#HE'S WEARING A SWEAT BAND EVEN THOUGH HE NEVER SWEATS

[shinynewwriting]

If you ever find yourself doubting the power of art to convey an idea, I invite you to look at these exquisite panels from Action Comics #1064 and become Lois Lane for a moment:

LOOK AT HIM.

I want to bully him relentlessly. I want to protect him from all harm forever. I want to climb him like Mt. Dork and plant my flag.

[sturnioz]

‘CRUSH’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pairing. drummer!matthew sturniolo x reader genre. band au, smut, fluff

word count. 10.1k

❝let me take you backstage. just you and me, yeah?❞

content warnings. explicit content, alcohol usage, mentions of weed, unprotected sex, backstage sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, praising, creampie,

authors note. fake bands are mentioned in this. if there is a band with the same name out there, im sorry lol

Despite his love for blending in with the crowd and remaining mysterious and unseen, Matt is anything but unnoticeable. The singular stripe of red dye in his black hair, the black eyeliner that smudges at the corners of his eyes, the tattoos that decorate his arms, and the oversized graphic clothing that drowns his frame… he stands out.

Matt—admittedly—sticks out like a sore thumb.

It isn’t exactly his fault. (It is, but he won’t admit it).

Matt loves tattooing his skin with crazy and memorable designs, wearing clothes far larger than his usual size, and stomping around in heavy boots. Matt also loves filling his waterline with black eyeliner and accessorising with silver jewellery. 

Painting his nails is another favourite of his too, though he usually goes for a chipped, all-black look.

It also doesn’t help that Matt is in a band alongside his brothers and childhood best friend. While the band isn’t huge, they perform almost every weekend at a popular bar in their hometown, attracting a crowd over 100 people that try their best to cram themselves in just to see them whenever they manage to book a gig.

So, maybe it is his fault.

But he never expected the level of attention it would bring him—eyes ogling from every direction, hushed whispers whenever he enters a room, and a constant stream of compliments filling his DMs on social media as well as being said directly to his face.

Matt secretly loves the attention, but he has never been the one to make a move when girls throw themselves at him, hinting for a quick hook-up or even a relationship. He just wasn't interested enough—no one has ever truly captured his attention.

That is until he saw you at one of the band’s gigs.

You were sitting in a booth with a friend, sipping a Coke through a straw and taking in your seemingly unfamiliar surroundings. Matt was instantly captivated by your presence, wanting nothing more than to gather the courage to walk over and strike a conversation—to learn more about you. 

“Starin’ makes you look creepy.”

Matt’s bandmate and childhood best friend, Nate, remarks, hardly even glancing Matt’s way. His attention is instead confused on his own reflection in the mirror backdrop behind the bar, standing on his tiptoes to see better over the rows of liquor bottles, trying to restyle his newly dyed hair, the sweat on his forehead causing his bangs to stick.

Nate continues, “Go talk to her. Work that so-called ‘Matt Magic’ I hear Chris yappin’ about.”

“Trust me, it’s real.” Chris declares, suddenly appearing and throwing himself down into the seat beside Matt.

He slams a tray of multicoloured shots onto the bar counter, spilling half the contents and leaving the bartender cursing under his breath as he wipes up the mess, glaring at Chris who just grins cheekily, avoiding confrontation.

“I’ve seen it with my own eyes, alright?” Chris continues. “It works like magic—makes the ladies drop to their knees in an instant.”

Nate’s brow raises in amusement, “In the many years I’ve known Matt, I’ve never seen him hook-up or flirt with anyone…” Nate pauses, a teasing grin sliding onto his lips. “Got some problems goin’ on down there or what?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Matt grumbles, swatting away Nate’s hand as he tries to reach out and pat his cheek. 

Nate cackles, shaking his head as he grabs one of the shots that Chris eagerly hands out to the group. He then calls out to Nick, who emerges from backstage, adjusting the leather jacket on his shoulders as he settles down beside Chris.

Chris hums as he tugs the collar of Nick’s shirt down, “Nice marks, kid. Who was it this time?”

“None of your fucking business.” Nick answers with a hiss, running his fingers through his blonde hair.

“You’re always in mine,” Chris shoots back, causing Nick to gape at him. “Don’t give me that look, kid. You’re always yappin’ in my ear about the sisters.”

“Oh, Thing 1 and Thing 2,” Nick grins at the mention of the twin sisters that Chris frequently hooks-up with. “Who was the one that was here last time?”

“Zoe,” Chris answers, but the blank look on Nick’s face causes Chris to sigh in annoyance before clarifying, “Thing 1.”

“I thought Thing 1 was Chloe?” Nate chimes in, pulling a confused face.

Chris is quick to jump to Zoe’s defence, arguing that she’s number one, but Matt tunes out the rest of the conversation, rolling his eyes as he picks up the shot glass and downs it quickly before bringing his beer bottle up to his lips.

He then turns his neck slightly to look over at you once again, spotting you this time smiling at your friend and clinking your simple glass of Coke to her colourful cocktail.

Matt can’t help but continue sneaking glances your way. He is, undoubtedly, interested in you. This is unfamiliar territory for him—he’s never felt this drawn to someone before.

He’s not scared or nervous, and he really would walk on over to you to begin a conversation if it wasn’t for the fact you weren’t alone. Your friend was glued to your side… and he hated it.

Matt inwardly curses, wishing he could just get rid of your friend and have you all to himself for the night, but you two seem inseparable. He takes another swig of his beer, his mind racing with ideas. There has to be a way to separate you from your friend, even if it was just for a moment.

He can’t let this opportunity slip away, he’s going to have to find a way to get you alone. Or he’s going to have to wait for the right moment.

“I think he’s staring at me,” Talia whispers across the booth to you. She straightens her posture and runs her fingers through her hair, fixing any stray strands as she takes a quick glance at her reflection in her phone screen. “How do I look? Do I have something in my teeth?”

“You look fine,” You reassure with a nod, sipping your Coke through the straw. Your eyebrows knit together in curiosity as you watch Talia fuss over her appearance, pulling the neckline of her dress lower to show more cleavage. “But who’s staring at you?”

“The tattooed guy with the red strand in his hair, sitting at the bar behind y—The fuck? Don’t turn around!” You ignore Talia’s feeble attempts to redirect your attention as you spin around, easily spotting the man sitting at the bar surrounded by other similar-looking people.

You snort at the sight, but can’t help but notice his attention doesn’t seem to be on your friend. Slowly turning back to face Talia, you see her shoulders sag in defeat.

“He was staring. He looked away as soon as you turned around.”

“I believe you,” You tell her, getting comfortable in your seat as you observe the way she takes quick glances behind you, holding her head high with confidence. “Who is he, anyways?”

“You’re kidding,” Talia baffles, her eyes going wide. She takes offence when you shake your head. “It’s Matt. The guy that’s on my Instagram feed. His band is playing tonight—he’s the reason why we’re here!”

You frown at that, “I thought you wanted to hang out?”

“I do!” Talia quickly says, but you’re less than impressed. She exhales deeply, “Listen… Matt is the drummer in the band that performed earlier, and I haven’t been able to have much free time to see them play. On top of that, we haven’t hung out in a while and this is the only weekend we seem to be available — so I’m basically hitting two birds with one stone here, can you really blame me?”

“Guess not.” You sigh, even though you’re still not impressed with what’s going on.

You felt a little bit used and lied to, especially when she burst through your dorm room earlier and rambled excitedly about how she’s looking forward to spending some time with you tonight.

Your mood turns sour when it dawns on you that you'll most likely be heading back to your dorm room alone tonight, knowing that she will probably blow you off to go blow off some other guy—literally.

You wish you were the type of person to be selfish — to tell her that you’re not happy with her possibly leaving you to go hook-up with some guy, and demand her to stay with you all night to catch up and go home together with a takeout bag full of junk food, and watch a shitty old movie on your small laptop screen.

But you’ve never been that way.

You have never been selfish.

“I need to go pee,” Talia announces, her face twisting in discomfort as she pushes her empty cocktail glass across the table and awkwardly shuffles out of the booth. She picks up her handbag and rummages through quickly, pulling out her purse and shoving it in your hands. “Go get us another drink, and no more Cokes for you either.”

You don’t even get the chance to say anything as Talia waddles away in a rush towards the bathrooms and you push yourself out of the booth with a huff, clutching her purse in your grasp as you weave through the crowd of people blocking your path to the bar, seemingly busy with their conversations to even make room.

The grip on Talia’s purse tightens as you finally reach the counter, watching the bartender lean in to chat up some customer with a flirtatious smile. 

You debate on going back to the booth and waiting for Talia so she can work her charm to get you both more drinks. But you decide against it, instead hoisting yourself up onto a vacant barstool, so focussed on the bartender and his cheesy pickup lines that you’re completely unaware of who is sitting next to you.

Matt struggles to contain himself when he feels your shoulder brush against his as you sit down beside him at the bar. He steals a quick glance your way, his heart racing, but you’re focussed intently on the bartender, seemingly oblivious to Matt’s presence.  

Matt knows Brent, the bartender, all too well—he’s notorious for getting distracted as he flirts with customers, leaving others waiting, so you won’t be getting served any time soon.

This could be Matt’s chance to finally talk to you, to have the conversation he’s been yearning for since he first laid eyes on you. But the words catch in his throat, and he finds himself unable to face you directly, especially with his bandmates mocking him from the corner of his eye.

Chris makes obnoxious kissing noises, causing Matt to snap his head in that direction, but Chris doesn’t back down from his teasing as he grins and nudges his shoulder. 

“C’mon, kid. Show us that ‘Matt Magic’,” The wiggle of Chris’s eyebrows makes Matt want to fight, his knuckles turning white from the grip he has around his beer bottle. Chris quickly throws his hands up in defence. “Just want you to have some fun, man.”

“As much as it pains me to admit it—like it actually hurts me—Chris is right,” Nick chimes in, his eyes flitting between Matt and yourself, who is still wrapped up in your own head to hear the conversation that’s going on. It surprises him. “You’re surrounded by very beautiful women who clearly show interest in you, and you don’t give a fuck. At all.” 

“Maybe Matt does have some problems goin’ on down there…” Nate drawls as his eyes dip down to Matt’s jeans, tilting his head to the side teasingly. Matt rolls his eyes at Nate’s comment and reaches out to kick him, but Nick intervenes by pushing Nate to the side while Chris grins, amused by the situation.

“Look,” Nick sighs. “As much as I would love for you to get out there, it’s all on your terms. Don’t let these fucks peer pressure you into doing shit.”

Matt doesn’t feel pressured, not one bit.

But all he wants right now is for his brothers and friend to give him some space so he can be alone with you. It would be the perfect opportunity, and he wouldn’t have to worry about the others making grand gestures behind his back or worse, interrupting the conversation. 

As if reading his mind, Nick grips the back of Chris and Nate’s shirts, hauling them away from the bar, though they don’t stay too far—still within reach of their drinks and shots. 

It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do. 

Matt takes a deep breath, gently tugging on the earring dangling from his ear as he finally turns in his seat to face you… just in time for the bartender to finish his flirting. 

Fuck.

“Sorry about that,” The bartender apologises to you with a faint chuckle as he stands in front of you, running his fingers through his dark hair and adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose before resting his hands on his hips.

It gives you a full view of his all black sleeveless shirt that’s tucked into a pair of dark jeans, and you can’t help but notice the white name tag that stands out against the outfit, identifying him as Brent. 

Brent gives you a charming smile, “What can I get for you?”

You hesitate for a moment, trying to remember the name of the cocktail Talia had ordered earlier. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you scan the drinks menu above the bar, pointing to the cheapest options and you’re about to speak up until a voice suddenly interrupts you.

“Can I have a beer, a cosmopolitan, and a Coke?”

You whip your head to the side in annoyance, ready to give the rude customer a piece of your mind for cutting in. But the insults die on your lips as you realise who exactly it is. 

It’s the tattooed arm and the flash of red in his hair that lets you know who it is—the guy that Talia has been non-stop talking about, and has been so fascinated with the past couple of months, and even the main topic of tonight's conversations. 

Your eyebrows raise in slight shock. You’re beginning to see the appeal… Matt is really pretty. 

With Matt seated so close—shoulder to shoulder—you have the opportunity to really take in every detail of his appearance. Though you’ve basically heard Talia rave about him, you’ve never seen him up close and personal before. 

The smudged eyeliner and subtle black eyeshadow around his blue eyes give him a slightly intimidating look, but there’s a certain allure to it that makes you sink back into your seat, captivated. 

You can’t help but notice the tattoos decorating his arm, the flash of vibrant red in his hair, and the small hole on the side of his nostril that makes you wonder if that’s where a nose piercing once was. The redness around the area suggests he or someone else may have attempted to pierce it recently — perhaps even today.

“That’s what you’re both drinkin’, yeah?” Matt’s question snaps you out of your captivated staring, and he shifts in his seat as he turns to face you fully, the chains on his all-black outfit jingling with his movements.

As he drums his fingernails against the bar as he waits for your answer, you notice the black chipped nail polish, some definitely more chipped than others, but the look suits his edgy appearance perfectly.

“Yes—yeah, I think so…”  You answer quickly, realising you’ve been quiet for far too long. But then you pause, your face twisting in confusion as you glance between him and the drinks being made. “How did you know that?”

The corner of Matt’s lip curves upwards in amusement, and he shrugs his shoulders. “I guessed.”

“Here you go, gorgeous,” Brent interrupts as he slides the cocktail and Coke glass in your direction with precise aim, managing to not spill a drop. He then settles the beer bottle down in front of Matt next. “That will be—”

“Wait, can I get another one of those?” You cut him off as you point to the pink-coloured concoction in front of you, and Brent sends a wink your way as he turns on his heel to prepare the drink.

You give him a small smile as a thank you and you turn back to look at Matt who’s already looking at you with his eyebrow raised, and you suddenly feel the need to explain yourself.

“It’s for me.”

Matt nods slowly, “Had enough of the Cokes?”

“No, not exactly… She told me earlier not to get another one,” You say as you glance down at the full glass of Coke in front of you with pursed lips. “But I’ll still take this, you know, just in case I don’t like the cocktail.”

Matt smiles at that, and he reaches for the beer bottle with one hand while the other dips inside his pocket as soon as Brent returns with your newly made drink. He gives you the price and your eyes almost bulge out at the numbers, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you tell him you’ll pay by card.

You’re already mentally preparing yourself for Talia’s reaction when she finds out about the cost. It makes you grimace just thinking about the consequences as you dig through her purse to find her card, but the sound of a machine beeping brings you out of your search, and you lift your head to see Matt with his arm outstretched, his own bank card in hand and pressed down on the card reader.

Did he just…?

Your mouth repeatedly opens and closes in shock, unable to fully process what just happened even though it was the most simplest thing. 

Brent’s giving Matt an amused look, his tongue prodding at his cheek to hide the obvious smirk on his face as he shoves the card reader back beneath the bar, and he flutters his fingers at you for a quick goodbye as he serves another customer — you briefly overhear him compliment their hair, but you pay him no attention as you’re meeting eyes with Matt who seems nonchalant about paying for all of your pricey drinks.

“You didn’t have to do that,” You protest quietly. “I had the money, I—”

“I wanted to,” Matt cuts you off, bringing his beer to his lip and taking a sip all while keeping his eyes on you. “I haven’t seen you around this bar before, so think of it as a welcome gift… from me to you.”

“That’s… sweet. Thank you,” You show him your gratitude, warmth spreading in your chest at his unexpected gesture.

Matt nods his head and reaches over to gently clink his beer bottle against one of your cocktail glasses before taking a sip. You decide to follow suit, bringing the reddish-pink cocktail drunk to your lips.

But the second the liquid touches your tongue, your face twists in an unexpected reaction to the flavour, the taste catching you by surprise which causes the involuntary expression that flashes across your features. 

Matt watches your reaction intently, an amused glint in his eye as he takes another sip of his beer while you place the cocktail back down on the bar to quickly grab your glass of Coke, washing down the taste with something you’re a lot more familiar with.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s different,” You admit with an awkward laugh. You feel slightly embarrassed at pulling the most unattractive face and not enjoying a drink that he bought out of his money. “But it’s still a gift, so I’ll drink it.”

“Nah, you don’t have to do that,” Matt shakes his head, the amusement still sparkling in his eyes as he reaches for his card. “Let me buy you another—”

“No!” You immediately interject, not wanting him to spend any more of his money on the expensive drinks. Matt seems a little surprised at your sudden burst, and he reels his hand back to his lap. You cringe at your tone before adding. “I will drink it.”

“Yeah?” He hums, his eyes flitting down to the cocktail on the bar before meeting your gaze again. He tilts his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Are you sure about that?”

Your heart thumps at the intensity of his stare, a look you’re unfamiliar with. You nod, doing your best to sound confident as you mutter, “Very.”

“Was there a queue at the bar or something? You took so long,” Talia frowns as soon as you arrive back at your shared booth with both cocktails in hand.

Your tongue pokes out in concentration, careful to not spill anything as you hand one over to Talia who takes it in her grasp.

“Thanks, babe. But did you not use my card? I didn’t get the notification on my phone that my card was being used—did you get us a cosmopolitan?! Do you realise how fucking expensive these are here?!”

“Relax, I didn’t buy these,” You tell her as you slide into the booth, sliding Talia her purse. She stares at you, confusion written across her face, so you clarify; “Courtesy of your favourite drummer boy.”

“Matt bought me a drink?” The look that plasters across Talia’s face is priceless, and you bite back the urge to add on how he bought your drink too. But you let her live in her moment as you nod your head, watching as she takes the information in with wide, excited eyes. “Holy shit. He totally likes me—I fucking knew it. Did he say anything?”

“About what?” You ask, your brows pulling together and Talia points at herself. “Oh, no, not really. He was just talking about alcohol, you know… considering we were both at the bar.”

Talia sighs dreamily, “My type of guy.”

“Yeah, he seems interesting.” You find yourself agreeing, pressing your lips firmly together as you glance over your shoulder in a somewhat hopeful manner that you’ll see Matt still at the bar, sipping his beer or maybe even watching you from afar. But when you don’t see him, you feel an unexpected pang of disappointment.

It’s strange — you’ve never spoken to Matt before today, and your interaction was brief. Yet there’s something about him that has piqued your curiosity, leaving you wanting to know more.

You struggle to explain this newfound fascination. It’s completely out of character for you to be so preoccupied with a near-stranger, especially one that is your best friend’s crush. Normally, you would shrug something like this off and focus on the evening with Talia.

But now, there’s a heaviness in your chest, a restless energy that has you craving another encounter with Matt. 

Was it the intensity of his gaze that captivated you? The confident, almost flirtatious yet mysterious way he carried himself? Or was it simply the unexpected gesture of buying you a drink — a gesture that, for whatever reason, has left a lasting impression.

You’ve never been like this before. 

So why now? Why all of a sudden?

“What are you thinking about?” Talia’s voice yanks you out of your thoughts and you turn your head back in her direction. You quickly shrug your shoulders and shake your head to silently tell her that it was nothing, but she doesn’t seem convinced. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not thinking—”

“You were staring at the bar,” Talia points out before she decides to follow your gaze, her lips pursing in deep thought as she scans the surroundings. She suddenly smiles, “Are you staring at Brent? The bartender?”

“I said I’m—”

“You should go for it. I heard he gives really good head and honestly—no offence—you need it. He could definitely loosen you up and give you a good time.”

You deadpan, “Are you saying that because it’s the truth, or is it because you’ll feel bad that I’d have to walk home alone while you’re getting laid?”

“Both.” Talia sends you a sly wink, and she clinks her cocktail glass to yours before taking a sip.

You exhale softly with a roll of your eyes, reaching for your own cocktail until your hand stops halfway when you realise you’ve lost the Coke you had left at the bar — it’s likely been snatched up by another customer that got excited over a free drink. 

You really don’t like the flavour of his cocktail, and you find yourself wishing you had something to wash it down with. It pains you.

You consider being a bit dramatic, holding your nose to avoid tasting it, or digging through your purse for some gum that you know is pooling at the bottom somewhere. But you decide to just suck it up and drink it without making a fuss.

After all, it was a gift.

Just as you’re about to bring the glass to your lips, another is suddenly placed in front of you — a fresh, bubbly Coke with ice and a red straw that faces towards you..

Talia’s the first to respond to this stranger, her hand flying to cover her mouth to stifle her reaction as she chokes on her drink, her eyes strained and watery. You check on her to make sure that she’s okay before you glance up, slightly taken aback when you see Matt.

“You forgot your drink at the bar,” He tells you in a low tone. His eyes flick down to the cocktail in your hands, and his eyebrow raises slightly. “Are you sure you’re goin' to drink it?”

“I was going to.” Your reply in a whisper. But before you can say anything else, Matt is taking the cocktail from your hands and replacing it with the fresh Coke he’s brought over.

He holds the stem of the cocktail glass between his fingers, eyeing the brightly coloured drink for a moment before sliding it over to Talia, who is still uncharacteristically speechless. She quickly regains her composure, grasping the drink and pulling it close to her chest, as if it’s the most meaningful thing anyone has ever done for her.

“Enjoy this one instead,” Matt murmurs to you, and just as he begins to turn away, you find yourself calling out his name.

You’re not entirely sure why you’ve done so — perhaps it’s a reluctance to let him go so quickly, a desire to indulge the growing fascination you’ve developed for him. Or maybe it’s because you can see the gears turning in Talia’s head as she tries to figure out how to start a conversation with him—to flirt with him.

You’re a good friend to Talia, you always have been.

You always put her first.

“Do you want to join us?” You offer with a friendly smile, and you gesture towards the empty seat opposite you—beside Talia. “You’re welcome to come sit with us and hang out, unless you have somewhere else to be?”

Matt is quiet for a moment, his eyes darting around the bar as if he’s searching for something, but then he nods and takes you up on your offer. Talia’s beaming ear to ear with excitement, shuffling to the side to make space for him on her side of the booth.

But to your surprise, Matt sits down beside you instead, his shoulder knocking heavily against yours as he settles into the small space. He apologises quickly, lifting a hand to gently rub the sore spot.

You find yourself glued to your seat, sandwiched between the wooden barrier on the right and Matt’s body pressed against your left. The heat radiating off him envelops you, but you try not to pay too much attention to it, especially when you see Talia eyeing the two of you with a slightly wrinkled nose and an upturned lip.

However, Talia’s expression soon shifts to a grin as she turns her attention to Matt, “Thank you for buying the drinks,” She gestures towards the cocktail in front of her. “I’ll get your next one.”

“I appreciate that,” Matt replies, dipping his head in gratitude. 

He takes a quick sip of his beer, and you notice Talia watching him carefully, her eyebrows furrowing as she tilts her head, trying to read the label from her seat.

Matt seems to pick up on this, and he comically and slowly rotates the bottle in Talia’s direction. “It’s new — Brent got it delivered today.”

“Lost Boys? He got a drink named after one of your songs?” Talia teases playfully, and Matt simply nods in response. You fight the urge to snort at that fact, finding it a little amusing.

“You should try it,” Matt nudges you softly, offering you a taste of his beer. You are about to decline, to shake your head and say you’re fine with the Coke, but the smile that dances across his lips is enough to make you slowly change your mind. “I think you might like this better than the cocktail.”

You don’t question it further, and instead take the beer in your hands, taking a tentative sip. You’re a bit hesitant on the initial taste, rubbing your lips together firmly as Matt and Talia watch you, waiting for your honest opinion. you just take the beer in your hands for a sip and you’re hesitant on the taste that hits your tongue, rubbing your lips together firmly as the pair watch you, waiting for your honest opinion.

You swallow thickly, but are pleasantly surprised. “It’s actually really good.”

Matt hums, “Told you.”

“Let me try,” Talia chimes in, reaching out for the beer. You happily hand it over to her, but then you realise your mistake, turning to look at Matt with a slightly apologetic look on your face as it dawns on you that you’re sharing around his drink. 

Matt’s already watching you when you look at him, and you go to apologise, but Talia’s already handing him back his beer with a satisfied expression. 

“I like it too—it’s sweet.” She confirms. 

“That can be the next round of drinks then, yeah?” Matt says, his eyes briefly darting down to Talia’s purse beside her. 

Talia’s smile falters for a moment when she remembers that she was the one that offered to buy him his next drink. You can tell she’s thinking about the dent these drinks are going to put on her bank account, but she quickly musters up another smile and nods her head, excited at the thought of buying Matt something.

Before Talia can respond, you decide to come to her aid as your hand slips towards your own purse. “You don’t have to buy the next drink. We can go in halves—”

“Don’t offend me like that,” Talia cuts you off with a playful flip of her hair. “I have the money. I’ll get it.”

You wince at that, unconvinced. “You sure?”

“Totally,” Talia smirks. She then turns to face Matt, who has been quietly sipping his beer. “Your set earlier was fucking amazing, by the way. The band is so—”

“DID SOMEBODY SAY SHOTS?!” An unfamiliar voice screeches at the top of their lungs as a tray of multicoloured shots is suddenly thrust onto the table in front of you all, causing some of the liquid to spill over. A quick hand reaches out to try and recover them despite half of the liquid pooling around the tray.

As your eyes trail up the arm of the person who brought over the shots, you’re surprised to see an identical-looking guy to Matt, but with a backwards cap on his curly head of brown hair. His cheeks are flushed—a clear sign that he’s had quite a bit to drink already.

Standing on one side of him is another identical-looking guy, but with blonde hair, and he’s cursing under his breath and scolding the backwards capped one for the mess he’s created.

The capped guy is trying (and failing) to scoop the spilled alcohol back into the cups using just his pinky finger. It’s a comical sight, with his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in pure concentration.

“This is the second fuckin’ time this has happened,” Matt informs with a sigh, but the chuckle that escapes him shows he’s not as annoyed as he’s letting on. “Chris also spilled them earlier.”

The backwards capped guy, who you now discover is named Chris, snaps his head up in offence at Matt’s comment and stops his failed attempts at trying to scoop the alcohol back into the shot glasses.

“I tripped over your fuckin’ dumbass shoe actually,” Chris hisses through his teeth as he knocks his foot against Matt, who doesn’t seem fazed at the attack at all. “Anyway. Scoot up, let us in.”

“Are you joining us?” Talia’s eyes twinkle at the thought of her favourite band joining the booth, and you couldn’t help but feel happy for her, knowing that she’s been waiting for this moment to happen.

However, you can’t help but feel a bit confused and slightly worried about where the others would fit, especially inside the cramped booth. It could fit four people at most, but you weren’t sure about the six. You’re already feeling a bit squished beside Matt and the wooden barrier.

“Of course we’re joining you, that’s the reason why we got shots.” The blonde-haired guy, who you found out is called Nick, scoffs as he makes a quick gesture to Talia to scoot up, creating just enough room for him and the other bandmate, Nate (who funnily enough has a name tag written across his chest), to squeeze in on her side of the booth.

“Excuse me, kid.” Chris grunts as he clamps a hand down on Matt’s shoulder to push himself up, placing his shoe on the smallest bit of booth space between Matt’s legs before climbing over you both, muttering how he doesn’t want to sit on the end.

Matt’s arm slides around your middle in an instant as he moves to the edge of the booth, pulling you along with him to let Chris sit at your other side, allowing Chris to be squashed between you and the wooden barrier instead. He weirdly seems okay with it, although he does wince when he feels your purse dig into his side, and you’re quick to move it with an apology, but he dismisses it with a wave and a kind smile.

Now you’re pressed right up against Matt, his arm bringing you even close to him. After a few moments, he lets you go, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your back as he gently pulls your shirt that had risen up back down, keeping you decent before his arm falls back into his own lap.

The brief touch sends goosebumps crawling up your skin, and you involuntarily shiver. You straighten your posture and tear your attention away from Matt’s wandering eyes, missing the small grin that tugs at the corners of his lips.

What you don’t miss is Talia staring at you, and as soon as you meet her gaze, her lips pull into a tight smile which you return back, grabbing your glass of Coke to distract yourself from what just happened.

“You. Nuh-uh—no way, kid. Put that down,” Nate points a finger at you and shakes his head with a tut. “We’re taking shots before we continue anythin’. You pick first.”

Reaching for one of the spilled shots that has the least amount of drink in it, you go for the easiest option. Nate’s mouth drops and his eyebrows knit together, as if you’ve just outwardly offended him, but he doesn’t say anything as he and the others quickly pick their own shots and clink their glasses together, eagerly downing the drinks.

You’re pleasantly surprised at the fruity taste that slides down your throat, but you can’t help but wince at the burn it leaves behind, similar to Nick, who starts to complain.

“What the fuck was that?!” Nick fake retches and rubs his throat, his other hand quickly reaching for his beer to wash down the taste. “What flavour was that—What did you fucking get?!”

“I dunno—a whole bunch of different shit,” Chris shrugs as he picks up Nick’s empty shot glass, taking a sniff. His eyebrows raise in surprise. “That’s passionfruit, kid. I had that too. We matched.”

“Oh, I hate it.” Nick gags again, bringing his beer bottle to his lips again to take a few hefty gulps, clearly trying to rid himself of the unpleasant taste.

“I think me and Matt had strawberry,” Talia announces, staring at the red stain on Matt’s chosen shot gloss. She grins, “We matched.”

Matt nods, then turns to you, “What did you have?”

“Raspberry,” Nate answers for you as he winks at you from across the booth, signifying you matched shots with him.

“Oh! So not only did I have a disgusting flavour, but I matched with Chris?” Nick scoffs, eyeballing every single one of you with irritancy. “Un-fucking-believable.”

“So, what brought you both here tonight?” Chris asks you and Talia after a few more drinks, courtesy of Talia who had promised to buy the next round.

Originally, the next drinks that were bought by Talia were supposed to be for just you, her and Matt. But with the others joining the table and their constant pleading, she ended up purchasing more than she had planned.

You feel bad, especially knowing how pricey this bar is, and make a mental note to pay for half of the drinks bought at the end of the night — even though Talia keeps giving you side glances, letting you know that everything is fine.

This is her favourite band after all, and she would do anything to spend a few more minutes with them… or even just Matt.

“Just to catch up over some drinks,” You tell him, glancing over at the stage where a few of their set pieces are still laid out. “We came to listen to your band too.”

“Yeah?” Chris grins, leaning back into his seat, his legs spreading wide beneath the table. “Are you a fan of our music?”

“I’m a huge fan,” Talia gushes, and you allow her to take the lead in the conversation. She leans forward, elbows on the table, causing her cleavage to almost spill out of the top of her dress in a deliberate gesture.

You admire Talia’s confidence, even though you want to tell her that she doesn’t need to try so hard to get their attention — she’s gorgeous as is.

Talia continues, “I’ve pretty much seen every single one of your shows here.”

“Have you been to any of our shows?” Matt asks, and it takes you a moment to realise that he’s talking to you, as everyone at the table is now staring and waiting for your reply. The corner of Matt’s lip curls upwards slightly as he tilts his head. “This your first time?”

“She’s never been,” Talia answers for you. “She doesn’t listen to this type of music. I practically had to force her out of her—”

“Is there something wrong with our music?” Nick asks you with mock offence, pressing his hand against his chest like you actually wounded him. Chris tuts with a shake of his head, making a joke about how much of a fake you are while Nate stays silent with a grin, watching everything unfold.

“No, nothing is wrong with your music,” You laugh softly. “I just really like the band ‘Solarz’.”

“You like Solarz?” Nick gapes at you, the mock offence look dropping from his face as his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. You nod your head to confirm, and he breathes out, “I think you might seriously be my favourite person ever.”

Nate and Chris laugh at that while Matt remains quiet with a small grin on his face, keeping his eyes locked. You start to feel a little stuffy and nervous, especially with how his body is pressed against yours. 

“Solarz is incredible,” Talia chimes in above the laughter, and you smile at her, grateful for the times she’s cleared her schedule to go to their concerts with you. You really do owe her. “Matt, do you like Solarz too?”

“I think they’re great,” Matt nods, his answer short and to the point. Talia smiles, but before she can speak again, Matt turns to you and asks, “Is this really your first time watchin’ us?”

“Yeah,” You nod, glancing over at Talia, who seems a little dejected. You don’t want to see her upset or left out, so you gesture towards her, hoping to bring Matt’s attention to her. “But, like Talia said, she’s a huge fan of y—”

“I think you should let me show you what’s backstage…” Matt cuts you off, leaning forward to whisper to you, even though his words are heard by everyone in the booth.

He stares at you through the strands of hair that have fallen in front of his eyes, waiting for your answer. You struggle to respond, feeling all eyes on you.

Talia is clearly not impressed by Matt’s sudden invitation to you. Her mouth is hung open in shock, and her eyebrows are pulled together in a clear expression of displeasure. You can’t blame her, given how she’s been trying to flirt with Matt this whole time, only for him to disregard her advances and ask you instead if you want to see what’s backstage. 

The phrase itself seems to hold a deeper meaning, based on the reactions of the others. Matt’s brothers and Nate all look quite shocked, some more smug than others, subtly nudging each other under the table. Chris even wiggles his eyebrows as he mouths the words ‘Matt Magic’ to Nick and Nate, the former gasping in response.

You feel conflicted as Matt’s hand slips into the gap between the table and your own, his palm facing upwards as he laces his fingers with yours. The warmth of his hand is a contrast to the cold metal of his rings, and you find yourself curling your fingers around his in a gentle grip. 

“What do you say?” Matt asks, his gaze unwavering as he looks at you. “Let me take you backstage. Just me and you, yeah? Come with me.”

You are aware of how stupid you must look right now, not speaking a word while the others are staring at you. You’re unsure of what to say, especially when a big part of you wants to decline for Talia’s sake — she’s the dedicated fan, and deserves this more than you do.

But another part of you is tempted by Matt’s invitation, drawn to him. The part wants nothing man that for you to grip his hand tighter and allow him to drag you wherever backstage.

You’ve always been unlucky with situations like these, always the one that’s left behind during hangouts at a bar while others had fun with boys or getting drunk — which, to be fair, is all on you. You never were the one to go home with some complete stranger or let yourself indulge in alcohol until you were able to function, it was never your thing. 

You nod your head just as Talia calls out your name, and your head immediately snaps in her direction, meeting her wide eyes with your own.

“Talia, I—” You start to say, but the words catch in your throat as Matt is already sliding out of the booth, his fingers tightening around yours and pulling you along with him.

You barely have time to react, hurriedly grabbing your purse as you’re whisked away from the group. You send an apologetic smile Talia’s way, wishing you could explain yourself to her, but the noises of Nate and Chris’s hollering and whooping drowns out any chance you have. 

You tighten your hand around Matt’s as he pulls you through the crowded bar, and you duck your head low to avoid the stares of strangers who watch you with him — wishing that they were in your position. It gives you a slight confidence boost, knowing that people are jealous of you, and you dwell on that feeling for a moment. 

Soon, Matt is leading you down a vacant hallway, heading towards a red door that reads ‘BACKSTAGE. STAFF AND BAND ACCESS ONLY’ in bold lettering.

“Here we go…” Matt mumbles under his breath as he pushes open the door, allowing you to walk in first.

The backstage area is a sight to behold. Fancy string lights hang from the ceiling, their bulbs flickering as Matt flips a switch to turn them on, bathing the room in a warm glow. The colour scheme is a combination of red and black — the walls are painted a blood red, adorned with various posters of bands, while a plush black carpet covers the floor, littered with instruments and clothing. 

Your eyes are immediately drawn to a pair of light blue panties thrown across the arm of a leather sofa, and Matt seems to follow your gaze.

“One of Chris’s girls was in here before the show; Zoe,” The name doesn’t ring any bells, but you nod anyway, watching as he unzips a backpack with Chris’s name on it and shoves the panties inside as he mumbles under his breath, “At least Nick fuckin’ cleans up after himself.”

“Cleans up?” You can’t help but ask, and Matt responds with a grin, gently kicking the backpack to the side, out of your curious gaze.

Your eyes scan the room, taking in the various items scattered about — a few zip lock bags on the glass coffee table, some filled with pre-rolled joints and others with just the marijuana.

“Chris and Nate,” Matt whispers in your ear, causing you to jump slightly at his sudden closeness. They like takin’ a hit before goin’ onstage, calms their nerves.”

You’re quiet for a moment, then ask, “What about you?”

“Sometimes, but not tonight” Matt moves to stand directly in front of you, his hand coming up to caress your cheek, his rings gliding gently over your skin as he meets your gaze. “You know the reason why I brought you here, right?”

“Apparently not just to see what’s backstage,” You respond with a lighthearted laugh, though you can’t deny the nervousness bubbling within you. You swallow thickly, your palms sweaty and clammy. “I don’t—I don’t do this type of thing.”

Matt hums, “Do what?”

You feel a surge of embarrassment as the heat rises up your neck, and you can’t bring yourself to look Matt in the eyes, instead focussing on the horse necklace hanging around his neck. You wish the ground would swallow you whole this moment.

Suddenly, Matt gently grasps your chin, using his fingers and thumb to tilt your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze once again. 

“Hey, if you’re uncomfortable, I can take you back out to the back right now,” Matt tells you, his tone sincere and honest. “Just say the word and we’ll leave — I’ll take you back to your friend and even call a cab for you to go home if you don’t want to stay.”

“That’s the thing…” You pause, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you grapple with your inner turmoil. “I do want to stay. You’re… you’re interesting.”

“Me? I’m interesting?” Matt can’t help but chuckle, a grin spreading across his face. “Sweetheart, it’s actually you that interested me. You caught my attention the moment I laid eyes on you. I’ve never seen you around before, and yet you make me feel like I’m goin’ crazy. I just—” He stops, voice huskier as he stares at you. “I want you so bad. I want to play with you.”

“Play?”

“Will you let me play with you?” Matt asks you sweetly despite the dark look in his eyes. “I can make you feel good… wanna make that pretty pussy of yours ready for me.”

You let out a shaky breath and nod your head, “Okay.”

You gasp as Matt instantly turns you around, your back now pressed to his chest with his lips grazing across your shoulder, his teeth nipping at the skin as his hands slowly slide down the strap of your purse, letting it drop to the floor with a thump.

Your heart beats wildly in your chest as his tentative touch, trying your best to steady your breathing as his fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt, his knuckles brushing your sides as he lifts the shirt up, bringing it over your head and letting it pool to the floor.

Matt’s teeth snag at your earlobe and you crane your head to the side, allowing him to nip and suck at the area as much as he pleases, eliciting a satisfied hum from you. He pushes his hips forward, his bulge rutting against your lower back while his hands come down to rest at your hips.

You fight the urge to laugh when you feel his fingers drum a beat on your skin, a similar pattern to the one that was playing earlier when he was on stage performing, but the urge to laugh soon disappears when he bites down on the junction between your neck and shoulder, your knees almost buckling from shock if it wasn’t for the grip he tightened around you. 

“You’re so fuckin’ sensitive,” Matt murmurs against your skin, his tongue flattening over the area he bit down on. “Are you sensitive in other places too?”

“Matt…” You whisper his name when you feel his blunt fingernails dig into your hips to turn you around, his nose brushing over your own before he leans in to push his lips to yours for the first time.

The kiss is soft at first—a few second lip lock that causes your body to tingle with nerves that soon slip away when you feel the intensity grow, and your hands slide around his shoulders while his come up to cup the sides of your neck, his head tilting to the side as his tongue parts your lips.

You grip the hair at the nape of his neck to bring him as close to you as possible, and Matt follows, his body flush against yours with his hands secure around your neck, taking control of the passionate and heated kiss. 

It makes your head spin and lungs burn—desperate for air, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to part away from him so soon. His kiss is intoxicating. 

Matt breaks away from the kiss as he pants, “Need you–need you to—” He cuts himself off only to reconnect your lips, unable to finish his sentence until he has to force himself back. “Fuck—I need you to lie down f’me.”

You immediately drop down to the carpet with no further questions, not daring to lay across the sofa after seeing the underwear one of Chris’s girls had left behind on the arm of it. 

Matt drops down carefully to sit at your waist, his knees planted on either side of your hips. You watch as he takes off his oversized graphic shirt, messing up his hair even more than it already was as it’s tugged over his head.

You’re in complete awe at his body, your hands reaching out to trace the happy trail that leads down to his jeans, making your mouth water.

His horse chained necklace glides across your skin when he leans down to litter kisses across your body, paying extra attention to your breasts that he’s eager to rip free from your bra—he doesn’t even apologise once he tears the material.

Your head tips back with a gasp as his tongue rolls over your pebbled nipple before it’s sucked into his mouth, his teeth grazing against the sensitive bud which elicits a moan from you, unable to control the subtle twitches of your body.

“Pretty—fuckin’ pretty…” Matt praises, his tongue swirling around the opposite nipple as his fingers knead the plush skin of the other. “You’re so sensitive. So easy to play with.”

“Matt—”

“Shhh, sweetheart…” Matt shushes you as you moan a little too loudly, peering up at you through hooded lids as he pulls your jeans and panties down your legs, discarding them somewhere to the side as he pries open your thighs, his gaze flitting down to your glistening folds.

Your heart races as he stares at your pussy, feeling shy and too exposed. You debate on closing your legs so he couldn’t look anymore, or telling him to hurry up so you don’t feel hot under his gaze.

Matt moves down to lay between your legs, his mouth trailing kisses over the skin of your inner thighs. You almost lose yourself as his tongue presses between your folds, his nose rubbing against your throbbing clit that’s been begging for his attention.

“Matt…” You whisper out his name pathetically, your back arching off of the floor as his hands join, two fingers pushing through your entrance and curling, drawing out a long moan from you.

He’s sloppy with his tongue, licking you in all the right places that has your toes curling over his shoulders, and his fingers that fuck into you has you wailing. You’re loud now — too loud to the point Matt’s free hand moves up your body to press over your mouth, keeping your noises muffled by the palm of his hand.

Your cunt clenches around Matt’s fingers in desperation, and the vibrations of his satisfied hums sends your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pure bliss, unable to watch the mess of hair between your legs no more.

His fingers stroke your gummy walls, the cold metal of his rings (that he really should’ve taken off) sends shivers down your spine.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” Matt compliments before his lips wrap around your clit, and you moan beneath his palm, your thighs shaking on either side of his head as he fingers you faster and harder — the wet, sloppy sounds of your cunt making you want to curl up in embarrassment, but your orgasm is rapidly approaching and you want nothing more than to come undone around his fingers. 

He repeatedly whispers praises and compliments as he continues his ministrations through your orgasm; his nose nudging your little bundle of nerves, leaving messy and sloppy kisses on your cunt, and his fingers curling to graze against the spot deep within which is enough to make you tear up, becoming far too sensitive.

You’re pushing him back with your foot, and Matt chuckles as he finally lets you go. He moves to kneel between your legs that have fallen from his shoulders, and he watches your chest rise and fall rapidly as you try to catch your breath.

“Doin’ so good for me, sweetheart.” Your heart warms at Matt’s praise, and you peel your eyes open just in time to see him bring his two fingers to his mouth, covered in your arousal. He keeps eye contact with you as he pushes the digits past his lips to suck them clear, and you find the sight unbelievably attractive. 

He pulls his fingers out of his mouth with a pop! before his hands drop down to the belt on his jeans, unbuckling with one hand and pulling it through the loops. He’s quick to get rid of the rest of his clothing, moving them out of the way with a hard shove so it wouldn’t cause any interruptions between you both.

Matt’s hand locks around your wrist to tug you upwards, forcing you to sit up, and your forehead almost knocks against his chest from the force.

His head dips low to kiss your lips softly before he orders you to turn around — to get on your hands and knees in front of him. You do as you’re told without question, flipping around onto your knees with your ass in the air and face resting against the plush carpet. 

“Shiiit… wish you could see yourself from this angle.” Matt curses, his fingers gripping the flesh of your ass, giving the skin a few hefty slaps. He moves forward on his knees, and his fingers wrap around his cock to tap the head against your puffy folds, collecting your arousal with a low groan.

“Please, Matt… Please.” You manage to pathetically plead out, and Matt nods with a hum. His tongue licks across his bottom lip before tucking it between his teeth, watching as he pushes his thick tip into your cunt.

Your eyes widen at the stretch—the burn—fully understanding how big he is even without seeing it for yourself. He stops for a few seconds to let out a shaky exhale, his hands rubbing at your hips as he feels you tremble beneath him. It sounds like he’s mocking you, but you pay no attention as you wiggle your ass back onto him, begging for him to move.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Matt hisses through gritted teeth at the go ahead, and he moves his hand from your hips to your lower back, thrusting forward to push himself in deeper, bottoming out completely. 

A choked gasp rips from the back of your throat, your nails scraping across the carpet in search of anything to grasp onto to keep yourself grounded as Matt’s hips press against your ass, his cock buried deep within the warm of your walls. He’s panting while you’re unable to make a noise, mouth stuck open wide as Matt pulls his hips back before rolling them forward, thrusting back into you.

His deep strokes have you struggling to speak, wanting to let him know how good it feels as he’s angling his hips, hitting a particular spot inside of you that has you squealing, almost sending you flying forwards if it wasn’t for his grip.

“Easy, girl. I got you,” Matt laughs between grunts, his hips slapping against your ass. “Am I makin’ you feel good?”

“S’good.” Your words slur, mind too blank to come up with a functioning sentence. He laughs again before finding a good rhythm to work with—a rhythm that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, moving too fast for you to register.

“I’m gonna cum in this tight cunt of yours—fill you up. Gonna fill you up with my cum, make a fuckin’ mess.” The way his tone sounds and how he rambles his words indicate how close he is to cumming, and you’re not far behind.

You wish you could move back against him. You wish you could do more than just bend over with your ass in the air and take what he gives you. You want to make him feel good too, but you struggle to find your strength and your mind is too clouded with lust and pleasure to even begin to move.

You’re stuck as a moaning mess for Matt to use — not that you’re complaining.

The only thing you can do is tighten your cunt around his cock in hopes it will do something to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel, and he gives you one big thrust before he stills, his cock pumping long spurts of cum deep within your pussy as he hits his climax.

The feeling alone sets you off into your last orgasm of the night, your body tingling at the warmth that spreads through you. He’s panting heavily behind you, slowly rolling his hips to ride it out, and he grins when he feels your body convulsing.

Matt takes his time pulling out of you, stroking your lower back tenderly. Once you’re free, your body flops down to the carpet, the air knocking out of your lungs from the harsh impact, leaving you gasping for air as you try to regulate your erratic breathing.

You grimace a little when you feel Matt’s cum drip out of your pussy, making a sticky mess between your thighs and the carpet below you, knowing you’ll definitely have to go home after this and shower.

Mustering up enough of your strength, you try to turn your head to peer over your shoulder to see if Matt is okay, but a gasp fleets past your lips and your body stills when you feel Matt’s hands run up the backs of your thighs and to your ass, kneading your asscheeks before pulling them apart.

He leans down, leaving a kiss on your leaking pussy from behind. “Thank you for lettin’ me play with you.”

© sturnioz

[gojotojis]

The Party pt.1

Part 2 Part 3

summary: you’re in love with your bestfriend but he’s pining after someone else and you’re too delusional to let him go.

pairing: college student! fem reader x college student! Sukuna

content MDNI: pining, angst, unrequited love, bestfriends, bestfriends brother, asshole sukuna, sexual conversations, drugs, alcohol, orgasm from kissing, frenemies to loversish?

A frown mars your face as you watch him talk to her. A lump forms in your throat and your heart clenches. You hardly know her but it’s clear she likes him, she’s leggy and blonde with this sexy dominating presence.

It’s not like he talks to you about the girls he’s into, it’s never come up and you’ve always been grateful for that but seeing what you guess to be his type, in person feels painful. You’re the complete opposite of her, and it’s clear with the way he looks at her.

He turns around and points at you which makes your face heat up as Yuki smiles and waves at you. You awkwardly wave back before turning away. You watch a large muscular tattooed arm grab a fench fry from your tray and swat at it. You look up to see Sukuna grinning as he gorges on your fry before he grabs another one.

“Just take it all, I’ve lost my appetite,” you say shoving the tray toward him as you cross your arms and turn your cheeks, pouting.

You hear the scraping of a chair against the cafeteria floor as he takes the seat beside you. You sigh frustratedly hoping he’ll asks what’s wrong. He doesn’t so you sigh again more loud and exaggerated.

He still doesn’t answer but you hear him eating your fries so you huff and turn your body to face him. Only Sukuna knows the crush you have on his brother because one night you all got so drunk, you began to climb into Choso’s bed with no panties.

Luckily Sukuna was sober and tossed you over his shoulder, handing you your panties, not without teasing of course and had you sleep in the guest room. You were mortified but liquor does that to you.

“Just spit it out brat,” he says, his head resting on his fist as he stares at you with a bored expression.

“What does Yuki have that I don’t?” you ask genuinely. You’ve been friends with Choso since middle school and he’s never once looked at you as more than a friend. You always envisioned you’d lose your virginity’s to eachother, he’s the only other Virgin you know and you deluded yourself into thinking it’s fate.

“Giant tits, and a fat ass,” Sukuna answers bluntly which has you frowning. If it were anyone else, those words would hurt but Sukuna bullied you since you were kids. He bullied everyone and still does, there’s not a single person you can think of that he likes aside from his brothers which he’ll deny.

“A sense of fashion too, you dress like Adam Sandler,” he says looking at your sweatshirt and leaning over to see your baggy sweatpants. You have a sense of fashion, you just don’t bother dressing up.

Classes are so fucking early that you throw on the comfiest outfit and head to school. Your only friend is Choso, and you guess Sukuna though he occasionally hangs out with you two.

And yeah you could dress sexy but what’s the point, you don’t want to hear Sukuna call you a man with tits and you feared if you started dressing differently, you’d attract male attention that wasn’t Choso’s. A real man will like you no matter what you wear.

“I quite like Adam’s style,” you say and he scoffs, shoving another fry into his mouth.

“Trust me, we know. Do you even know what a thong looks like?” He asks, you have the urge to pull the band of your sweats down and show him the one you’re wearing but you don’t.

“I do but I’m sure you’ve seen more than me,” you say, an insult that reads like a compliment as it hits his ears and he smirks.

Sukunas fucked his way through half the school, you’ve had girls come up to you and give you their phone numbers because he forgot to get it from them. He didn’t forget anything and you know that, it’s scary how opposite he is from his brothers. Like the one bad apple off the bunch.

“There’s still a pair I haven’t seen, more like granny panties but a win is a win,” he shrugs and your cheeks burn red. You can’t stand his crude behavior, and you hate the way it makes you squirm.

“You’re the most disgusting creature I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting,” you say, grabbing your water bottle. You wrap your lips around it and drink, watching as Kiko Yukimura approaches your table.

Her fingers wave at Sukuna, completely ignoring you as you watch her sit on the edge of the table beside him. He leans back and spread his legs as her nails run up his bicep.

His large hand splays across her hip as she speaks.

“I’m having a party tonight at eight, you should definitely come. Yukis already inviting Choso, they’ll be free weed and booze,” she says as he slides his hand down the band of her skirt.

You watch the way she squeezes her legs as he pulls at something. You see him tug the thin red strap up before letting it slap against her skin.

‘Thong’ he mouths to you and you glare in mortification.

“Pussy too?” He asks, his hand running up her exposed thigh. You turn away, more interested with the dent in your water bottle but you don’t miss the ‘yes’ she whispers.

He pats her ass when she jumps up and starts walking away. Sukuna grabs your water and starts drinking from it, you make a mental note to throw it out.

“Wonder if Choso’s gonna invite you,” Sukuna says teasingly as he leans back, arms folded behind his head. His biceps flex, as he stares at you.

“Doesn’t matter, I don’t want to go,” you say and he hums to himself.

“Not surprised, good for you though. Heard tonight’s the night Choso’s finally gonna get his dick wet. Probably best you stay inside for that,” he says and your eyes widen. You’re to haunted at the idea of Choso having sex with Yuki to even care about the vulgar language Sukuna spews.

“Hey guys,” you hear Choso from behind you and it startles you. Sukuna barks out a laugh while Choso simply smiles.

“Yuki invited me to Kikos party, free weed sounds good,” Choso says and his brother grins. “Free pussy too,”.

Your fingers tremble as you stand at the front door of the Yukimura residence. You decided on a black mini skirt and floral black corset that holds your tits tight.

You already dread what Sukuna will say but this is a last ditch effort to get your man. You shiver when you feel the breeze hit your pussy, a reminder that you opted for no panties tonight. If Choso’s getting pussy, it’s yours.

Your shaky fingers press the doorbell to the giant house and Kiko immediately opens it. Her eyes widen at the sight of you, hair curled down to your waist and black liner lines your eyes from top to bottom, a sharp wing eye at your creases.

“You look sexy” she says pulling you inside, your thigh high boots rub against eachother as you awkwardly rub your exposed arms. The music is loud and the house is clouded in smoke and green led lights flashing. Choso offered to pick you up but you didn’t think you could handle his reaction if he saw you walking out of your house like this.

Several people fill the home, it’s not so bad to the point where you can’t move but it is slightly crowded and the party officially started thirty minutes ago.

You lace your fingers together and force your legs to move forward. Unsure of where you’re going until you spot several people in the backyard by the pool. You recognize the long black hair as you slide the door open and step out.

Your hearts loud in your ears as you hear them laughing, Choso has his lips wrapped around a bong and Yuki sits beside him. She’s dressed in black leather pants and a white tank top, she hardly puts effort into her look and yet still looks so sexy.

“y/n! You look hot!” Yuki says, the first one to notice you. Choso turns and starts choking on smoke as Yuki stands up and pulls you into a hug. You’re much shorter than her so you have to turn your head so you’re not suffocated by her tits.

She quickly pulls back and guides you toward the group which consists of Kento Nanami, Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Utahime, Shoko, Choso and you spot the pink head of hair sitting infront of you, his back to you. You wave awkwardly as you step in the center of everyone.

Your backs to Sukuna, dreading the laugh you know he’s going to choke out. Everyone waves back, Gojo and Geto look dumbstruck and it makes your cheeks turn red. You feel confident enough to turn and face Sukuna, his expressions unreadable as his eyes take you in.

“Is this Adam Sandler enough for you?” you ask but he doesn’t answer, for once he doesn’t have some disgusting or vile comeback and you feel satisfied but also self conscious. You take the only empty seat which unfortunately is beside him.

You watch his hand flex and clench around the beer in his hand. Your eyes drift up and see his jaw tighten. You wonder what’s his problem but you look forward to see Choso staring at you. Your crossed legs squeeze tight, waiting for him to compliment you but it doesn’t come. You want to frown but don’t bother, he probably just doesn’t want to hurt Yukis feelings.

You watch everyone pass the bong around. You smoked weed once and nearly choked to death so you opted for edibles. You attempted to hit Choso’s bong once and hated the experience.

“Want a hit?” Geto questions, holding the bong out for you and you shake your head.

“She doesn’t know how to wrap her lips around it,” Sukuna speaks up for the first time tonight and you tap your nails against your thigh to stop yourself from smacking the blunt he’s holding. Geto coughs awkwardly before passing the bong to Utahime.

“I’m bored,” Shoko announces, a cigarette between her lips.

“Never have I ever or truth or dare?” Gojo questions, wiggling his eyebrows. Both games sound dreadful to you.

“What are we twelve?” Nanami asks and you hold back a laugh at his tone. Your eyes find Choso and Yuki whispering to eachother and his hand grips hers.

“Truth or dare,” you say, answering Gojo and he claps.

“Don’t listen to her, she’s never played a game beyond hide and seek,” Sukuna says, puffing out a ring of smoke. You pinch his arm and he hisses, you smile at him innocently as Gojo attempts to get everyone’s attention.

“Never have I ever, I need a drink” Shoko says and Utahime agrees. The group decides on that and Geto runs inside to get cups and a bottle of Svedka. He comes back and starts pouring into cups before handing them out.

“I’ll start,” Utahime offers.

“Never have I ever failed a test,” she says making Sukuna groan. “She’s about as boring as you” he says looking to you before he takes a sip of his drink, your cup remains untouched.

“Never have I ever fucked a virgin,” Shoko says and everyone’s cup go up but yours, Choso, Utahime and Nanami’s. You’re not sure why your heart stops for a second at the sight of Yuki taking a sip but you shake the thought away.

You look expectantly to Sukuna, now his turn and he grins at you which makes you nervous. “Never have I ever wanted to fuck my bestfriend” he says and you tense. You don’t dare touch your cup, there’s no proof but you watch several other others take a sip, excluding Choso.

“Drink up, cheater,” sukuna whispers in your ear. He’s mean, he’s always mean but tonight he’s different like he’s targeting you and you can’t understand why.

It’s your turn now and you quickly try to think of something that’ll feel like a slap to the face for him, “Never have I ever been jealous of my own brother,” you say, eyes staring into his red ones.

He takes a sip without breaking eye contact, the game continues and you still haven’t taken a sip. Your stomach tightens when it makes its way back to Sukuna, and you know he’s thought of something nasty, just for you.

“Never have I ever lost my virginity,” he says and your face reddens. Everyone knowing you’re a virgin isn’t the worst thing in the world but he nods his head at something infront of you and you turn. Choso takes a sip and your throat tightens. You look back at Sukuna with anger, and watery eyes. Why’s he being so fucking cruel.

“Never have I ever been so fucking miserable with my own life that I take it out on others to the point where nobody can stand to be around me. To the point where I have to fuck anything with a pulse to feel something,” you say, eyes glaring at him.

Everyone just stares awkwardly between you two as he takes a sip. He looks so unbothered, and it pisses you off.

“Think I’m gonna go inside,” Nanami says scratching the back of his neck before he walks off and a chorus of ‘me too’s’ go off. Choso’s stares between you and Sukuna but you simply shake your head as Yuki pulls him into the house leaving you and Sukuna alone.

You take Choso’s seat and grab the bottle of svedka on the table. Unscrew the lid and take several sips, your face scrunches and your throat tightens at the burn but you don’t care.

“What did I do to you?” you asks as he tosses what’s left of his blunt on the ground and crushes it.

“You really gonna fucking cry over a guy that doesn’t want shit to do with you? I did you a favor, stop being a crybaby” he says irritated. Your nails dig into the skin of your thigh.

“I fucking hate you,” you say and he shrugs.

“The feelings mutual, I fucking despise you,” he says and your eyes water. Tears roll down your cheeks as your lips wobble, you never cry especially not infront of him but he’s so fucking mean it breaks something in you.

“Stop, don’t do that,” he says, like the sight of you crying bothers the hell out of him.

You stare down at your lap as your shoulders shake and tears spill against your thighs. You sniffle as your cries turn into sobs. You don’t just cry because of his words but because you’re not good enough, you’re never good enough. You’d been deluding yourself that Choso actually liked you.

You flinch when you feel hands grasp your face, you feel thumbs swipe at the tears gliding down your cheeks. He tilts your head up and sighs.

“Crying over someone that doesn’t want you, won’t make them want you more,” he says, kneeling in infront of you. His face looks almost pained. His thumb glides across your bottom lip, maybe harmless but it creates heat between your legs.

You feel guilty and confused at the way your body reacts and he slowly sinks his thumb into your mouth. Your belly tightens, and you almost lick his thumb but he tugs your lip down, showing your teeth and you can’t help but furrow your brows.

Your eyes widen when he leans forward, his hands uncross your legs and spread your thighs apart before his large body nestles between them. His face is inches from yours, your hair falls around you both like a curtain and he does the strangest thing.

His nose brushes against your hair and he inhales. Your breathing heavies and your chest tightens but you don’t stop him, you just watch. His fingers graze your cheek and your skin burns under his touch. You’re confused as to what’s going on, you’ve never seen Sukuna this gentle in his life.

Your eyes close the closer he leans into you until his lips touch yours. You’ve never kissed anyone before and you’re not sure how you feel about Sukuna being the first. You feel curious and can’t help when your tongue touches his lips, licking them and he groans, the sound going straight to your pussy.

He licks you back but you don’t open your mouth, so he pinches your arm making you gasp and his mouth devours yours. You’re scared you’re not a good kisser but you push the thought aside as you try to mimic his movements.

Your arms wrap around his neck, the feeling in your belly making you push your hips against his abdomen. His large hands grip your waist as he tastes you. Is kissing suppose to feel like this? You moan when he sucks your tongue into his mouth and you cry out feeling your body tremble against him. You shake and he pulls away.

“Fuck,” he breathes. You just orgasmed.

You feel so embarrassed, that you’re quickly up and walking into the house. You pray nobody saw that as you quickly set up an Uber to come get you, you actually want to die.

You’re striding out of the house, mortified, confused and ashamed. Your Uber arrives within five minutes and you’re on your way home, your fingers graze your swollen lips. What the fuck just happened?

part 2 part 3

[onismdaydream]

a collection of drabbles of jujutsu kaisen characters based on nsfw twitter videos

✧˖°. — volume 1 [ ft. megumi, yuji, nanami ]

viewer discretion is advised: fem/afab reader. aged up characters. unprotected sex, p in v, creampies, slight breeding kink [m. f.] | teasing, handjob, soft smut, m. sub [y. i.] | fingering, dirty talk, pet names, soft m. dom [k. n.]

✧˖°. — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO (episode 1)

“baby,” megumi groaned, his hands squeezing roughly at your hips. “gotta stop doing that or i’ll cum.”

you felt so good around him, your tight walls clamping around his cock and dragging out low moans as megumi bit his bottom lip. lewd sounds echoed, skin smacking against skin and the squelching of your dripping cunt made the room even hotter. he could feel the sweat beading at his hairline, some of his dark strands already sticking to his face.

“it's okay. you can cum.” your voice is so sultry, so tempting as you bounce yourself on his lap, your breasts following the movement.

“‘m not wearing a condom, remember?” how could you forget though? feeling him raw was always the best for you, you could feel how hot his cock was, could feel each vein drag along your walls — and it's not like he ever complained about it either. but megumi would always pull out, choosing to release his load on your body instead of inside.

but you needed to feel him fill you up, wanted to feel him claim you entirely. “please, ‘gumi, cum in me. promise it's okay.”

“s-shit…” he breathed out, lips parted as he panted and watched you fuck yourself faster. you looked beautiful, so desperate as you kept whining and whispering little pleas. “can't. gotta pull out…”

but his hands were grabbing at any part of your body he could, groping your tits and holding your waist, not even trying to push you away. you could feel him twitching inside you, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to stave off his impending orgasm.

“please, wanna be filled. pleasepleaseplease,” you begged, practically crying for a creampie with the tears forming at your lash line. it felt so right the way megumi was deep inside you, you can't imagine him pulling out and leaving you empty and aching. “need it so bad.”

megumi wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to him so he could plant his feet on the bed and thrust into you, setting a new and harsh pace as he chased his high. there was no way he could deny you, especially when your pussy felt this perfect. “shit, yeah, gonna cum, gonna fill you up.”

✧˖°. — YUJI ITADORI (episode 2)

yuji couldn't help the way his hips bucked up, abs twitching and fingers flexing at the thin sheets underneath him. even with your thigh draped across his lap, he just could not stay still. every small movement made his entire body jump.

“does it feel good, baby?” you coo, fingers circling and rubbing over his cock head. the answer was obvious, a wet spot was forming at the band of his briefs and quiet moans kept leaving his throat, but you liked hearing it from him anyway.

“y-yeah,” yuji choked out, “feels really good.”

you hum, eyes flickering up to his face to see it twisted in pleasure. yuji always looked so cute like this, his cheeks flushing to match his hair and pretty lips parted as he panted. your hand continued to tease him, slowly drifting up and down his length, the occasional bit of pressure making him whine. 

you could feel his cock kicking underneath his underwear, each graze of your gentle touch adding to the damp patch on the fabric.

“you’re making a mess, yuji,” you tease, a sly smile pulling at your lips as you press on his sensitive tip. “look how wet you are.” 

“oh fuck…” he moaned, eyes rolling back and hips lifting off the mattress.

“so cute.” your hand moves down, cupping his balls and fondling them to make him squirm underneath you. he was so reactive, and it never failed to make you leak your own arousal. 

“gonna make me c-cum,” he gasped, voice hitching when you squeezed his shaft, “if you keep doing that.”

“it's okay, baby,” you pressed a soft kiss to his pink cheek, his skin warm to the touch. “you can come whenever you want.”

✧˖°. — KENTO NANAMI (episode 3)

"you're doing so good, baby," his voice was smooth, deep in that way that makes you just melt into him, makes you do anything he said. though he would never take advantage of that. nanami was far too sweet and caring — too soft. but that doesn't mean he couldn’t treat you the way you deserve. he knew exactly what you need.

laying down on the bed, stripped down completely as nanami pressed two of his fingers deep inside your pussy, curling them just right to make you whine. he was still dressed in his work clothes, jacket discarded and tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, biceps flexing in the tight material. he didn't want to waste any time.

"k-kento," you gasped, your hands gripping at the sheets underneath you, knuckles turning white as you try your best to stay still. it's impossible, though, your body squirming and hips rising when his thumb brushed over your swollen clit.

"i know, darling," his fingers resumed to simply pumping in and out of you, a lazy rhythm that allowed you to suck in a shaky breath. "but you can handle it, can't you?"

it's not much of a question. he knew your body so well, like the back of his own hand, like it's an extension of his own flesh and bones. nanami knows when you hit your limit even if you don't — and he knows when he can push further.

you nodded your head regardless, biting your bottom lip to stifle any noises as he eased his other fingers, stretching you out even further. the slight discomfort was nothing you couldn't deal with, especially when he pressed against that spot and made more slick drip from your pussy.

“such a good girl for me, hm?” his fingers were so much bigger than your own, reaching further than you could. they were covered in your arousal, too, glistening and shining each time he pulled them out.

you could barely think, could barely do anything other than whine and cry, with the nearly pornographic sounds of his fingers fucking into you. you didn't even know you could get this wet.

“look at you, taking my fingers so well.”

[ataliagold]

you're the only one who knows, you slow it down

For @astrangersummer week 13 prompts 'cat' and 'farmers market'. Title from Look After You by The Fray. And yes, I watched A Quiet Place Day One and was obsessed with Frodo...

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: T

W/C: 1791

Tags: Modern AU, No Upside Down, First Meeting, Steve has PTSD, Steve has a service cat, Steve wears glasses, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart, panic attacks, Eddie takes care of Steve, referenced child abuse, autistic Steve (not overly relevant here but still)

Summary: Eddie's at a farmers market when he's approached by a very determined black and white cat. On a whim, he follows him to a young man having a panic attack in the woods.

___

Eddie’s browsing the little jewelry stand at the far end of the Farmer’s Market, glancing over hand-made leather bracelets and cheap silver rings while the old lady behind the table watches him hopefully. Over a blare of emergency sirens from the street in the distance he can hear Wayne behind him bartering with someone who’s wanting to buy one of his plants, the plants Eddie had been roped into carting there from the van in boxes that were too fucking heavy and he’d been drenched in sweat almost immediately under the summer sun.

He looks up briefly, regrets it immediately because the vendor’s eyes light up and fuck now he’s gotta buy something…

He’s interrupted by something soft brushing against his ankle.

Hanging up a black leather band, he looks down. Blinks a few times, confused.

There’s a black and white cat butting its little head against his leg. The cat stares back up at him with yellow eyes, wide and imploring.

“Uh….hi?” Eddie says, moving his leg away a bit because he doesn’t really do cats, has never interacted with them much before to be fair, other than the feral ones that hung around the trash in the trailer park and those weren’t exactly…friendly.

This guy is far cuter and cleaner than those cats ever were, though.

He’s got a maroon collar with a tag attached, and a red harness with a loose lead trailing behind him.

The cat steps closer to Eddie. Insistent now, shoving his face into his ankle again, then lets out an imploring meow.

“Where’s your owner?” Eddie asks to no one in particular, swiveling his head and surveying his surroundings. He sees fruit stands with enormous oranges, a honey stall, someone selling flowers off to his right, a small crowd browsing the wares but no one that looks like they’ve lost a black and white cat.

The cat meows again.

Eddie stoops down, gingerly reaches for its collar, reads the tiny writing on the tag in hope of some owners’ details.

Frodo - service cat

And Eddie had heard of service dogs, sure, but a cat?

A great name though, he admits.

He squints at the phone number etched below the name. Pulls out his phone, dials it. All the while Frodo meows at him, slams his head more forcefully into Eddie’s shin.

The call rings out to a voicemail, a guy called Steve in the message.

Eddie hangs up. Sighs, carefully pats the cat with a single finger on his head.

“You’re kinda cute, huh?” Eddie murmurs. “Someone’s missing you, for sure.”

He stands up again. Frodo moves several steps away, stops, stares back at him.

A lightbulb goes off in Eddie’s head.

He takes a step towards the cat. Frodo squeaks out a noise that seems happy to Eddie, and he steps even closer.

Frodo turns tail and trots off away from the market, and Eddie follows, Frodo glancing back every now and then to check Eddie’s still with him.

And so, the cat leads him towards a little copse of trees on the far side of the park. It’s pretty deserted out here, with most people busy browsing the market instead of taking their morning walks.

But as they get closer to the clearing in the middle of the trees, Eddie hears it.

Light gasps, panicked breathing, someone trying to suck in oxygen that just won’t come.

He quickens his step towards it. Frodo speeds up too, breaking away from Eddie now and bounding into the trees.

There’s a young man sitting in the dirt.

His knees are pulled to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, and he’s rocking back and forth a little. His cheeks are wet, eyes clenched shut behind crooked glasses.

Eddie drops to his knees beside the man, hand hovering above his shoulder, not sure whether or not to touch because he knew a thing or two about panic attacks, knew this was what he was seeing, didn’t want to frighten the man and make it worse…

Frodo presses himself up against the man’s side, trills quietly. The man shifts, blindly reaches for the cat, unfolds himself a bit and hauls the animal into his lap, burying his face in warm fur.

“…hi,” Eddie says quietly, barely audible, clears his throat and tries again. “Hi. I’m…I’m Eddie.”

The man goes still. Freezes, noticing Eddie for the first time. He peeks out from behind Frodo’s head, blinking up at Eddie, eyes red and sore-looking but also honey-brown and soft. He’s got moles dotted across his cheeks, hair long and mussed and falling across his face.

He’s fucking gorgeous, Eddie’s brain supplies.

He forces that thought away – it’s not exactly helpful right now.

“Are you Steve?” Eddie guesses.

A small, singular nod.

“I found your cat,” Eddie supplies. “Or…he found me, I guess. Led me here. He’s pretty clever.”

“He’s the b-best,” Steve croaks, his voice raspy and rough and broken. “He’s a service cat. But you can…you can go, s’fine.”

Eddie frowns, shakes his head. “I’m thinking he came and got me for a reason, huh?”

Steve looks away, shrugs.

Eddie waits, gives him time to answer, but Steve doesn’t speak again. He hugs his cat to his chest, still lightly trembling all over.

“How about…I sit here for a few minutes, and you take some deep breaths, huh? I’m thinking you’ve had a panic attack, and those suck – trust me, I know – but you need to get your breath back, ok?” Eddie reaches for Steve, hand ghosting over his shoulder now.

Steve flinches lightly, but doesn’t pull away.

Frodo purrs away calmly in Steve’s lap, letting his owner squeeze him close.

And Eddie sits, and waits.

He remembers his own panic attacks as a kid, after he’d wake up from a nightmare about his dad – where he swore the stench of alcohol was in his room, when his dad was surely just outside his bedroom door, all tension wound tight and clenched fists and ready to unleash a barrage of abuse at him. His uncle Wayne would step quietly into his room, would gather him up and hold him tight, would talk to him quietly about everything and nothing all at once until Eddie drifted peacefully back to sleep.

As the minutes tick by, Eddie starts to talk.

“I don’t know much about cats, but yours is pretty clever,” he murmurs, rubbing circles across Steve’s broad back, over the soft yellow sweater he was wearing. “He came right up to me, no idea why he picked me out of a crowd of nice old ladies at the market, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer, he insisted on getting me to you. I guess that’s his job, right? Just like how some service dogs are trained to go and get someone if their owner is in trouble? I used to have this neighbour, this girl called Max, she had some disabilities after a car accident, and she had a dog who was trained to do that sort of stuff. But you’ve got Frodo.”

Steve’s breathing is evening out, his shoulders untensing slightly as Eddie speaks.

“Badass name, by the way,” Eddie continues, chuckling a little. “I’m guessing you’re a Lord of the Rings fan, then. So am I. In fact, it’s probably my favourite -”

“Not a fan,” Steve mumbles.

Eddie pauses mid-sentence. “…oh,” he finishes lamely.

Steve shifts a little, the tiniest smile twitching at his lips.

Eddie’s heart thumps in his chest at the sight of it.

“This kid I used to babysit, his name’s Dustin, he picked the name,” Steve clarifies, his voice a little clearer now, a little less forced. “It just kinda stuck.”

“It suits him,” Eddie assures him, reaching a hand out to the cat. He quickly snatches it back, remembers Max telling him over and over that you weren’t supposed to pat a service animal when they’re working. “Sorry,” he says quickly, “I didn’t mean to…well. He’s working.”

Steve smiles, wider now.

Eddie blinks slowly at him, feeling stupid and warm and weak for this man.

“You can pat him,” Steve says quietly, just above a whisper. He unfolds his legs, loosens his grip on Frodo just a little, giving Eddie room to reach across to the cat.

Eddie grins as his fingers find soft fur. He traces over Frodo’s head and the cat purrs louder, pressing back into his hand.

Steve watches, tears drying on his cheeks. He lifts his glasses, rubs at his eyes, then straightens them again.

“It was the sirens,” he says, a little choked up still.

Eddie nods slowly, continues to pat Frodo.

“Over on Main Street, I think, I was walking past and they were really loud, and then more and more started and then there was that fire engine too and all the flashing lights and…”

Eddie heard it earlier, too. Some crash near the park, the ladies at the market had gossiped amongst themselves.

“…and I tried to move away, but they were everywhere so I went into the trees and that was a little better but I could still hear them, and I know it’s fucking stupid but some stuff happened to me a few years back and now every time I hear them…” Steve trails off, snaps his mouth shut. Runs his hand rhythmically down Frodo’s back, almost meditatively now. “Sorry. S’dumb. But…I’m ok now, I think.”

Eddie splays his free hand across Steve’s back. Thinks about how much he’d like to pull Steve to his side, bundle him close, wrap himself around him…but they’ve only just fucking met.

He needs to calm down.

“It isn’t dumb,” Eddie insists gently, “I used to get them too. Panic attacks. I get it, ok? I’m just glad you’re ok now.”

Steve smiles at him, wobbly and weak but there.

“Thanks,” he says softly, “for following Frodo. And for…staying.”

Eddie returns his smile. Reaches for the man’s hand, clasps it, helps him to shaky feet.

Steve doesn’t let go of his hand.

They linger there, under the shade of the red maple trees, neither saying anything for a long moment.

Frodo sits at their feet. Blinks up at them, meows eventually.

Steve picks up Frodo’s lead, one hand still in Eddie’s, fiddles with the red canvas cord.

Eddie’s heart beats faster.

“Do you…wanna come and look around the stalls?” he asks quietly, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand not held securely in Steve’s, thinks he’d be happy if he could never use that hand again, so long as Steve kept a hold of it.

Steve smiles again, bright as the sun, and nods.

Slowly, he follows Eddie out of the clearing and back into the light of the day.

___

[aphrogeneias]

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 — lingerie

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: dry humping. jealous!eddie (blink and you'll miss it).

"Are you gonna do that for me, one day?"

Standing at the back of the crowd while you watched a local band perform, you and Eddie shared a laugh watching what was going down on stage. The crowd whooped and hollered as a girl in the front row threw her red lace panties on stage. 

The frontman was sort of a heartthrob of the local underground metal scene, used to that sort of attention — but in your, not at all biased, opinion he had nothing on the guitarist of Corroded Coffin, the boy throwing his arm around your shoulder.

"In your dreams, pervert."

You rolled your eyes, but nothing in your tone suggested disgust. Quite the opposite, as Eddie smiled, all sharp teeth and soft dimples, the dichotomies of the Munson boy never ceasing to amuse you. He smacked a loud kiss to your cheek, and turned his attention back to the stage, still holding you to his side. You rested your head on his shoulder, and kept that scene in mind.

Later that month, Corroded Coffin played in that same venue.

They were over the moon about it, obsessing over details and rehearsals, showing up extra early for soundcheck, losing sleep over playing for a larger, unfamiliar crowd. Eddie, especially, was losing his mind on the day of, which in turn drove you crazy — the ever dutiful girlfriend of an emerging rockstar, playing your part in keeping his head in place.

You'd promised Eddie that if he got up there and not let his nerves get the best of him, you'd have a surprise ready for him.

The surprise couldn't wait for the end of the show, though.

You were right at the front row, where you usually stood even though Eddie always worried you would get hurt, or get accidentally dragged into a mosh pit, or hit by a crowdsurfer. None of those concerns were unfounded, but you wouldn't rather be anywhere else.

Not where you couldn't see him. Bare arms flexing while he shredded on his guitar, sweat flying off his damp hair as he headbanged, possessed with divine madness. Your own rock god, meeting your eyes and winking at you before entertaining the crowd who was just as mesmerized by his stage presence.

Looking around to see if you'd get caught, you found no one was really paying attention to you. Quickly, you bent down, and just as the song headed to an end, slid your panties down and out of your legs. You were wearing Eddie's favorite pair — dark green lace, leaving little to the imagination.

As soon as he looked at you, between songs, you threw them at him. He caught it in the air, wide eyes not quite believing what he's seeing — your eyes meet halfway, and all you did was smile. Sticky sweet, an offering of devotion. You blew him a kiss, and not looking back, made your way through the screaming crowd, away from the stage.

He caught you backstage, on his way to the dressing room.

You barely had time to greet him. Looking back at it, it was silly to think you'd have it. Eddie caught you by the arm and led you to the nearest empty room, pressing you against the closed door. The room was dark, but you could see his eyes glinting in the low light.

His hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Do you know how hard it is to hide a boner in these jeans?"

Despite the grip he had on you, you giggled. "Oh, I know. Been there a few times."

"You're the worst." He joked through his teeth, fondness shining through his dark eyes. He leaned in, biting your cheek, leaving a trail of spit with his tongue to soothe it. "I'm gonna fucking ruin you."

Eddie kissed you like a man starved, stealing your breath away. You clung to him as he slid his thigh between your open ones, thick denim coming in contact with your bare pussy. His large hands made their way down your waist, to your hips, his hungry kisses never faltering.

Moans leave your lips right into his, making a wet mess on his pants, arching your chest into his whilst his rhythm didn't relent, the drag of your clit on the rough fabric, over and over, bringing you to the edge way too quickly.

He nosed your cheek as you clinged to his shoulders, moving his mouth to ear. "They were all looking at you, you know?" Eddie's voice was thick with desire, "They were all staring at my baby. The most beautiful girl in this fucking place, and she had such a sweet little gift for me." His leg moved under you, and you undulated your hips, seeking your release, guided by his voice, "All for me, because you're mine. It's me you're going home with, aren't you, sweetheart?"

You nodded frantically. "Mhm. With you, baby. Always you."

Your toes curled on the floor, and your body tensed all over. You could feel yourself make a mess on his jeans, leaking more and more as you reached your peak.

"Yeah, that's right. Come for me, baby. Fucking drench me."

Eddie kissed your forehead, the top of your hair, the side of your face, as you came down from your orgasm. As you caught your breath, learning against the door, he let go of you. You didn't have the strenght to ask, all you could do was watch him kneel before you, and take your panties out of his back pocket.

He delicately helped you back in them, one leg at a time. After securing them in place, he placed a kiss on each of your still trembling thighs, and lifted himself back to his full height again.

"Keep these wet for me, okay?" A kiss to your chin, a thumb on your cheek. "Want them to keep smelling like you."

[yanderenightmare]

Deku - Midoriya Izuku

TW: NSFW, dubcon, f!reader, asshole Hero Deku

Just thinking about Deku’s fangirl.

How lucky you felt when he took you home after you’d asked for his autograph in a bar – thinking about the expectations you had, how many times you’d imagined Hero Deku singing sweet praises in your ear as he made sweet love to you oh-so-softly – and thinking about how hard you choked on your spit when you understood just how far away those fantasies were from the truth as he fucks you like you’re shooting a hardcore porn-video.

His hand presses down hard on your face, mushing your head halfway into the white hotel pillow while his other hand fists the band of your skirt to keep you up in a pretty slope as he pounds your puffy cunt only in harsh slaps – hips clapping your ass as he uses your skirt to pull you back to meet the sharp thrusts as though you’re but a means to an end to make him cum.

Oh, but you’d been Deku’s number-one fan for years, and you’d been so giddy and excited as he’d paid for the hotel in the reception, feeling so lucky and honored, unable to fathom how any of it was even happening. Biting your lip with shy eyes blinking sheepishly, thinking of how sweet and gentle he would be in bed – so, so, so surprised when he had you pushed flat against the elevator wall with two of his fingers hooked on your tongue to make you yelp out a moan while his other hand found your cunt and squeezed the mound as though staking a claim.

You don’t really enjoy it when it’s rough – it scares you, to say the least – but this is the number-one hero, and you’re not so confident to protest when you feel you should be grateful that he’s at all touching you – even though it feels like he’s running your stomach through.

Looking over your shoulder, you can spot tattoos you’ve never seen on screen, the tribal kind that you’d expect to see only on gang members and otherwise other types of bad guys you’d not want touching you at all. He’s also wearing chains, the slim silver kind douchebags wear and compare. He’s even got fat rings on his fingers, digging into your skin where he pressures down on your face with his thumb hooked in your cheek to keep you singing mewls for him while he swings into you from behind harder and harder each time – grinning when watching how you grip the sheets in whitened knuckles as your whole body jumps on every impact.

He tips you over after a while, but missionary had never felt so threatening as he immediately locks your throat in a fist – his lips ghosting your parted ones with grunts and hot air, green eyes salaciously enjoying the show of you gasping for breath as he fucks the moans right out of you in harsh and deep strokes hitting you in new and tender places – forcing your toes to curl in the air, thighs hiked on his hips.

His other hand holds the top of your head, blunt nails push smilies into your scalp – and it all just smothers you enough to make you cry as his lips and teeth graze your cheek with a leer. “I like my sluts like this- submissive. Taking it like happy little whores in love with getting dick in their wet cunt.”

It’s not the type of sweet talk you wanted, but still, his low and gravely grunting voice forms a fist in your belly and makes you tighten on the fat shaft that has you speared. He groans at the tightness, biting your cheek as his hips stutter, shooting his load inside you without warning.

You’re in shock. Feeling the sweat between your bodies and the warmth of it inside you. You can only stare blankly up at the hotel ceiling fan and halfway wonder why you’d not thought better of it when he’d booked you into such a cheap and sleazy place.

You hear the popping of the Sharpie, but it doesn’t register. Nor does how he pushes the felt tip of it down in the softness of your tit. He scribbles something – cap held between his lips and teeth as he asks, “Wha’ was’h your name again?”

You mumble it dumbly without asking yourself why as he writes the letters on your skin. You don’t flinch when he pulls his phone from the nightstand and takes a picture with the flash on. 

He doesn’t stay for long.

Actually, he doesn't stay at all. He doesn’t even shower before pulling his pants on and leaving with his shirt draped over his shoulder.

You look in the mirror after willing yourself to get up.

Your chest reads Deku, number 47, then your name.

tip-jar: Kofi

[hearts4golbach]

Lacy Black Pair.

"I wanna try it, bite it, lick it, split it, pull it to the side and get all up in it."

pairing:

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

a/n:

inspired by Guess by Charli XCX and Billie Eilish. (freakbob called me and told me to write this btw.)

kinda proofread

warnings:

18+ smut, oral sex (f receiving,) unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy,) dirty talk, degrading, praise, choking, overstimulation, hair pulling, biting, rough sex.

word count:

2.2k

You always felt Johnnies eyes on you. When your skirt rides up a little too high and he gets a glimpse of the hot pink thong you're wearing underneath, he can never seem to look away. Not to mention the crop tops you wear that are always a little too tight or cropped, not that he's complaining. He doesn't mind the exposure of your brand new back tattoo. If he was lucky, he'd get a glimpse of how it trails down to your lower back. He couldn't prevent his mind from wandering, thinking about how it'd look if he had you bent over his bed. He'd get lost in the thought of what'd you'd taste like coming undone all over his tongue. He loved how much of a tease you were, even if you were in sweats with the lacy band of your underwear peaking out. God, he couldn't get enough of it.

He had you to himself so many times, so many of those times he could've made his move. He never did, though. He loved watching you 'struggle' to get his attention, but you always had it. As the weeks went by, more tension was starting to build; tension that anyone could feel if the two of you were in the same room, tension that you could cut through with a knife. He loved watching you stutter when all he did was meet your gaze.

it was late, and Jake and Carrington had fallen asleep on the couch during the movie. you sat at the edge of the sofa with Johnnie close next to you.He barely watched the movie, his primary focus on your smooth thighs that were exposed. He wanted to reach out and dig his fingers into your soft flesh, but kept his composure (the best he could, at least).

"i'm gonna go get another Dr. Pepper." you mentioned, pulling yourself off of the sweat pool that was the couch. "you need anything?" you asked quiet enough that only Johnnie could hear. you wouldn't want to wake up the children.

"no, i'm good. thanks, y/n." his soft voice was sweet like honey, but always had that familiar tang in his words. he glanced up at you, making brief eye contact before returning to the movie.

your face heated up, and luckily he didn't notice as you walked away, or so you thought. Johnnie watched your hips sway as you walked away, your booty shirts riding up your ass in the perfect way. He quickly adjusted his jeans that were a little too tight for comfort in that moment.

you came back short after. Johnnies eyes followed you as you sat down, moving down to the newly exposed skin as you sat down. You were wearing his favorite pair of panties of yours: a black, lacy thong with little pink bows. all he could think about was soiling them, getting them dirty with a mixture of your juices.

he noticed as your thighs clenched together, his leg was pressed against yours, after all. how could he not? as much as he wanted to keep you waiting, wanted to see how desperate you could get, it was starting to get unbearable for him, too.

he leaned over, tucking your hair behind your ear. he whispered in your ear, a low, raspy tone. "you wanna know what's been on my mind?" his hand snaked around your shoulder.

you couldn't help but lean into his touch. "hmm?" you responded. you matched his tone and he had to fight back a groan. his blunt nails traced over your bare shoulder softly.

he twirled a piece of your hair in his fingers, "how cute those fucking panties are. they're my favorite," he smirked at the end of his sentence.

he pulled away from you and stood up. you watched in shock as he walked away up to his room. you scoffed quietly to yourself and followed him up the stairs. "you can't just say that and walk away."

"what are you going to do about it?" he stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned to face you. You had never heard this tone with Johnnie. it scared you in the best way possible. you took a step closer to him cautiously. you looked up at him through your eyelashes. he rolled his eyes and looked away. he made eye contact with you once more before turning away and walking into his room.

the next week after that would be the most dreadful week of your life. you and Johnnie barely spoke, you couldn't muster up the courage to say anything. his gaze never faltered though. you wanted to slap him and kiss him, tell him you hate his guts but you love him with your whole heart. you were so conflicted, and it all came to a head whenever Jake and Carrington were out recording. you and Johnnie had the whole house to yourselves.

Johnnie came into the kitchen silently, watching as you made coffee in your mini skirt and t-shirt you got from Tara. he leaned against the counter, not saying a word. you knew he was there. "uhm, can i help you? why are you staring at me?" you didn't turn around to meet his eyes.

he took a step closer to you, pushing himself off of the counter. his arms snaked around your waist and pulled you close. he buried his face in your neck, making you freeze. "you look really pretty, you always do." he muttered against your neck.

"fuck, Johnnie," you exclaimed, both extremely aroused and confused. "what do you want from me? do you want me or not?"you pushed him off of you and leaned against the counter behind you. "i'm sick of these stupid fucking mixed signals."

he placed his hand on either side of the counter, pinning you against it. "you don't know how bad i want you, ma." he bit down on his lip, preventing a smile from forming on his lips.

you stuttered, attempting to form a sentence. you gave up, grabbing a fist full of his shirt and pulling him in. he smashed his lips against yours in a needy manner. you sighed into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. the kiss felt like fireworks, both of you had been waiting for this moment for so long. his tongue swiped your lower lip, and you opened your mouth slightly, granting him entrance. he let out a small moan, the taste of you on his tongue making him grow more desperate by the moment.

he gripped your hips and helped you sit up on the counter. as he continued to kiss you, his hands slid up your thighs, pulling up your skirt in the process. you happened to be wearing his favorite thong. he squeezed your bare thighs as he kissed down your jawline. he sucked and bit at your neck, leaving light marks on the soft skin. "c'mon, let's go upstairs." he muttered against your skin.

you jumped off the counter and pressed your lips onto his again. you couldn't get enough of his taste. he began to walk you backwards towards the stairs. you walked up the stairs carefully, his hands on your waist guiding you. the two of you crashed into the wall right in front of his door. he whirled you around and took you into the room, slamming the door behind him. as your lips glided together, he pushed you back into the bed and crawled on top of you.

he pinned his hands on either side of your head, peppering kisses all over your face and down your neck. you tangled your fingers in his raven colored hair, begging him for more.

"god, so fuckin' impatient." he mumbled against your skin. his hands snaked up your shirt and took it off of you, revealing your bare chest. he ran his tongue over your pebbled nipples, making you arch into his touch. his hand gripped your neck and pulled you up to face him. "you're such a slut, you know that?" he spat.

"fuck, please, Johnnie." your voice came out raspy as his hand was wrapped tightly around your neck.

he smirked before releasing your neck. he flipped you over, making your skirt ride up just above your thighs. he groaned at the sight of you bent over his bed, it was everything he had imagined and more. he laid a light slap on your ass before pushing your skirt up around your waist, making sure he had a perfect view of your lower back tattoo. his fingers traced your tattoo, moving to the tiny pink bows on your panties.

your core was throbbing as you waited for him to touch you. you whimpered out pleas and he couldn't help but give you what you wanted. he pulled the lacy black pair to the side, licking a strip up your wet cunt. you whimpered at the sensation, reaching back towards Johnnie. his strong hand gripped your wrist, holding it against your back tightly.

he sucked your clit, applying the type of pressure that made your legs shake. strings of moans and curses flew out of your mouth as he thrusted his tongue inside of your tight hole. his tongue licked your walls, hitting all of the right spots inside of you. he moaned against your pussy as the sweet taste of your slick.

he ran his tongue through your folds at a quick pace, making you squirm under his touch. you squeeled as his diverted his attention back to your clit. "you're so sweet, baby." he grunted against your pussy, the friction his jeans were giving him wasn't enough.

his thumb moved to your clit as he lapped up your juices. he rubbed rough circled while drinking up the wetness that he had caused. he already had you approaching the edge. he let go of your arm and slapped your ass again. you jolted at the sudden sting, but it only fueled your desire further.

"oh, fuck!" you cried out, "im so close." you clawed the dark sheets under you as you buried your face into the comforter, muffling your needy moans. "shit!"

"that's it, fucking needy little bitch." he smirked against your cunt. "cum on my tongue." he admired how your tattoo twisted and turned as you writhed under him. he ate you out as if he was starving and you were the only one who could satisfy that hunger.

your walls clenched around his tongue as you came with a loud moan. thank god nobody was home. he continued to lick through your folds, collecting al of your cum on his tongue. your legs shook as he sucked your overstimulated clit, releasing it with a pop.

you heard his belt unbuckle and his pants his the floor not long after. he leaned over you, his hard cock pressing into your sensitive pussy. you grinned back onto him, your hips starting to feel more sore by the second. "what do you want, baby?" he wrapped your hair around his head, tugging it gently so you'd look at him. "you want my cock?"

you nodded quickly, choking out a yes in response. he smirked as you continued to grind onto him. he slipped his cock inside of you, groaning as your pussy clenched around him. he pulled you up so your back was pressed against his chest. he began to thrust inside of you at a decent pace without letting you adjust to his size. you let out loud moans as he hit your g-spot. his hand moved from your hair to your neck, squeezing gently as he sped up his pace.

"fuc," you grunted, "you- you feel so fu-fucking good." you stuttered, squeezing your eyes shut as he continued to pleasure you.

you felt his cock twitch at your words. "yeah? you think so? who's pussy is this?" he bit down on your shoulder, calming the pain with gentle kisses. "hmm?" he hummed in your ear.

"fucking yours," you spat, "all yours."

he let out a breathy laugh as he gently sunk his teeth into your ear. "that's what i thought. i fucking love these tiny skirts you wear, always giving me such a good view. shit, mama." he grunted, losing control as he fucked into you relentlessly.

he let you lay back down on the bed, gripping your hips as he fucked you roughly. your mind was foggy, the only thing on your mind was Johnnies dick inside of you. you let out incoherent words mixed with whimpers and moans. "'m so close!" we're the only words that came out of your mouth.

"me too, fuck, me too." his thrust became more sloppy as you felt the coil in your stomach tighten once more. "you're doing so good for me." he said through staggered breaths.

with one final thrust, he shot his thick ropes of cum inside of you. your walls spasmed around his cock as you came with a loud moan. he collapsed on the bed next to you, looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes. you flipped over and cuddled up into his chest, your skirt still bunched around your waist. "i really like those panties." he said with a laugh.

[a-thousand-eyes-and-one]

asoiaf characters who could hack it as a starbucks barista:

— jon. runs that shit like the navy. schedules five minute scream-cry sessions for himself in the supply closet but everyone pretends not to notice bc it kinda seems like its working for him. keeps accidentally charming the regulars

— arya. only ever works closing shift bc if you put her on morning/lunch rush she yells at customers. cleans like a crazy person and leaves the place spotless. WILL put a nick in your car’s tire valve with a box opener if you make her count the till

— loras. makes GREAT coffee and can smooth things over with irate middle aged women very easily. however if ur gay avoid his location bc he cannot stop himself from being catty its in his BLOOD. also:

— dany. hits her (painstakingly decorated) dab pen in her car before work so she’s very zen. however she Is the coworker you sic on asshole customers bc she’s very good at making them feel stupid and also never caves and gives out free drinks

asoiaf characters who could NOT hack it as a starbucks barista:

— sansa. is the aforementioned caver. always turning up the heat because she’s cold even though literally everyone else is sweating like pigs. stayed on a couple months because it turns out mean customers calm down when she starts to cry #prettygirlhack but eventually quits because she hates cleaning the bathroom

— theon. uniquely bad at his job. writes his number on every other cup he hands out even to people wearing wedding bands or ACTIVELY WITH THEIR PARTNER IN THE STORE (has been beaten up like four times doing this). never ties off the garbage correctly. uses too much water when he mops and has slipped in it and twisted his ankle multiple times. is a soundcloud rapper and is always trying to get the manager to play his music in the store

— robb. nobody wants to fire him because hes genuinely a great guy but he takes eighty million years to make one drink and he’s always comping shit for his girlfriend who comes in all the time

— jojen reed. okay at the job but is always saying ominous shit to customers and is passive aggressive to whoever closed the previous night no matter how good of a job they did. quit because someone else got fired for showing up to work high and he didnt want to be next

[seisrkvs]

RULES (ARE MEANT TO BE BROKEN) — C. KAMO

gn reader i think, suggestive, not specifically angst or fluff idk, brother's best friend trope, mentions of fighting/bruises, alcohol consumption, age gap (2yrs) but both are adults. implied smashing. ahaha.

english is not my first language, so there may be grammatical mistakes. i don't care enough to fix them lol

WC 2.6k.

ten rules to follow when your best friend has a cool older brother.

AUTHOR'S NOTE :: this was so draining; never writing again

RULE NUMBER 01: NEVER FALL FOR YOUR BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER.

your best friend's brother, choso. two, years older than you but he's always seemed oh-so-mature with his serious, unsmiling face. (he makes an exception for you and yuji, though, and you think he's so, so sweet and so, so perfect.) a scar across it, over the bridge of his nose — in your opinion, it makes him ten times more attractive.

you start liking him aged twelve or thirteen, you're not sure, really. he wears cute sweaters and buttonups and doesn't really hang out with the boys in his class. he's shy and introverted and he's like fifteen and you just want him to be your boyfriend. oh, well, nothing ever works out the way you want it to, and he leaves for college when you're seventeen.

RULE NUMBER 02: NEVER ASK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED AT COLLEGE.

he never really mentions what happens in college, but choso is an entirely different person when he comes back. gone are the soft schoolboy clothes; now he's really in his element. the choso you know now is loose band tees and baggy jeans, rings stacked on his hands and nails painted black. and the best/worst part is that he looks good in it, and he knows he looks good in it.

nowadays, there are rumors about him. about how he drinks and smokes and gets into fights. but surely that's all just talk, right? besides, he says it's not true, so you don't believe them.

still, his taped up, bruised knuckles and bandaged hands still nag at the back of your mind.

RULE NUMBER 03: NEVER AGREE TO GOING TO HIS POOL PARTY.

why are you here? no, really, why are you here? this is way out of your comfort zone, and you know like, one person here. two, including choso. so where are you, exactly? well...

choso'd never been the type to host parties before he left for college. now is a different story, though. and a pool part at his place right at the apex of summer seems too good of an opportunity to refuse. especially when he lives next door and personally invites you over.

thick muscular arms hang over your side of the fence as he stares at you, chin propped up on top of it. "so 's that a yes or no?"

you shrug again, shrivelling inwardly under the overwhelming pressure of his gaze. and then his lips curl up into a slow, self-satisfied smile, as if he knows what you're thinking, and it almost has your knees buckling. heat spreads across your face, pools in your cheeks. you hope the blinding glare of the sun makes it difficult to see.

"ah, well, see ya then," he says with a chuckle when there's no sign of a response from you. it simultaneously irks and pleases you to know that he knows you well enough to know your answer. when you're sure he's gone, you rush to your room and scream into the pillow.

RULE NUMBER 04: NEVER SHOW UP TO HIS POOL PARTY.

the air is hot, humid and permeated with sweat and human activity. a concerningly high number of people are stuffed into choso and yuji's home, and you can't even hear yourself think over the bass of the music.

navigating through the mass of sweaty dancing people is humiliatingly nerve-wracking, not to mention annoying. you somehow manage to get lost in a house you've known all your life, and it takes you a quarter of an hour to venture out into the backyard. when you finally find it, that is.

and as if he's somehow aware of your presence, choso picks that exact moment to — very slowly — pull off the skintight black t-shirt that's clinging to his sculpted body. time moves in slow motion for you; your eyes drag over the expanse of his infuriatingly divine torse, unable to look away. and then he turns around, looks straight at you, and smirks. your stomach physical twists and you don't even know how you're alive right now, if you're being honest.

you don't even notice how close you've moved to him until he whistles in your direction and tosses the t-shirt into your hands. you're left holding it awkwardly as he dives into the pool, leaving you alone amidst the crowds all over again. he resurfaces a moment later, and over the din of the speakers and people you hear him yell something out to you.

"keep it if you want!"

fucking mind reader.

RULE NUMBER 05: NEVER HANG OUT WITH HIM WHEN HIS BROTHER'S NOT AROUND.

you are sprawled out on your lawn with a book in hand, not-so-discreetly staring at choso on the other side of the fence when you lock eyes with him. your first instinct is to look away, but then he flashes you a knowing grin and holds out his beer towards you. "want a drink?"

it's barely four in the afternoon. who even drinks at this time? other than choso, apparently. you don't want to seem too eager, so you sit up and pretend to think. "but i'm reading."

he leans back on his deckchair, yawning. "no one says you can't read here."

"okay," you huff, getting up and brushing off your shorts with one hand. your other hand's thumb is tucked into the book to mark your page — not that you've gotten very far today, courtesy of him.

there's a cooler beside him that you hadn't noticed before; if you're being honest you hadn't even thought of the drinks beforehand, just choso. he hands you a bottle, laughing when you almost drop it because of the cold surface, and your fingers brush when you finally take it from him. it's nothing that significant, but it's akso enough to set butterflies free inside your stomach.

choso's dark hair is tied up today, spiky twin buns on either side of his head. you're not sure how he pulls it off, but he does. he's wearing a loose tank top and shorts, and he looks even better up close. maybe this was a bad idea; now he'll definitely notice if you dare to look.

"something wrong?" his low voice startles you out of your panic-slash-daydream, and you turn to look at him awkwardly from where you're sat on the second deckchair by the pool.

"it's just warm outside, i guess." it's the first reply that comes to mind; a flimsy excuse, considering you'd been doing just fine in your own lawn. he hums in acknowledgement, taking a final swig of his drink before tossing it expertly into the trashcan at the other end of the yard.

"inside's always an option." he rubs his jaw, arm flexing involuntarily. you are graced with a concerning amount of inappropriate, unholy thoughts.

"sure."

RULE NUMBER 06: NEVER GO INSIDE WITH HIM.

stupid, stupid, stupid. you are extremely, undeniably stupid. you must be, because no normal, sane, self-respecting person should ever be finding themself in this position. specifically, half-drunk on your best friend's couch (while he's not at home) and staring shamelessly at his older brother's lips (he is in turn staring at yours).

okay, wait, rewind. let's review: half past four, he's leading you in through the back door. by six the beer is almost finished and you're half-drunk and giggling and reminiscing about past memories.

i had the biggest crush on you when i was little, you laugh. you're not sure why you say it; you regret it immediately — this was truly stupid — but there's nothing that can be done about this except to try and keep it in the past tense now. he laughs with you. then: i know, me too. still do.

at first you laugh again, a little awkwardly because you'd thought you'd been discreet this whole time. then the second part of his sentence finally registers. "wait, what?"

he smiles lazily, swirling what's left at the bottom of his bottle. "didn't stutter now, did i?"

you shake your head, then proceed to be even more stupid than before.

"me too," you blurt out. "i still like you too."

"i know," he repeats, and nothing comes of it... in the next hour or so, at least. but now you're much closer to each other than you were before, and he's all but giving you unabashed bedroom eyes at fucking eight pm. you want to kiss him.

"oh, really?" an unfamiliar cheshire-cat smile is shot at you, and you realise with rising horror that you've said it out loud.

"on a scale of one to ten..." he trails off, and a thumb barely grazes your lower lip. "on a scale of one to ten, how bad do you want to kiss me?"

your answer is immediate and reckless. "like a twelve?"

the answer seems to satisfy him well enough, and one of his large hands cups your face. you instinctively lean into his touch as he leans in towards you. his rings are cold metal against your cheek; you suck in a breath nervously, simultaneously excited, and scared of what's to come.

"sweetheart," choso breathes against your lips, and you think you might spontaneously combust on the spot. "sweetheart, i'd love to indulge you, but neither of us are sober right now."

and he pulls away. you're definitely going to cry about this when you get home.

"i think there's been enough drinking, i'll walk you to your door." there's a small smile on his face, albeit a sad one as he helps you stand up. "but if you're really serious about it, you'll come back tomorrow and we can have a repeat of this conversation while not drunk."

he presses a soft kiss your forehead at the door; suddenly, you see the choso you'd liked when you were younger. the one who'd looked out for you over everything else, always. not that this version is any less attractive, but sometimes it feels like you don't really know the

"you don't have to do anything you're not okay with," he tells you. "you are always the first priority. if you don't feel like coming back tomorrow, don't. i'll be here for the rest of the summer anyways. and if you don't feel like coming back at all—" he cuts himself off with a short laugh. "then don't, i'll respect your decision."

RULE NUMBER 07: NEVER COME BACK THE NEXT DAY.

you're nervous as fuck the next day; this presents itself in your actions. from almost brushing your teeth with hand soap to eating acrylic paint, you've done it all. you pull out the first presentable pieces of clothing — a black shirt, somewhat unfamiliar, which is weird — and jean shorts to wear. by noon you're all but vibrating with anxiety, waiting for an okay time to go over to his place. wait, what is an okay time to go visit, anyways?

oh well, now's as good a time as any, you decide.

"you're wearing my shirt," he tells you as soon as he opens the door. there is an amused lilt to his voice and you just want to sink down into the ground and die of mortification.

"shit, sorry," you begin, but he waves your concerns away with a laugh.

"calm down, it's okay." choso steps away from the door to let you walk in, gently closing it behind you. "besides, you look good in it, so i'm not complaining."

the undisguised flirting, the way he compliments you so easily throws you off, twists around your lungs and wrings the breath out of them. you clear your throat uncomfortably. "so, about last night."

"yeah?"

"what do you want, exactly?"

he hums, a low, noncommittal sound. "you're a clever girl, i'm sure you can guess."

oh god. holy fuck. your hands ball into tight fists at your sides and your stare burns holes into the carpet. you don't respond.

"surely you didn't forget what we mentioned last night?"

you shake your head silently. of course not— how could you? he laughs, but you know he's nervous too. "cute. well, all i have to say is that i've wanted you for a long while now, and if you reciprocate—"

cute. cute, he thinks you're cute. holy fuck, he likes you back. you haven't thought about what to do this far out; you didn't even think it'd happen. your brain is running on overdrive, and you don't even realise you're standing up until everything comes back into focus and you blurt out, "i do! reciprocate, i mean."

the bemusement on his face morphs into a broad grin. "yeah?"

"uh... yeah."

he stands up too, comes closer. "we should do something about that, shouldn't we?"

"we should."

RULE NUMBER 08: NEVER LET HIM KISS YOU.

"pretty girl." choso brushes some of your hair away from your face gently; his gaze is so lovesick it leaves you speechless. the most surprising part of this is that it hasn't changed one bit from before — it's just that you're only starting to notice it now. but his fingers encircle your wrist softly, and his eyes flick down to your lips, then back up. his other hand runs nervously through his hair, now let down.

"so what now?"

"what now?" you echo.

the corners of his lips tilt up. i could kiss you, if you want?"

oh, holy shit. you hadn't expected that one. it's a split second decision, no hesitation as you nod.

it's everything you've expected and yearned for and imagined and more. you're flying, you're floating, you're falling, and choso catches you and it's the most intoxicating thing you've ever experienced. you are drunk off the way he kisses you, almost animalistic, like he's waited for this his entire life. maybe he has.

his hand slips under your shirt — "this okay?" you say yes, of course you do — and you're pushed up against the wall of his living room, broad daylight where anyone could walk in. you don't really care, though.

leg hooked over his hip, fingers tangled into his hair, you really can't care less right now. he lets out a breathy, appreciative moan when you tug lightly; he kisses you harder & as if his life depends on it.

this is worrying, he is addicted. addicted enough that he finds himself craving your lips, your touch, you every conscious second. even in the half-minute spent rushing to his room, even though you're going hand-in-hand, he still wants more, craves for more.

RULE NUMBER 09: NEVER STAY THE NIGHT.

he pulls away to look at you, splayed out so prettily on his sheets, breathless, just long enough to pant out three small words. "stay the night?"

"mm, yeah," you respond, equally out of breath, gazing up at him with stars in your eyes.

your lips are swollen, hair unkempt. his shirt is a bit too big for you, revealing your collarbones — and the bruises littered across it. you are so fucking beautiful, and it makes him grin down at you wildly before he drops his head down to kiss you again.

RULE NUMBER 10: NEVER DATE YOUR BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND.

"go out with me." large hands skim over your body, as if memorising every part of you. choso's lithe fingers trace lightly down your ribs to your stomach, and then they drop, fitting into place like puzzle pieces and leaving you wrapped loosely in his embrace.

"little too late for that," you laugh hoarsely, leaning back into his touch. you can still feel his warmth through the shirt — his shirt, again, as the first rays of light begin to filter through the blinds.

he laughs with you, nuzzling into your hair. his words come out muffled when he finally speaks. "so we're dating."

"yeah, we are."

© seisrkvs 2024 do not repost translate or plagiarise.

[ashwhowrites]

Eddie Munson x cheerleader! Reader, Chrissy tried to help her best friend, reader, with her crush, Eddie Munson, but she's very nervous when he's around her, meanwhile, Steve tries to help Eddie with his crush, Reader, but she makes him really nervous, they go to a party, where Reader sees a girl talking with Eddie, she has piercings, tattoos, wears leather and she thinks that Eddie's into that girl and not her, so she goes out of the house and Eddie goes to look after her and tells her that that girl likes Steve, not him, and that she's his cousin and Reader just throws herself at Eddie's arms, and tells him that she was jealous bc she likes him

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting <3

Shy game

Even though Y/N was popular and a cheerleader, had a strong voice and wasn't afraid to speak up. There was one person that made her so nervous that nothing came out of her mouth. Eddie Munson.

"He stares at you all the time! Just talk to him." Chrissy encouraged, once again here she was trying to get her best friend to just talk to Eddie.

"No way! He doesn't want some cheerleader coming up to him." Y/N argued. Eddie was not a fan of the popular crowd or people in general. She saw him shut down many girls before and she didn't want to be added to the list.

"And he probably thinks you wouldn't want him to walk up to you." Chrissy tried to reason with her. But Y/N shook her head.

~~~

"Dude, just talk to her. She's always looking at you. She wouldn't look in your direction if she disliked you." Steve groaned. There were only so many stories Steve could handle listening to about Y/N. But Eddie was too chicken to say anything to her.

"Probably because she thinks I'm a freak like the rest of the popular kids." Eddie groaned, slamming his dead down into his arms on the work counter.

"ow" Eddie said as he rubbed his forehead.

At first, Steve was happy to have Eddie join the family video store, but he didn't know all his shifts would be him talking about Y/N.

Eddie kept his head down as Steve continued to work. Once again his advice went straight out of Eddie's ear. Eddie felt Steve nudging him.... continuously.

"Can you not!" Eddie growled, picking up his head and using his hand to swat at Steve's arm. But then Steve nodded towards the door. Eddie looked and there she was.

Y/N giggled with Chrissy as they walked into the store. It was a Saturday morning, usually, no kids came in until the night shift. For once, Eddie was happy as hell he accepted a morning shift.

Eddie stared as she walked around the store. Her bright smile and pink glossy lips. Even though she was a few feet away, he could smell the sweetness of her perfume.

"Here's your chance! You're just being a helpful employee." Steve said, he shoved Eddie out from behind the counter. Pushing him in the direction of the girls.

"Hi, Eddie!" Chrissy said, loudly into Y/N's ear. A soft nudge from Chrissy as Y/N stood frozen. She bit her lip as she took in Eddie's band T-shirt, the green work vest, and his name tag. His vest was covered in pins of his favorite films. His black jeans and dirty white sneakers.

"Hi!" Eddie said, but his eyes stayed on Chrissy, he was terrified to even look at Y/N. He always felt like an idiot in that stupid work vest and now his crush had her eyes all over it.

"Horror movie fan! Y/N is too!" Chrissy observed from his vest, another nudge. But Y/N couldn't help but notice Eddie's eyes never once looked at her. Of course, he'd like Chrissy, she was perfect and so likable.

"That's sweet." Eddie coughed, his eyes moved to Y/N once, and went back to Chrissy. The small look was enough to make Eddie's heart race and his palms were drenched with sweat.

Eddie felt relief when his watch beeped.

"Time for my break, see ya." He gave a stiff nod and practically ran into the back. Neither girl had a chance to say goodbye.

"See! He barely looked at me." Y/N groaned.

~~~

Finally, the night arrived and Y/N planned to get drunk at Chrissy's party and ignore all the sad feelings she had about Eddie.

She was on the search for her first drink, eagerly pouring her red cup full. She threw in some ice and took in all the people in Chrissy's house.

~~~

Eddie was on his third drink of the night. His cousin Savannah was yapping in his ear about her date with Steve. But all Eddie could focus on was talking to Y/N. He knew he made an idiot of himself earlier and prayed the liquid courage would do all the work for him.

By the time Y/N worked her way into the living room, she found Eddie. But he wasn't alone.

A girl around his height stood across from him. She wore a T-shirt, which showed off her tattoos. She had piercings in her ears, nose, and lip. Y/N couldn't help but realize how much that girl was Eddie's type. The girl even had leather pants and a jacket around her waist. Thick black boots and dark nails. She was the perfect rockstar girlfriend.

Y/N gulped down her drink and raced to the front yard. She could barely see, the tears already welling in her eyes. It was all her fault anyway, Chrissy told her multiple times just to say something. And she refused, because of fear. Now Eddie could be free to anyone he wanted.

Eddie kept his eyes moving around the party and saw a split image of Y/N running out the front. Eddie wasn't sure if the alcohol did its job or if he was worried something happened to her, but he raced out the door behind her.

He found her on the curb, shivering as she held her body. Eddie carefully placed the jacket on her, her head snapped up as he took the spot next to her. He noticed silent tears streaming down her soft face.

"You okay?" He asked. She obviously didn't look okay, but always worth asking.

"Yeah! Just having a little moment." She tried to laugh it off. Even more embarrassed to be crying over a boy and he sat right next to her.

"We all have those! Maybe talking it out will help?" He offered.

"What's your type, Eddie?" Y/N asked, a bit of bitterness in her voice. Eddie was taken aback by the question and how snippy she sounded. "Because this morning, I swore you were checking out Chrissy, but now you are talking to this badass rocker chick. And I don't even know how I'm supposed to be either of them when they are both incredibly different." Y/N forgot how much of a lightweight she was, and hated how fast the liquor made her word vomit.

Eddie was in shock. He never thought he had a type, he just liked pretty girls. He never once thought Steve could be right about something, especially girls. But in this case, Steve was right.

"I wasn't checking out Chrissy. More of using Chrissy as a distraction from how scared I was to look at you. And the girl inside, her name is Savannah and she's my cousin. " Y/N loudly groaned as she covered her face.

"I'm an idiot!" She mumbled into her hands. Eddie laughed and gently removed her hands.

"No, you're not. It makes sense why you thought she'd be my type since she dresses like me and all. But my type is you. Not Chrissy, not rockstar chicks, fuck, not even another cheerleader. Because it's just you and it's always been just you." Eddie finally confessed. He couldn't believe just this morning he couldn't speak a word or look at her. But now he was confessing his love on a dirty curb with horny teenagers in the background.

"Just scared to talk to me?" Y/N asked.

"Yeah."

"I was too." Y/N smiled. But now she realized talking to Eddie was so easy. "I'm sorry for being jealous."

"Nothing to be sorry for. It was kinda hot." Eddie teased, a small wink as he threw his arm over her shoulder. The wink sent butterflies in her stomach as she giggled and moved closer to his body.

"How about a date? We can talk about all the things we were too scared to do." Eddie offered.

"I'd love that." Y/N smiled.

~~~

Steve smiled from the front door as he watched the two cuddle close.

Chrissy next to him with a proud smirk on her face.

"I did that." They said at the same time. Both dropped their smiles and looked at each other offended.

"You? No I did!" They said again at the same time.

"I DID!"

"I DID!"

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37

[normal-enderman]

I tend to care about taking a more realistic approach to Riptide in terms of resource management ect, so here's some random thoughts about clothes.

(minor spoilers up to episode #87)

Space management is important on a ship, so pirates tend to stick the essential clothing pieces, and change and wash them less than the average land-dweller.

Pirates don't smell great. This is just something you have to accept.

(except Gillion. Gillion smells of fish and salt and seaweed and the ocean, and never smells sweaty because he doesn't sweat in the human sense, he's just always moist)

Pre episode #87:

Chip has one shirt and one pair of trousers. When he needs to wash them, he will just walk around shirtless or in his underpants depending on what item is being washed. even for a pirate, this is a bit excessive.

he has like three pairs of underpants and he washes them concerningly infrequently

Jay has a change of clothes - she has a spare shirt and trousers, 2 bras that she alternates between, and several pairs of underpants. This is closer to the regular amount of clothes you would expect a pirate to have

After Chip lost his shirt in Allport, he borrowed Jay's spare one since I refuse to imagine him shirtless for the entire Feywild arc. My boy would be cold! :(

Jay is overall the most well-groomed due to her Navy upbringing. However, this isn't something she enjoys - more like something that she feels obligated to do. She finds washing her clothes a pain, and doesn't mind not smelling great or being dirty. As a kid she always hated washing and wearing uncomfortable clothes. As she spends more time on the pirate ship, she becomes less well-put-together and starts to drift more towards a Chip-level of cleanliness - though she promises herself she will never stoop quite as low as him. It's a matter of pride.

She does pick up his habit of walking around shirtless or in her underpants when she can't be bothered to get dressed / it's too hot / whatever. It's a pirate ship, social norms don't matter. Everyone on the ship is family and no-one cares.

She stops wearing bras when they are not on land for the same reason. However, when they come to land, she does make a concerted effort to make herself look socially acceptable and conform to standard norms regarding dress, since she knows this will get them a better reception with the land-dwellers they interact with.

Gillion's was raised to be well-groomed, but didn't have a chance to pack a change of clothes when he was kicked out of the Undersea. His clothes are stiff and encrusted with salt from all the time he spends in the water. There isn't as much of a need to wash items of clothing in the Undersea, as they are in water the whole time, and stains don't show up in the underwater gloom unless they're extremely obvious. Chip and Jay teach him how laundry works easily enough, and Gillion employs a similar strategy to Chip. However, he washes his clothes less frequently than they do as they are always being resubmerged in water anyway.

Post episode #87:

They finally get Gillion a change of clothes. He has an alternate shirt and trousers.

Since they have a bigger ship by this point, the crew has space for a few more fun/luxury items of clothing that aren't for everyday wear. Only a few - ie one special shirt - but it's still nice to have.

(Gillion has an emo band T-shirt) (yes they have emo bands in the fantasy world of Mana) (come on we all know at this point that the world doesn't conform to a consistent time period)

Jay realises she hates her current clothes because the starched sleeveless shirts she has been wearing, though they have become far less starched after a year of heavy use and improper wear, are very scratchy on her skin. She buys two softer woolen sleeveless shirts instead (ie the ribbed design a lot of the fanart of her features). She gives the old shirts to Chip

Chip buys the coat, which keeps his shoulders warm, and so he often prefers to go shirtless to show off his tattoos. However, he will wear Jay's old shirts when his tits get too cold.

[satorusugurugurl]

Inhaled everything on ur masterlist in 1 night, my boss asked me why i looked like i got no sleep 😅. (it was WELL worth it) 😴 MAY I PLEASE REQUEST a Suguru Geto X chubby reader i am so normal for geto and ur fics plsplsplspls

You're writing is FANTASTIC it makes me feel all fuzzy jdjfjfjdkf

- 🍭

Berries and Chocolate!

Summary: Suguru loves summertime because his beloved chubby girlfriend wear a shorts!!

Characters: Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,163

Warnings: smut, making out, body worship, a little food play if you squint!

A/N: As a chubby girl myself I loved writing this! Sure fun sexy and sweet (edit: it would help if I posted the story!! Lolol I'm sleep deprived!!)

Geto Suguru loved summertime. He got to take trips to the beach with you and the girls, and work was less busy, and you wore shorts. Let’s rewind a bit. You rarely wore shorts, tank tops, or dresses, all because you were insecure about your body. You had a big butt, thick thighs, and a tummy that Suguru loved. He thought every inch of you was perfect. However, we’re still insecure despite that.

Suguru would always try to hype you up, telling you how beautiful you were and buying you dresses he thought would look amazing on you, but you never would cave. From fall to early spring, it was always tights and sweaters. Which you looked amazing in! You looked beautiful in a hoodie and a tank top. But your boyfriend would be lying if he said he didn’t love it when you were short and spaghetti straps.

There was something about seeing your plump skin, how your thighs rubbed together, how he could see your breasts spilling over your bra. Your tummy, your thick thighs were. Everything about you was perfection to him. Despite him telling you that on multiple occasions, you still got shy, insisting to leave your shirt on when you had sex. Of course, your boyfriend wanted to see every inch of you, but he wouldn’t push you if you weren’t comfortable doing it.

However, your insecurities melted away when the days got longer and hotter, and the sun would blaze down on you. Because in the summer heat, you wore the least clothes you could. Making your boyfriend go feral, seeing your plump, perfect body. Seeing you hardly usually played the same way it always did. You were thrown over his shoulder and getting fucked within an inch of your life. Even though you both ended up a sweaty mess afterward.

Today was the hottest day of the year thus far. It was hot and humid, making the temperature rise. Thank God he always carried an extra hair tie because sweat was running down the nape of Suguru’s neck, making him groan. The heat was almost unbearable, but the prospect of getting inside the cool apartment had his feet moving faster across the hot pavement, longing to get inside and cool off, climb the stairs, hurry towards your shared apartment, eager to see you and chug down an ice cold glass of water.

“I’m home,” he announced as he kicked his shoes off, dropping his jacket to the floor before locking the door. We need an answer into the cool apartment, looking around. “Princess?”

“In the kitchen!” Chances were, if you were in the kitchen making dinner, there was a 50-50 chance you were using the stove or oven. If either of those were involved, he knew the apartment would increase in heat. After a long day of being out in the sun, he had had enough to last the whole week.

“Hey.” Rubbing his hand at the back of his neck, he said, “Maybe we could buy something for dinner?”

He found it as chili as the rest of the apartment. “Oh, I’m not making dinner!” His eyes followed the sound of your voice, and holy fuck; you were hot.

You were standing at the kitchen island in Black booty shorts that rode up, showing the curves of your plump ass. The band of your shorts dug into your hips, making some of your spill over the edge. You were topless, literally topless, with no shirt, no bra, just a white apron hooked over your neck and tied around your waist. Seeing your bareback on full display, Suguru’s jaw was on the floor.

“I’m making some chocolate-covered strawberries.” Your thighs jiggle as you reach over the counter, grabbing a ripe red berry from a bowl. “It’s going to be a nice cold treat for later.” When there’s no response from your loving boyfriend, you turn slightly to look up at him, showing off the side of your bare breast. “Sugu?”

Before you can even register what’s going on, Suguru has you pressed against the counter, making you gasp out, as his hands quickly work to untie the apron from around your waist. His hands grip your plump hips, gripping them and massaging them eagerly, pressing his fingers into you. His lips press against your neck, nipping and licking at your skin as his hands ever so slowly trail up and over your stomach. Gently, fingers brush over the stretch marks that line your tummy before trailing up higher and higher until his hands grope your entire breasts.

The feeling of his lips against your neck, his hands groping your breasts, and the feeling of him rocking his hard erection of your ass makes you dizzy. Your fingers, speckled with chocolate, grip the edge of the counter, holding it tight for support as Suguru rolls his hips roughly against yours, his cock throbbing inside his pants. His eagerness makes your mouth go dry as you tilt your head back, giving him more room to lick and nip at your sensitive skin.

”So fucking beautiful.” Suguru grunts against your skin, causing goosebumps to rise in his messy kisses. “Princess, you’re so fucking breathtaking.”

The desperate tone in his voice leaves no doubt in your mind that he speaks the truth, from the hoarseness behind his words to the desperation in his touch. Your raven-haired boyfriend was enthralled by you, leaving you a messy bundle of limbs. Whenever he got feral like this, your mind would go blank, jaw slack as you averted from his peering eyes. Every time he would look at you, there was a raw desire that always had you squirming eagerly against him because you wanted him just as bad.

“S-Suguru—“A wanton moan passes through your lips as he twists and pulls at your sensitive nipple between his thumb and index finger. “W-What’s gotten into you, baby?”

The twisting assault on your sensitive buds comes to a stop as Suguru somehow manages to pull his mouth away from your neck. “What’s gotten into me?” His warm, calloused hands leave your breasts, tugging the apron off completely before turning you around to face him. “You.” His hands are on your hips again, lifting you onto the kitchen island and sitting you on the cool marble counter.

Like clockwork, your hands reach down to cover your plush tummy from his view. His hands gently wrap around your wrists, pulling your hands away, allowing him to take you in. Your tummy rolls slightly as you sit up straight, and the stretch marks that line your stomach and thighs also line the sides of your perfect breasts. His hands grope the soft flesh of your tits, squeezing them and massaging them gently and trying to put his appreciation of your body into every gentle squeeze and caress of his touch.

He was obsessed with you and your body. There was no doubt or question about that. When Suguru touched you, you could feel how much he adored you. The erection in his pants told you how much he wanted you just the way that you were. Where you saw insecurity, he saw perfection.

“Me?” You gasp out as he slides your panties and shorts to the side, revealing your wet, dripping cunt.

“Yes,” he snarls loudly against your ear as the handrails back up to your breasts, squeezing them together. “You all of you, you’re perfect.” Heaps his tongue over both your nipples before sucking on both of them. “Mmm~”

The feeling of his warm, wet mouth and circling your sensitive buds has your back arching up against him: your plump stomach, his muscular chest. For a second, you almost pull away. Thinking that you won’t wear, they did such an exquisite specimen as himself with your body. When Suguru feels the slight shift of your weight, when you’re about to move away from him and his mouth, he releases one of his hands, wrapping around your body, pulling you flush against his chest, grinding his hard cock over your exposed pussy.

He watches slick coats his pants in his string of arousal. The sight of your wetness coating his still-covered erection sends shivers down his spine. He loves watching the way your thighs jiggle with each thrust against your clothed core. But he loves the sharp moans and inhales of breath that escapes your chest as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to your incredibly sexy body.

With a sharp pop, Suguru pulls himself off your breasts. “I love you, my beautiful Princess,” Suguru whispered as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I-I love you too.” The words come out in a breathless, singsong voice.

“God, I want you so bad.”

“Oh—“ Suguru watches your smaller hands work to unlatch his belt and unzip the zipper, “you can have me~ all of me~”

Suguru excitedly pulled his cock out, eager to please his Princess. With a smug grin, he grabbed her thighs before sliding your hips to the edge and grinding up against you. "God, you're so fucking soft~ Fuckin' love you~let me worship your body."

“I love you too~” you purred like a cat in heat. “Fuck~ yes, you can worship me.” Gentle hands grip your boyfriends shoulders. “You always make sure to do it~.”

He chuckled, nodding as he kissed down your neck before up to your mouth, pressing chaste, eager kisses against your lips. "Oh, I plan on it, princess~” Sliding a hand down, Suguru guides his cock slowly into your pussy. Hissing at the wetness that coats his tip, he pushes himself inside the tight muscles that pull him further inside.

“Oooh, good God.” Your back arched, pressing against his chest. You whimpered as the smell of fresh berries and chocolate flooded your senses. Suguru pushed into you, grabbing the counter and shifting the bowls. “Suguru~”

Suguru moved one of his hands to grip your back, forcing you to arch into him, and he thrust upwards, burying his cock deep into you. "I'll worship you every day, princess~"

“Oh, holy fuck!” You squeaked out as your eyes rolled back. The pleasure that rocked through you made stars twinkle behind your eyes. “Ooooh, my fuckin’ god.”

Your sweet, loving boyfriend laughed against you, kissing and biting at the soft skin around her shoulder and neck. "Oh, you're fucking delicious, baby~" his arm tightened around you while his other hand groped your hip, massaging you as he snapped his hips forward.

“Suguru~” A warm, rich laugh escaped you as you glanced down at him, the rays of the afternoon sun reflecting off your hair. Reaching into the bowl next to you, scooped up some white chocolate before smearing it all over Suguru’s lips. “Oooh~ I can’t wait to taste you~”

The feeling of you smearing chocolate against his lips made him growl, your beauty, and the dirty innuendos coming from your lips. He bucked up into you like a madman, desperate to make you cum, desperate to fill you up with his cum. "Fuck—fuck—Ahn!!" He growled, his cock throbbing inside you as he slammed his chocolate-covered lips against yours in a bone-chilling kiss.

Screams of pleasure flooded Suguru’s mouth as you cried out. Your toes curled as the taste of your boyfriend and chocolate washed over your tastebuds and lingered with the faint traces of strawberries. The intensity of the kiss, the feeling of his cock slamming into your g-spot and cervix, has you squirting as you came. You dug your fingers in his hair as your body arched against Suguru’s. Fuck, fuck he felt so good. It was intoxicating, so much so that you rolled your hips, eager to feel him cum inside you.

Luckily, you didn’t need to ask or beg for him to do so. Watching you come undone, feeling your plump legs, stomach, and breast jiggle, and the aftershocks of your orgasm. It was enough to send you tumbling over the edge. Suguru let out a roar of a moan against your mouth; your pussy tightening around him was just too much. He cummed inside, his hand tightening around her hip as he emptied his balls inside of you.

Sitting there in post-orgasmic bliss, you hummed in pleasure, your chocolate-covered finger running down his biceps. “Fuck~ Suguru~.” Your kiss-swollen lips pressed against his cheek as he recovered his senses.

"You have such an amazing body, Princess.” Suguri practically purred, kissing your neck and shoulder with a slight grumble. “God, you're fucking beautiful ~ I love every inch of you.” He threw you over his shoulder, grabbing the bowl of strawberries before stacking the chocolate on top. “Say it’s laundry day, right?”

“Ahh!” you giggled, looking over your shoulder at him. “Yeah! I just haven't changed the sheets yet.”

“Good, because we're about to make them dirty.” what could Suguru say? Your plump, beautiful body always had him ready to go!

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3

[bandgie]

okay but could you do a gamer beomgyu and fem reader trying to distract him?

a/n: I literally can, I love this prompt thank you

synopsis: Both you and Beomgyu tend to get a little competitive when playing against each other. There's nothing you won't do to make sure you win.

warnings: MDNI 18+, handjob and boobies or whatever

1.3k words

Tetris is a fun, simple game. You're given randomized shapes one at a time to fit perfectly in a line within a confined area. If you run out of space, you lose.

Beomgyu and you love playing against each other. Even if he's your adoring boyfriend, he never goes easy on you. His competitiveness gets in the way of that even being an option, but you never minded it.

You now do though, considering that he's perfectly placing the blocks in strategic positions. You always thought yourself to be above average at Tetris, but Beomgyu quickly diminishes your confidence.

Both of you are seated facing his PC monitor on separate gaming chairs. It's torture like this, you're basically forced to watch Beomgyu climb up to your highest score while doing nothing about it.

You've already begged him to take it easy on you, but he just gave you a shit eating grin instead.

Fine then, two can play at that game.

Beomgyu can see out of the corner of his eye that you're adjusting your shirt. At first, he thinks you must be getting uncomfortable from sitting for so long. Then he sees you take off your top. Okay? Maybe you're just hot and wearing a tank top underneath.

"Hey Gyu...look."

He turns to you for a brief second before going back to the screen. It takes less than a second for it to click in his brain before he does a double take.

You're completely nude from the top, breasts bare for his viewing. Hands and fingers grope at your tits, pushing them together. You even jiggle them a little for extra effect.

Beomgyu can hear the game music in the background, but it's all becoming white noise. You can see him practically salivating at the sight. Just when you think you have him, he forces his head to swivel at the PC.

"I know what you're doing," he manages to choke out. "It won't work."

He's lying. It is working, even if it's just a little bit. His fingers stutter on the arrow keys as he misplaces a block. "Fuck."

"I'm not doing anything Gyu." Yet you are. You let your thumb roll over your nipples, pulling a soft moan out of yourself. You catch your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, gently pulling on them.

"Just wanna play with myself while you're playing with that. Is that bad?"

Beomgyu's adam's apple bobs as he thickly swallows. He remains silent.

As cute as it is that he's caught between being too flustered and too focused to reply, you decide to amp it up a bit. One hand remains at your chest while the other travels down his torso. Beomgyu squeals at the contact, looking at you exploring his body before he snaps back to the monitor.

He shivers and shifts in his seat when you dip lower. Fingers finding the band of his sweat pants and quickly going underneath them.

"You said you were going to play with yourself," Beomgyu is quick to remind you.

You hum in response, feeling his growing erection through his briefs. "Wanna play with this too."

Beomgyu is hardly focusing on the game at this point. He's continuously missing his chances to place the blocks correctly. His fingers moving either too fast or too slow.

His hips move in circles when you start palming over his underwear. Your hand moves up and down in a fluid motion, even dipping far enough to cup his balls. He whines when you give them a squeeze, hair falling over his eyes from moving so much.

"You're so mean," he pouts.

You stop your movements briefly, "Should I stop then?"

"I never said that."

God, you love him. There's no ounce of retaliation when you slip Beomgyu's cock from the slit of his boxers. Though you can't see it directly, you can see the tent form in his sweatpants.

It's tempting to reach down with your other hand and play with your folds, but you would get too distracted from your real mission. You'll have to settle with playing with your tits for now. Still, you're dreaming about being on Beomgyu's lap. Humping against his groin to relieve some of the pressure growing between your legs.

The feeling of Beomgyu's cock in your hands makes a whole new rush of arousal go through you. Your nipples harden from anticipation, and you satiate them by giving a harsh pinch to your chest.

Despite having your hand down his pants and softly stroking his cock, Beomgyu is heavily concentrating on Tetris. The veins on his neck are popping out and he's letting soft moans leave his lips, but his eyes are trained on the screen.

You grip him tighter, pumping him at a faster pace. Your thumb slides over his tip to collect some of his arousal to use for lubrication. You make sure to pull his skin down with every move of your hand.

Beomgyu is never quiet when you jerk him off, and that's ever present even now. He groaning more than anything, biting his lower lip in concentration rather harshly. One of his hands is gripping the underside of his desk while the other roughly punches the arrow keys.

"After I beat your stupid fucking score, I'm gonna fuck your stupid little cunt," he threatens.

Rather than feeling intimidated, you find yourself moaning at his words. There's nothing more you want than for Beomgyu to do that, but you can't give in. Not yet.

"If you beat my score," you correct.

He laughs, though it sounds strained, "When."

You glance at the screen to see that Beomgyu's right, he's awfully close to reaching and potentially beating your score.

Now you're nervous. Your pre-cummed hand stroking him with determination. His tip is sensitive. You can tell when he hisses every time your hand engulfs it.

Both of your hands now find their way to his cock, one on top of the other. You squeeze the crown of his dick forcefully, earning a cry from him. It's tempting to make fun of the way his hips keep jerking upwards, matching your strokes. However, that's working in your favor.

Beomgyu is using your hands as a fleshlight. You're not even moving your hands at this point, just watching him rut into your palms eagerly.

"Oh good boy," you purr. "You're gonna cum all over your pants aren't you?"

That drives him over the edge. Beomgyu completely abandons his game and uses his hands to move yours. He's guiding you to his liking, uncaring for how messy it's getting inside his sweatpants. Your hands are so sticky, so warm that he's moaning at every drag of your hands.

You feel his cock twitch a few times before he cries out, his sweatpants collecting a dark patch where his crotch is.

His hot cum slides down your hands, onto his boxers. His hands fall limp by his sides, letting you coax out his high. You give Beomgyu slow, tender strokes to his cock, careful to not overstimulate him.

Once his hips start stuttering you pull your hands away. You spread the cum over your chest, slipping some fingers into your mouth to get a taste of Beomgyu.

He moans at the sight, his hand reaching for your boob to further spread his arousal on you.

"Sucks you didn't beat my score. Least you got to cum." You say, sucking off the remaining orgasm from your digits.

Rather than seeing a pouty, upset Beomgyu, he smiles wickedly at you. "Nuh-uh. Look at the score."

Your heart drops when you see the final result. Yes he was close, but you didn't think he'd actually pass you. With a score of 342,019, Beomgyu beat you by three points.

Three fucking points.

He howls with laughter, finger pointing at you mockingly. It's even worse that you're totally topless and covered in Beomgyu's cum, but that doesn't stop him from taunting you in the slightest.

He wipes a fake tear from his eye and lets out a loud Ha-ha before settling down.

"Alright babe. Lay on the bed so I can fuck that stupid little cunt."

a/n: I hope I captured beomgyu's personality right??? I know he can be a little shit and that he's super competitive.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 2.5k | tags: different first meeting, emotional hurt/comfort | summary: What happens when Steve meets Eddie Munson, who has just failed his senior year for the first time, during one of his nightly drives? | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is asking, "do you want a blanket?" by @thefreakandthehair | AO3)

Steve's life was completely turned upside down (theoretically he sees the humor in this, but in practice the trauma trumps the pun) six months and six days ago when he came face-to-face with a honest-to-God inter-dimensional monster and barely survived to not tell the tale thanks to an airtight and frankly scary NDA.

He should be over it by now, right? He shouldn't be waking up screaming, drenched in his own sweat and shaking all over, his heart racing in his chest and his stomach in his throat.

Right.

Well, he's not. He doesn't get over it. The nightmares don't go away. If anything, he feels like they're getting worse, his mind adding horrible details and things that didn't happen, but could have, to keep torturing him.

He's a fucking mess.

Steve Harrington is a mess. His grades are slipping, on their way to joining his social status at rock bottom, and even his performance as co-captain of the swim team and basketball team is suffering from lack of sleep.

The only thing he has going for him is Nancy. Nancy, who doesn't understand that Steve just wants to get over the horror and the paranoia, just wants his life back, just wants to be normal again.

She doesn't say it outright, but he knows she thinks he's selfish, too self-centered to care about anything but himself. Sure, he's made amends with Jonathan and cut ties with Tommy and Carol, but deep down, Nancy doesn't think he's changed all that much. He's not Jonathan, he's not mature and monosyllabic and introspective. Just dumb little Steve, pretty to look at but not much else to offer.

These are the things he ponders during his late-night drives when another nightmare keeps him awake. It's impossible to fall asleep with terror pumping through his veins, so instead he climbs into his car and just drives. Some nights he will drive for hours, music playing softly from one of his tapes, Queen, Springsteen, Tears For Fears, Bon Jovi.

Tonight his drive takes him to the edge of town, right where a dirt road leads to the quarry. Steve has no idea why, but something makes him actually leave the main road and turn onto it. He follows it where it leads into the woods, slowing down on the bumpy road until he sees the dense cluster of trees open up to reveal a glimpse of the starry night sky. The path seems to open up into a clearing, and just there, to the right, Steve spots an old van.

He knows the car, has seen it often enough in the parking lot of Hawkins High to know that it belongs to none other than Eddie Munson, local drug dealer and freak.

At least that's what everyone keeps calling him, and sure, the guy seems a little weird, with his speeches on cafeteria tables, his dramatic antics in and out of class. He certainly doesn't look like most of the other kids, with his ripped jeans (clearly from wear and tear rather than fashion sense), long, unruly curls, and loud shirts advertising bands Steve has never heard of. People also shit on him for his father and for living in a trailer park, but none of that sounds particularly freaky to Steve.

Knowing what he does now, though, it worries him to think of Munson all alone out here where anything could happen to him. He doesn't know Munson, just about him, but Steve couldn't live with himself if he came to school on Monday and found Munson missing. One person has already died because of his carelessness, and no one deserves to suffer the same fate as Nancy's friend Barb.

Parking his car right next to Munson's, Steve climbs out and walks around the car to the trunk to pick up the nail bat that saved his life and the lives of Nancy and Jonathan. Then he makes his way to the opening of the clearing ahead.

Stepping out of the trees, Steve stops to take in the sight before him.

Above him stretches the inky expanse of the night sky, a seemingly endless void painted with a myriad of distant stars. The moonlight danced along the jagged edges of the quarry, revealing the vastness of the rocky landscape below in a silvery glow. The only sound that broke the silence of the night was the occasional soft rustle of leaves. The air was crisp and clean, carrying with it a hint of earthiness from the rocky terrain. In this secluded enclave, far from the lights of the city, the stars were front and center, and Steve felt unbelievably small.

With his shoulders hunched over his ears and his arms slung protectively around his knees, the figure sitting on the edge of the cliff looks even smaller than he feels.

It seems that Munson didn't even hear his car approaching, and that makes Steve's hair stand on end because it means that anyone, anything could have snuck up on him. It's not safe.

Steve approaches cautiously, trying his best not to startle the other boy and cause him to fall to his certain death.

"Munson?" He asks softly, quietly, but to no avail. It still causes Munson to flail in surprise, and only Steve's quick reflexes keep him from falling over the edge. With his knees still smarting from the sudden drop to the ground, Steve has his arm wrapped around the other boy, and both of them are panting from the shock.

"Fuck, man, are you trying to kill me?" Munson's voice quavers too much to be truly biting.

Steve carefully loosens his grip on Munson and leans back to sit on his haunches. Running a slightly trembling hand through his hair, he can't help but bite back. "If you paid more attention to what was going on around you, you would have heard me coming. I wasn't really trying to be subtle. It's like you want to get killed."

Munson scoots away from the edge of the cliff and climbs to his feet to look down at Steve and the nail bat he dropped when he made a grab for the other boy. He raises a judgmental eyebrow, causing Steve's defenses to go up in an instant.

They look at each other, brown meeting hazel, until Munson breaks the silence. "By someone walking around with a nail-studded bat, you mean?"

"I wasn't going to hit you with it!" And crap, abort Harrington, abort.

Now both eyebrows look at him questioningly. "And who, pray tell, pissed off King Steve enough to deserve this kind of treatment?"

"No one! For God's sake, I thought you might be in danger and wanted to be prepared in case you were." Then he adds, "After what happened to Will Byers and Barbara Holland, you'd think people in this town would be more careful instead of hanging out in the woods in the middle of the night."

Ed-No, Munson's eyes soften at his explanation. "Shit, sorry man. You're right, I guess." Shuffling his feet, he offers his own explanation for his harsh reaction. "Just had a shitty day, I guess. I shouldn't have bitten your head off for trying to look out for me. Although I never thought King Steve would ride in on his white horse to save the school freak from unimaginable evil."

"White horse? What, like a knight? Does that make you the damsel in distress, Munson?"

Munson gets a strange look on his face at Steve's words, and before he knows what's happening, the guy pretends to faint right into his arms. He catches him just before he hits the ground and feels how cold the boy's body is in his thin t-shirt. "My savior," Munson croons, and Steve rolls his eyes at his antics. Still not a freak, but definitely weird.

Instead of dignifying this with an answer, Steve says, "You're freezing, man. What are you doing out here in the middle of the night anyway?"

Dark brown eyes search his, and Steve thinks he's never seen such expressive eyes. He can read a myriad of emotions in them and he doesn't even know the guy. Sadness, caution, defeat, and something he's seen in the mirror a lot in the last few months: fear.

"I bet you have better things to do than listen to my sad little problems. Can't imagine you're just running around town rescuing damsels in distress now, I'm sure you have places to be, a kingdom to rule..."

"Could you just drop the whole 'King Steve' crap, man? I'm not him. Not anymore. Even if nobody seems to have gotten the memo."

"Okay, woah, sorry, man. I didn't know this was such a touchy subject."

"Do you want me to call you a freak and make assumptions about you based solely on high school gossip?"

"I don't know, don't you?"

"I'm trying not to. You don't have to tell me what's going on if you don't want to. I'm just saying... I know what it's like when you can't stand lying in your bed staring at the ceiling any longer. Wanting to get out and leave whatever it is that's bothering you behind, but no matter how fast you drive, it keeps catching up with you."

He's rambling, he knows he is, he didn't plan on unburdening his heart to Eddie Munson of all people, but here they are.

"I failed senior year." Eddie finally admits in a small voice, not meeting Steve's eyes.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Fuck, man. That sucks. Can you repeat it?"

"Sure. But I... God, everyone was right all along. I'm a failure, a fuckup. Just like my dad. A good-for-nothing waste of space. I haven't even told Wayne, I can't stand the look in his eyes when I tell him". There are tears in Eddie's eyes and Steve's heart breaks for him.

"Fuck!" Eddie shouts across the quarry and a flock of birds takes flight somewhere in the nearby woods. He's shaking again, and this time it's not from the adrenaline. Steve can't really take away any of the things that are weighing on Eddie, but he can offer him something else.

"Do you want a blanket?"

Eddie's doe eyes blink at him slowly, as if he's not sure he heard him right.

"You're only wearing a T-shirt, you must be cold." Eddie doesn't deny it. "Let me get you a blanket, then."

Another slow blink, and then, "If you're...sure?"

Steve gives him a smile that he hopes is warm and reassuring. "I'm sure." He walks over to his BMW and takes the nail bat with him, exchanging it for the blanket that he keeps in the trunk of his car at all times. Tommy H. calls it the "baby maker blanket," which is so typical of Tommy that Steve wonders why he was hanging out with him at all. Maybe because he was a friend to Steve when no one else would be.

But maybe he won't tell Eddie about the blanket's history. Anyway, it's freshly washed and smells only of his detergent.

Handing it to the boy, Steve says, "There you go," before turning to walk back to his car.

"Where are you going?"

When Steve turns back, Eddie is sitting on the ground with the blanket around his shoulder, one end held open as if inviting Steve to join him.

"Back home?" It's not supposed to sound like a question, but some of his reluctance to leave seeps into it anyway. He doesn't want to go home to his empty house and bed, afraid to close his eyes in case the nightmares come back.

"Look, you don't have to, of course, but if you want, you can stay and tell me what brought you here in the middle of the night. Or not. We could just sit here in silence, totally fine with me."

Steve snorts, because even though this is the first time he's had a conversation with Eddie, he can already tell that silence doesn't come easy to him.

"If you're sure," he repeats Eddie's words back to him as he makes his way over to him.

"I'm sure," Eddie says firmly, wrapping the blanket around Steve as soon as he sits down next to him.

Many things surprised Steve that night, but most of all how comfortable the silence between him and Eddie had felt as they watched the stars until they gave way to the rising sun.

They never talked about that night again, the polite nods in the halls all the acknowledgment they allowed for what had happened.

But when Steve walks across the stage to receive his diploma in 1985, he notices Eddie's absence and his heart aches for him. He had been looking forward to seeing Eddie walk across the stage next to him, to give him a smile, a wink. Maybe even ask him out for a celebratory beer, if he's being completely honest with himself.

The sad truth is: Steve had no one to spend his graduation with, no girlfriend, no friends, just a 13-year-old know-it-all whose bedtime didn't really allow for any kind of grown-up celebration. Eddie was his only hope of not being alone tonight.

That's probably why he's heading out to the quarry again that night, bat and blanket in tow.

It's a shot in the dark, and at the same time it's not. Because there Eddie is, sitting on the edge again, small and defeated, and just as alone as Steve. Without a word, Steve joins him on the ground and wraps the blanket around them both.

"I'm sorry."

Eddie's warm weight settles against him. "Me too." Silence falls between them, and Steve thinks that's all they'll say, but then Eddie nudges his shoulder with his own and says, "I'm sorry, too. About Wheeler."

"Me too."

Steve thinks that even if he's not a poet, there's something symbolic in the way they both watch the sun rise again over the quarry.

The next time he wrapped the blanket around Eddie, it was again in the middle of the night. Only this time, Eddie is unconscious in the back of his car while Steve races to the hospital, praying to any God who will listen that this will not be the last time.

It isn't. Not by a long shot. Getting the blood out is not easy, but with Joyce's help he manages. The blanket is there when physical therapy is especially grueling, when they both sit on the porch of Eddie's new trailer, Steve holding Eddie under the blanket's protective cover.

It's there when Steve moves in with the Munsons and gets a special place on Eddie's bed, though they never make love on it. The blood was hard enough to get out, and the material doesn't look like it can take much more deep cleaning.

They take it with them when they move to their apartment in Chicago, and it's there for every bad day either of them has.

Their blanket finds its final purpose, however, with the arrival of their daughter, April. From the day their little bundle of joy moves in with them, she sleeps wrapped in the foundation of Steve and Eddie's love.

Steve may not be a poet, that's Eddie's job, but he appreciates the symbolism all the same.

[beenbaanbuun]

the show w/ choi jongho

thinking about meeting jongho at a hardcore gig. you don’t really know the band that’s playing, but you’ve heard of them and after finding yourself alone and bored on a random tuesday night, you figure you might as well!

so you take a trip down to your local alternative music club, an oversized band t-shirt handing loosely over the tiny skirt you decided to wear. you can barely see the hem of it before your fishnet-covered thighs are exposed. they bulge over the top of your thigh highs, looking just as soft as squishy as you wanted them to. on your feet rest a pair of old skool vans, beat up and a little gross after years of abuse in mosh pits and venues so disgusting that the floor always seems to be covered by a thick layer of grunge. they’re your favourite pair of shoes, the memories they hold being worth more than their prettiness.

the venue hits you in the face with the scent of stale beer and sweat; it’s gross but you can’t help but smile as you head towards the bar. theres just something so familiar about the foul smell.

“excuse me,” you say to the group of men huddling around the counter, all with full cups of beer in their grasp. they’re too engrossed in conversation to even notice you as you stand there tapping your foot, and you can’t help but let out an agitated sigh, “or just don’t move, i guess; that works too.”

you take a step forward, about to physically push your way through them. the beer that is guaranteed to be spilled down your top is just residual damage. it’s bound to happen anyway since no one can keep their drinks in their hands once a band steps on stage. you brace yourself for the angry grunts you’re about to get and then—

a hand cups your shoulder, holding you back. it’s warm, and as you look down at it, surprisingly well manicured. huh… you didn’t know men who listened to hardcore knew how to take care of themselves to that extent. you follow his arm up, slightly disappointed at the way his beige crew neck covers his arms—with the way his hand is gripping you, you can tell he’s got strength. your gaze shifts past his neck, taking note of the cute little freckle, before moving up to his face.

holy hell.

your lips part a little and you take in a shuddery breath. he’s beautiful.

his skin glows like honey in the sunlight, looking flawless even in the dim lighting of the club. the muscles in his jaw ripple beneath his skin as he clenches it; you swallow thickly. “‘scuse us, gents,” he says, his perfect lips moving in a way that has you unable to stop staring at them. and his voice? god, you want to obey every word that he says in that syrupy cadence.

you don’t even notice when the men part, only moving forward when the handsome stranger puts pressure on your shoulder to guide you through the crowd. you let him, happy to go wherever he takes you as long as his warm hand never leaves your shoulder.

he only stops when the two of you meet the bar and his gaze shifts down to meet yours. you feel your insides melt at the sight of his black irises that seem to glitter as if they hold the universe within them. you suck in a sharp breath though your nose and— holy fuck, is it him that smells that good? the scent of spices fills your head and you feel your knees go weak. your hand finds the bar, ignoring the stickiness in favour of keeping yourself upright.

“what are you drinking?” he asks in that smooth voice. the question almost doesn’t register, your brain too invested in him to even think about anything else. it takes a moment or two for you to realise that oh! he’s taking to you? and a moment or two more for you to pull yourself together enough to give a coherent answer.

“uh, beer?” you say, trying to come off as cool. he smiles and it’s the prettiest thing you think you’ve ever seen.

“you don’t sound too sure about that,” there’s a hint of amusement in his voice and it makes you wonder what his laugh sounds like. probably as beautiful as the rest of him. “i wouldn’t so sure be either; beer is gross. that’s why i’ll be having a double vodka cran… want one?”

you nod silently and his smile grows until you can see his gums. it’s adorable, and it makes your heart beat at an almost concerning pace. is it too early to break out the L word? probably, you tell yourself.

“a vodka cran it is, pretty girl,” he says, and you die a little inside. pretty girl? it’s like he’s trying to send your heart into overdrive, “i’ll have it in your hands in no time. i’m great at flagging down bar staff.” he wiggles his eyebrows as if his self proclaimed sufficiency at bars is something for you to be impressed by. you find yourself giggling, which only makes his face light up more. you swear he mumbles a quick ‘cute’ under his breath, but perhaps that’s just your delusions speaking.

he’s right, though. he does have your drink in your hand in a matter of minutes. he passes it to you with a wink and a click of the tongue before leaning over to grab two straws from the bar. he slips one into his own drink before passing you the other. you take it and slide it into your cup.

“how much was it?” you ask before descending on your straw. even as you take a sip, you never once look away from him. you watch his adams apple bob when you wrap your lips around the paper and suck; you think nothing of it.

“for you? free,” he slips his own straw in his mouth, gulping down a few mouthfuls before pulling a face at the taste. you have to agree, the vodka they use has always been pretty foul; no amount of watered down mixer can mask the taste of the cheap spirit.

you tug the straw away; the strangers eyes flick down to see the lipstick stain left on the paper. he finds himself sending a mental thank you to whoever decided to play the pre-show playlist at an unnecessary volume; at least it hides the involuntary groan he lets out at the sight.

“and for you?” you ask as you swirl your cup in your hand in the hopes of mixing it a little better, “how much was my drink?”

he goes back in for another sip, shrugging as he grins around the straw. it’s soon wiped away by the taste of the beverage, you laugh as you watch a shiver go down his spine. he pulls away and coughs.

“a gentleman never talks about money,” he says with a strained voice, “but just know it was fucking overpriced for how it tastes. does it always taste like this?”

you nod, a pained smile taking over your expression.

“unfortunately so,” you take another sip, only to find out that your ‘mixing’ had done nothing; it still tastes like shit. you purse your lips as you pull away, tensing to stop your own body from shivering. it doesn’t work; the man still lets out a chuckle as he watches you shudder. “what do you usually get?”

a sheepish look takes over his face.

“beer-”

“beer?!” you scoff, leaning forward to hit his arm gently with your fist. it can’t have hurt him, but he pulls a faux pained expression anyway, rubbing over the flesh with his other hand. it brings a smile onto your face to see him play into your antics. “you told me you didn’t like beer!”

he shrugs.

“i didn’t want you to think i’d judge you for drinking something ‘girly’,” he warps his voice and rolls his eyes as he mentions the gendered drinks you hold in your hands, clearly expressing his dismissal of the concept. “but now i’ve tasted it, maybe i am judging you. it really does taste like shit.”

“i know,” you agree.

you fall into a comfortable silence, the both of you slowly getting your drinks down you as the world seems to carry on around you. the bar bustles behind you, but you ignore it in favour of watching the man in front of you. his expressions as he rips the straw free and tips the last bit of his drink down his throat has you giggling. the way he glares at the man who bumps into you has you swooning. how he bops his head in time to the music has you falling deeper and deeper into this pit you’d found yourself in. it’s too soon for the L-word—you don’t even know his name yet—but you’re almost positive that this is how it’s supposed to feel.

you finish up your drink, wincing as the vodka burns your throat on the way down. your lips pull away from the straw and almost immediately, a warm hand covers yours. your stranger pulls the empty cup from your hand and puts it on the ledge to be taken away later. you smile, grateful for the tiny act of service that realistically shouldn’t be making your heart ache to the level it is doing. you don’t even know the man…

“what’s your name?” the sudden question startles him; clearly he wasn’t expecting the lull in conversation to be broken so quickly. he soon recovers, though, smirking at you as if your simple question was akin to you flirting with him.

“choi jongho,” he hums, “what’s yours?”

you tell him. he smiles in response, “pretty name for a pretty girl…” heat burns under your skin; you hope the poor lighting is enough to hide the way your cheeks darken.

“thanks,” you purr, “yours isn’t so bad either.”

he huffs out a breath of laughter through his nose before opening his mouth to say something else. it’s just his luck that the moment he does, the lights dim even further and a loud drumbeat kicks in from the stage.

“good fucking evening! we are—”

the microphone peaks, making you wince at the screech that echos through the venue. jongho’s eyes scrunch shut as he tries to block out the sound, but it’s too abrasive to ignore. he grabs your hand and leans in close.

“i have a feeling this is going to fucking suck,” he yells over the guitar that’s begun to warble tunelessly through the club. you nod wordlessly against him, too distracted by the sudden proximity to actually speak. “i know a pretty cool cafe near-by. it’s open late and they serve really good coffee… do you maybe want to get out of here before we lose our hearing and out will to live?”

again, you nod.

“good,” he leans in to press a warm kiss to your cheek. your heart does a fucking backflip in your rib cage. “it’s a date…”