey, you two,” you chirp, trying to act as if an entire world of awkwardness wasn’t being exchanged between you and Gojo right now, for the sake of hoping that Geto wasn’t a very good judge of energy. “I’m here to take pictures of the soccer team.”

Your eyes flicker to Gojo, who is still looking at you like he’s never seen a person before. 

“Oh, is it for another one of your assignments?” Geto asks. 

“No, it’s not. It’s for the newsletter,” you explain to him, “I guess it’s my job now.”

There are a few more distant footsteps that follow behind the two of them, with the crinkling noises of plastic bags hitting against thighs echoing through the streets, and eventually they catch up. You see Nanami and the UTokyo team’s goalie, you believe his name is Choso, arrive at this little gathering that was taking place outside of the hotel.

“That’s awesome!” Geto exclaims. “I’m sure the newsletter will lead to a lot of exposure.”

“Who reads the newsletter?” Choso asks. 

Geto nudges him with his elbow. “Dude.”

“What?”

He then fills Choso in on the conversation, “Oh, my bad.”

“Don’t worry, y/n, I read the newsletter,” Geto says, “I read it like the morning paper.”

“It only comes out once a week, but nice try,” you respond, giving him a weary look.

Nanami crosses his arms. “I actually do happen to read it,” he says, “although I refrain from the soccer section. Feels rather egotistic to read it. I find the campus politics section to be enjoyable, though.”

The rest of you exchange annoyed glances at that.

“Satoru reads the soccer section,” Geto says, slinging an arm around him, “‘cause he’s full of himself.”

For a moment, Gojo remains silent, while his teammates, who had been observing him with amused expressions, gradually shift to awkward blinking, like they were expecting him to complain, or say something sarcastic, or joke around by now.

“I do read it,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I saw the release from yesterday. Your pictures were stunning.”

You’re flustered from the way he’s looking at you. “Thanks.” 

Choso opens the plastic bag he was holding, peering down into it. “Shit. Ice cream’s melting, guys.”

“Yeah, we should probably head back to the rooms,” Geto looks at you, “do you want any snacks?”

“Oh, no. I’m good. I was just about to go check-in,” you say to them.

The boys politely say bye to you, and Gojo mentions something about staying back for a bit and hands Nanami the plastic bag he was carrying before they head back into the hotel. And then the two of you are alone under this roof, drops of water falling from it in between the two of you. He takes a step towards you, and you instantly stiffen. He seems to notice because he sighs and then walks past you to the vending machine that was next to you, pulling out some spare change from his pocket and inputting it into the machine.

“Do you want anything to drink?” The machine feeds him something, and he crouches down to pick it up before standing up again.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, hand clutching the handle of your suitcase. 

He cracks the can of his soda open. “So, you’re going to be traveling with us for the newsletter now?” he asks, so concisely, like he felt that every word comes with a tax.

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to act like we’re strangers.”

You turn to face him. “What should we act like then?”

There’s a hesitant look in his expression as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Can’t we at least be friends?”

The question softens you at your core, the tone of his voice sounding genuine. Being friends with him sounds so nice, and you kind of wish that’s what you two always were. Just friends. Maybe it would have avoided all of this heartache. But deep inside you knew that just being friends with him wasn’t an option anymore, at least not for now. “No, sorry. That’s just a recipe for disaster. I have to go check-in now.”

You grab your tote bag from the bench, grip tight onto your suitcase handle and make your way splashing across the shallow puddles then through the hotel’s automatic doors into the warmth of the lobby. 

The lighting inside was warm and there were moderately high ceilings adorned with vintage-looking chandeliers. Around the perimeter, there were amenities including a cozy lounge with a fireplace, a small bar serving cocktails, as well as a business lounge with booths and multiple TVs mounted to the walls playing the local news. It made you feel like you were on vacation, and getting to a hotel at this hour while on vacation always meant that you were about ready to pass out on some freshly washed and tucked white linen sheets after taking a nice warm shower with a lavender-scented mini soap bar.

Making your way through the maze of plush seating areas, you get to the concierge desk to check-in. There was a professionally-dressed woman with a slicked-back bun standing there behind the counter, her eyes scanning the computer screen in front of her, and a big, burly man that stood behind her wearing all black that appeared to be security.

“Hello, I’m here to check-in,” you say, placing your forearm on the cold black counter.

The lady doesn’t look up from the computer screen. You clear your throat.

“Oh, hello. Name on the reservation?” she asks you.

You take a look down at your phone screen. The reservation was still under the name of the person that had recently quit the job. “Yui Ishikawa.”

The lady behind the counter hums to herself, obnoxiously tapping at the keyboard with only one of her index fingers. She was chewing gum. “Hm. Don’t see that name here.”

“What?” You squint at your phone and refresh the page, then turn it to face her. “But it’s on your official booking site. There was email confirmation too.”

She glances at your phone screen then taps at the keyboard again, still obnoxiously loud, but she uses her other index finger this time. “Yeah, still nothing.”

“This has to be some kind of mistake,” you say to her.

She looks up at you with an annoyed expression. “Do you want to take a look at the screen? See for yourself.” She turns the monitor to face you. 

You don’t even work here, but you could see clear as day on their interface software that there was a reservation for this Yui Ishikawa woman at this time tonight. You point at it. “It’s right there. The reservation is literally right there.”

She turns the screen back to herself and squints at it. “Oh. Well, unfortunately, we already gave that room to someone else. Since it wasn’t there on our system a half hour ago.”

“What? How is that fair?” You were starting to get seriously annoyed. That refreshing shower you were dreaming of was starting to sound more of a need than a want with every passing minute. “Can you give me another room?”

“No, sorry, we’re all booked for tonight,” she tells you, without offering any additional help.

You look at her baffled. The big burly man behind her has now taken an interest in the conversation as well. “Okay…can you tell me if there are any hotels nearby that I could stay at?”

“Look. This is the countryside, ma’am, there are only a handful of hotels in this area that aren’t tourist accommodations. It’s also the night before a men’s college soccer match, and there seems to be some business seminar taking place nearby too. You can call and check, but the closest hotel this large is about an hour away,” she tells you. 

“What? An hour away? I can’t afford a cab ride like that,” you tell her.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t really my problem,” she says.

You blink at her. “Are you being serious? This is ridiculous.”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave if you can’t comply with our booking rules,” she declares.

“Leave?! You’re the ones that messed up the booking!” You’re yelling now, a few heads turning from the bar at the back. Exhaustion was pulsing through your veins and your filter was slipping. “Do you have any idea how to do your damn job?”

The woman guffaws at you. “Alright, that’s it.” She snaps her fingers, and you watch as the big, burly man walks around the counter of the concierge desk to make his way to you.

You take a step back, watching in horror as he towers over you and grabs onto your arm. “Let’s leave without any issues, miss,” he says in a deep voice.

“What?! But– hey, that’s my suitcase! Don’t– wait–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you hear a familiar voice call out from the left. “What’s going on here?”

The three of you turn your heads in the direction of the voice, and you see Gojo, still clad in those ridiculously soft-looking pajamas, doing a light jog up to the counter.

The woman at the reception desk straightens herself up immediately, and she pets down on her dress and fixes her hair at the mere sight of him. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing to see here, sir! Just a crazy woman that can’t comprehend hotel establishment rules.”

“That crazy woman just so happens to be my wife,” he says, pulling the big burly man’s hand off of your arm.

All three of you look at him dumbfounded. 

“Y-Your wife?” the woman asks, sounding equally surprised and disappointed. “But she’s complaining about the fact that she doesn’t have a room.”

“I know, she does that all the time,” he sighs, “she’s got–...early-onset…dementia. Sweetheart, what did I tell you about packing up all your things and leaving the room when I’m not watching you?”

You give him a what the fuck look. He scowls at you to just play along.

“So…she’s with you?” the woman asks.

Gojo nods. “She always forgets that we’ve already booked a room together. Just a silly little sickly lady. Isn’t that right, honey?” He’s holding your shoulders and making you face the concierge woman.

“Y-Yes…” you say awkwardly, trying to put on a smile.

“So, if you could forgive her behavior,” he says with a super pleading voice, pulling you into him so your back is flush against his front side. “I’ll keep her in check from now on.”

The woman lets out a scoff in disbelief. “Alright…just don’t let her out again.” You send her a nasty look. The big burly man lets out a hmph and steps away from you. 

“Sure thing. Let’s go, honey,” Gojo says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase in one hand and your upper arm in his other, dragging you with him across the lobby to the elevators. It isn’t until he’s pressed the up button and you finally gain your footing again after stumbling a few steps that you yank away from his grip.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, feeling embarrassed.

He looks down at you with a raise of his eyebrow. “Saving you from getting kicked out of the only decent hotel within a thirty-mile radius?”

“I didn’t need your help, I had the situation under control,” you mumble, smoothing out the layers of your clothing.

“Yes. That’s exactly what that looked like,” he muses as the elevator door opens and he steps inside, taking your suitcase with him as hostage. You panic at the sight and step inside with him, the door closing behind you. 

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“To my room,” he says, pressing a button on the control pad, “you couldn’t get one, right?”

Your eyes widen. “No…I couldn’t.” 

Gojo’s room is on the fourth floor, eleven units down to the right, and you follow him with dragging feet all the way down. Once he makes it in front of the door and takes the keycard out of his pocket, he pauses and looks over at you. “Waiting for you to thank me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “For what?”

He’s waving the card in the air tauntingly. “You look exhausted as hell right now. I’m the one with the access to a nice hotel vanity and a soft, warm bed,” he practically purrs the words.

You’re instantly folding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” he chimes, pressing the card to the reader.

“Stop calling me that,” you grumble as he opens the door for you.

You step into the room, rolling your suitcase inside with you, and take a look around. There was a single bed with the headboard up against the left-side wall, a nightstand on both sides and a desk where you noticed Gojo had his laptop open and a few books out. The bathroom was to the right, and there was a long table that had a coffee machine as well as the TV on top of it.

You place your suitcase against the wall then turn around, standing only a few feet from the entrance of the room, to find Gojo still standing outside in the hallway.

“Do you have to go somewhere?” you ask him. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Oh, I don’t need any of my other stuff,” he says to you, tapping at his pocket where you can see the imprint of his wallet, “room’s all yours.”

Your eyes widen at him. “Wait…are you going to sleep somewhere else?”

He tilts his head at you, as if that was obvious. “Yeah, I was going to go crash on the couch in Suguru’s room or something.”

“But–” you start, stopping yourself. 

He’s waiting for you to speak, but you can’t.

“Well…good night, then,” he says and he turns to the side, about to walk down the hall, when you reach out and grab the sleeve of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

This was a bad idea. You’re supposed to be putting distance between the two of you right now, so that you can get over him. This was a man that very clearly said he didn’t have feelings for you. But honestly, you missed him. You missed him so damn much this past week, and you can only be strong for so long. 

“You have an important match tomorrow,” you say quietly, “you should be getting a good night’s rest. We’ll share the bed.”

He turns to face you, looking down at where you were pinching the fabric of his shirt, which was just as soft as you had imagined, and he glances up to meet your gaze once again. “I’m…really confused right now.”

“What if you guys lose and are booted from the competition, and I have to spend the rest of my life regretting the fact that the reason the school lost a 12-year championship streak is all because I made you sleep on a couch?” you ask him.

He takes a step towards you. “You really want me to stay?” His voice was low.

“Yes,” you say. “We’re mature adults. Despite everything, we can just…share a bed for one night, right?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I think you trust me a little too much.”

Your face felt hot. “Are you telling me that I shouldn’t?”

“I’m telling you that you should really think this through,” he says.

“Just stay. Please.” The tone to your voice came off much more desperate than you would’ve liked.

He looks at you like the last thing in the world he could say right now was no. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Satoru.”

“Okay,” he says, walking past you into the room, like he wasn’t really in the mood to argue about it anymore.

You sigh, sulking your shoulders a little bit, and watch as he takes a seat at the desk and continues to click through things on his laptop, occasionally sipping on the cup of coffee he had made for himself, as if your presence here was no unnatural thing. 

This all felt so domestic for you. This feels like the most intimate the two of you have been with one another, despite the fact he’s literally made you cum with his tongue before. 

“Who drinks coffee at this hour?” you ask, crouching down to unzip your suitcase, opening it up to find your cosmetics bag and a fresh pair of clothes to change into.

“Caffeine doesn’t really affect me anymore.” His eyes were still stuck on his laptop screen.

“You sound dead inside,” you comment, standing back up straight. You step over your suitcase that was on the floor and head into the bathroom, about to close the door but you open it enough to peer over at him from inside. “I’m going to take a shower,” you announce.

You see him poke his tongue to his cheek, leg bouncing up and down underneath the desk, and he squints at his laptop screen like there’s something so damn important that he must concentrate on or else the entire universe would collapse inside of a black hole. “Cool. Have fun.”

“I will.” 

“I’m glad.”

“No peeping.”

“There’s a lock on the bathroom door. Feel free to use it.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” And then you’re shutting the door. 

It felt nice to freshen up, especially after that long journey, and then you’re doing your skincare in the mirror while you’re wrapped in a towel, trying to forget the fact that the man you quite seriously have immense feelings for is somewhere outside that door just a few feet away in this small hotel room. You spray a spritz of your perfume onto your skin, something there’s literally no point in doing before bedtime, but you still do it…for no particular reason at all, obviously. 

When you step back out into the room, Gojo’s eyes are instantly on you from where he stood near the closet. He takes in your appearance and lets out a laugh, looking at you with amusement.

“What?” you ask.

“You look so cute,” he says, “with your little sloth pajamas.”

You’re fully blushing as you make your way over to the armchair in the room to set your cosmetics bag down on it to sort through the mess you’ve just made of it. “Don’t call me cute,” you scold, searching for your lip balm. 

You could feel his frown from behind you. “You don’t like it?” 

“No. I love it.”

“I’m not following.”

You turn around to face him. “Satoru. You promised me you wouldn’t lead me on anymore. That includes teasing me or complimenting me.”

He looks at you incredulously. “What? I can’t even call you cute? This fucking sucks.”

“Your problem,” you say.

“So you’re cool with sharing a bed, but you’re not cool with me complimenting you,” he lays it out.

“We’re sharing this bed out of the kindness of my own heart,” you say to him, “because I care oh-so-very-much about your soccer career, and understand how important good sleep is for an athlete’s performance. I’m just that considerate of a person.” You point a strict finger at him. “But for your information, if you touch me while we’re in bed, I’ll kill you.”

“Hm. Not sure if I feel threatened or turned on right now,” he says.

You roll your eyes and finally zip up your cosmetics bag, set it on the table then make your way to the left side of the bed. When you glance at the nightstand, you notice Gojo has his wallet, his phone and his charger all situated there.

“Why’s your stuff here?” you ask him.

“Huh? Oh, I was going to sleep on that side,” he says to you.

“I usually sleep on the left side,” you tell him.

“But I usually sleep on the left side.”

You blink at him.

“I–…I’ll sleep on the right side,” he suggests, shoulders tense and on edge.

“Okay,” you shrug, and move his stuff.

Gojo spends some time freshening up in the bathroom too, and when he comes out he looks like he’s actually tired, and you feel like it’s the first time you’ve seen him look as worn out as he probably should be for someone as busy as him. You’re already settled under the sheets, the duvet pulled all the way up to your chin as you lay on your back. He comes up to the right side of the bed, checking his phone for a few minutes while standing and rubbing at the back of his neck, then plugs his phone into the charger. He grabs the sheets, about to pull them back, when he pauses and looks at you.

“Are you su-”

“If you ask me if I’m sure about this one more time, I will no longer feel sorry for you, and will make you go sleep on the love-stained couch,” you threaten him.

He grimaces at your choice of words and pulls the sheets back, slipping himself into bed. “Why do you have to put it like that? You’re gross. Also, I’m pretty sure this bed has seen less-than-holy things too.”

The only lighting in the room came from the warm, dim bulb of the night lamp at Gojo’s nightstand. An incredibly awkward silence settles between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just awkward for you, because he seems fine. He’s on his back too, looking up at the ceiling, practically motionless but there’s the faintest sound of his breathing every once in a while and it’s a sound you’ve never heard in such detail before.

He turns his head to you, but you don’t meet his gaze just yet. You shuffle a little bit, hip bumping against his side, elbow hitting his arm. He’s masculine next to you, shoulders hard, muscles heavy, but when you finally turn your head to glance at him and see the expression on his face, you realize that everything about him was rigid—except for the way he was looking at you.

“When did you sneak it in?” he asks.

“Sneak what in?” 

“The can of strawberry vanilla soda. Into my bag.”

You swear your heart stills a little in your chest. 

“Before,” is all you say to him.

He sighs. “y/n…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I wanted you to have it, regardless of how I thought my confession would go,” you assure.

It’s hard to read his expression from the side while he’s looking up at the ceiling, but it’s softer than it was a second ago. The need to change the subject consumes you.

“Why do you have calluses on your fingertips?” you ask him. “You’re a soccer player, you don’t use your hands for anything.”

“I play the guitar,” he replies simply.

You perch yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with interest. His eyes flicker to your face. “Really?”

“No. I was just kidding. Hate the way you got excited though. I might have to pick up a guitar now.”

“Can you just answer me?” you sigh, flopping down onto your back again.

He laughs a little, a sound you feel like you could get drunk on at this point. He lifts his head up off the pillow enough to tuck his right hand underneath it, then rests it back down. You wish there was a mirror on the ceiling so you could see the flex of his arm. “Coach has us do the rock climbing wall at the gym at least once a week for practice. He thinks it’s a good workout. Causes a hell of a lot of skin tear though.”

“That’s it? That’s the reason?”

“Mhm.”

You shake your head, “You should learn how to play the guitar, because that’s a lame reason to have calluses.”

He lifts his head up off the pillow again and brings the hand that was tucked under his nape to in front of his face and he just looks at it. You look at it too. “Why are you so obsessed with the state of my hands?"

“A girl can’t be curious?” you ask.

“They’re not that bad.” You wonder if you’ve made him self-conscious. 

You watch the way he flexes his fingers open and then closed. He turns it around, and you can see the veins trailing down from the valleys of his knuckles, disappearing into the fabric of his long sleeve. You remember that party, the two of you in that bathroom, when his hands were all over you, and it’s suddenly a little hard to breathe. He turns his hand again so the palm faces him, but now it’s also slightly turned towards you too.

“They’re bad here,” you say, pointing to his ring finger where you see slight peeling at the tip. The padded skin of your finger touches his skin. “A little bad here, too.” You point to his index finger, careless enough to allow all of your fingers to brush against his this time.

He watches you. “Your hands are really small,” he comments, like it was a marvel to him.

You look over at him briefly, and there’s not a single sign of tension in his face as he observes the image of your hand next to his hand in the air above him. He looked like he was at peace.

“Yours are just big,” you tell him. 

He knows he’s not supposed to, and you really shouldn’t have let him, but he interlocks his fingers with yours regardless, holding onto your hand. You feel the roughness of those calluses all across your soft skin. His thumb runs over the curve of your knuckle, almost in a soothing way, like he was trying to apologize to you for something. And this was the only way he knew how. 

Something sobers him up, because he suddenly pulls his fingers from yours and drops his hand to the duvet. Your hand lingers in the air for a few seconds before you do the same. And now you’re both awkwardly staring up at the ceiling again.

“Sorry,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you whisper too.

The silence settles for longer.

He sighs. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says out of nowhere.

“Huh?” you turned your body a little to face him, and he was looking up at the ceiling as if there was something across the texture that he was trying to decipher.

“I don’t want you thinking that the reason I can’t-,” he pauses, to think carefully about his words, “...that the reason I can’t return your feelings is because of you, or anything you’ve done. It’s been a while since I’ve liked anyone to be honest, and I’m just really not looking to date right now.”

You’re hurt by his words. Because even if he didn’t want to date anyone, you thought that he would’ve at least tried to for you. You thought that he had at least some feelings that the two of you could’ve worked off of. “Why don’t you want to date anyone?”

“Reasons.”

“Obviously. What reasons?” you prod. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh. “If it’s something traumatic, I get it. My hamster died in the fourth grade,” you say, “I’ve never known peace since.”

He turns onto his side to face you with a soft and amused smile on his face. “Sorry to hear that. What was your hamster’s name?”

You try not to feel hot from the burn of his gaze and you turn onto your back to look up at the ceiling again. “Mr. Guilmon,” you say.

“Like…guilmon from digimon?

“Mhm.”

“You like digimon?”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid. My mom wanted to name my hamster ‘Scout’ but I refused,” you tell him, blinking a few times as the memories from your childhood come back to you. A small smile makes its way onto your face.

“I love digimon,” he says, fast, like he couldn’t contain it. 

“Really?” you give him a sidewards glance, a little surprised.

He hesitates slightly before sighing, turning over in the opposite direction to reach for his wallet on his nightstand. You feel the fabric of the duvet stretch across you from the movement, and you remember just how intimate this all felt. He’s laying on his back again, holding his wallet up in the air with both hands as he flips it open, then slides his credit card up out of the slot, and shows it to you. Digimon themed. You have to purse your lips together to hold back your laughter.

He turns his head to look at you when you can’t help but let a little noise escape your mouth, and you can see through the laughter-induced sheen of tears in your eyes that he’s frowning.

“Hey–”

“I’m sorry–” you're fully laughing at this point, hand over your mouth to try to contain yourself, “it’s just– oh my god— you’re the last person I would’ve expected to have been such a nerd.” 

“I’m not a nerd–” he tries to argue but you snatch the card out of his hand to study it closer, and also to memorize the numbers on the back.

“Popular soccer boy Gojo Satoru,” you’re giggling, “has a custom Digimon credit card.”

When he tries to reach for it, you stretch your arm off to the left. His weight leans on you, chest pressing against the curve of your shoulder, arm extending across you as he tries to grab his card back. “Quit it,” he mutters. 

“No,” you say, holding it further to your left, weakly trying to push him away from you.

“Quit it,” he repeats, face scowling now with what looks like embarrassment, and he holds his upper body up by the elbow, leaning over you even more to reclaim it, “or else.”

“Or else, what?” you say through wheezes, and it seems like something in him snaps because suddenly he grabs your wrist, hard, pinning it down onto the mattress, holding it there next to your head, and his entire upper body is towering over you. Shocked, you’re breathing fast, your eyes darting across his face, and he’s looking at you with a furrowed brow and a tense jaw.

“Or else I won’t keep my promise,” he says through a harsh breath, his voice low and rough.

You’re stunned underneath him. “What promise?” you ask, breathlessly. 

He leans down closer, to the point where the fringe of his hair brushes against your forehead. “My promise to hold myself back from you.”

You swallow hard, chest heaving. You feel the heat of his hand on your wrist burning through to your veins. You try to squirm slightly in his grip, but he just presses your wrist down further into the mattress.

He glances at your lips, eyes dilated and stern, and leans down even closer to you. “Do you have any idea how bad I’ve been wanting to punish you for leaving me in that bathroom by myself?” he says in a voice so husky you feel the arousal build at your center the second your head registers it.

You can’t find your words. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, as if to make sure yours stay on his too, and you’re docile under him until he’s distracted you enough to pinch his credit card between two of his fingers and discretely pull it out from your grip. He then lets go of your wrist and disappears out of your line of sight when he flops back down onto the mattress next to you, tucking his card back into his wallet.

“But I won’t. Because I’m a nice person, and will respect your space. Or whatever.” 

You don’t know what to say, your hand finding a place over your heart as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“We should probably go to sleep,” he sighs after a minute, tossing his wallet back onto the nightstand and reaching over to turn off the light.

It’s dark now in the room, the only light coming from through the layered fabrics of the curtains. It's a cold light, possibly from the moon and maybe some dim neighboring white street lights, but it’s enough to where you could still see the slight texture of the ceiling, and maybe his face.

You both spend a few minutes trying to get comfortable. You try not to bump your butt against him, or brush your chest against his arm, but it happens a couple times anyway, and you mentally curse yourself for it. The rise of the duvet fabric from his chest becomes shallow with his breathing, and you think he’s fallen asleep, but then the two of you turn over at the exact same time, facing each other, eyes flying open and gazes meeting. It startles the both of you, but neither of you look away or say a word. The two of you just sit in the moment for what feels like hours, and very could’ve easily been. 

You’re the first to break the silence. “You know, there was a time where I thought that you weren’t even real.” You’re speaking hushed, like you’re afraid someone will hear, even though there’s only two souls in this room right now.

“What?” he asks, a slight raise to his eyebrow. “...why.”

“I don’t know. You’re like this urban legend around campus. You probably don’t know it, since you’re in it, but the world you’re in is very different from the world the rest of us students are in.”

He’s silent for a moment, his face being briefly illuminated by the reflection of a car’s headlights on the windows of the surrounding building. “I think I know what you mean.”

You blink at him. “I thought you would have a few more follow-up questions to that, but I guess you’re surprisingly self-aware.”

He hums to himself. “I think I can just put it into perspective.”

“Perspective?” you ask. You’re hanging onto every single one of his words tonight. You don’t want a single one of them slipping through you, not understood.

“Yeah,” he says, “there are moments where I feel like I’m not in that world anymore. And it feels nice. To get out of it.”

You want to ask him when those moments are, but he’s quick to speak again.

“I guess that means I’m aware of the moments where I am in it, so I know that it exists, if that makes sense? I don’t know.” He looks down at your pajamas, at the dancing sloth at the front, and the crease to his brow relaxes slightly. 

“Mhm, makes sense.”

His eyes are back on you, studying. There’s a strange look on his face that you can’t really comprehend. “I want to know about your world,” he says.

You breathe in deep, and exhale shallow. “My world is simple. I want to be a filmmaker and then live in a little cottage.”

He smiles at you. “A little cottage?”

“Yeah,” you say, “maybe in the countryside. The Italian countryside. With my own garden in the backyard so I can use fresh zucchini in my salads.”

“Any animals? Pets?” he asks, like he’s envisioning it all in his head too. 

“Maybe some chickens,” you say, “I promised Mr. Guilmon I’d name another one of my pets after him someday. I have to keep my promise.”

He nods. “You do.”

There’s another silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time.

“Did you turn your photos in to your professor?” he asks.

“Yeah, I did,” you tell him. “Earlier this week.”

“Nice. What about your reference for grad school?”

“I asked him for it.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise. “How’d it go?”

“Mm…I was really nervous, but it went well. He said he’d do it.”

There’s such a tenderness to his expression that you feel so compelled to kiss him right now. “That’s awesome. I’m proud of you. That’s one step closer to your dream.”

You purse your lips together from his words, sitting with the warm feeling in your chest. You want to thank him again, but instead all you say is “we’re even now.”

He lets out a small chuckle. It comes from his throat. “You’ve said that so many times.”

“I know.” Because you can’t believe it’s all over. This little arrangement between the two of you. You don’t want it to be over. “I can’t remember when the first time I said it was.”

“That night,” he answers you fast and with certainty, like it was at the forefront of his mind, “when you drove over rocks. And we sat together on the curb. And I realized how badly you take care of your car. You don’t need thousands of chain restaurant napkins in your glovebox, by the way. No matter how much you might think you do.”

“Wow. I was almost romanced by you for a second, but you ruined it,” you mumble.

You’re instantly taken back to that night. You remember the gentle quality in his eyes as he stared up at the stars, and you can still see the reflection of that sky in his eyes right now with the way he’s looking at you. 

“I really liked you that night,” you whisper, “I wish you were like that all the time.”

“Am I not like that all the time?” he asks, voice soft to match yours.

“No,” you say, “sometimes you’re mean.”

His eyes on you are gentle, somewhat careful. “I’m sorry for being mean.” 

You wonder if you can change his mind. If you can will him to like you back, if you can will him into wanting a relationship with you. You want to be his exception, not his rule.

“It’s okay. I’m mean sometimes, too,” you say, “mean to myself for sharing a bed with a guy that doesn’t like me.” He’s looking at your lips as you speak. “I’m bad like that.”

“You’re not bad,” is all he says.

“I am,” you say, and you inch closer to him, until there’s hardly any space between the two of you. You look up at him, faces inches away. You feel so safe with him, and yet you also feel scared, because you like him so much that you would let him ruin you if he wanted to. You press a flat palm to his shirt, searching for his heart, and you find that it’s beating fast in his chest. “I’m a bad woman, Satoru.”

“y/n,” he says, like a warning.

“I mean it,” you whisper.

“You said you’d kill me if I touch you,” he reminds you, sounding a little breathless.

“I can’t kill you, you’re way stronger than me,” you whisper, “so touch me.” Your hand is gripping onto the fabric of his shirt now, tight, with desire. He’s looking at you with a whole lot of desire too, but there was something else there as well. “Please.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist–the heat of his touch that you so badly wanted, craved, finally on you–but it’s to pull you away from him. Your grasp on his shirt releases and he brings your hand to the front of your chest, laying it down gently before letting it go. Your wrist lays limp there, missing his touch. Limp in front of your beating heart.

“Let’s just go to sleep, okay?” he says softly. 

Your eyes widen when you look at him, and you couldn’t even hide the hurt that settled across your face if you tried. Gaze dropping to his chest, you see the way it was rising with every breath he took, and for the second time in this life, you’ve felt so utterly rejected by him. You give him a compliant nod, and scootch back away from him before turning away. He stays as he is, watching your back, and you can feel his gaze on the nape of your neck. 

Counting the minutes to fall asleep felt exhausting, but the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes was the feeling of a tear trickling down onto your pillow, wet and cold against your cheek.

–

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, and an even emptier feeling heart. There’s also this weird feeling of disappointment within you, and you don’t really know why.

Grabbing your phone on the nightstand, you quickly search for the email with the men’s soccer team practice schedule, and you see that they had a sharp 8am practice this morning before the game in the afternoon. The time reads 6:37am, and you’re wondering where Gojo went so early in the morning before heading off to the practice field.

You went back to sleep for a couple hours, and then woke up again. By the time you took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to the hotel lobby to eat breakfast, it was already 10:00am and it was time to make it to the field so you could set up and calibrate your camera prior to taking photos for the match. Following Utahime’s gameday instructions, you took a cab to the location with all of your gear.

The Kyoto soccer stadium was less of a stadium and more of an extremely large and open expanse of grass that had enormous silver metal stands stretching across the perimeter. It was something you would expect of an area in the countryside, but security was still somehow tight across the fenced off area. 

It was still a couple hours before the game, so the field was bustling with pre-game set-ups and the stands were empty. There were a few sports canopies being put up, as well as a small truck with workers that were working to stock up the hydration stations. A few men in suits were seated at tables with notepads and clipboards, looking busy in conversation and on what sounded like business calls. As you walk down the sidelines, you notice a few other people checking the distances between the goals and the chalk markings across the field. The stands were extremely close to all of the action, and when you look to the right, you see a couple of familiar faces there.

“Ah, y/n! We’re over here.”

You approach the group of three people, all seated on the lowest metal bench of one of the spectator sections. There were a bunch of tripods, cameras, cases, and laptops sprawled across in front of them. You recognize Hana and Minato, but you don’t recognize the other man sitting with them. You had met Hana and Minato at the game against Osaka last week, they were both professional photographers for the newsletter.

Hana hops off the bench and comes up to you. “It’s seriously so cool you’re here with us and that Utahime got you this gig,” she says to you with a smile. “Make sure your schedule is free on nights after matches, all us photographers usually get dinner together afterwards. You’re the baby out of us, so we’ll pay for you.”

You return her smile with one of your own. “That’s sweet, and sure I’ll try to.” 

You glance at the man whose name you didn’t know, your gaze meeting his, and soon enough he’s jumping up onto his feet too and making his way over to you.

“Ah, this is Kaito. Kai for short,” Hana says, gesturing to the man, and then to you.

Kai extends his hand out for you to shake. He’s tall and a bit lean. His style is really boyish—totally nailing the street photographer outfit with the white shirt underneath a flannel one, and some Carhartt pants paired with some Vans. You reach out to shake his hand, and he holds onto it for a second longer than you would’ve expected.

“Hi,” you greet him and tell him your name.

“That’s a nice name,” he says with a smile.

Hana claps her hands together. “Okay! We all know each other now, that’s great. We should get started prepping before the players get here, I believe they’re scheduled to be here in an hour.” She walks over to the benches and picks up her digital camera. Minato grabs his as well as his tripod, then walks over to Hana’s side. “The way we usually do it is to split the field into corners, and each of us works that perimeter. The videographers are here too, so just make sure you don’t accidentally knock over or stand in front of one of their cameras.”

All three of you nod at her and you unzip your case to take your film camera out. Kai is next to you, looking at the device in your hands curiously.

“Kai, you can work with y/n for today since it’s her first day. Split up those two corners over there,” Hana says, pointing to the other end of the field. You and Kai look in that direction. “Minato and I will take the other short end.”

With a few more discussions and detailed instructions, the four of you disperse to your assigned locations. You’re a step ahead of Kai, although he should really be the one leading your stride since you’re the new one here, but he soon enough catches up to you.

“Is that a Canon AE-1?” he asks you, pointing to your camera.

You look at him a little surprised. “Yeah, it is. As vintage as they get.”

“Sweet, I used to shoot on film too. Second-hand?” 

“No, third. Still cost me an arm and a leg, though,” you sigh.

He laughs. “They’re not that expensive.”

“I’m a broke college student. I sometimes have to choose between paying rent and eating food,” you say to him.

He kicks at a random can on the grass, sending it flying forward, instead of picking it up. “Yeah, definitely don’t miss those days.”

“When did you graduate?” you ask.

“From UTokyo two years ago,” he says. 

You bend over to pick up the can he kicked and jog a little to the trashcan nearby, tossing it in, then jog back to him. “That’s nice. You’ve been doing this for two years?”

“Yup,” he says to you as the two of you reach the corner of the field outlined by freshly drawn chalk. He kneels down on the grass, sets his camera case down, and opens it up. Your jaw drops.

“Is that a—Leica camera?” you ask him, shocked.

He smirks up at you. “Sure is.”

“Oh, so you’re just rich, then,” you sit down on the grass to look at it with interest, marveling at its condition.

“Nope. I’ll bet I got it for cheaper than your Canon there,” he points to the camera hung at your neck.

You meet his gaze. “No way.”

“Way,” he says, pulling out the attachable lens before wiping at it with a microfiber cloth, “I know a guy. He sells used cameras. The only issue is you’ve gotta refurbish them yourself.” 

You sigh. “Wonderful. Because I would know how to do that.”

He lets out a half-laugh, and you glance up briefly to look at his expression. He was amused. “It’s pretty easy, just gotta do it once. And then you’ll have a used Leica that works brand-new, all for just under a hundred-thousand yen.”

You’re looking at him with surprise again. “That cheap?”

“Yup.”

“Wow…” Your finger plays with the lens cap on your camera.

“If you want, I can send you his info. But if you want to meet up with him, it’ll probably have to be facilitated through me,” Kai says, “He takes clients by recommendation. No use in selling a used camera to an idiot that doesn’t know how to refurbish it. He’s looking for niche photographers that have the interest.”

You press your lips together, considering it. “Sure.”

He hands his phone to you. “Alright, gimme your number.”

You hesitate for a second before typing your number into his contacts then hand it back and watch as he saves it in his phone. “Canon girl. Won’t forget ya.”

The two of you make work for a second, eyeing the field and mapping out angles of where to get the best shots during play. Kai gives you some pointers and you’re marveling at how good they are.

“Not really used to shooting on film anymore,” he mumbles, peering through the hole on your camera when you handed it over to him, “but usually a one over five-hundred shutter speed works well for sports. I’d switch between that and over two-fifty though, to avoid a blurry finish.”

“Thanks,” you say to him, wanting to write all this down to not forget it. “Wish I knew this last week.”

“Why shoot on film?” he asks out of nowhere, handing your camera back to you. “Why not digital?”

“Oh, it’s a personal interest,” you say to him, adjusting your shutter speed as he suggested, “I think there’s a charm to it. I want to be a movie maker, and shoot on film medium.”

He frowns at you. “How are you going to do that?”

You tilt your head at him, shuffling on the grass. “I’m going to apply to the film graduate program at UTokyo to start.”

He laughs at that from where he’s seated across from you. “Really? That’s a waste of your time.”

Your heart sinks a little in your chest from his tone. “Why would it be a waste of my time?”

He turns to face you more directly. “y/n, trust me, I know this career path. Been there, done that. Millions of film majors like yourself always have these big-ass dreams like ‘I want to become a director, I want to do screenplay’ etc., but only one or two of them actually succeed.” 

Your shoulders sulk. It’s not the first time you’ve heard those words from someone—your own parents practically recited them word-for-word before you headed off to college—but you had been doing really well all of senior year to ignore that nagging little voice in your head. It was honestly quite triggering to hear it all again right now. “Well, I think I can do it.”

He lets out a short scoff. “You sound real convincing there.” When he catches sight of your upset expression, he straightens his back a little. “My bad. Just trying to look out for you. I’m your senior in this industry. I know my way around these things. Trust me.”

You nod slowly. “I know. Thanks.” Part of you wonders if he’s just projecting.

“Well anyway,” he shrugs, “I think you should just focus on photography for now. It’s the safest career option for you to do.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, wanting to diffuse the conversation.

The two of you disperse to your assigned corners once the stands start to fill with spectators. Shortly after, the players make their introductions onto the field, and you can see Gojo across the field. He’s too far to read his expression, but for some reason when you look at him, that disappointed feeling from this morning comes back to you. You try to push it down and just focus on your task at hand.

UTokyo does well during the match, and Gojo seems to be playing much better than the Osaka game last week, scoring two goals within the first half. There were a couple of times where there were throw-ins near your corner, and you made eye contact with him as he’s breathing heavily, wiping the sweat off his face with his jersey, and every time you look at him, that melancholic feeling washes over you again. UTokyo wins 3-2, the crowd evidently disappointed as they were rooting for their home team, and by the time the disgruntled fans started to clear the stands, the sun was setting over the horizon and the sky was a golden color.

The referees on the field begin to oversee the post-match proceedings with the players. Kai comes around to meet you at your corner, and Hana and Minato arrive there too.

“Hey team! How’d it go?” Hana asks, a little out of breath from her journey over here.

“Went fine,” Kai responds.

“It was a little tricky,” you comment, “but I think my photos came out well.”

Hana nods. “Alright, sounds good. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

Kai and Minato nod, and then all three sets of eyes are on you. You hesitate for a moment, and look off past them to where you see the group of soccer players in conversations with the coaches and referees. You see Gojo standing there, his hands on his hips as he peered across the field, tilting his neck to the side repeatedly, and you realize he had been doing that all match long. That unsettling feeling within you starts to brew once again. “Uh, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling very well. I think I might just head back to the hotel.”

Hana and Minato nod at you with a concerned expression, while Kai just looks disappointed.

“Okay, well, I hope you feel better,” she says.

You end up taking an Uber back to the hotel in haste, not wanting to run into Gojo or any of the other soccer players after their match, and make it to the room, using the key card that Gojo gave you to get inside. You take a shower to freshen up, and by the time it’s 7pm, you’re starving. You put on a simple outfit and make it downstairs into the lobby of the hotel, about to go peruse the nearby dining options, but right when you step out of the elevator, you run into Gojo.

There’s a look of pleasant surprise on his face and you take in his appearance. He was still wearing his soccer jersey, covered in grass and dirt stains, and his face was slightly flushed from exertion. You figured he just came back from the field.

“Hey,” he says, “sorry, I was just about to head over there.” He jerks his head off towards the lobby, and you glance in that direction. There was a group of maybe thirty people gathered around the lounging areas and high-tables over at the business suite, and you recognize them as UTokyo’s soccer players, along with Coach Yaga and other team staff. The players were still all clad in their uniforms, carrying all their stuff, and there were plays of today’s game rerunning across the TV screens. You realize they’re probably prepping for interview questions for tomorrow’s conference.

“Oh, please, go ahead,” you say to him.

He tilts his head at you. “Are you doing alright?” 

You were aware that things might feel awkward after last night, and that your cheeks would probably feel hot like they do now the next time you had to talk to him. Your mind takes you back to the memories, when you think about how badly you wanted him to stay with you in the room because of that hollow feeling in your chest from missing him, despite how you knew it was bad for you. Because this man standing in front of you doesn’t like you in the way that you like him. 

And then it clicks. The reason for that feeling of disappointment you’ve had since the moment you woke up today.

When you glance up at Gojo this time, you see him differently than you had from a second ago. You finally notice the slight dark circles under his eyes, and figure out that the reason he’s been tilting his neck to the side all day was because he was trying to stretch out a kink. You vaguely recall that moment you woke up in the middle of the night, and your sleepy brain registered that there was no longer the dip of him in the mattress next to you.

“When did you leave the room?” you ask him. You know your voice is quiet when he has to lean down a bit to hear you.

He takes his time answering, indulging in a few breaths. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you say, starting to sound hostile, “you left during the night, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it.

“You left once I fell asleep,” you say, eyes widening with realization.

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Where did you go to sleep?” you ask, trying to keep your tone level.

“Suguru’s room had an extra couch. I pushed them together.”

You felt sick and sad, feeling something worse than rejection right now. There was a part of you that still thought that all of this from him was just a joke. A prank. That he was finally going to say just kidding, I like you too. The reason you’ve been so disappointed since the minute you woke up today was because there was a part of you that thought you were going to wake up this morning with his arms wrapped around you, back pressed tight to his chest while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear of how much he likes you, of how much he wants you, of how much he wants to be with you.

“Why? Even after I said I didn’t want you to have bad sleep?” Your voice was laced with hurt. You didn’t even know how to explain to him why it upset you, because deep down you’re scared it isn’t even valid.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I played fine today. And we won.”

“You could’ve stayed. Do you really hate me that much?” Your words are shooting to kill now. “So I’m good enough to finger in a bathroom at a frat party, but not good enough to sleep next to?”

He furrows his brow. “I don’t understand why we’re arguing about this,” he says, tone starting to match yours, “you’re the one that wanted space. I was just trying to respect that.”

“If you really wanted to respect my space, you wouldn’t have agreed to share the bed with me in the first place.”

“y/n,” he says, “that’s not fair.”

“You should’ve known better.” You’re breathing fast, tone searingly accusive. “You know that I’m trying to get over you, and that I’m vulnerable, and that I’m probably confused about a lot of things right now.”

“I ask if we could at least be friends, you say no because it’d be some recipe for disaster, then you practically beg me to stay with you and tell me to touch you while we’re laying down together. You don’t think that’s confusing for me too?” he counters.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory of your desperate actions last night, and he instantly looks apologetic. You feel like you’re being unfair, but you feel like he’s being unfair too.

“I’m the one with feelings,” is all you say in your defense.

He swipes at his chin roughly with the back of his hand, smudging the dirt up to his cheek, and then closes his eyes for a second, like the weight of today has finally hit him all at once. He looks exhausted. “Right,” he says, softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Yo, Satoru!” one of his teammates yells from the center of the lobby. “Coach needs you, man.”

He rubs a hand down his tired face then throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he calls out and then looks back at you. You can’t make eye contact with him, and just stare at the print on his jersey instead. “I’ll sleep in Suguru’s again tonight. The room is yours.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel like you’re about to cry. “Okay.”

He reaches into his shorts pocket and gives you a room card. “Here’s the spare. I don’t need to come grab my stuff for the night, so don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

He sounds like he wants to say more, and you see him take a small step towards you, hand reaching out for you, but this time Coach Yaga’s stern voice is calling out to him too. He sighs. “Good night.”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

He hesitates before he turns on his heel and you watch his back, with that signature #10 stretched across the fabric of his uniforn, as he jogs through the hotel lobby to his teammates.

The walk back to the hotel room is depressing, and you find yourself dragging your feet all the way there. Once you make your way inside, you look around at the room and see some of Gojo’s belongings scattered around, but it didn’t seem like there were any of his essentials. You look down at the spare key card in your hand–a promise from him that he won’t try to upset you anymore tonight–and that lump in your throat from earlier comes back. 

You hated fighting with him. You hated being away from him. Those feelings that you thought would go away just as fast as they came still sat so stubbornly within your heart, and it was becoming impossible to bear. 

You wonder if meeting him was all just some horrible, twisted mistake. 

Before you have time to dwell on that sad sentiment, your phone screen lights up with a message.

|| 7:52pm unknown number: kinda sucks you’re not here with us. was looking forward to showing you more of my camera

|| 7:53pm unknown number: this is kai by the way

The features of your face feel heavy as you look down at your phone screen. You don’t even notice your eyes are teary until you realize the blur of your vision makes it hard to see the letters as you type out a response.

You just wanted a distraction from all this pain.

|| 7:54pm you: can you send me the address? i wanna be there

a/n. grrrr i love a one-bed trope so much grrrrrrrrr it's gonna do it for me every damn time lol. thanks a bunch for reading!! there's still so much that i've got planned for the series haha i think the second half is gonna be a lot crazier than the first. super excited to write it though.

➸ take me to chapter nine!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd (hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)