#His hair in the nineties was gorgeous

[eddiernunson]

Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ |

Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves... difficult.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie's general appearance, unprotected piv, against the wall fucking, deep throating, daddy kink

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when | wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie's energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

Thanks for the hype on the preview! Hopefully this lives up to the hype

Thanks so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie ❤️

As the night swallows you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car as she drives you to the ER. While roughhousing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by, you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you rolled your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask you to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information, gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sitting in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain after each bout. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called as you look at memes and watch videos with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.

Your eyes flick to someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally into the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.

His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Something about him is just so enticing, drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage station, wandering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and grey tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.

You spend the next few minutes convincing yourself that it was all in your head, and that for all he knew you were zoned out and happened to be zoned out on him. It feels like a reach, especially with his torso as revealed as it was.

Time itself blurs as you zone out on your phone, attempting to distract yourself from your thumping heart and the arousal that pools into your cotton underwear. A shift in movement catches your eye, blurred and black in your periphery.

Your eyes by reflex glance up, catching a glimpse of him slouching in his chair, a foot resting on the other as knee he uses wired headphones and stares at whatever’s on his phone. Somehow, his confidence at making himself at home is still attractive, drool gathering in your mouth.

You look down at your phone before he catches you again, this visit at the ER sending a thrill through you that you didn’t expect in the least.

More and more people get called to the back, and you're still stuck waiting. Everyone who you’ve told is surprised to say the least that it’s been hours and you’re still just in the waiting room. You don’t mind though, sneaking glances at the beautiful stranger has become your favourite pastime.

Four hours in, if someone asked your highlight it would be when he head-banged to whatever assumingly heavy metal band he listens to. By the time the nurse calls your name to the back, it takes a strong second place.

About twenty minutes pass before it’s your turn for a bed, and you are let your eyes wander around, now bored of your phone. As they do, they catch sight of the man you’ve kept an eye on yawning in a big stretch. What this yawn has you so captivated by is the sliver of skin his stretch reveals, and the curly brown treasure trail that peeks from just above the hem of his low sitting jeans.

Your mouth floods with saliva. With your mouth agape and eyes subtly widened, you can’t help but gawk at him. Something about the way you suddenly picture yourself pulling him into the bathroom to nuzzle into his hair takes you aback just a little bit.

Time slows down for you, stretching into hours, but it's only seconds. Finally, as his body relaxes from the stretch you turn your eyes back to his face, hoping he didn’t see your fleeting glance. Startlingly, his eyes are already on yours. This time you can’t find it in you to look away in embarrassment. As if reading your mind, he smirks right at you, and you swear his brown eyes darken a shade.

This time for sure, he caught you. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, arms crossing over his chest as he keeps his smug expression right on you.

It’s hard to resist the smile as you go back to your phone, promising to yourself that you will remember his face for as long as you can.

-

Eddie thanks Gareth for dropping him off at the hospital, gritting his teeth at the slight pain stretching his torso gives him.

As he wanders into the hospital, his eyes take in the crowded waiting room and he groans, wishing the wound wasn’t so fucking deep.

He got stabbed. He got fucking stabbed. Wayne is going to kill him when he finds out he got into a fight, especially one where knives were in the crossfire. He couldn’t even say how the situation got so heated so quickly, just another fight in a parking lot after a deal goes sour.

The guy pulled a fucking knife on him, pushed it into his torso and ran off with the goods before Eddie could even realize he had been harmed.

All for fucking weed. Wasn’t even cocaine!

It takes a stupid amount of time for him to finally get to the nurse. She tells him to sit down for his vitals, and he refuses, wanting to show the wound and get it out of the way.

He lifts his shirt at her request, showing the darkened gauze and hissing as she takes a closer look at the wound when it’s removed. Eddie realizes the irony of exposing his chest in the triage, looking up to face the windows that allow other patients to see through.

He does a quick scan of the room, no one having seemed to notice how he’s shirtless. No one, but you. He saw you when he walked in, you were on your phone with one earbud in as you tapped your feet to whatever beat you were listening to. He thought you were cute, his mouth twitching in a smile as he notices you’re cradling one arm across your chest.

It couldn’t have been confused with zoning out, your mouth in a small O shape you openly stare at him. The look you have on your face is enough to turn Eddie on a little, having the urge to caress your face as you look up at him with those same wide eyes. His mouth twitches as he thinks of it, the thought enough to distract him from the shooting pain in his chest.

Your eyes dart away as soon as it registers that he’s looking back at you. His smile widens even more as you sink in your seat, your eyes glazing over as you scroll through your phone. Made him want to embarrass you more, in much worse ways.

After the nurse takes his vitals, he’s instructed to sit down, thanking some deity that the seat across from you is freed. You’re keeping yourself distracted, much to his dismay, so kicks his shoe to grab your attention, placing it on his other knee.

It works as well as he hopes, your eyes flickering up to him. He can’t help but look as if he can’t be bothered. In the corner of his eye, you look back to your own phone, biting your lip.

Eddie spends the next little bit getting your attention however he can, wondering how much it takes for your eyes to wander back to him. By trial and error, not much. He turns on a heavy metal band, nodding his head enthusiastically to the loud drum beats.

As time goes on, he gets more bored and waits impatiently for his name to be called. He figured stitches would be a priority, no? It’s past his bedtime, he decides, as he yawns a big stretch, despite the pain he causes for himself.

As he does, he catches the way your eyes are glued to him, particularly the strip of skin his shirt lifts to show. In real time, Eddie witnesses your eyes glaze over and how your teeth nervously graze your bottom lip. Whatever was on your mind, he desperately wanted to know, mesmerized at the way your throat swallows.

Finally, you make eye contact with him, and Eddie needs to let you know how much he just saw, your lust for him clear as day. He can’t lie, the feeling is entirely mutual, the look on your face is something he wants to see over and over as he rails— he’s getting ahead of himself.

Instead, he opts for a smirk, admiring the way your pretty eyes hold his gaze this time. He relaxes back into his chair, daring you to say something as he smiles with a hint of satisfaction…and all the cockiness his body can handle.

You shyly look back at your phone, failing to hide the smile that invades your face. It takes Eddie a moment to gain the courage, but he finally decides he can’t let you go if he's nursing a hard on in the fucking waiting room from your gaze alone.

By the time he finds a pen and paper to give your number, he’s writing it down when the nurse calls your name.

Eddie sighs, watching your ass in those jeans as you walk away. Just his luck.

-

As the new year passes, the memory of the hot stranger in the waiting room fades, much to your dismay.

The very night you had a dream where he meets you in some sort of dark room, tugging down your jeans you were wearing and wrapping those hands around your neck as he fucked you from behind.

Your hyperventilating mixed with the way your cunt spasmed as you came woke you up, taking a minute to catch your breath. That morning you groaned in frustration, wanting nothing more but to track him down.

Days passed and soon you’re in the grocery store, arm still wrapped for another week as you walk around the store for some basics. Milk, eggs, bread, all on your mother’s tab, of course. You were two seconds away from pushing your small cart to the checkout counter when you remember you're out of mouthwash.

As you try to decide whether to grab the one you liked which was not on sale or the one that was, a set of footsteps pass and settle right next to you, the customer also assessing mouth hygiene products.

The person's foot tapped, and by reflex you switch your glance down to the sound, and immediately recognize the boots. Your head moves up so fast you swear you give yourself whiplash to his face, facing the shaggy locks you found yourself obsessed with that night in the ER.

“Oh shit” you say out loud, before you could even stop it.

His eyes flicker to yours and recognize you off the bat. His smile gives way to deep dimples. He’s exactly as hot as you remember, if not more.

Of course, you can’t find it in yourself to assume he recognizes you, even if his eyes spell it out for you. “Sorry, I-I just remember you from the ER last month. How’s that stab wound?”

He chuckles, something that makes your legs clench together. “Uh, it’s better.” He comments, lifting his shirt to demonstrate. Is it unnecessary for Eddie to show his stitches? Absolutely. Did he do it for the visual reaction he missed so much? Also, yes.

Unfortunately, his bare waist is gone as soon as it appears, barely giving you a second to take in the purple stitches. You bite your lip as you glance at his face, his smirk displayed almost driving a whimper out of you.

“How’s your arm?”

“What?” You ask, incredibly distracted by the everything about him.

He chuckles pointing to the wrapped arm you can’t use as you shopped but to push the cart. “Oh, one more week then I’m free.” You comment, indicating the gauze.

“That’s good.” He comments, switching his glance back to the toothbrushes he was glancing at earlier.

How are you already messing this up? Might as well cut your losses. “Alright, nice seeing you, again.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He says, grabbing at your uninjured arm before you make your hasty exit. Your eyes peer at him curiously, wondering what he could’ve possibly wanted. “Here,”

His hands move to the leather jacket and grab a folded piece of paper to hand out to you. “What’s that?”

“My number” he answers, stating the obvious. “Shoot me a text, call me, I don’t care. Just do it. Please.”

“You’re really giving your number on a piece of paper?” You ask, tilting your head and forgetting your nervousness for two seconds. “What is this, 1986?”

He laughs, deep and whole, and for some reason it causes a heart palpitation. “Yeah, I guess I am. I planned on giving it to you at the ER, but the nurse whisked you away before I could.”

“Huh?” You ask, your brain short circuiting.

He laughs again as you accept the number, your hands holding onto it tightly as if it might disappear. He picks a toothbrush, seemingly at random and examines it, shrugging as he tosses it into his basket. “Call me,” he says, winking, and walks away from where he came from.

As he walks away, his cologne invades your senses, breath stuttering as you breathe him in. Oh, you are definitely calling him.

As soon as you’re checked out, you find yourself having to use the bathroom, so you wander to the back of the store and down the hall where the single unisex bathroom is.

It’s locked, so you check your phone as you wait, leg shaking to distract yourself from the need. When the bathroom door opens, you look up to face the patron and your brain deflates.

“Holy shit.” You gasp, facing the kind stranger, whose name you learned is Eddie from the number he gave you. You stare at one another, taking each other in, your breath heavy and your heartbeat in your ears. Why were you here, again?

Instantaneously, his hands are grabbing at the fabric of your winter jacket, tugging you forward as he places his lips on yours. Your bags drop from your hands as you gasp in surprise, your brain taking a moment to catch up.

As soon as it does, you grab onto his jacket and kiss him back, meeting his enthusiasm feverishly. His tongue darts out to meet yours, you accept it wholeheartedly, taking in how weak his lips alone make you feel.

Eddie starts to pull you backwards and into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you’re pushed up against the wall, whimpering as he moves his body against you. “Fuck.” He whispers against your lips, taking a moment to catch his breath.

You hum in response, lips reaching for him again. As you do, your hands sneak past his jacket and onto his t-shirt, clutching at the fabric as you finally feel up his torso.

“Nuh uh.” He tsks, pulling back from you. When you pout, he laughs and gives you a look of pity. “I just gotta know one thing, there, sweetheart.”

“Anything.” You promise, not knowing what you’re getting into. You just wanted his lips back on yours.

“Anything, huh?” He asks, slightly taunting you. “Okay.” He leans down, breathing down your neck as he places his lips by your ear. “What were you thinking about in that waiting room while you ogled me, sweetheart?”

Okay, not that. You sigh in embarrassment, learning he knew exactly what you were thinking while you gawked at his chest, gawked at him.

“Don’t act all embarrassed, now.” He chides, observing how your eyes widen just how he remembered. “Tell me. Tell me and we’ll do every raunchy little thing that pretty brain came up with.” He taps the tip of your nose gently with the pad of his finger. You wish he'd shove it past your lips.

Your eyes widen as the arousal floods the panties you wear. All you can do is breathe hard and attempt to find the words.

“Let me help you.” He says, shifting his weight against you slightly. “Was it my hands down those tight ass jeans you were wearing?” You gasp as his fingers barely graze your jeans’ waistband. “Or even better was my tongue on that wet cunt of yours?” You shake your head no, as much as you wanted both of those things. You didn’t even get that far. “Were you on your pretty knees?” Finally, you nod, confirming exactly what you were thinking about.

“Your cock was down my throat while I nuzzled your…” you trail off, lifting his shirt to see the patch of hair again, “oh my god.”

He chuckles, rewarding you with a wet and dirty kiss. All too soon, he pulls away. “Then what, baby?”

Your mind is dumb, trying to come up with it. “Then…then you bent me over and fucked me—” you whine as his knee bucks up between your legs and makes harsh contact with your cunt, “with your hand around my throat.”

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, teeth gritted as he gives you a look at screams with lust. “Believe me, if you asked, I would’ve.”

“Yeah?” You ask, licking your lips as your head leans back into the door. “What about your cut?”

“To hell with my cut! I had a pretty girl practically giving me the eyes, you think I care about some little scratch?”

You stare at him in disbelief, your body and breaths stilling for a minute. “Then do it.”

Eddie smirks at you, and you stare at his pretty pink lips as he leans in and kisses you, both impossibly dirty and sweet simultaneously. Eddie’s knee contacts your cunt again, this time forcing a moan out your lips. Blindly you move your hand down his chest, finally gripping the hard-on straining against the fabric of his jeans.

He gives you his first moan, a sound that opens the floodgates. “Wanna get on those knees for me, baby?”

You nod, giving one last kiss to the spot where his jaw meets his neck. Slowly, you kiss your way down his body where finally you find yourself face to face with the cock that’s pushing its way out of his pants. You fumble with the button for a second before you finally reveal him, and it’s so much better than you could’ve imagined.

So much bigger, too.

You smile up at him through your eyelashes, grateful for fates allowing you in the same place at the same time. He places his hand under your chin, licking his lips as he examines your expression of desire. “Suck my cock, baby.”

You eye his treasure trail, dipping your nose into it as you inhale his musk, uninjured hand wrapping around his thick girth. You mewl at the scent; the aroma is even better than you had imagined. One of his large hands slides itself gently along your cheek, his long thumb stroking at the apple of your sweet smile. You stare up at him, kissing the underside of the head of his cock with wet lips. Your tongue pokes out, flat as you lick it slowly, taking your sweet time, admiring the way he lets out whimpers.

“Oh…shit.”

This urges you to wrap your lips around the head, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck on it gently. You take your lips off him, spitting the excess saliva in your mouth onto his shaft, your hand slowly moves up and down, jerking his length to spread the slick along his cock. The shine is pretty, the spit accentuating the pink blush.

“Pretty cock,” you compliment him, laughing breathily as you go cross-eyed just staring at it. “Tastes better than I thought it would.”

“Did you think about tasting my cock, sweet girl?”

You wrap your lips around him again, bobbing your head up and down as you confirm what he asked with a simple hum. He’s big, the tip hitting the back of your mouth and that wasn’t even half of it. You choke on him, the guttural sounds echoing loudly against the tiled walls. A want of more of him in your mouth invades your mind, not tasting nearly enough of him.

You attempt to take in more of him, choking on it even more but struggling to, despite the desperate need. “Settle down, sweet girl,” he mutters, harshly brushing his fingers against your cheek as he peers down at you. “Relax your throat. Take all those tense muscles and relax ‘em.” You think about it, letting those reflexes remain tense to rest. You’re holding back more saliva, but you fail to realize it until your mouth is flooded with spit, overflowing past the barrier of your lips. “Oh, good girl.”

It's alien but mind numbingly arousing as you feel him move down your throat, moaning around him. His fingers comb through your hair, and roughly move against your scalp. “That’s it, breathe through your nose, sweets.”

The heel of his palms rest on your forehead, moving you up and down his cock. You find it stupidly easy to submit to him, the tip hitting roughly against the back of your throat. His groans are louder than the guck, guck, guck that are hitting wall to wall against the tiles. He’s brutal about it, increasing his speed from 0 to 100 quick as a thought.

Hot tears spill over your water line down your cheeks, trailing the makeup you wear down to your throat. Your hands weave themselves against the cotton of his t-shirt, fighting to keep letting him fuck your throat. “You’re so damn good at this, sweetheart, pretty little mouth working so well.”

He finally lets go, poking his cock against the inside of your cheek one last time, appreciating the swell as the glistening from your tears shine on your face. He uses his thumb to lift your chin up to him, his darkened eyes raking over your face. His pink lips parted, his dilated pupils, the heaving of his chest, there’s nothing you’d want more than to earn this gaze again. “C’mere.”

He lifts you by your chin up to kiss you, dirtily lacing his tongue against yours. “What a good girl you are, taking it so well.” A smile lights up your face from his praise. He tugs you back in for another one, a hum vibrating against his lips. A hand of his trails down your body, single handedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Good work like that deserves a reward, hmm?”

His large hand moves past the opened fly and works itself against your panties. A gasp escapes your mouth only at the touch of his fingers on your covered folds, mewling as he keeps his eyes trained on yours. He’s not even really moving them against you, but just his touch gives you some of the pressure you needed. “Christ, you’re wet,” he comments, dipping his head to work his tongue against your pulse. “Choking on my cock really got you off, huh?”

You nod, eagerly agreeing with him. “So big.”

He smirks, pressing pressure on your clothed folds, in small circles. “You like my big cock, huh? Is it as big as you thought it would be?”

“Bigger,” you gasp, hands grabbing on any clothes he wears anxiously.

His finger easily moves the fabric aside, finger attaching itself right to your clit. The pleasure is good, eyes fluttering closed as it grows startlingly fast. “Fuck,” you swear, your voice rough. “Eddie.”

“Hmm, close?” You nod, despite the embarrassment that floods your senses. “I haven’t even started to touch you yet, baby. I still wanted to feel that tight pussy wrapped around my fingers.”

His actions mimic his words, inserting two fingers hastily into you, moving them expertly as they fuck you. With how wet you are, his two digits slide in easily. They’re long, reaching a depth in you that you could only dream about. You gush around him, music to his ears as your whimpers grow more and more pathetic. His thumb touches your clit again, rubbing frantically.

You gasp, mewling as his teeth start to nibble skillfully along the length of your neck. “Oh my god.”

Eddie’s tongue licks a sinfully long stripe up your neck to your ear, his voice intense and husky. “Cum all over my fingers, sweetheart, make a fucking mess for me.” Your hand tangles into his hair, gripping at his root. You stutter through a sentence of whines and half-finished words, failing to convey how good his fucking fingers make you feel. “So pathetic, huh?”

The words that you wanted to say were, you make me feel so good. Instead, you say, “M-ak-m, so-so good.”

Your good arm wraps itself around his shoulders, pulling his body against yours. Against your better judgment, your other hand moves his chin so your lips kiss his desperately, wanting every wet touch of them on yours. Your whimper into his mouth, pussy fluttering around his fingers as you finally cum, drenching his fingers just as he had requested.

“There she is,” he mutters, his flat palm moving under your jacket and shirt and grazing gently along your bare torso.

It takes you a second to recover from it, still feeling the effects of it throughout your body as it lingers. You unzip your jacket, letting it fall on the bathroom floor. You can’t find it in yourself to care for the moment, but it will find itself in the wash later. As it’s a walk-in bathroom, there are poles next and adjacent to the toilet. Perfect.

“Fuck me?” You ask, eyes glazed over as they reach his.

He chuckles, hands landing on your hips. Your jeans are pushed down your legs, resting just below your knees. “I thought you'd never ask, sweets.”

You grin, pushing his jacket off his shoulders onto the floor. Before it even hits the floor, you grab onto the fabric of his shirt and step backward over your own jacket to pull him across the room to the said metal bar installed on the wall.

His fingers slink into his pocket that’s now down his leg, holding a condom between you and him. You pick it up from his fingers and fling it across the room. “I’m on birth control.”

Eddie’s hands grab under your legs when your back hits the wall, supporting you surprisingly well as your ass rests on his forearms.

He sighs, eyes half mooned as he stares down at you. “My arms are occupied, mind helping me out here?”

You giggle, spitting on your hand and grabbing between the two of you at the cock that keeps brushing against your inner thigh, moving it against your entrance. It slides in easily, the mushroom tip pushing in as two of you moan in sync. Your hand moves to the bar on the wall, starting to help him as you lean some of your weight onto it.

“How is your pussy even better than I thought it’d be?” Eddie asks, gasping in uneven breaths.

“So, so full,” you gasp back, his size far bigger than you’ve ever had. “So big.”

“You’re fucking tight, sweets.” He mutters, jaw dropping as he watches you watching him.

“Move.” You urge him, the stretch too much yet his still hips are driving you crazy. “Need you to move,” It comes out as a pathetic whine and you know it, but you’re long past caring at this point.

“Say no more,” Eddie mutters, starting to move slowly, his hips rolling perfectly against you.

He hits deep and he hits hard. “Just like that! Fuck!”

“Your pussy, fuck, baby, yours is just a new fucking standard!”

You curl into his neck, nipping and starting to mark the pale skin with purple, teeth digging in harder the faster and harder he fucks. You can’t answer his compliment, but the way you tighten around him is confirmation enough that you are in complete agreement with him. It’s like he knows exactly how you like it before you tell him, intuitively knowing you before even has the opportunity to find out.

He watches every reaction you give him carefully, how your legs tighten around his waist, your hands twisting themselves in his shirt, the mewls that leave your mouth mixed with words that you never finish, he takes every hint as gospel. He’s always intuitive to what a partner of his needs, but you’re a special case, every reaction you give him only makes him insatiable for more. The way your eyes roll back in your head is everything he’s ever wanted to see from you and more, never could he have imagined anything like this when you glanced at him in the E.R.

“Fuck, your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum, sweets,” Eddie moans, fingers digging into your bare thigh, the pressure surely bruising the skin.

“Choke me.” You gasp, voice desperate for him.

“Hands are occupied, babe.” He answers, gruff and brows furrowed.

You tap the bar, using both hands now. “I got it.”

He whines, high-pitched and gorgeous. The kind of whine you listen to on men whimpering audios. Maybe you can make it happen more. Maybe one day he’ll let you worship him for a few hours…the idea is enticing. His large hand wraps itself around your throat, the metal of his rings causing harsh friction on your neck. He admires the way you revel in it, tongue poking out of your mouth like the slut you are for him. “You’re more of a slut than I thought you are, hmm?”

You nod, his strong arm flexed and mouth watering. The drool that slips down your tongue is pure proof of it, dampening your shirt in a little streak.

“What a good little pathetic slut,” he grins, rubbing your jawline with his thumb. His grip tightens, only enough to send stars in your vision.

You tap his arm, begging him for air. “A slut for you.” You gasp, whining for him. “Want your cum, please, please cum in me.”

“Can you beg for me one more time?” He asks, your question almost making him erupt on the spot.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, arms starting to lose their strength. “I wanna be dripping from you, so bad.”

“Yeah, want Daddy’s cum?” he asks, hands gripping into your hair.

Of course, this man has a daddy kink, you couldn’t expect anything less from him. “Yes, Daddy.” You whine, grinning at his hold on you. “Fill me up.”

“Baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up—Jesus Christ.” He interrupts himself, cutting himself off as he ruts into you a final, gasping, sweaty time. He twitches in you, feeling him fill you up as some of starts to trickle out of your pussy and down your thigh.

His hand lets go of your hair, wrapping around your torso as he pulls you into an embrace. This is the kind of sex that takes time to recover from, both out of breath, his dick still twitching. A smile takes over your features, invading every muscle in your face.

“So, think you’re gonna call me?” He asks, hand moving itself under your shirt to gently brush against your bare skin.

“I’ll definitely text you.” You answer, chuckling at the annoyed look he shoots you when he pulls back in your embrace. “Oh, come on.”

He chuckles, and for some odd reason the last thing you expect from him is another kiss, his lips working marvelously against yours. They’re much gentler, much sweeter than you expected, yet everything you’d crave from him.

“What was that?” You ask, watching his two gorgeous brown eyes.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you go after that?” He asks, half a smile on his face. “Wanna come to my place later?”

“Later?” You ask, one eyebrow quirked at him.

“I’m heading home right now, wanna join me?” He kisses the top of your eyebrow, your cheekbone, your jawline, your still covered shoulder. “I kind of need to spend a few hours with my nose buried in that pretty little cunt of yours.”

Your jaw drops, your mouth drying completely from his admission. “Y-yeah, th-that sounds nice.”

He laughs at your stutter; your pussy having tightened around him upon the mention of it.

Three knocks hit the door, loud and abrupt. “Hurry the fuck up!”

You look at one another with wide eyes, laughing at the disruption. He backs up, his cock leaving your entrance being a loss you whimper at. “Don’t worry, sweets. I will fuck you more than enough times to satisfy that need.”

“Dunno,” you start, legs shaky as you land on them, “I think I’m pretty insatiable at this point.”

“Then we’ll just have to keep going, won’t we?” Eddie asks, pulling his jeans and boxers up his legs.

“And if I’m never satisfied?” you ask, tilting your head as you pull up your own pants.

“Well then I guess we’ll just never stop.”

You grin at his answer, biting your lip excitedly.

The silence is comfortable as you pick your jackets back up and the bags on the ground. His fingers intertwined with yours, leading you down the hall past the angry customer and out the front door of the store.

He offers to eventually take you back to your car when you need to go back home, wanting more time with you even if it’s the mere ten minutes that it takes to get to his apartment.

Not one moment is wasted as he yanks you to his bedroom, pushing you onto his bed. As promised, your jeans are yanked down your legs quick as can be, burying his nose deep in your cunt.

Only after the eighth orgasm does Eddie yank off your clothes, followed by his, finally skin against skin as he rails you in every position, even the ones you didn’t know were possible.

You might have to thank your brother for spraining your wrist, it’s the best thing he’s ever done for you.

-

Thanks for reading! I read every comment and tag you leave and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

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[writing-fanics]

lady with the butterfly necklace in the portrait [part one]

[summary: angel asks about the portrait of a woman in the hallway]

[warning: angst: mentions of death]

Lucifer at the portrait in the lobby of the hotel. Staring longingly at the woman in the portrait, her [hair length] hair and [e/c] eyes. She was absolutely gorgeous he felt a twinge of pain, as he reached out towards the portrait. How his heart ached, as he placed his hand on the portrait.

Her smile could light up any room, and make anyone smile. She was beautiful, the butterfly necklace wrapped around her neck. Her smile her portrait, portrayed her with grace and poise.

Angel looked towards Lucifer, as he stared at the portrait “You’ve been gawking at the portrait for minutes?” He said, walking up behind him causing the king of Hell to glance over at him.

“Who’s that?” asked Angel, curiously as he liked this popsicle. Lucifer smiled softly reminiscing on the good times he spent with her, “She was my wife,” said Lucifer, his smile faltering the pain in his chest unbearable.

Angel looked at the portrait, of the lady. A young Charlie sat on her lap, smiling. A butterfly hair clip in her hair. Lucifer stood beside his wife and daughter, smiling.

Angel looked at him and folded his arms across his chest, “Where is she now?” He asked, blatantly.

Lucifer eyes lowered to the ground, fixated. He looked slowly back up at the portrait, he missed her so much that it hurt. He should’ve stopped her, he should’ve protected her. He should’ve been a better husband.

Angel figured it out by the silence, and had an inkling that she was no longer with us. Yet, his blatant curiosity and slight being noisy got the better of him. Force of habit.

“She was amazing, loving, kind, i see as much as her in Charlie as much as I see myself.” He said, and Charlie looked at him sadly. She vaguely remembered that how her father, completely broke down.

“S-She..” He shuddered, looking down using his cane to support himself. He still remembered that day as if it were yesterday. The look of horror and sadness plastered on his face. When he opened the door, and a sinner demon was holding the lifeless body of their queen.

His wife

His partner

He stared at the floor for a moment, as tears threatened to brim his eyes. “There was a knock at the door,”He said, looking back up at the others.

Her wings torn from her body and stained with, gold ichor. She looked peaceful and had a faint smile, on her lips. Her body covered in scratches and cut. A slash around her neck, stared blankly and took her body into his arms.

His eyes turned into slits and the sinner demon bowed, and apologized for his loss. “S-She told me to tell you to take care of Charlie for me, and that she loves you two more than anything.” The demon said, sadly and Lucifer just stood there emotionless.

He didn’t notice Charlie rubbing her eyes, as she walked up behind him. Wondering what her father was doing at the front door, until she noticed. “Mama?” said Charlie, curiously. Lucifer world seemed to spin, how much more can Heaven take from him. His wife and unborn child was gone.

“She died protecting what few sinners she could,” He said, clearing his throat. “She was pregnant,” He shuddered, placing his hand over his mouth and dragging it downward. Angel looked at him sadly, almost regretting having asked the question entirely.

Angel seethed his teeth, feeling bad. “I didn’t mean to-” said Angel, but was interrupted by Lucifer.

Lucifer shook his head, “No, it’s okay, it happened awhile ago.” He said, even though it was true it happened ninety years ago. The memory was still fresh and it felt like it happened yesterday.

There were nights he couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning. Still missing the warmth of his beloved of his partner, her laughter that used to wake him up every morning as Charlie leaped into their bed. Her absolute beautiful singing voice, and how the rare butterflies of hell would flock to her. As if she was their queen.

“S-She sounds amazing,” said Angel, as he looked at the portrait, and a smile grew across Lucifer’s lips. “Yeah, she was.” said Lucifer, as he gripped the ring around his neck being held by a chain.

A duck swam towards the edge of the pond in Heaven, there sat a woman humming to herself. A scar around her neck as she began to feed the ducks. She giggled, as one flapped its wings at the sight of the bread. She lifted her head revealing her [e/c] eyes.

[zriasstuff]

Love is embarrassing

Mattheo Riddle x reader (fluff imagine, idiot in love :3)

Warning: mischaracterization ? maybe. but since he is made up anyway i get to write painfully self indulgent stuff :) anyway click on masterlist for more

Once you caught his eye, there was no way he wasn’t going to make you his. But you were different from all his other crushes. Around you, he somehow felt…nervous? Mattheo Riddle’s vocabulary certainly didn’t entail “nervous” nor “rejection”, yet those two things consumed him like they never did before.

Of course he would eventually face his fears, but before he got there he would simply have to satisfy himself in other ways. If approaching you wasn’t an option, staring at you from afar definitely was.

And before he forgot, he promised himself that he wouldn’t tell his friends. Not yet at least. He really didn’t feel like being ridiculed for being shy.

Staring from afar turned out to be quite the feasible option. Since you sat across the room from him in most classes, he would only have to put his head in his hand and there you were. The most perfect face he’d ever seen, flowing hair and just the right amount of cute and sexy. Everytime you ran your hand through your hair and flipped them in the most elegant way, his pupils grew wider.

Seeing you awakened the inner protector in him. He just had to be by your side. As long as he wasn't, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy a peaceful day.

And just then his day took a pretty embarrassing turn. “Mr.Riddle, if you could stop staring at ms.y/n for just a second, you would’ve maybe heard my question the first time. But I am going to ask again…”

All the students immediately burst out laughing, his friends being the loudest. They couldn’t help but turn their heads towards you too, to see who the Mattheo Riddle was checking out. You could feel your cheeks heating and tried hiding your face a little. Why did Snape have to be such a prick about him not paying attention…

Mattheo grinned awkwardly at his comment, trying to play it off. Unfortunately his friends weren’t going to let this opportunity to embarrass their boy go.

“AWEEE MATTYS’ GOT A LITTLE CRUSH”, Blaise yelled across the room, causing even more outrageous laughs from everyone.

Tom wasn’t helping by loudly announcing “Don’t say that Blaise. It’s not a little crush, if anything it’s a big boy crush.”

More mocking and laughter followed his doom. He looked over at you, to see how you were reacting. He swore if this was what ruined his chances he would strangle everyone, including Snape, one by one…

It was like you could read his thoughts because instead of the reassuring look he’d hoped for, you were giggling with your friends. The chances were beginning to look slimmer and slimmer.

“That’s enough”, Snape finally chimes in, “quiet down now, or you will all have to write a three page essay.” For the rest of the class Mattheo’s mind kept spinning. How could it not.

Although his friends were idiots ninety nine percent of the time, there were rare moments of wisdom. This time was not one of them. Their advice was simply “stop being such a pussy, mate.” Eloquently put as always, but they had a point. He had to remind himself of who he was again. So what if Snape embarrassed him in front of everyone? Wasn’t he handsome and charming enough for it to just make him seem more adorable?

Eventually you two got to separate yourselves from your friend groups, allowing you to enjoy an actual conversation.

…

“So am I getting my hopes up for nothing, or were you genuinely staring at me?”, you bluntly ask him. You had to know whether Snape only said that to punish him for no reason, or if he actually had a point.

“What do you think, gorgeous?”, he cheekily replies. “I wonder how anyone could not stare at someone as pretty as you”

“You’re so stupid”, you chuckle at his attempt to charm you.

“Stupid is not something you should be calling your future boyfriend you know”

[general-fanfiction]

Intimate Treasures. (Steve Harrington x Adult Store Worker!Reader)

Word Count: 4.5K

Y/N works in an adult store and Steve can't seem to stay away.

Warning: Smut, p in v sex, cunnilingus (m and f receiving), dirty talk, knife kink, sex toys, mature language

Weekdays were always slow at Intimate Treasures, most people either working their regular 9-5’s or simply too embarrassed to be caught in an adult store mid week. Opting to discreetly shop on a Friday or Saturday night, hoping nobody will catch them. I often find myself amused by the actions of our customers, ninety percent of which seem to be ashamed of themselves for purchasing such ‘dirty’ products, as they like to call them.

Upon the opening of the store, many citizens of Hawkins were vocal of their displeasure at the presence of such a place. Believing that there was no place in the town for us. They argued that by opening within the Starcourt Mall, we would be indoctrinating their children into believing that sex is something that should be enjoyed and explored freely. Rather than an act of love that should only be taking place once married for the sole purpose of reproduction. There have been numerous occasions when I’ve argued with people about this, lecturing them on the importance of sexual liberation and safety rather than shaming people for their choices.

It was during one of these arguments that I met him for the first time. Wrapped up in a heated debate with none other than the local priest who was offering to save me from hell, I almost missed the mop of fluffy brown hair that hesitantly crossed the threshold of the store. He was trying to act casual, as though being here was no big deal, but I could tell he was nervous. Fumbled movements causing him to almost knock over a display of free condoms. To which he pocketed a few in the shorts of his little sailor outfit.

“What you are doing here in this store is sinful, I am only looking out for you young lady.” My eyes snap back to the priest who is glancing around the place in utter disgust, one hand gripping the cross around his neck, the other clutching a Bible.

“If you think this is sinful, you should see what I do in bed, old man.”

Despite losing sight of the sailor, I hear a muffled laugh coming from down one of the aisles and I can’t help but feel pleased that I’m not necessarily alone in this argument.

“You could be doing so much more with your life! You don’t need this filth, the Lord can set you on the right path if you would just let me cleanse you of your impurity.” The man pleads, his words failing to provide the impact he is hoping for.

Resting my elbows on the countertop, I lean towards the priest, hoping he pays attention to me. “Listen, I know for a fact that the Bible doesn’t specifically mention anything about sex toys or masturbation and not all of us are lucky enough to be in a relationship. Though I’m sure your wife isn’t exactly thrilled with her sex life.” 

He gasps at my words, shuffling towards the door whilst muttering about ‘young dirty girls of today��. 

“Be sure to send your wife in, her first vibrator is on me!”

As the door swings closed behind him, I let out a sigh of relief. Completely fed up of having the same arguments over and over again. My eyes fall back down to the stack of boxes by my feet, filled to the brim with new lingerie sets that need putting out on the shop floor. 

Not wanting to waste any time, I quickly add the inventory to the system before hanging the black latex to the hangers. I won’t deny, it’s a gorgeous set. Shiny black bralette, so thin that the strap of fabric is only big enough to cover the nipple, with a matching thong, which also happens to be just as small. It leaves very little to the imagination, and I would be tempted to spend my paycheck on it, had I anybody to wear it for.

Finding a spot in one of the aisles, I begin to hang the various sizes on the wall. Careful to make sure that they’re all in size order so that they’re easy to find. A shuffle of feet towards the end of the aisle pulls me from my thoughts, the sailor intently staring at different wand vibrators. Every few seconds picking one up before putting it back with a shake of his head.

“Need some help?” I ask, hanging the last of the lingerie up and strolling towards him.

His eyes widen as I stand next to him, a deep red blush rising on his cheeks and I can’t help but smile softly at his awkwardness. I’m never one to assume, though I’m fairly certain this may be his first time in any adult stores. If his blush is anything to go by.

“Sorry, I just don’t really know what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

“Something for your girlfriend?” I push, the question slips off my tongue easily, one I generally ask all the male customers that look in need of assistance, yet something in me is praying that he answers with a no.

I won’t deny that he’s attractive, even with the unfortunate attire that he appears to be sporting. He has a boyish look about him due to the costume, it’s cute and soft. However, his chestnut brown eyes are dark and I can tell that he is very much a man. 

“No, no girlfriend.” He admits, shoving his hands in his pockets, as he does so I’m able to catch a quick glimpse and notice the large size, backs of his palms displaying very prominent veins and I can’t help but squeeze my legs at the sight.

I’m not entirely sure what’s wrong with me. Never usually finding someone so attractive upon meeting for the first time, yet I’m practically drooling over the man in front of me. Even if I am putting on a very cool front.

“This is kind of awkward to admit but I wanted a vibrator you know for when I do have girls over. Just for something different I guess, in case my performance doesn’t cut it.”

I’m taken aback by his admission, most men refusing to believe they couldn’t be absolutely incredible in bed and insisting they’re only getting a toy because their wife wouldn’t stop pestering. To have a man so open about possibly not being perfect is refreshing and I realize I’m most definitely going to need some ice cold water then this customer leaves.

“Oh wow, that’s so thoughtful of you.” I tell him, moving slightly closer to the wall of products in order to assist him as best I can. Carefully, I grab a hot pink box, offering it to him. “So this is the newest wand vibrator we have, it has three different settings and a very long battery life. Trust me any girl would love it, it only took me about five minutes to cum when I used it for the first time.”

His eyes are focused on the box, teeth catching his bottom lip as he reads the information on the back. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, truly reading everything about the product in his hands. Something about him intrigues me, whether it be the sailor outfit or the fact that he truly cares about his sexual partners, I’m not sure.

“I’ll take it, thank you.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second time that the interesting sailor entered the store was only two days later. A Thursday evening, most of the stores in the mall were closing for the day, not us however. Opting to stay open later for more of a sense of privacy.

I’m idly flipping through one of the latest editions of Playboy magazine, staring down at the women sprawled out on the pages. They ooze confidence and sex appeal, something I could only dream of. Whilst I wouldn’t say I necessarily lack confidence, I most certainly do not have a string of guys desperate for my attention like the women in the magazine.

Completely wrapped up in my own thoughts as I turn the page, it’s only when a handful of products are placed on the countertop that I glance up. Boredom evident on my face, I’m counting down the minutes until I can close the store and head home for the night. That is, until I realize who the customer is.

“I didn’t think girls were into Playboy.”

Running a hand through his perfectly styled brown mane, he smiles at me as he speaks and I struggle to hide my excitement at his return. Though there is still a hint of red on his cheeks, he seems calmer this time, clearly less embarrassed by his visit.

“I don’t know if you can tell, but we don’t exactly stock academic reading material.” I joke, beginning to ring the items through the till.

Bottle of lube, metal handcuffs and black bondage tape. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no stranger to the kinky items that I ring out on a daily basis. Yet, something about the handsome sailor buying them has me weak at the knees and I have to look anywhere other than his face as I bag everything for him.

“Hey, I just wanted to thank you by the way.” Finally making eye contact with the man, I can’t hide my confusion at his words. “For your help last time, the vibrator was a big hit.”

“Oh right yeah. No problem at all, I’m glad I could offer my assistance.”

My smile falters, why am I jealous? I shouldn’t be jealous, I should be pleased that I could help another customer. Pleased that I’m allowing others to enjoy their wants and desires. However, something about knowing the stranger has already used my suggestion on another woman hurts. I sound desperate, it’s not like me to get hung up on a man I have only briefly interacted with twice and yet here I am.

“No seriously, it was the most intense hook up I’ve ever had and it’s all thanks to you.” He rummages through his pockets as he speaks, before sliding a piece of paper across the countertop.

Free ice cream on me - Steve.

“I work at Scoops Ahoy, figured I owed you one.”

“Now the sailor outfit makes sense.” I laugh softly, carefully folding the piece of paper and slipping it into my pocket.

“I know. It sucks, does not help me woo the ladies at all.” He smiles bashfully, handing me the cash to pay for the products.

“I think it’s cute.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop myself and my head drops to the floor, shaking it lightly, humiliated by what I just said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it’s just-”

“Good to know, I’ll see you later.” He looks at me expectantly, awaiting my name, as he makes his way towards the exit.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll see you later Y/N.”

The moment the door closes behind him, I slide to the carpeted floor, head in my hands, afraid I may have just completely made a fool of myself in front of Steve. Doing my best to get over how mortified I feel, I quickly stride to the door and flip the sign to closed, not wanting to humiliate myself further in front of any more customers tonight, even if I am technically supposed to be open for another hour and a half.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear to God John, if you take these home and add them to your wank bank, I am going to kill you with my bare hands.”

This week seems to be one embarrassing event after the next, standing in nothing but the new micro black latex lingerie, I pose awkwardly in front of the only blank wall in the building, allowing the store owner to take photos of me on the polaroid. 

“Listen, we need to advertise what we have on offer, putting these pictures in the window is bound to gain more customers. Not to mention the added benefit of being served by the hot girl plastered in the window.” He states as though it's obvious, shoving a large kitchen knife into my hand which I take reluctantly. “Now spread those legs and lick the knife.”

Dropping to a squat, I spread my legs wide open, raising the knife to my mouth and seductively licking a stripe down the edge, careful not to cut myself. I may as well be completely naked with how little the lingerie covers, moving the knife to cover my vagina, I feign a gasp as he snaps another photo.

“You’re a natural, I’ll put these in the window and then I’m off for the night.”

I throw the knife on to the counter as I watch with folded arms how John sticks up the photos by the door. No doubt we’ll have complaints as each photo has me in increasingly compromised positions. It’s borderline pornographic.

Catching glimpses of the photos every couple of seconds, I can admit that I do look good. Incredibly good. They’re sexy and I feel empowered, it’s just a shame that they have to be on display for everybody to see. I’m all for being sexually liberated, I’m just not sure I believe everybody should be allowed to see me in such a vulnerable environment.

John leaves with a quick wave in my direction, flipping the sign on his way out so that I can finish my closing tasks in peace. Throwing myself down on the couch beside the window, I feel the shame start to flood my body. I begin to feel dirty and used, allowing my boss to take advantage of the fact that I have to follow his orders. 

Is this how the women in Playboy feel? Never once have I questioned if selling dirty magazines is unethical, believing that the woman in them felt free and proud that they can be so open and sexual. Now I’m starting to think that perhaps that isn’t the case.

With my head resting against the back of the couch and my eyes fixated on the uneven tiles on the ceiling, I hear the door click open beside me. Internally sighing, I don’t avert my gaze as I speak.

“We’re closed!” Voice snappier than I intended it to be, however, I make no effort to apologize.

“I know, I’m sorry. I was just hoping you’d be here.”

Swinging my head to face the direction of the door, I match the voice to the speaker. Steve stands awkwardly in the entryway, eyes trailing over my body as I stand to greet him. His mouth drops open slightly, rubbing a hand over his plump cherry lips. Glancing down, I remember that I’m still only wearing the lingerie and heat floods my body.

“Shit, sorry. One second.” 

I awkwardly jog to the back of the store as best I can in the heels strapped to my feet, I’m careful to wrap the long satin robe tightly around myself before making my way back over to Steve. Who stands in the same spot, unmoving. Eyes focused on me as I lean against the counter, arms crossed over my body in an effort to keep the robe covering me.

“So what can I help you with?” I ask, voice shaking every so slightly due to the interaction only moments ago.

“You look incredible in that.”

Although my eyes are firmly fixated on the ground, I smile nervously at his words. Hearing the shuffle of his feet, I look up only to see him standing just a couple of feet away from me. Clad in his sailor uniform once again, I allow myself to gaze over his physique. Thick legs that wear the shorts well, tight in all the right places. Arms defined showing off the muscles he has built. Pulling myself from my thoughts, I round the counter, hoping that the distance between us will ease the ache between my thighs.

“Steve I really should be closing, did you need help with something?”

I notice his eyes fall to his shorts, an impressive tent having formed and I have to hold my breath so as not to drop straight to my knees. Without a word, he slowly reaches across the counter, gently knocking the robe from my shoulders, exposing me to him once again.

“Just tell me to stop and I will.” He speaks quietly, so quiet I almost don’t catch it.

There’s a look of animalistic hunger on his face, one that is new to me. A stark contrast to the boyish smile he usually sports. Within seconds he’s leaning across the counter, capturing his lips with mine, one hand tightly grasping the back of my neck for support, whilst I grip at his shirt. His kiss is fuelled by passion and while it’s rough there’s a feeling of comfort that I can’t describe.

Without thinking, I’m striding back around the counter, pushing him backwards so that he flops down on the couch. Allowing me to take a seat on his lap, his erection firmly pressed in between my thighs, if I weren’t so focused on the moment, I’d most certainly be embarrassed by the wetness that begins to drip down my thighs.

Grinding myself slightly, I tug at his top, pulling it over his head quickly before throwing it behind me. His lips attach to my neck and I can feel him sucking gently, determined to leave a mark. A moan escapes my lips before I can stop myself, sparking a fire in his eyes as he grips my hips, guiding them to roll over his clothed length even harder.

His fingers move with haste as he works at the knot holding the flimsy bralette together, prying it off my body the moment the ties become loose. Grabbing his jaw, I pull his face back to mine, kissing him with burning desire as his hands move to palm my breasts. Our tongues entwine as his fingers brush over my nipple, releasing a soft gasp from me, to which he takes advantage. Dipping his head to suck and bite marks into my chest, I grab his hair tugging softly with every moan that he extracts from my body.

I can hear a groan escape his mouth, to which he covers it up quickly by dragging his tongue over my nipple. His hands playing with the other so as not to focus all his attention solely on one. Steve sucks gently, drawing unholy moan after moan from my body as I continue to feel the heat between our bodies.

Tipping my head back and pushing my breasts further into him, I find myself pushing a hand between our bodies. Slipping under his shorts and offering a short squeeze, causing the man to murmur a soft fuck as he continues to play with my nipples. From feeling his length in my hand, I can tell he’s big, bigger than I anticipated and much bigger than I’ve ever had. It scares me equally as much as it excites me.

It’s only when I begin to start delicately stroking up and down, that he pushes me to the side. Throwing me onto the couch gently so that I am laid on my back with him standing over me. As he smiles down at me, I can’t help but find the contrast between his soft smile and the dominance he has just been displaying amusing. A cheeky grin evident on my face.

“Where’s that knife?” He asks, fingers brushing over my throat as he stares down at me.

“Knife?” 

“From the pictures.”

Nodding my head towards the countertop, I watch eagerly as he grabs it, clenching my thighs together as my mind drifts to what he is going to do with it. Much to my surprise, he gently pulls my body up so that I’m sat upright, before settling on his knees between my thighs. Pushing the thong to the side, he presses the blunt side of the knife to my heat, trailing it between my folds. When he removes it, it glimmers with the slick that is now definitely dripping onto the couch.

“Lick it.” He raises the knife to my mouth and I brush my tongue against it as directed, immensely turned on by the entire situation. “You’re such a good girl.”

If his words didn’t make me moan, I do when his tongue makes contact with my clit. Head falling back as I close my eyes, focused only on the pleasure he is giving me. Despite not having my eyes open, I am acutely aware of Steve reaching up to my throat and holding the sharp side of the knife directly on my neck. Pushing it gently, though not so much to draw blood.

“God, you’re such a good girl.”

He switches between sucking and licking my clit, his free hand moving to push two fingers into me ever so slowly. The sounds are inherently sinful, the way he’s lapping up everything I can offer him is downright filthy and yet I feel like I’m in heaven. He devours me as though I’m his last meal, moaning against me, vibrations adding to the already exhilarating pleasure I’m experiencing. God, if this is what he can do with his tongue, there was no reason for him to buy a vibrator.

As he continues to push his fingers into me at an unruly pace, his tongue swirls circles against my clit, pushing me further and further to the edge. My stomach feels tighter and I try to close my thighs, though he reacts by pushing the knife closer to my throat, reminding me of its presence.

“Holy fuck.” I whisper, coil within me snapping and my legs twitching as he continues to lick up anything I have left.

With a pleased grin, he pulls himself away from me, rising to his feet and even in my post orgasm daze, I drop to my knees. Hurriedly pulling his shorts down to his ankles, I grab his erection with both hands. Mouth falling open in shock as I wrap both my hands around him.

“Jesus Christ.” My voice is almost silent yet Steve still hears me, chuckling at my words.

“You gonna be able to handle it?” He asks and I waste no time in nodding, gazing up at him, eyes filled with lust. “Yeah you are.”

In an attempt to calm my nerves, I hesitantly lick from the tip to the base, mouth watering as I hear Steve’s breaths become shakier. Wrapping my lips around the tip, I slowly begin to bob my head up and down, unable to take the whole thing but trying my hardest. I allow myself to coat his member with my spit, using my hands to stroke whatever I can’t fit in my mouth. He bucks his hips involuntarily with a deep guttural moan and I can’t help but gag, eyes watering as he hits the back of my throat. 

Pulling back with a gasp for air, I continue to stroke him with one hand, the other reaching for his balls. As I lean in to go for round two with my mouth, he grabs my hair softly, pulling me to look up at him. With mascara streaks running down my and saliva falling from one corner of my mouth, Steve smirks.

“I’d let you do that forever if I wasn’t so desperate to feel you.”

He helps me up, pushing my body over the countertop, before pulling the thong off me completely. I spread my legs for him, allowing him to see the effect he has on me, he circles my clit with one finger as his other hand grips his length. The tip smacking against me as he nervously rubs it over my hole. 

“Steve please, I want you so bad.” I beg, feeling myself clenching around nothing as he teases me.

“Fuck you’re perfect.” He cautiously pushes the tip into me, my hands gripping the wood of the countertop at the stretch and I squeal slightly, from a mixture of pleasure and pain. “My perfect girl.”

He continues to push himself inside of me for what feels like an eternity, just when I think I’ve taken him all, he pushes further. I’ll admit it has been a while and with Steve’s size, the stretch burns and yet I want nothing more than to feel him inside of me forever.

The gentleman he is, he stills once completely sheathed within me, awaiting confirmation from me that he is able to move.

“Steve please fuck me now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice and instantly pulls himself out, almost completely before slamming back into me. Balls slapping against my clit in a way that teases me as he practically rips me in half. One hand pushes on my back, firmly holding me down against the counter as he continues to pound into me. The other grips my hip, knife still in hand though neither of us seem to pay any attention to it. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you.” He states between moans, slamming into me at an almost brutal pace.

I’m able to slip one of my hands between the wooden surface and my body, bringing it to the space between my legs and gently teasing my clit, resulting in a string of profanities falling from my lips. Steve notices this and bats my hand away, taking over himself. His fingers are like magic and combined with the way he is ramming himself into me, I can feel myself on the brink of cumming once again.

“Oh my god, Steve I’m so close.” 

Upon hearing this, he pulls my body upright, peppering kisses along my shoulders and the nape of my neck as he continues to drill into me at the same rough pace. Within a matter of seconds, I find vision spotting as I fall over the edge. Thighs sticky and wet with the remnants of my second orgasm. Steve allows me to fall back onto the countertop, continuing his assault on my vagina and the overstimulation drives me crazy. I’m a complete moaning mess and by the time he stills with a soft grunt, I have even more tears in my eyes.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He murmurs, pulling out of me gently and pressing yet another kiss to my neck.

Turning around to face him, he has a lazy fucked out grin on his face and I can’t help but feel proud that I’m the reason for that smile. I smile at the thought, and at the feeling of his cum beginning to spill out of me and down my legs. Steve takes my hands in his and flops back onto the couch, wrapping his arms around me as I rest my head on his chest.

“You know I actually came here hoping I would work up the courage to ask you on a date but this was so much better.” He admits, nuzzling his nose into my hair.

“Wow so I missed out on a date?” I tease, hugging into him even tighter.

“I mean, we can always break into Scoops and go have that date now.” He suggests, voice soft as though he’s afraid I will reject him.

“That sounds perfect.”

[bangtanintotheroom]

Plug & Play (M)

• Pairing: Guitarist!Hongjoong x (F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Rock Band!AU, Smut, Strangers to Lovers

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 10.3k

• Summary: Tonight is the night that you quit being a bystander and make a move towards the guitarist on stage with the devilish smile.

• Warnings/themes: a rock show!, swearing, drinking, pining, Y/N is a horny bean, Hongjoong and his dangerous smiles 🫠, Yeosang the wingman, flirting, making out, semi-public sex, oral (f. receiving), mentions of oral (m. receiving), dirty talk, fingering, fingers in mouth, finger sucking, protected sex (be responsible!), clothed sex, multiple orgasms

• Notes: SHE’S HEEEEERE 🗣️ the manifestation of my new love for yet another leader hehehehe 😚 I don't have much to say other than thank you to @the-boy-meets-evil for doing a look-over, everyone enjoy and think of blond, rockstar HJ the whole time!

• Taglist: @loveateez @mellikestoread @itza-meee @roomsofangel @minisugakoobies @minttangerines @kiestrokes

“I’m gonna fuck him.”

Yeosang stared at you from behind the counter, wondering if he heard you right amidst the clinking glasses and rock music.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, I’m gonna fuck him, Yeo.”

“Who?”

You rolled your eyes, rotating ninety degrees to point at the object of your desire on the stage.

“Him.”

There was little surprise on your end at the scoff you heard from behind.

“You’re still on that mission?”

Your head whipped around incredulously. “Yes! Why are you shocked by this?”

Yeosang’s expression reeked of indifference as he wiped some bottles down.

“Because I thought you would have given up by now.”

“I don’t give up easily, dude—” Your eyes watched as that certain someone tuned their guitar strings. “—especially when I really want something.”

And you really wanted the man you had in your sights.

Your roommate Yeosang worked as a bartender at a small yet intimate venue where many up-and-coming bands liked to perform, in hopes of recognition. He invited you to visit one night, knowing you loved to get a peek at new music. You couldn’t refuse the offer, especially when he snuck you a couple of free drink vouchers.

When you had come by the first night, you were surprised at the amount of people hanging both outside and inside the building. The couple of times you had stopped by previously to drop something off, only half of the room was filled. But this time had attendees hugging the wall and the bar counter, shoulder to shoulder.

Once you managed to reach Yeosang, you waited until he wasn’t scurrying with shot glasses to ask if there was a special occasion. He answered mid-pour and said one of the local bands was playing soon and their loyal fans flocked in when they got word. Leaving him to his work, you melded into the crowd, studying what the demographic was.

The ratio of women to men was in favor of the former, making you wonder just what kind of group was performing tonight.

You got your answer when the lights went down and screams erupted around you, nearly rupturing your poor eardrums. But when the lights came back on, you could see why.

Five insanely gorgeous men were spread across the stage, each with an instrument in their hands.

They all had their own aura, represented by their outfits and the expressions on their faces. Although, there was one in particular that caught your attention.

The one holding a shiny black guitar like it was his child.

His platinum blond hair caught your eye before you took in the rest of him. You liked how the sharp angles of his face had areas of softness that could disarm even the coldest of people. His outfit was flattering and a good balance of comfortable yet showy. But his smile was what nearly knocked you off your feet.

The way his white teeth would often flash while he strummed his instrument had a grin coming up on your own face. You could see that he was someone who cherished his craft by the way he’d keep up with the other members’ pace. And he would never stay in one place; you’d often catch him jumping around on the stage, from standing next to the drummer to nearly teetering on the edge in front of fans.

Plus, he was just adorable. But the cuteness would go into its hiding place at times, leaving a man that began altering your brain chemistry.

Too many times did you find your breath hitching whenever he’d throw his head back, mouth agape as he got into the music, fixated on the drops of sweat rolling down his neck. Or whenever he’d lower his head, looking up into the crowd with the wickedest of smirks that had you fantasizing about a certain position that would grant that view as well.

Before your mind could fully catch up on whatever was happening in front of your eyes, cheers erupted around you. You blinked into reality and watched as the band waved and thanked everyone for attending tonight before making their way off the stage. You were jostled into moving when an attendee bumped your shoulder, shooting an apology to your still form.

Desperately needing to decompress, you ran to the bar to catch Yeosang as he finished making a tray of shots. He could tell by the look on your face that he made a good choice in inviting you out before your mouth began running a mile a minute. You didn’t care if he wasn’t able to hear half of your ramblings, running to continue doing his job as a sudden wave of people came by.

Your excitement had to get out of your system somehow.

But it turns out even that wasn’t enough.

You would keep thinking about the handsome guitarist on a day to day basis, at the most inopportune moments. It didn’t help that you would look up the band’s music online and listen during your commutes and free time. They legitimately made good tunes, playing to their strengths and composing lyrics that wouldn’t escape your head.

Lyrics that were joined by the constant flashing of a devious smile.

And so you found yourself returning to the venue for their next show. To say Yeosang was stunned by your surprise appearance was an understatement. You managed to shrug it off and say that you were starting to become a budding fan of Halazia.

It was technically the truth. He didn’t need to know about your other reason…yet.

With this visit, you were hoping you’d catch the blond doing something that would kill your interest or that your eye would wander onto some of his bandmates instead.

You realized by the end of the performance that it was futile.

Not even the drummer going shirtless halfway through to show off his well-muscled physique could completely distract you from the fully clothed one wailing on his guitar. Trudging out of the building with two cocktails down had you realizing how doomed you were.

When your titillating thoughts started forming into full-blown fantasies, you had to come up with a solid way to get them to disappear. At first, you hoped your hand and a few explicit videos would be enough, but even that got old after a while.

Which led to your current objective as you watched the band continue to set up for the night.

It might be a pipe dream, but you wouldn’t know unless you tried, right?

Yeosang thought it was ridiculous, but never said it was impossible or a bad idea. He begrudgingly supported you from the sidelines, even if he called you crazy at times. A true friend, through and through.

“Oh, don’t I know it. You kept hounding me for weeks to help you put your bookshelf up.”

“And you did such a fantastic job! Shit would have fallen apart if I did it myself.”

Yeosang shook his head at your flattery, yet the tiniest of smiles tugged at his mouth. ��Uh huh.”

Giggling, you picked up your glass and finished off the last sip. After you set it down, you sensed a person coming up to stand next to you.

“Yeosang!”

The bartender grinned at them. “Yunho! Amazing job, as always.”

“Ah, stop, you say that every time. Do you mind if I put in an order?”

“Not at all. What would you like?”

Curiosity got the best of you and you looked up to see what this Yunho looked like. Imagine your surprise when you saw the bassist of Halazia standing next to you. Damn, he was tall.

“Two rounds of shots and eight beers, please.”

Yeosang lifted his brow in that fashion of his before replying, “Eight? Not ten?”

Yunho sighed and shrugged. “Seonghwa is feeling fussy tonight and San needs to be able to walk home.”

“Makes sense. Alright, give me a few minutes.”

“Thank you!”

Yunho seemed to notice you watching the conversation now, giving you a polite smile before heading back to his table. Your eyes followed him until he sat down, switching targets to take in the blond man with a megawatt smile next to him. Just watching as he threw his head back and laughed had your heart pumping faster.

You couldn’t hold off any longer. You had to do something tonight.

Your mind began coming up with a plan on how to approach while you turned back around, watching as Yeosang began putting together the drinks.

“Damn, big order.”

“Tell me about it. They must be parched after their performance.”

You studied the two trays as he started filling it with shot glasses and beer bottles, knowing that he’d have to make two trips to get everything there.

…or just one trip, if he had an extra set of hands.

You could see the lightbulb start to flicker on now. A simple yet effective plan to get within speaking distance of the man who had been plaguing your thoughts for the last couple of weeks came to fruition. You committed to your decision just as the bartender finished up the order.

Okay. Showtime.

“Hey Yeo—” Your roommate paused as he was reaching for one of the full drink trays. “—need some help there?”

Yeosang blinked owlishly at your offer.

“Oh, uh, I don’t know, Y/N. It wouldn’t be good if you dropped these.”

“Hey now, I used to be a waitress, remember? Come on, it’ll save you some time.”

You watched as he pondered for a moment, grinning in triumph when he nodded.

“Alright, grab one and let’s go.”

A salute was given as you hopped off your stool, carefully reaching for one of the trays and lifting it above your shoulder. Muscle memory took over as you balanced it, waiting until Yeosang came out from behind the counter and led the way. You made sure to not run into anyone and kept an eye out for any sudden surprises, thankful when you reached the table in one piece.

And even more thankful at one of the pairs of eyes that landed on you.

“Our savior!”

The one man you recognized as the lead singer rejoiced as you and Yeosang set the trays down on the table, bringing a giggle out of you.

“Jongho, I didn’t hear water in Yunho’s order…”

Yeosang’s playfully stern tone made Jongho wave a hand in the air. “Water, shmater, we’re big boys! We can hold our drinks!”

“We can, not this one, though.”

The next one that piped up was the unusually beautiful man you saw strumming away at his rhythm guitar, pointing to the pouting drummer who now wore a white tee.

“Hyung, don’t call me out like that!”

“San, we had to carry you out the last time, we’re not looking for a repeat.”

Your focus was now on the object of your desires as he gave San a strict yet concerned look, the expression only making him look even better.

“You won’t, that’s why I passed on the beer!”

The guitarist made an unconvinced sound. “We shall see.”

Yeosang chuckled and interjected, “I’ll bring some water over, just to be safe. Sound good, Hongjoong?”

Now you learned that the man you had been eyeing up was Hongjoong, trying not to stare too hard as he grinned at your friend.

“Definitely.”

He caught you off-guard by shooting you a smile now.

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

Your reaction was delayed, but you managed to give a nod, forcing yourself to follow Yeosang as he headed back to the bar. Only then did you realize you were holding a breath in, exhaling as you leaned on the counter.

“Fuck.”

“I thought you were going to hop on his lap for a moment.”

You shot a scowl at Yeosang as he worked on getting the water together.

“Yeo, I’m not that shameless. I was just…taken aback.”

He looked up to give you an unconvinced stare, paired with a lifted brow.

“Sure, let’s call it that.”

He looked back down in time to miss the middle finger you shot. While he continued, you started reining yourself in from the very brief encounter.

You learned two things; Hongjoong was his name and he was even more handsome up close. Stage lights weren’t over exaggerating his sharp features, his nose and jaw looking like they’d be able to cut glass. His grin was blinding and the teeth beneath them were damn near perfect.

Although, you wished you had mustered enough courage to say something to him.

It would be somewhat awkward to go back empty-handed and start a conversation with him, especially with his bandmates right there. Just because you wanted to get in his pants didn’t mean you wanted to come off as nothing but a groupie to them.

“Here.”

Your thinking was interrupted when two full pitchers of water were placed in front of you, prompting you to look at Yeosang with bewilderment.

“Maybe this time you can actually talk to the guy.”

His suggestion finally clicked, your eyes widening in gratitude.

“I fucking love you, Yeosang.”

He smiled and shook his head, giving one of your hands a pat. “You can tell me through your teriyaki chicken, Y/N. Go on.”

With a megawatt grin and a mental note to pick up some chicken to cook tomorrow, you lifted both pitchers before turning to make your way back to the table. You had to make sure your hands didn’t shake the closer you got, not wanting to spill water on any of the guys.

As soon as you were close enough, you cleared your throat to capture their attention.

“Your water, gentlemen.”

Setting the refreshments down brought a small wave of cheers.

“Thank you! Maybe we can get San out of here in one piece tonight.”

“Aish, stop!” San batted at Jongho’s head, the vocalist dodging as he snickered.

You grinned at the two’s antics, straightening up when you realized something.

“Oh, I should get you guys some glasses. I’ll be right back.”

You quickly turned around and power walked to the bar, asking Yeosang for a small stack of drinking glasses before returning.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks. Are you new here?”

Your head shook at Seonghwa’s question. “No, I don’t even work here. Just helping my friend out while he gets slammed with customers.”

The pretty guitarist smiled softly.

“That’s very nice of you.”

Your cheeks couldn’t help but warm a tiny bit, shooting him the same look. “Thank you. He has to listen to enough of my ranting at home, might as well ease his pain somehow.”

Yunho blinked curiously before asking, “You’re roommates?”

“Mhm.”

He made a sound of understanding, yet another voice cut in before he could say anything.

“Thought you looked familiar.”

You focused your sight on Hongjoong, recognition on his attractive face that had your heart beating a little faster.

“Me?”

“Yeah—” His mouth quirked. “—thought I saw you hanging around Yeosang the last few times we were here.”

Oof. You weren’t sure how to react to him basically saying that he recognized you from afar. It wasn’t a bad thing, at all, considering your end goal, but you were surprised he even remembered with the amount of people in this building.

All you could muster was a scratch of the back of your neck, trying not to fluster further under his gaze.

“Haha, that’s me, always bugging him.”

Hongjoong gave a soft laugh, eyes scrunching in humor. It only made you more bashful, trying your best not to rub the toe of your boot into the ground.

Noticing that Yunho was roped into a conversation with the others now, it left you alone with the lead guitarist.

A window of opportunity!

But for some reason, you couldn’t muster the words to continue speaking with him. Even though he continued to acknowledge you with his gaze, your eyes averted to watch the stage behind the dining tables.

“Hey.”

Your ears perked up, looking down to see Hongjoong eyeing you with curiosity.

“What’s your name?”

A lifesaver.

You had to hold back the large grin you wanted to give, settling for a polite smile instead.

“Y/N.”

He returned your expression, nodding before replying, “Nice to meet you, I’m Hongjoong. Actually, you probably already knew that.”

With a little more confidence, you replied, “I actually didn’t. I’m pretty bad with names, plus I was too distracted by your performances to really focus on that.”

Hongjoong lifted a bleached brow, cocking his head.

“Oh yeah? You like us that much?”

You nodded with little shame. “Absolutely. I’m surprised you guys aren’t a household name by now.”

Hongjoong grinned, although it was paired with a slight flush of his cheeks.

“Stop, we’re not that good.”

“But you are! Look, I’ve been seeing local bands since I was a teen and I can say you guys are one of the best.”

Something a bit sobering slithered in his eyes as he stared you down, lips straight as a line.

“No bullshit?”

Now you managed to keep the gaze steady.

“None whatsoever.”

It was another few seconds before he finally took your compliment, appreciation written all over his face now.

“Thank you, Y/N. We really appreciate it.”

“Of course! I wish I knew about your music earlier—” You frowned. “—I’ve only seen you guys play a couple of times.”

Hongjoong shrugged, saying with more positivity, “A couple is better than none.”

You could see he had a point so you nodded in agreement. But all of a sudden, you wondered if you were bothering him. He had just finished a harrowing performance; maybe he wanted to kick back and relax with his friends, not indulge you with conversation.

“Hongjoong?”

“Hm?”

This hurt to say, but—

“If you want me to give you some space, I can.”

The musician gave you a look that came off as bewildered. “I don’t mind. Unless you have somewhere to get to?”

A hand came up to wave in the air as you placated, “No, I don’t, but I’d hate to impose—”

“Looooving youuu~ Is easy ‘cause you’re beautiful~”

Out of nowhere, singing erupted, prompting both you and Hongjoong to look at the source of the sudden noise. What greeted you had you chuckling.

“Seems like the drinks are already starting to set in.”

The blond’s wisecrack had you raising a brow as you both took in Jongho holding San’s face as he crooned a love song to him and Yunho waving his hands to the beat while Seonghwa pulled his phone out to record the tender moment.

“I can see that.”

Hongjoong scoffed in amusement and shook his head.

“Every time.” He glanced aside for a moment before looking at you again. “Maybe we should move somewhere quieter.”

The suggestion made your heart skip, unaware of what the intentions were behind it.

“Oh?”

“Yeah—” His sudden beam erased any doubt you had. “—I can’t get to know you with all this noise here.”

You uttered a silent thanks to both Yeosang and whatever being resided in the sky for giving you this opportunity. You held back a bit as you grinned and said, “Lead the way.”

Hongjoong was quick to stand up, grabbing his two beer bottles before jerking his head towards the stage. With a quick glance to make sure his friends were still occupied, you began following him. He walked to the foot of the stage and sat his drinks down, using his hands to lift himself and sit on the ledge. You followed suit, taking care to make sure your skirt didn’t ride up, sitting as close as possible without getting in his personal space.

As soon as you were situated, a bottle turned up under your nose.

“Thirsty?”

You blinked at the offer. “You sure? It’s your beer.”

The blond shrugged, wiggling the brown glass a bit.

“My beer, but I’ll make it yours now.”

A chuckle came out as you accepted the drink, peeling off the half-open cap before taking a sip.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. So—” Hongjoong took a sip from his own bottle. “—are you a regular here?”

You shook your head.

“Surprisingly, no. I’ve been to almost every venue in town except for this one. Figured I’d give Yeo a rest from seeing me at home and work.”

Hongjoong snickered, lips curled in humor.

“Understandable. I’m guessing we were your first show here?”

“You were. Have you guys been playing here for a while?”

He hummed, looking up in thought before responding, “Kind of. This was our seventh performance here, but we’ve been playing at other places too. I’d have to say this is the best looking one, by far.”

“Let me guess—” Your mouth twisted up on one side. “—you’ve performed at Miroh?”

The way Hongjoong grimaced was enough of an answer for you.

“Sadly. Never again. Yunho almost got a bottle to the head because his amp was a little too loud.”

“Yikes.”

The two of you decided to move away from the topic of horrendous dive bars and to lighter ones, from behind the scenes knowledge about Halazia to what you did outside of going to concerts. You liked that Hongjoong had an equal part in the conversation continuing, not wanting to come off as desperate and scrambling for something else to talk about.

Not that you couldn’t find anything.

He was rather easy to talk to, paying close attention whenever you spoke and answering your questions with thoroughness. The way he would motion with his hands at certain points endeared him to you, smiling and giggling with admiration at his theatrics. It was also fun just to watch him, in general.

“So how do you like living with Yeosang?”

The subject change surprised you a bit, but you answered after finishing off your beer. “No complaints on my end. Well, except that he can be a space cadet at times.”

Hongjoong snickered over the lip of his bottle.

“Not surprised he’s still like that.”

Your ears perked at his statement, giving him a curious stare.

“Still?”

“Mhm. We used to live together, at one point.”

If you were in the middle of drinking, you would have had to hold back from choking or spitting in shock.

“Really?!”

Hongjoong nodded, lips stretched at your stunned reaction.

“He mentioned having a roommate before me, but I never would have dreamed that it’d be you.”

The musician shrugged and replied, “To be fair, I wasn’t around much. Spent most of my time at the studio or at work. I only moved out when Seonghwa got a spot open at his place.”

Following along with his explanation, you decided to be mischievous and question, “Was it that or did you drive poor Yeo crazy?”

Hongjoong feigned offense, a twinkle in his widened eyes as he leaned back.

“Y/N, are you accusing me of being a bad roommate?”

You couldn’t hold the urge to lightly tap your foot against his, smirking with impishness.

“And what if I am?”

Lifting a bleached brow, the guitarist leaned towards you, making your heart beat quicker with how close he got. Close enough for him to whisper, “Then I’d have to defend myself against that.”

Your eyes remained locked with his, jerking your chin lightly before challenging, “Go on, then.”

Hongjoong seemed pleased with your encouragement, setting his now empty bottle to the side as the gleam in his eye shone brighter.

“I was well-behaved. Kept the place clean, rotated chores, minded my own business. Yeosang almost didn’t want me to leave.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah—” He chuckled. “—gave me the biggest pout when I gave him the heads up. Made me feel like an asshole.”

Your eyes rolled with no hint of annoyance. “Sounds like Yeo. But I guess you really helped take care of the guy, huh?”

“I sure did.”

Hongjoong lightly knocked his knee into yours, but it remained pressed as he purred, “I like to take care of people close to me.”

Whatever wholesomeness that statement would have had was erased by his actions. You welcomed the touch, though. It merely boosted your confidence and will to step closer to your long-awaited goal.

You did your best not to overthink as you gently rubbed the side of your foot on his calf, lips twitching at the subtle shift in his expression.

“What about the people close to Yeosang? Would you take care of them too?”

Hongjoong’s eyebrow ticked at your question.

“Of course.”

Play coy, Y/N.

“It would be nice if I was included too…”

After you trailed off, nothing was said. Only sounds from the rest of the bar came through, various conversations mixing with background music from the speakers. But you weren’t too focused on that right now.

No, you were hyper-focused on the way Hongjoong was watching you.

The way his eyes traveled down your face and over your form let you know that digging in your closet for this outfit was worth it. Everything only became sweeter with what he said next.

“Taking care of you would be a pleasure.”

The heat underneath his words took your interaction to the next level, bringing a light feeling to the base of your gut. Thinking about what ‘taking care of you’ would entail erased the last bit of caution you had.

“Then maybe you can help me with a problem I’ve been having.”

“Shoot.”

You laid one of your hands on his jean-covered thigh, faintly feeling the muscle underneath twitch.

“Ever since I started watching you guys perform, I’ve been wondering something.”

Hongjoong jerked his chin forward, prompting you to continue. Not wanting to take a chance at someone walking up and overhearing at the last minute, you leaned in closer, almost brushing your lips against his ear to breath out, “I keep thinking about what it would feel like to fuck you. Something about you caught my eye from the jump and I haven’t been able to shake the idea. But there’s only one way I can figure it out.”

Your head pulled back enough to get a clear view of Hongjoong’s now intrigued face, shooting the sugariest of smiles at him.

“Will you help me solve my problem?”

Even though it was becoming clear that the blond shared a mutual attraction, a part of you couldn’t help but prepare for rejection. But your fear was allayed when he presented you with a low chuckle, followed by a smirk that was rife with teeth.

“Of course, Y/N. Although—” Now he came close to whisper in your ear. “—I don’t think we’re gonna find out by sitting near all these people.”

The underlying sensuality in his voice brought a pleasant shiver down your spine. Were you actually about to sneak off with Halazia’s main guitarist to help satiate the improper fantasies you’ve been having about him?

Yes. Yes you fucking were.

“Then do you mind if we have some one on one time?”

The hand that reached for your own to take it into a firm grip let you know that you hit the jackpot.

“Not at all.”

You were sure the rest of the guys eventually noticed and picked up on what you two snuck off for, but you couldn’t care less about what they thought. Your wish was finally coming true.

Hongjoong led the way, clearly more familiar with backstage than you were. The two of you passed a handful of workers, the man in front of you giving them polite greetings and acknowledgments. It was nice to see that he wasn’t one of those snobby types of rockstars.

He stopped in front of a door with a sign that said ‘Reserved for Halazia’, going for the handle before turning it and pushing. His hand let go of yours, only to motion you in first with a smile. You gave one of your own and stepped into the room, looking around with curiosity. It was a typical dressing room, nothing too chaotic.

But the best part was that it was empty, perfect for what was about to go down.

“So…”

You turned around, hearing the door shut and lock before Hongjoong approached you, lips curled akin to someone ready to indulge in the sweetest dessert of their life.

“Is this a much better spot?”

Your mouth twisted in humor, nodding as you replied with delight, “Much better.”

“Good.”

The both of you looked into each other’s eyes, bodies thrumming with energy that was ready to be unleashed at any moment. Although, no one made a move for a moment.

That is, until Hongjoong chose to take a step forward, leaving the tiniest of spaces between you two.

Having him so close directly in front of you had even more of an effect than before, his fresh scent invading your nostrils while your heart pumped faster. It got worse when a hand came up to brush some hair behind your ear, his touch making you bite your lip.

Hongjoong noticed your shift and chuckled, “Nervous?”

You shook your head.

“No, just…excited.”

His grin only widened at your admission, sliding his hand down to gently cradle your jaw.

“Same. Didn’t think I’d ever get to be up close and personal with Yeosang’s pretty friend.”

Although you were melting inside at the compliment, your eyebrow raised in amazement.

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“So why didn’t you make a move first?”

You hoped to trip him up, but the guitarist didn’t seem fazed, straight teeth almost blinding you.

“I wanted to see how badly you wanted me.”

His low response brought a mixture of exasperation and lust to you, your eyes rolling as you huffed, “You rockstars and your egos.”

Hongjoong laughed at your quip before leaning in to plant his lips on yours, ironically making the first move into what was expected to go down in here. Not a second passed before you kissed back, upping the pace a bit. The two of you got lost in each other until he started walking forward, forcing you to step back to avoid having your toes crushed.

He managed to distract you with his skills as you suddenly felt something hard press against your spine. One of your hands went back to feel a smooth surface behind you, realizing that he had walked you towards one of the vanity tables.

A nip to your bottom lip made you focus on the bigger picture once more, answering back with a bite of your own. The groan that rumbled against you was nothing short of satisfying.

Hongjoong pulled apart to pant softly, “Nice to see you’re not shy.”

You brought a hand to the nape of his neck, absentmindedly playing with the short, blond strands as you queried, “You think I’d be back here with you if I was shy?”

He conceded with an amused ‘no’, allowing you to pull him back in for another kiss. The longer this went on, the warmer you were beginning to get. You skipped on a jacket tonight, leaving you with a thinner, long-sleeved shirt on top, but the leather skirt below seemed to be the cause of your rising temperature.

Time for it to go.

You released Hongjoong’s neck and reached back to unzip your skirt, only to feel his hands take a hold of yours. Lips pulled away to give him a confused stare.

“Uh uh—“ He released you before grabbing onto the hem and pushing it up with a smirk. “—the skirt stays on.”

Well then. Whatever he wants, he gets.

You nodded, bringing your hands away from the garment as further approval. He pecked your lips in gratitude and went for the top of your stockings next, shimmying them down until your boots interrupted the journey. Humming at the inconvenience, he unzipped before sliding them off your feet and tossing them to the side. You didn’t even get a chance to wiggle your toes as he continued relieving you of your tights, letting them join your shoes.

The slightly cool air hit your now exposed legs, but the heat Hongjoong directed up at you next erased it.

“Sit on the table.”

A shiver ran down your spine at his command, bringing your hands behind to hoist yourself onto the vanity. The guitarist was quick to stand and slot himself between your spread legs, taking your mouth in another hungry kiss. Even though he was doing an excellent job occupying you with his tongue, you could feel his fingers run down your hips until he brushed the soft skin of your thighs. You enjoyed the sensations, lulling into a pleasant vibe until he traveled inwards and stroked a finger along the front of your panties.

You felt him hum before he released your lips, giving you one of his sharp smirks.

“I hope you haven’t been like this all night.”

A giggle left as you bucked your hips forward. “I plead the fifth.”

Hongjoong chuckled and pressed his forehead to yours.

“Poor baby. Lemme fix that for you.”

With lightning precision, his fingers dove up to grasp the elastic, tugging the damp fabric down until it was pulled off and tossed to join its friends. The air hitting that area only exacerbated just how wet you were, thanks to the man in front of you. Although, he was swift in covering you with his hand, digits beginning to tease with confidence.

“Oh…”

The soft exclamation left when you felt him travel upwards and circle your swelling clit. He applied just the right amount of pressure to make a pleasant heat begin to form in your belly. Just when you were about to close your eyes in bliss, Hongjoong slid back down to play with your folds, the slickness allowing him to glide with ease.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby. All this for me?”

Your reply meant to come out as words, but the way he spread you open made it turn into a positive hum. He chuckled at you, bringing his free hand up to rest a thumb on your swollen lips.

“You like how I’m playing with this little pussy of yours?”

“Yes—”

Hongjoong began stroking his thumb over your mouth, choosing to match the rhythm with the one between your legs, making your eyelids flutter.

“Is this what you thought about every time you watched me play?”

You breathed out, “I don’t know if I should say yes. Your rockstar ego might over-inflate.”

Hongjoong laughed, little offense in his tone. “I wouldn’t mind the push.”

You played as if you were mulling over a decision, trying not to crack the facade at the mild pout on his lips. Just when he was about to ask, you directed a smirk at him.

“This is tame compared to what’s been running through my head.”

Now you captured his entire attention, eyes burning with curiosity.

“Oh yeah? Indulge me.”

This time, you didn’t want to hold back, nonchalance coloring your face as you looked dead into his eyes.

“I’ve thought about how your fingers would feel inside me.”

The image of his digits flying across the fret of his guitar only emphasized your current pleasure, spurring you on.

“Wondered if they’d play me as well as you play your guitar.”

A low hum came from Hongjoong at your words, dark eyes twinkling with sensuality.

“I think I’m answering your question right now, no?”

A sudden strum to your quivering bud followed, making your hips jerk.

“You are—“ It took a second to find your breath. “—but I still have a couple more.”

“Oh?”

It was a struggle to speak past the moans building in your throat as he continued, but you powered through.

“Thought your head would look nice between my legs.”

You wouldn’t call yourself timid at all, but even this was a new level for you. To be so blunt with someone who you had only known for a short time was crazy. But the spark lighting up on Hongjoong’s face took away whatever shock you had at yourself.

“Is that so?”

Your nod brought the most salacious smirk from him. He moved his hands away from your body, disappointment at not having his touch anymore hitting you. But he was quick to bring up your spirits, placing them on your knees before spreading them further. He then dropped down to the floor, gaze still steady as he raised a brow.

“Like this?”

Your pulse spiked at the sight. It was a nice start, but it wasn’t quite there yet.

“Come closer.”

Hongjoong obliged, cheeks nearly brushing your inner thighs now.

“How about now?”

Much better.

“Perfect.”

The guitarist chuckled, blinding you with his smile.

“Good. Now you can sleep at night.”

A mix of a scoff and a giggle escaped, leaning down to give his forehead a gentle poke.

“Thank you for your services.”

“Any time, baby. Although…”

His voice trailed off as his eyes lowered, looking directly at your exposed cunt. “While I’m already down here—”

You had little chance to prepare as he darted forward and ran his tongue over the entirety of you, ripping a hitched gasp from your throat.

Shit.

Clearly the one lick wasn’t enough for Hongjoong, going back in with a few more that had your head tipping back against the mirror. Soft pants left you, morphing into stronger moans when he directed attention onto your clit. You could feel vibrations from him at times, feeling pleased to know that he was enjoying this as well.

“Fuck, Hongjoong—”

He pulled off, lips glistening as he husked, “You taste fucking amazing, baby. Gonna make sure I get my fill tonight.”

Your lower body bucked at his words, shifting forward until your ass nearly went over the edge of the table. The blond shot you a grateful look for giving him more access, hands sliding up your trembling thighs to take a firm hold of your hips before continuing his actions.

You were trying your best to keep your eyes on him the entire time, but he was too damn good.

Certain moves would make you throw your head back, whining as Hongjoong worked you up with his mouth. You got frustrated at one point when your skirt partially obscured his handsome face. A grunt left your lips before you reached down and tugged the offending fabric up even higher, giving you a clearer view of him eating your pussy.

Watching him had you transfixed, seeing his eyes closed for a good moment as he indulged in you. Though they would open up soon, focusing on you with a heat and precision that you’d only see a fraction of while he was on stage. You weren’t uncomfortable with the stare at all.

It turned you on beyond all belief.

Your fingers tangled into his short, blond strands, feeling the slight perspiration on his scalp. Whether it was leftover from the show or because of the current situation, you didn’t know. You gave the lightest of pulls, subtly asking for more.

Hongjoong raised a brow before moving his mouth away, just a few centimeters. He then went and stuck his tongue out, running the flat of it from the bottom of your slit up until he reached your clit, giving it a harsh flick.

“Oh fuck—“

A short chuckle washed over your area before he did the move again. And again. And again.

“You’re gonna kill me, swear to God.”

The musician giggled at your claim, eyes and nose scrunching with humor.

“You’ll live. But in case you don’t—“ You felt something prodding your entrance, looking down to see one of his fingers there. “—I need to see how good this pussy feels first.”

Hongjoong began sliding it in, your grip on your skirt tightening as he stretched you out a bit. He was quick to start thrusting, pausing at one point to curl and search for that sweet spot inside. When you felt him brush against it, you squeezed around his finger, bringing a triumphant smirk to his face.

“Right there, baby?”

“Right there—!”

He paired his cooing with a solid pump into the area, ruining whatever composure you had. There was no mercy as he kept on with the movements, making you squirm on his digit as a ball of pleasure started to form in your gut. Unable to take anymore of his teasing, you pulled his head closer again before pleading, “Keep eating my pussy, please.”

Hongjoong had no qualms about your begging, groaning lowly before diving back in.

The dual sensations of his mouth and finger working together pushed you higher and higher towards a precipice. Your own lips were babbling praises and noises to let him know how fucking good he was at this. He never pulled off to banter like before, laser-focused on your pleasure. All you received were his sharp brown eyes, watching you like a hawk.

Just when you felt yourself getting close, you tugged at Hongjoong’s hair. He pulled off, albeit reluctantly, shooting you a questioning stare. You gave a wobbly grin, bringing him back in until his wet lips were level with your pulsating nub.

“I come easier this way.”

Thankful for your advice, the guitarist winked before giving his undivided attention there. As you expected, your high raced towards you in no time, showing itself as you cried out and clamped down on his still thrusting finger. Your entire body trembled while he continued to roll his tongue over you, hand letting go of his hair at some point so as to not pull any strands out by accident.

Finally, the tremors stopped, making you slump against the mirror like a limp noodle. Your eyes couldn’t help but shut, feeling more tired than content thanks to the good orgasm.

A good orgasm at the hands (and mouth) of Hongjoong.

“You still alive up there?”

The teasing made your eyes open, shooting a deadpan expression down at his beaming face.

“Nope. Died and went to heaven. Murderer.”

Hongjoong cackled at your quip, standing up to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll send my condolences to Yeosang.”

Now you laughed, reaching for the lapels of his star-printed jacket to tug him in for a deep kiss. Your tongue was quick in meeting up with his, tasting the lingering of your arousal. The longer your lips were locked, the faster your desire returned, wanting to take this even further. You needed to see how his cock would feel inside you, fucking you until your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

Hongjoong removed his lips to catch his breath, hot puffs of air washing over your swollen ones before he husked, “Satisfied?”

You knew your answer right away.

“Would you be mad if I said no?”

The guitarist’s head shook. “I was hoping you would say that—” He took the chance to come closer, pressing his concealed cock into your bare thigh. “—didn’t want to let you out of here just yet.”

Your mouth twisted into a delighted smirk, pleased at the mutual feeling.

“Good, because I also thought about how it would feel if you fucked me.”

Now that you threw your final thought out into the open, the goalpost looked clearer than ever. Especially when Hongjoong presented you with the slyest grin you had ever seen on him. The ones he would give on stage paled in comparison to this.

“Is that right?”

When you nodded, his hand came up to hold your chin. A thumb tapped against it as he purred, “The feeling’s mutual.”

A peck landed on your lips before Hongjoong stepped away to head to the opposite side of the room where a few duffel bags laid. He began rummaging in one of them, standing once he found whatever he was looking for. That something was revealed to be a condom when he turned around. You were glad he wasn’t averse to protection; as horny as you were for him, your safety came first.

But just as he was about to make his way back, a few knocks came from the door.

Your expressions matched with irritation as you both frowned at the interruption. Hongjoong gave you an apologetic look before calling out, “Yes?”

“Hyung, it’s me!”

Because you were further from the muffled voice, you couldn’t decipher who was there until the guitarist swore quietly.

“Jongho, I’m in the middle of something right now.”

“I know, but I really need something from inside! Can you just grab it for me, please?”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed as he seemed to debate on telling his bandmate to either leave or give him a moment. He went with the latter as he stomped over to the door, unlocking and opening it enough to poke his head out and avoid Jongho witnessing you in your partially-undressed state.

“What do you need?”

“Hyung, I need some condoms.”

“Why didn’t you pick them up when we were in here earlier?”

You could picture the vocalist shrugging, wide eyes adding to his defensive expression.

“I didn’t think I needed them! But Lia sent me a message a few minutes ago and she lives right down the road, so…”

You heard Hongjoong sigh before telling him to wait one second. He shut the door, turning and mouthing an ‘I’m sorry’, to which you waved him off with little bother. A momentary interruption was better than losing your entire chance.

He ran back to his bag to grab a handful of the foil packets before jogging back to the door, opening it and stretching his arm out.

“Here. Now can you promise you or the others won’t bother me until I come back?”

“Of course, captain! Have fun!”

Hongjoong shook his head at his bandmate’s well wishes, but saw him off with a chuckle and a humored goodbye before shutting and locking the door once more. With a swiftness, he turned and ran back over to you, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Sorry about that.”

“No worries.”

Hongjoong looked grateful for your nonchalance, setting the condom down next to you before shucking his jacket off and tossing it to the side. Your eyes couldn’t hold back from raking over the skin now exposed, toned arms and shoulders causing your mouth to water. Just as you peeped the ink scrawled on one of his inner biceps, he started undoing his pants, bringing your attention to something even more interesting as he lowered them.

He caught your stare, smirking at how little modesty you had before reaching for the foiled wrapper. His hands were steady yet swift as he opened and slid the protection onto his stiff dick. As soon as he finished, Hongjoong grabbed your hips, tugging you down just enough to rest his tip against the apex of your thigh.

“Ready for me, beautiful?”

With little apprehension, you reached between your bodies to take a hold of him, lining up with your weeping entrance before giving him a confident nod. As soon as he earned your approval, the musician shifted forward, parting your folds until he started spreading you open. Both of your breaths hitched at the sensation, feeling his ringed fingers dig further into your hips.

“You’re just swallowing me up—“

Hongjoong’s gritted growl made your walls pulsate around his cock for a moment, proving his observation correct. Once he got in as far as you were pleased with, you took a hold of his waist before husking, “Fuck me already.”

A sharp inhale was all you got as you felt him slightly pull out before entering at a quicker pace. The rhythm built up soon enough, giving you the friction you oh so desired.

You were finally getting your wish.

Hongjoong was no slouch in this department, delivering strokes that were the right balance between gratifying and not quite enough. Perfect to have you whining for more a few minutes in.

“Hongjoong, give it to me—”

“Mm? Want me to fuck you harder, baby?”

The hold you had on his shirt tightened.

“Please.”

The chuckle you received had a thrill running down your spine, only to be replaced with a sharper sting as soon as he started plunging into you harder.

“So generous, letting me fuck this pussy how I really want to—”

Between the elevated pleasure and the way he hissed out his words, you were living the dream. You tried to fire back with your own quips, but couldn’t keep up with the way the blond was doing you and staring you down with those dark eyes of his. All you could do to let him know how good you were feeling was to tug him into messy kisses and rubs of your hands along his clothed torso. It seemed to be enough for him, judging by the groans you’d hear or feel.

At one point, Hongjoong pulled away from your lips, his own bearing hints of your smudged lipstick. Your fixation on his appearance was interrupted when he boldly stated, “Wish I could’ve been more thorough about this.”

Your head tilted as you asked, “What do you mean?”

His mouth twisted as if you made a joke, pausing his hips to make sure you focused on what he was about to say.

“I mean, I would’ve liked to do this somewhere a little more private. Because it’s a shame I can’t see all of you right now.”

His admission made your pussy flutter around him, watching as he looked over your still-covered body with heavy and curious eyes.

“Wouldn’t mind having more time to see what else is running through this pretty head of yours.”

He wanted to know what else you would have done with him, huh? There was one little act that you both skipped over, for time’s sake.

“Actually…there’s one thing I forgot to mention.”

Hongjoong’s brow lifted as you took a hold of one of the hands on your body and brought it close to your swollen lips. Making sure to keep eye contact, you rested his index and middle finger on your bottom lip before purring, “I’ve thought about how nice it’d be to suck your dick.”

Before you could get a reaction, you slipped his digits into your mouth, starting to gently suck them as if you were actually carrying out your wish.

The variety of emotions that came over Hongjoong’s face only upped your confidence, bobbing your head carefully to really sell the act. Only then did he finally say something, husking, “Fuck, baby— I’m really missing out right now, huh?”

A wink was what you gave, followed by your tongue beginning to swirl around the appendages, eyes fluttering shut as you pictured a different scenario.

Hongjoong leaning against this very vanity table, pants and briefs pulled halfway down. Watching close as you sat on your knees and worked his cock over with your mouth. You could feel his hips tremble occasionally, surely holding back from the primal urge to fuck into your hot and wet cavern.

But just as you were getting deep into your fantasy, the fingers slipped out of your mouth. Your eyes flew open as you made a mild noise of surprise, only for them to widen at the hungry look on his sweat-beaded face. The same hand was quick to grab your jaw, Hongjoong leaning in so close that you could feel his harsh breath mingling with yours as he hissed, “Next time.”

He didn’t give you a second to process his foreboding words as he took your lips into a starving kiss.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead laid on yours as his hips went up to a reckless pace, burying his cock so deep that your back arched at the sharp jolt of pleasure racing throughout your body. This gave him the opportunity to attack your exposed neck with bites and kisses, pausing at times to growl sheer filth into your ear.

Everything combined had your body giving in to Hongjoong completely, leaning back against the mirror as all sorts of sounds surrounded you.

The slight creaking of the vanity and the jostling of the bottles sitting on it.

The smacking of his damp skin against yours.

How the groans leaving him gradually became tinged with a hint of whining as time passed.

Deducing that he was getting close to his end, you took his hand and slid it between your hips to give him a hint that you needed some help. He was quick on the draw, pushing your hand up as he began circling and rubbing your swollen clit with a saliva-covered fingertip. This only made a long moan escape you, head throwing back as it didn’t take long to catch up with your partner.

“That’s it, baby— Gonna make this little pussy come all over my cock.”

Hongjoong’s thick declaration made your legs wrap tight around his waist and your hands grasp onto the damp skin of his bare shoulders, holding on as he continued transporting you towards your end. You could feel his thrusts become a bit off-centered, but they were still enough for you to enjoy, and more than enough to bring another orgasm.

You announced it through a strained cry of the guitarist’s name, digging your nails into him as you trembled between his tense body and the mirror. It only took a few strokes for Hongjoong to join, swearing through gritted teeth as he plunged into you as far as humanly possible, throbbing as he filled up the condom.

Once the euphoria stopped running through your veins, the urge to slump backwards came strong. You followed your body’s wish, letting out a sigh of fatigue and satisfaction. A soft chuckle sounded near your ear.

“Tell me about it.”

The tiniest of laughs escaped you before taking a moment to simply enjoy the peace in the room. After the two of you got your bearings, it was inevitable that you’d part ways and head home with your respective parties.

But for now, you’d enjoy the way Hongjoong silently hummed into the crook of your neck as you ran your fingers up and down his back.

Yeosang was polishing the last of the clean glasses and talking to San when you strolled up to the bar, a pep in your step.

“Hey guys!”

Your roommate looked up, scrutinizing your appearance with a knowing smirk.

“Well, look who finally returned.”

You waved him off, only to now hear San teasing, “I hope you didn’t wear him out too much.”

A light laugh came out as you grinned at the drummer.

“He’s still standing on two legs, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good, the guys and I decided that none of us should be carried out tonight.”

The two of you giggled before he stood up from his stool, stretching muscled arms into the air.

“I think we should start heading out as soon as hyung is put together, I’m sure the two of you are tired.”

Yeosang shrugged, although you could see the slight lidding of his eyes.

“Take your time, I still have to do an inventory count.”

San shook his head. “No no, you definitely need your rest, it’s been nonstop for you. I’ll go gather everyone.”

You were grateful for his insistence, knowing how stubborn Yeosang could get when it came to his job.

“Thank you, San.”

A soft smile was directed at you before the drummer went off to get all of his bandmates together. Now that the two of you were alone, you spun around and gave your friend a winning grin.

“Mission accomplished, Yeo. And it was so worth it.”

Yeosang flicked a brow up at your declaration while grabbing his tablet to take inventory.

“Please don’t give me details. I still have to work with the guy on a weekly basis.”

“I’m not, I’m not! Just letting you know that I got my wish and now you won’t have to hear your horny freak of a roommate lament on how badly she wants Hongjoong’s dick.”

He shot you an exasperated look, clearly not as enthused about the news as you figured he’d be.

“Excellent.”

Snickering, you gave it a rest, leaving him to his work so the two of you could go home ASAP. You turned to take in the venue, noting the janitor sweeping up the last bit of trash and the busboys wiping down the tables that were sticky with alcohol. A few minutes passed before you spotted Halazia, minus Jongho, emerging from backstage. The men wore varying expressions, but all seemed to have a hint of exhaustion as well.

Although, most of your attention was on one specific member.

Hongjoong looked to be the most energetic of the group, eyes alert and responses swift. You weren’t surprised, considering what the two of you went through recently. It might be a different story when he reached home, though.

After nodding at whatever Seonghwa said, his head turned, blinking as he caught you watching him. A blinding grin was quick to come on before he made a beeline your way, making your pulse quicken. But he stopped next to your sitting figure rather than stand in front of you, his gaze on Yeosang as he typed.

“Yeosang, we’re gonna head out now.”

The bartender looked up, only to refocus on his tablet after giving the other a nod. “Stay safe. Great job, as always.”

Hongjoong chuckled, scratching the back of his neck in slight bashfulness.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you saying that, man.”

“Well, you better. Before you guys get snatched up by some big record label and I’ll need to go through security to speak to you.”

You giggled at his quip, receiving Hongjoong’s eyes now. “He has a point. We might be demoted to fans at this rate.”

The blond’s mouth twisted into a smirk as he continued to look at you, saying, “Oh, I could never forget you guys.”

Thank goodness Yeosang wasn’t paying attention to the way you were being stared down by the man who had his hands all over you not long ago; he definitely would not have let you live it down.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that. Have a good night, Hongjoong, tell the others for me.”

“Will do, Yeosang.”

Hongjoong slipped his hand out of his jacket pocket before holding it towards you.

“Y/N.”

You blinked at the formal gesture from someone who was up in your guts, but brought your own hand up to allow his to take a firm grasp.

“A real pleasure meeting you. Well, officially, I mean.”

A short laugh left as you teased, “Likewise, Hongjoong. I guess we’ll see each other at your next show?”

He kept a hold of your palm as he flashed his perfect teeth and winked.

“Absolutely.”

You almost didn’t want to let go, but you allowed the musician to pull away. But then you felt something odd. Looking at your palm, you spotted a piece of paper, folded over and over until it was a tiny square. Thinking that Hongjoong left something by accident, you prepared to call out until he brought a finger up to his lips.

The motion quieted you when he glanced sideways at Yeosang before looking at the paper and then at your face. With that, he turned and headed towards his bandmates to exit the establishment, leaving you to stare down at your hand.

Whatever he left was meant for your eyes and your eyes only.

Curiosity took over as you carefully unfolded the note. You had to bite back a gasp at what was scrawled inside.

‘So we don’t have to wait for the next show to meet up’

xxx-xxxx

Fuck!

You almost slipped and swore out loud, but managed to hold it in. Peeking at your friend to make sure he was still occupied, you stared at Hongjoong’s neat writing, processing this new info.

He actually gave you his number! Was this how groupies felt? Or were you a step above them?

Either way, this was an unexpected development. It was luck that you were able to get close enough to Hongjoong to sleep with him, but to get this as well felt like a miracle.

“Hey.”

You swiftly brought the paper down to your lap as you peered up to see Yeosang, hands now free from the tablet.

“Are you ready to go?”

With a smile that might have been a little too enthusiastic, you nodded, slipping the note into your pocket.

“Absolutely.”

©bangtanintotheroom, 2024. Crossposted to AO3. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

[chuunai]

hey, congrats 100 followers !! i would love to join your celebration♡ may i request beastzai (or js adazai) with the scenario married life (1) & all in all, it was a typical tuesday (8) as the prompt ?

congrats on 100 again !!!! it’s a big number and a big achievement !!

I think Dazai is really hot too.

✧˚ · . vroom vroom, than a table for two - dazai osamu

he certainly couldn’t complain.

summary ⋆ ★ comfort, fluff, established relationship (marriage with reader), SFW → icky PDA, cutesy nicknames, minor mention of sex (it’s like barely there though) and overall puppy husband dazai. also obvious mentions of suicide its DAZAI

It was Tuesday.

And also another hardworking day at the Agency. So, so tiring, according to your husband—not that he ever worked—to the point where he simply needed a break with his lovely spouse. That’s how you found yourself hand-in-hand with him during your lunch break, walking down the sidewalks of Yokohama while he excitedly spoke about a new suicide method he had heard of.

Yesterday was a homemade shrapnel bomb, today was a wrecking ball.

“Basically, you hide out in a building that’s scheduled to be demolished and eventually it collapses on you! Pretty sweet, isn’t it?”

Quirking an eyebrow, he turned to you expectantly, a cheery smile on his face. It was quick, painless enough method of suicide. Beautiful in a way, too. Sunlight would be warming his skin, the air fresh and crisp and then tons of concrete and plaster would crush his entire body in one fell swoop. No pain, just gain of access to the afterlife.

Looking back at him, you sheepishly shrugged, replying back to amuse both him and yourself. 50% of the time, his attempts were idiotic and funny, the other 50% was genuinely worrying and mildly terrifying. Today seemed to be the former, though. Thankfully.

Plus, it wasn’t like the method would even work due to some random info you found out about on the internet.

“Yeah, but I’m like, ninety-nine percent sure they check the buildings for people before they demolish them. So you’d get found out.”

Your tone was as equally playful and light as his. He wouldn’t really kill himself. You weren’t ready for a double suicide yet, sadly. His lips curled into a frown when you mentioned how it wouldn’t work, his fingers squeezing yours as he exaggerated his sigh.

“And here I was, certain of my demise! Guess that means I’ll be with you a bit longer, darling.”

Not that he really minded.

Sure, he constantly went off about suicide and how beautiful the whole concept was, but at the end of the day, he wouldn’t want to die without you at his side. He’s firmly one of those people who’d kill himself after his beloved died. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself after you died. Sure, he made Odasaku a promise, but he made you a vow.

Until death do them part.

When you died, so would he.

But no one was dying today. Just a happy day for a happy couple.

Dazai’s hand slipped out of yours, curling around your hips instead as he pulled you closer to his side. He wanted to show off his pretty partner to anyone who happened to look over at you two. Show off the person who owns his heart and soul and is his perfect reason to live for just a little bit longer. No one else deserved his gorgeous belladonna.

Just him and him only.

Only Dazai could kiss your lips at any given moment—publicly or privately—, and only he could watch you dress up for dates, brushing out your hair while he mumbled compliments into the spot where your collarbone met your neck. Only Dazai could spend hours with you at night, hearing his name from your lips while his fingers intertwined with yours at the intimate moments.

No one else could hope to do the same with you.

That’s why he soon was leading you into a bakery, the smell of pastries and bread flooding the air as he looked over the treats in the display cases. Black sesame roll cakes, all squishy looking and yummy. The cookies ranging from chocolate chip to matcha and plain vanilla. They all looked so good, but the prices weren’t quite the same.

God, when it came to money, Dazai wished he was still in the Mafia. At least he had tons of it back then.

Now, he had to be a bit more frugal with his income from the Agency. Sure, you guys weren’t dirt poor or unable to afford food and other necessities, but you couldn’t always get special snacks like this. Maybe once every week or two, if you could do so.

Nudging your shoulder, he tapped the glass, looking at you expectantly. He always did this—letting you choose what the two of you would eat. Dazai didn’t mind either. You had good taste unlike his diet of canned crab and alcohol.

“I trust my lovely spouse’s taste and that you’ll pick something good like always.”

He was such a puppy. Only for you, he thought.

“Uhmm…dunno. Pick a number, one or two.”

Dazai placed a finger on his lips, pretending to be in thought like it was the most important decision in his twenty-two years of life so far. Brows furrowed in concentration, eyes darting between you and the sweet treats while he hummed quietly. One or two? Eh. He’d go with two. There was the two of you here, after all.

“Two.”

He watched as you pointed at a slice of strawberry cheesecake, your eyes looking at him for approval. Honestly, Dazai never understood why you wanted his approval for everything. You were his equal—his life partner, nonetheless—so there was really no need for this behavior. But he couldn’t blame you. Even now, he had a bit of a commanding aura.

“Oooooh, that looks good! Knew you’d pick something tasty.”

Dazai pecked your cheek affectionately while he held your hand walking to the counter, ordering two slices of strawberry cheesecake, taking out Kunikida’s credit card that he had ‘borrowed’ from the blondie earlier at work. Compared to the thievery he had committed in his younger years, it was practically begging to be used with how his wallet was smack dab in the middle of his desk.

Carefully holding the two plates of the cheesecake slices, he led you over to a table in the corner, giving you a fork as he sat down across from you. He didn’t eat until you dug into your piece first, making sounds of contentment as sweetness coated both your taste buds. Geez, it was good. Worth the price for sure. The corner of your lips were stained with the white frosting, and so he swiped his thumb over the mess, cooing at you like a parent.

“Ah ah, ‘donna. You’re getting messy.”

Dazai liked the flush of your face. How flustered you were as you insisted you could clean yourself and that you weren’t a baby and a fully capable grown adult.

“I’m not a baby, ‘samu! I can take care of myself, ‘kay?”

Of course, of course.

“Uh-huh. And you’re not a baby. You’re my baby. My clumsy little baby who can’t eat without making a mess.”

Chewing on the rest of his slice, minutes passed, filled with conversations between the two of you about work, how Atsushi was doing—probably still traumatized and fucked over, is what you both agreed about—, plans for dinner. You tastefully ignored his comment about what he wanted for dessert. At least there weren’t any kids in the bakery.

Thankfully for everyone else in the establishment, your ‘lunch’ was finished. Walking out of the cafe, he clasped onto your hand firmly, feeling his wedding ring rub against your skin. The sounds of honking and birds chirping filled the air, but all Dazai could hear were your gentle breaths coupled with the sound of your footsteps.

Nothing really mattered besides you, in his eyes.

His everything—his reason to live.

Eternally.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts

[takami-takami]

Like a Candle at Both Ends.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut.

warnings— sub!keigo. reader uses a strap. double penetration with a twist. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. dacryphilia. cum as lube. slight feminization (of keigo). slight degradation. some brattiness. face-sitting mentioned.

In which you blow the birthday boy's back out like a candle. Topping Keigo with a fleshlight underneath him, that way he gets so overwhelmed he cries. ♡

You're at least ninety percent sure Keigo won't remember a damn word he says, tomorrow.

It's a pity, truly, that his gorgeous babbles of incoherency that entertain you aplenty in bed will only live on in your memories; but you suppose you can't really blame him. It would be difficult for any man to remain focused in this situation— let alone one who gets as lost in the floaty depths of subspace as Hawks.

You've always known your boyfriend to have a penchant for indulgence. If the tabloids get one thing at least half-correct, it's that Keigo is quite the glutton for satisfying his baser urges.

Tabloids call him a foodie. They snap pictures of him at different restaurants every afternoon during his usual two o'clock lunch breaks, sinking his teeth into delicacies with a moan, only to wash it down with the most caffeinated coffee he can get his mitts on.

And those same tabloids write adorable little periodicals about how their media darling just loves a little something to eat.

But you know better.

The reality is, it's more that Keigo is simply a brat who likes to indulge. He likes to be pleased.

He likes to fill and be filled, to stuff and be stuffed; but you don't blame them for not reading between the lines, there. You suppose you do have the unfair advantage of seeing him make that same, satisfied face after you've milked his cock to empty itself past the point of shooting blanks.

If anyone on this earth is privy to a crucial little piece of information the rest of the world doesn't know, it's you. The paparazzi that flock like vultures outside local diners in the hopes of catching the number two may snap pics of him smiling to himself as he digs in, but they don't have the slightest idea what else Keigo likes to sink his teeth into.

Namely: your neck, if he's lucky; cock throbbing in your vice grip, on days you grant him permission to teethe at your skin until the splotches of color from his marks settle like satisfaction in his chest. 

But mostly— and especially, on nights like tonight— the revered, dignified hero Keigo Takami just sinks his teeth into the pillow like a goddamn whore.

Right now, as Keigo lays on his front and bites back some rather pathetic sounds, the plush pillow beneath him is looking unbearably chewable to his eyes. Your delicate hand is reaching around his body like a serpent, snaking underneath his pelvis to grip his sensitive length so carefully in your palm; and the man below you is beginning to suspect he might need another outlet for his sexual frustrations, soon.

"I c-can do that myself," Keigo releases the pillow and sputters, though his body doesn't protest in the slightest. In fact, his hips arch away from the toy positioned below, in order to allow you rightful access to his cock.

"Yeah, obviously," you answer with a squint, sliding your fingers along his length. "But I want to do it for you, so I will. Are you complaining, Kei'?"

"Mm. No," he hums the right answer, shifting comfortably to rest his cheek against the pillow and settle his weight on his knees. "But I might start complaining if you don't hurry it up. I don't take this long when I put it in you," he whines, smushing his cheek further into the fluff to resist the temptation to look down. He doesn't flinch a bit when you thread your fingers through his hair in response, practically petting him.

Still, Keigo sighs in pleasure rather than dissatisfaction when he shuts his eyes. He can't deny that your soft skin feels incredible on his cock, crackling with electric charge; but the fleshlight trapped beneath his hips is enticingly lubed and ready for him, and that simple fact is causing him to grow impatient. The way you're rubbing his tip against its entrance doesn't help in the slightest. It feels more agonizing than pleasurable, at this point.

"Stop playing with it and put it inside already," he groans. 

"Aww," you coo. "Are you feeling pent up today, Keigo?"

It's meant to be a tease, but the response you get is heartbreakingly genuine.

"A little bit, yeah," Keigo answers truthfully, cocking his head to the side for a second. His neck pops with the motion, achingly, and he cracks his neck the other way to make it look intentional. Still on his belly, he crosses his elbows and tucks his chin atop his arms. 

Keigo looks genuinely fatigued when he blinks. Black lashes rest on his cheekbones a little longer than usual today, and you're aware that the only thing hiding his prominent eye bags is a few layers of expensive, caked-on concealer. 

You swallow a pang of resentment at the sight. 

Next year, you'll be sure to make a few phone calls with some choice words and demands you refuse to budge on.

Somehow, the urge to spit an uncharacteristically shrill "let me speak to your manager" over the phone to some HPSC bigshot isn't quite as strong as the urge to spoil Keigo tonight, instead; to make your baby forget the press interviews his handlers drag him to, around this time every year. The meetups, the galas— even those photoshoots you're silently a bit thankful for because he looks so irritatingly handsome in them.

You take out your irritation on his wings, gripping the sensitive primaries in one fist. To his delight, you begin to stroke the sensitive, silky bristles along the sides of his feathers, teasing them with your fingertips.

"Woah, woah, woah," Keigo smirks. The plumage of his wingspan preens with the attention, arching into your touch like a purring, spoiled housecat. "Easy there, doll. What's gotten into you today— oh, fuck me."

The moan dies down into a pleased rumble in his chest; and before he knows it, his hips arch just like his glorious wings, grinding his backside against the pretty, pink appendage strapped to your hips by a few medieval-looking buckles.

"Nothing," you lie. "Just wanted to shut you up, but it's not working all that well." 

"Liar," he snides. "You know that makes me loud, baby."

"Wasn't exactly trying to hide that, but nice try."

Your palm finally guides his tip into the toy, slipping it deep inside while he sighs in momentary relief.

But the relief is just that. Momentary.

Keigo's hardly bottomed out for a dozen seconds before he's whining and trying to press himself back against the tip of your strap, too.

"Oh my god," you laugh genuinely, dumbfounded by how quickly he begs for the next little indulgence on the list. You're too busy popping the lid of a plastic tube and drizzling your strap with lube to babysit him; so for now, you ignore his whorish little display for attention. 

"You want it that bad, already," you ask, slicking the length and plopping the tip against his fluttering rim, giving him a few lovetaps.

"Yeah," Keigo smiles, deliriously. "Wanna feel you fucking against my prostate. Give it to me."

Cheeky. On another day, you'd deny him strap altogether for acting like he doesn't need to do anything to earn it.

"Tell me if anything feels weird," you say instead, kissing his shoulder once while you grip the tip in one hand, pressing it against his hole. "Does it feel okay?"

"Mm, yeah," he rolls his shoulders. "But can you, uh, let me just lay here a little, at first? You know, while you do your thing?"

Keigo shakes his hips in an attempt to look enticing with the shameless request. "I'll be really good. Promise."

"You're such a fucking pillow princess," you accuse as you slide inside his already prepped hole and begin to move; and just as quickly as you utter it, the pseudo-insult backfires in the form of a high pitched, utterly pleased moan below you.

"I-I can be your princess," Keigo immediately agrees, with some nods alongside each of your thrusts. When you sink into him, he sinks his teeth further into the pillow than his mind sinks to delirium— deeper than his pride sinks down to a new low. 

"I'm yours, I'm your princess," Keigo repeats. "I'm your fucking princess," he moans, reaching one hand back to claw those delicately manicured fingernails into the meat of your thigh. Each nail is meticulously cut, shaved down like the hair on his lithe body and painted an iridescent gold to match his eyes under your bedroom light.

It's whiny when he pleads, "fuck me"— and it sounds even more pathetic when he squeals it. 

With every infuriatingly slow thrust of your hips, Keigo makes a show of displaying his greed. He drags you into him, vice-grip in one hand locked in your flesh to pull it flush into his. His other hand busies itself clutching the drool-soaked pillow against his bare chest for stability.

You treat him delicately, fucking him too slow for him to even think of blowing his load? Oh, that makes him growl through his teeth.

"Just blow my back out, already!" He practically mopes, cock still throbbing in his toy. You can hear the purse of Keigo's lips, his adorable, jutted bottom lip that you're certain is wobbling at this point. 

"C'mon," he grits. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that you should, like… Keep your promises? They're no good if you don't, y'know."

There are only a few days in the year Keigo is allowed to act out like this, and he'll be damned if he doesn't capitalize on them to the fullest.

The brat's gonna put you in an early grave at this rate, you think. You may not be able to punish him today, but you certainly can give him exactly what he wants. 

And when you do give him what he wants, the reality becomes abundantly clear: he can't actually handle it.

When you speed up, he pants like a dog— or, more aptly given this pretty little position, dripping submission and precum while he gets his ass stuffed, face down— Keigo pants like a bitch.

With his tongue far too heavy for his mouth, he resorts to whimpering into the pillow— his poor little crutch. The fleshlight is still squished between his pelvis and the bed, so every thrust you grind against his ass milks his cock, too. It's impossible to keep his head clear and focused when he's stimulated on all fronts; but bless him, Keigo does try.

He tries so hard, pathetically, to focus through the sounds of his lubed cock rubbing against the wet silicone, through the full feeling stuffing his insides at the same time.

Yet even still, it's not enough for him. He snarls in frustration as he shoves his hand between his thighs to adjust the cocksleeve, angled so he can stuff more of his cock in it, enveloped down to his base and pressing near-painfully against his balls. 

Fuckin' perfect, he sighs, finally able to direct his attention to his lovely partner digging out his guts from behind.

"Make me your b-b—" He starts and trails off, brows pinched with effort. "Make me yours," he corrects.

Oh? You tuck that little tidbit away.

You suppose it's been countless minutes since you began railing the poor, whimpering pup beneath you. That is, if you were to judge by the rasp in his voice that builds each time he cries his heart out.

Keigo is, despite it all, a very, very good boy. He gives you his visual cues when he feels that telltale tingling in the swollen, blushing tip of his cock; the one that lets him know how close he really is to bursting along the edge. He tenses his already defined muscles and looks back at you with the cutest puppydog eyes, just to make sure you know he's close. 

"I'm gonna cum," he warns verbally, too.

But you don't stop.

If his muscles weren't tense enough before, they certainly are now.

"Baby?" Keigo near-panics, turning a bit to gaze up at you pleadingly. Your floral bed sheets twist into spirals under each of his fists, wrung in a manner not unlike his cock. "Baby, I-I said I was gonna cum."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time." You peer down your nose and eye the bead of sweat that slithers down his neck. 

You watch the tremble of Keigo's hips as he does his best to keep his position poised like a prized showdog, dutifully still. He resists the urge to meet your strokes, instead offering every scrap of control to you as he lets the length of your strap carve out his insides. With every angled rock of your hips, the tip of your curved cock rubs against his poor prostate, stimulating it and making it a nightmare of an endurance test to hold himself back from spilling.

Habit is a powerful thing. Of course, Keigo's body recognizes the familiarity of this song and dance. His cock, ever well-trained, expects you to deny its release; to still your hips and cause his balls to ache, heavy with deprivation, just like you always do.

But tonight, you don't stop. 

Your hands are still gripping his hips and your strap buckles are still clinking with your desperate movements. Your pelvis keeps pressing him deeper, manually pushing him in and out of the toy below; and he begrudgingly accepts your generosity, because it's possible that you just felt a little altruistic today. 

After all, it is his—

"I'm gonna cum," Keigo whimpers. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum!" 

And with his nails tearing at the sheets, Keigo's world goes white; almost as white as the sticky mess he makes of his poor little toy, tip flooding it with rope after rope from his throbbing cock.

It rings in his ears when he climaxes, overloading his poor brain with endorphins and making him scream into the pillow he chomps down on.

Still, your delicate hands guide his hips back and forth, ignoring his babbling to watch him fuck his own cum into the toy. 

If it pleases you to watch Keigo continue the motion long after your hands have retreated, you keep it to yourself.

"Ah," he nearly shrieks, high pitched and pretty. "Too much! Ah, fuck, baby, please—"

"Yeah? How does it feel, sweetheart?"

"W-Wet," Keigo hiccups, hips stuttering just the same as his voice. He paws at the sheets when he continues, kneading them in his palms like a kitten. "So fucking wet."

"Mhm," you hum, sitting back on your haunches. You decide to make him use his words for your entertainment, to sate your indignance at his prior tantrums. "And why is that, babe?"

Your palms slide possessively down his hips and up the curvature of his back, meeting his arch. They trail toward his shoulder blades, fingers splayed as Keigo tries to chase them; and to your amusement, he hardly looks to be in the proper state to process the fact that he's actually being mocked, let alone protest it. 

To Keigo, all he knows is it simply feels good.

Keigo answers obediently, instead. It takes you by surprise, the way his unabashed filth spills without shame. Arousal pools between your thighs, but your body remains still— if only to watch the way he fucks himself on your cock, balls deep before he does the same using his own to the fleshlight below.

"Because it's stuffed full of my cum. It's s-so wet, full— fuck," he slurs, voice airy and utterly uncontrolled when he draws his hips back onto your thick, pink strap, down till his ass meets your pelvis; and he thrusts his cock back inside the toy, the subsequent shlick somehow louder than how he runs his mouth. 

Back and forth, in and out, Keigo irreverently milks himself from both ends. The motion of it smears his own spent along the sides of his cock, acting as the most obscene lubricant. It's messy, unbearably loud in its slick sounds.

It must sound as satisfying to hump as it feels, Keigo thinks. His lip wobbles at the thought, hoping it impresses you, and he bites the pillow below him.

"Aww, it's full?" You don't bother to muffle your laughs as you kneel behind him, simply watching as the once-powerful hero below you does all the work and fucks the snark out of himself, for you. The sound of your condescending laughter breaks him, whittling down his vocabulary as his mind sinks to that familiar, fuzzy place.

The silicone is unbearably tight around his length, even though you were careful to pick one out that he could fit into. The thickness and length of Keigo's cock does tend to make shopping for toys a chore, you muse.

You're not complaining, though. You'll take a couple extra hours of scrolling through fleshlight reviews on forums for the well-endowed before making a purchase, if it means you can keep getting split open by his massive cock when he bends you over the bathroom vanity.

Or the kitchen counter. Or the leather couch in your living room. Or the nearest single-stall restroom sink after you accidentally call him something you shouldn't have in public.

But tonight, the nicknames you call him sound nothing like "sir."

They sound like "puppy", like "sweetheart", like "good boy."

The ribbed, silicone rings inside are designed to squeeze his cock with each stroke. It normally feels simply pleasurable; though, after an orgasm that explosive, his cock feels nearly raw in its sensitivity, nerves exposed like live wiring and sparking electricity all the same.

"It hurts," Keigo squeaks through his fat, wet tears; and you begin to pull out and fuss over him. 

That is, until he wails and grips your thigh close in his claws.

"Wait, I want it to! Don't pull out, please don't, please don't pull out. I was so close," he slurs.

"Already?" Your face scrunches with disbelief.

"Uh huh," he nods furiously.

And just like that, your grandiose plans of discovering how much is too much for the glutton end up fizzling out. 

"Figures you'd be into overstimulation," you roll your eyes, palm slapping once against his behind as you watch it go from fleshy peach to red. "Whore."

"Huh?" Keigo drools. He sounds like a lost puppy, brain too fuzzy to register a single word— well, other than whore, but that's only because that word made his cock feel kind of nice.

"Not gonna remember a damn word you said tomorrow, are you," you ask, watching him rock his hips in desperation, drowning in his own pleasure. "Too lost when you get fucked, huh, puppy?"

"Mm-mm," Keigo shakes his head furiously, blonde tufts sticking up like stray feathers. At the sight of it, you're overcome with a sudden urge to claw at his scalp. 

"Mm! Love you," he adds for seemingly no reason when you yank his neck back by the roots, throat bobbing with his strained swallow.

Heart pounding like the percussion of a heavy metal drum with moans just as erotic, skin slick with sweat and cock wet with his own release; this is the man Keigo is reduced to as you take charge once more. You bully his prostate, thighs burning with effort and breath panting in his ear. Your left hand releases his scalp to grip his jaw and keep his back arched into your chest, while your right shamelessly milks his cock, fleshlight in hand.

It's too much. His moans are broken, climbing in pitch like a crescendo until the dam breaks and his mind shatters once more. 

You know how loud Keigo can be. You're well aware, well prepared; yet, like every time you make him sob and scream when he cums, it travels between your legs like lightning, regardless. 

After he collapses into the sheets, it takes Keigo ages to catch his breath. His body still shudders and twitches with the aftershocks of his orgasm, wings flapping twice before tucking against his shoulder blades, submissively. 

There's drool on the pillowcase, you note; and it's been chewed to bits.

When you pull out, he gasps. You rub the tip against his twitching rim in an attempt to soothe him, and his gasp settles into a sigh.

"Good?" You're out of breath, yourself, when you dare to ask. "You look like you lost one of your nine lives, for a second."

"Eh, it was alright," he smirks. "Could you do it again? I wasn't paying attention."

"Shut the fuck up," you slam the pillow against his side. "You're such a brat."

"You love it," Keigo teases, rolling onto his back and stretching. He exposes his belly. Blissfully comfortable, fucked-out, and entirely satiated.

His eyes nevertheless catch between your legs as you unbuckle the strap and let it fall unceremoniously. He wets his lip and swallows, pupils dilating.

"C'mere," Keigo says, making grabby hands. Expectant, he shifts in eager anticipation, settling into an acceptably comfortable position as you place your thighs on either side of his head— he won't be moving for quite some time, after all. 

"Oh," you add, pretending as if you suddenly remembered something. "And Keigo?" 

"Mhm?" He hums, craning his neck toward your core, eager to lap himself another helping to fill.

"Happy birthday, baby."

[theemporium]

Could you do a James Potter c reader smut pls

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

James Potter wasn’t quite sure how he got into this situation but he wasn’t complaining.

The roars of the crowds and the thrill of their win was still buzzing through his body as they marched into the common room, holding the Quidditch Cup above their heads like they were kings and queens. 

It had taken less than fifteen minutes after Gryffindor had won the final match that confirmed their win before the common room had been turned into a party scene with balloons and streamers and smuggled bottles of booze shared amongst the group. 

It had taken even less time for James to be roped into some drinking games because he was competitive down to his bone and he would be damned if he let Sirius beat him at shotgunning a can of beer they had smuggled in through the muggle world.

And then somehow between the drinking and the dancing and the celebrating with his team and house, James’ eyes caught yours and it was like a quick spiral from there. 

One minute he was staring at you from across the room and the next he was dancing with your back pressed against his front, your ass grinding against his dick. Then you were kissing in the middle of the common room, only for you to take his hand and guide him somewhere a little more quiet. Then before his brain could even catch up, you were sinking down on your knees in front of him, your wide eyes gleaming up at his dumbstruck expression. 

“The captain deserves a reward, no?”

James gulped. “I thought the trophy was my reward.”

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked, brows raised in question as you reached for his belt buckle but the boy quickly shook his head. “Words, Potter.” 

“I, uh, I want this,” he stuttered out, his cheeks burning red as you tugged his zip down. 

“Anything for you, captain,” you murmured with a smirk on your lips as you pulled his cock free from his confinements, stroking his length until a small bead of precum oozed from the tip and then you took him in your mouth.

James was about ninety percent convinced that this was some wet dream he was going to kick himself from waking up from in a few moments. Between the Quidditch Cup win and the pretty girl sucking his cock whilst she swore his jersey number on her back, he swore this was only something his deepest desires could conjure up. 

But then you were moaning around his cock, reminding him that this was very real and his hands were tangled in your hair as he fucked your mouth. 

“Fuck, you look gorgeous with my cock in your mouth, darling,” he groaned, his thighs clenching as your nails dug into his skin, but he enjoyed the bite of pain. “You like having your mouth full, hm? Bet you fucking love when I fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”

You could only moan around his cock in response. 

He could barely take it anymore as he looked down at you, only to find you already staring at him with glossy eyes, tears pooling and threatening to fall down your cheeks. He noticed the way your hips rocked aimlessly, the idea that you were enjoying this as much as he was was enough to tip him over the edge as he shot into your mouth. 

His head fell back against the wall, his lips parting as he groaned out your name as he came. His chest was heaving as he took a second to ground himself before he looked down at you, seeing you swipe your thumb to catch any of his release that you had missed and fuck, that had to be one of the hottest things he had ever seen.

“Fucking hell, darling, you’re gonna kill a man,” he murmured as his hooded eyes focused on the way your thighs clenched together to try ease your own desire.

“I’ll take that as a compliment to my blowjob skills,” you retorted, making his lips twitch in amusement. 

“Let me return the favour, baby,” he said to you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. 

You raised your brows. “You ready to go again so soon, Potter?”

His smile was wolfish as he responded. “Oh baby, I plan to have you come on my face at least two times before I fuck you with my cock.”

.

[petrichor-han]

red desert; hwang hyunjin

PAIRING | hyunjin x afab!reader

CAST | hwang hyunjin, yoo jimin (karina), kim minjeong (winter), mentions of felix lee, uchinaga aeri (giselle), ning yizhuo (ningning)

WC | 10.2k

GENRE | angst, fwb, college!au

WARNINGS | explicit language, casual marijuana usage, alcohol consumption, sexual references & jokes

SYNOPSIS | inspired by the song “red desert” by 5SOS. // you won't admit that you're in love with hwang hyunjin, and he won't admit that he's in love with you either. instead, he asks you to accompany him on a trip into the desert, where everything comes to the surface in between grains of red sand and fractured sunlight.

A/N | this is aggressively american and also loosely based off of the camping trip that i went on with my fwb last october. let’s just say that a 6 hour car ride and three days in the desert with him solidified some things and we haven’t spoken since. (same note as the teaser)

request to be added to current and future taglists HERE!

MASTERLIST | RAIN’S PLAYLIST

The day that he asked you to go with him, his hair was red. You remember because he’d been blonde for so long that you couldn’t remember how he looked with his natural color. He was the type of person to dye it so often that his roots hardly ever showed any signs of growth, because he claimed that he hated when people let their dyed hair grow out, even though that was normal and quite frankly, what ninety-nine percent of the population with dyed hair tended to do.

You’d run your fingers through his split ends and dry blonde locks, telling him maybe he should give the bleach a rest. But he shook his head, shook off your hold, and firmly said that he liked how he looked blonde. Other people liked how he looked blonde.

You liked how he looked blonde.

And it was true—his hair was the reason he caught your eye when he walked into the room that night. His silvery locks caught the neon lights bouncing off the disco ball drilled into the ceiling and made you turn your attention away from the semi-hot, semi-lame guy you were chatting up, hoping to get laid after a particularly long dry spell. You’d excused yourself, shaking your empty red Solo cup in his face, making his eyes cross slightly as you yelled, “I need another drink!” over the loud music. You didn’t bother to wait around for a response, cutting through the crowd and feeling sticky skin and damp fabric clinging to you as you pushed past people to try and reach the boy with blonde hair.

He’d settled against the wall, right next to the kitchen so that people were constantly pushing past him and putting him in an awkward position. Clearly, this wasn’t really his scene. But as you gasped, nearly toppling over as you escaped the tightly knit crowd into the outskirts, you looked up and saw him passing a loosely wrapped joint to his friend, lithe fingers carefully handling the badly wrapped object, as if it could fall apart at any moment. And honestly, it looked like it could. He turned his attention to you as you straightened up, blowing a cloud of smoke to the side as he looked you up and down, one side of his mouth turning upwards. He seemed to like what he was seeing as you walked over and perched yourself on the wall right next to him. His friend seemed to feel the tension before either of you two did, and edged away, busying himself with another person that had escaped the crowd. 

“Is it always this busy here?” he asked you, shoving his hands into the pockets of his loose jeans. 

His voice. He had the most gorgeous voice you’d ever heard, and you practically melted into a puddle on the sticky, beer-covered floor. 

“I mean, free alcohol and hot guys? Who wouldn’t come here on a Saturday night?” you ask. You realize now that you’ve lost your cup somewhere, probably back in the crowd. Your throat is dry, and you wish you had a sip of something to take away your nervousness—you weren’t quite tipsy yet. 

“The guys at TKE are gross,” the guy said, wrinkling his nose. “Trust me. I used to be friends with some of them.” 

“All guys are gross,” you counter. 

“Fine. But take my word for it—the ones at TKE are especially gross.” 

“And how can I trust what you say?” Your words are accusatory, but your tone is flirty, and the guy picks up on it as you move closer to him, mostly to edge further away from the kitchen entrance as a pair of extremely drunk girls stumble towards the guy passing out drinks. 

“Maybe my name will provide some credibility?” he says, nudging his friend with the badly wrapped joint as he passes by, hand in hand with someone in leather pants. The friend rolls his eyes but hands him a cart, which the guy accepts and hits once before offering it to you. 

You start to decline, but the way he wiggles it enticingly makes you change your mind for some reason, and you mimic him, taking a big hit before handing it back to him, coughing a little as you turn your head and blow the smoke away. “Alright, so what’s your name?” you ask, eyes watering. You can already feel the high settling in as your eyes twitch a little—but it’s a comfortable high. You can tell it’s not too strong. 

“Hwang Hyunjin.” He sticks his hand out to you, and you smirk and shake it. 

“That name means nothing to me,” you admit. 

“Not yet.” 

And that’s how you end up breaking your three month streak of getting zero bitches—having the most mind blowing sex of your life in the back of Hwang Hyunjin’s bright red car in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. 

It’s not the first time, and it’s certainly not the last. You and Hyunjin, though you wouldn’t consider yourself friends—not really—are closer than most people would be comfortable with getting to their disposable orgasm machine. Which is a nice way of saying that you had a hopeless, dopey crush on your friend-with-benefits, and he seemed to be completely oblivious. 

Such obliviousness was worse than flat out rejection, in your mind. At least if he straight up told you to go fuck yourself, you wouldn’t feel bad about stalking his mom’s Facebook posts from 2013 to find pictures of a pimply, flat haired Hyunjin to save to your blackmail folder. Nor would you feel bad about downing endless cartons of ice cream while you put off showering for a week and a half. 

But this—this limbo that you two were seemingly stuck in? It’s agonizing. It’s fucking excruciating. You think you have a chance when he’s fucking you from behind, one hand clasped around your throat as he tells you “how fuckin’ beautiful” you look as you’re getting your cunt destroyed. But then you feel like a dirty whore when he gets up right after he finishes and starts checking his dating apps right in front of you. 

“Have some fucking self respect,” your friend said to you firmly, after you cried in her arms after one of these fuck-and-dumps happened. It was too much seeing him match with this gorgeous girl and slide into her DM’s with a really bad pick up line. If the jealousy because of this random girl’s beauty wasn’t enough, the corny shit he thought would get her in his bed did it for you. 

You throw back the covers, the sticky stale air hitting your naked skin. Hyunjin barely glances at you as you stand up and start pulling your clothes on roughly. He only notices when you’re tying your shoelaces and picking up your tote bag that you’re actually leaving. 

“Where are you going?” he asks lamely, blinking slowly at you. The stupid pothead had taken two long hits from the dirty orange bong sitting on his nightstand right after he came on your tits, and it was clearly getting to him. 

“Home,” you say, trying to keep your tone light. 

“Oh. Okay. See you later.” He turns his attention back to his phone, where you can see that the pretty girl has responded. You feel a tug in your chest as you gnaw on your bottom lip and turn on your heel to stomp out of his room. The aged wooden floors creaked and moaned beneath your harsh steps; you were sure that Felix, whose room was also in the basement, now lived in fear that the ceiling would collapse onto his head. 

“Bye, (Y/N),” one of his friends called as you rushed by. You feel your face warm with embarrassment; when did everyone get back? Hyunjin told you they were all out seeing some classically boring hetero male film in theaters, and would probably go bar hopping afterwards. Nope—all seven of his housemates were crowded into the cramped living room, watching a chick flick from 2004 where the attractive female main characters were at a nudist beach. You tried not to let your eyelid twitch at the incredible amount of male energy in the room. That, and the entire house just reeked of pot, more so than usual. 

You manage to mumble out a goodbye before slamming the front door behind you. You have to take a moment to breathe in the fresh air and recollect yourself, letting the pieces that Hyunjin metaphorically broke off of you find their way back home. You’re a strong person—you know that he can’t really hurt you, not really. Especially not when you agreed to something casual, nothing serious. Not now, not ever. 

It’s autumn, and campus is starting to look like it. You’re lucky enough to study somewhere with the most gorgeous scenery—it’s pretty year round, but when the leaves change colors in the fall, it’s impossible to look away. There’s a slight bite to the breeze that sweeps through you suddenly, blowing the few fallen crispy leaves across the sidewalk. They rasp and crinkle underneath your boots as you walk down the oddly steep stairs that leads to their front door, and you can feel your spirits lifting with each step you take away from his house. You barely even glance at the bright red car sitting in the driveway, amongst at least four others. 

You pull your sweater closer to your body as your teeth chatter. The wind had more of a slight bite now—there’s a full on chill that rattles you down to your bones. 

At least, you think, Jimin’s apartment isn’t too far from here. 

Jimin lives right off campus, a few streets down from Hyunjin and his roommates. Though you enjoy Jimin’s place a lot more, you can’t help but prefer the mornings when you wake up at Hyunjin’s, simply because the walk to class is so quick and easy—you can see the edge of campus from Seungmin’s bedroom window. 

As you walk up to her apartment and pound on the door with a tight fist, you can’t help but crack a smile at the corny wooden sign that’s hanging on it—it’s covered in chunky orange glitter and says “IT’S FALL, Y’ALL” in curly brown letters. You assumed that Aeri, one of Jimin’s roommates, bought it—mostly because you’d seen her post a picture of her autumnal shopping haul on her Instagram story. It was cute, in a specific kind of way. Only someone like Aeri could pull it off. 

Jimin opens the door quickly, and scans your slightly disheveled appearance. “You have to stop this,” she says immediately.

“Please. I could stop whenever I wanted to, but I simply don’t want to.” You nudge her aside and walk in, and she crosses her arms and scowls at you. She’s mad. Not because you waltzed in like you own the place—you were practically their fifth roommate—but because you kept letting yourself get hurt by this douchey guy, and she was left to pick up the pieces. As much as she loved you, your denial was driving her insane. 

“Don’t lie,” she snapped. 

You wince at her tone. “Rina…” you mumble, using a nickname. Her expression softens. She guides you to the couch, where her other roommate Minjeong is asleep on one end, only her feet sticking out from a plush green blanket. You know it’s her because you were there when she painted her toenails dark blue and spilled the rest of the bottle onto the beige carpet in Jimin’s room. It left a massive dark stain, but after shifting Jimin’s dresser a few inches over, you and Minjeong got away with it. Until they moved out at the end of the school year, at least. 

You sit down on the free side of the couch. The slight movement jostles Minjeong ever so slightly, and she snorts a little in her sleep before curling up in a ball underneath the blanket, pulling her feet back underneath. Now, the only sign of life was the gentle, slight rising and falling of her breathing. You couldn’t see her moving at all unless you looked very closely. 

Jimin re-enters the room, holding two steaming mugs in her delicate, pretty hands. She hands you one of the mugs before sitting down on the chair—the one next to the couch, that desperately needs to be thrown out—and sinks into it uncomfortably. Her knees are almost touching her chest because of how far down she slid. She watches you carefully until you take a sip, and you sigh contentedly—it’s mulled wine, with just a splash of cream. 

“What happened this time?” she asked, taking a sip of her own wine. You can hear the disappointment in her voice and it makes your insides squirm with guilt. 

“He was on Tinder again.”

“Oh?”

“Right after he came on my tits.”

“Oh.” 

Jimin sucks in a deep breath through her teeth, and you can tell it’s bad. Her gaze drops to your chest, though it’s covered by your sweater. 

“Stop,” you whine, placing your arms across your chest. Your wine almost sloshes over the ceramic rim of the pale blue mug. 

“I just feel bad,” she groans, putting her mug down on the coffee table and massaging her temples. “There’s nothing I can do, but you just feel like shit all the time.” 

“Not all the time!” you say, feeling defensive. 

Jimin stares you down. “Fine,” she sighs. “Not all the time. But anyways—you can’t keep doing this. I love you, and this is why I have to tell you: it’s getting pathetic.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” you snap. You slam your mug down. Dark red splashes over the edge and onto the slightly dusty surface of the table. Jimin’s gaze snaps to the mess, her eyes flashing. 

You burst into tears. 

“I know, I know it’s stupid. I know he’s stupid. I know I shouldn’t be crying about him, and I know that it’s getting on your nerves.” You sniffle loudly. “I think it’s time. I can’t keep doing this.” 

You feel a small but comforting hand on your shoulder. You look over, and find that Minjeong has awoken. Her eyes are slightly puffy, and her short black hair is mussed. But she retains her beauty, her cute features blurred only slightly by grogginess. “Good for you,” she says before yawning widely, “he’s an asshole.”

“He is an asshole,” Jimin says sorely. But she nudges you a little so she can sit on your other side. She puts a comforting arm around you. “We’re here for you.” 

You start to cry again. 

---

Your phone is ringing. 

Bright blue light fills the small dark room, and your eyes snap open immediately. You cover the screen with your hands, looking around wildly to make sure it didn’t wake up anyone else. It’s to no avail; the room is pitch black and you can’t see shit. But you can hear Minjeong’s little snuffly snores, Jimin shifting around in her silk pajamas, Aeri letting out a little groan, and Yizhou smacking her lips all in different corners of the room.

You yawn silently, stretching your arms above your head and picking up your phone in one hand, walking over and opening the door with the other. The short hallway is dark and the floors are creaky and cold on your bare feet. When you reach the main room, you finally lift up your phone, which hasn’t stopped vibrating this entire time. Your heart stops for a moment when you realize who’s calling you. 

Hwang Hyunjin. 

The name glows in bright white letters on your phone screen. His generic, blank contact photo—you refused to put a real picture of him there—glares at you. You gnaw on your thumb nail nervously but ultimately decide to pick up. 

“Hello?” Your voice is cold and thin in the thick black darkness of night. You walk over to the window, and push aside the curtain. The silky material washes over your fingers, cooling their clammy surface. 

“Hey. I’m outside.” Hyunjin’s voice is rich and thick in contrast. It’s sort of raspy, like he just woke up. Then it registers—he’s outside? 

“What do you mean?” Your mouth is dry.

“I’m outside your apartment. Can you come out?” 

“I’m not there right now.” Your heart is pounding in your chest. You can only imagine what your roommates would think of some guy waiting outside for you. Luckily, they were both out of town at the moment. You hoped no one else saw or recognized him, but who were you kidding—he wasn’t fooling anyone with that damn bright red car. 

“Oh.” There’s a brief silence. “Where are you, then?” 

“Um, I'm over at a friend’s place. Jimin’s. Yoo Jimin.” 

Why did you give him her full name? You didn’t know. 

“Oh, yeah. I think I know her. What’s the address? I can be there soon.” 

You bite down too hard on your nail and taste blood, from where you ripped it from the skin. “What? Why? Why are you—why are you looking for me right now?” 

Again, there’s a brief silence before he replies. “I’m… leaving for a little bit. I’m going camping, and I was wondering if you would come with me.” 

You stare blankly out at the clear night sky. “Are you serious right now?” you ask, chuckling in disbelief. 

“Yeah, of course I’m serious.” 

“You realize how sketchy this sounds, right?” 

“Don’t you trust me?” he drawls, sounding defensive. “If you don’t tell me where you are, I can’t come pick you up. And I will be forced to knock on every door in your building until someone can tell me this Jimin’s address.” 

“Do not do that,” you hiss, “I’ll give it to you, just… give me a second. I’ll text it to you.” 

“See you soon,” he managed to get in before you pressed the red END CALL button roughly. You quickly type in Jimin’s address, your clammy fingers sliding all over your slippery phone screen. You then sneak back into Jimin’s room, where you keep at least half of your wardrobe and a few spare self care items. For the amount of time you spent there, it would be weird if you didn’t keep some of your personal items there. Using your phone to light up the room, you stuff a few clothing items into a spare backpack and toss in a few other miscellaneous items. Camping, he’d said? He better have extra gear for you, or else he can count on dropping you off at your place. 

Your phone lights up again just as you close the door to Jimin’s bedroom. It’s just one word: Here. 

You quickly type out a text to Jimin, telling her the truth even though you knew you’d get your ass beat when you got back. It ends with you promising that this is the last time, that this is the closure you need. It’s half bullshit, half what you truly believe, and you just hope that she doesn’t see through it completely. You sigh, and exit the apartment. 

You’re still dressed in your pajamas, an old t-shirt and sweats. Your previous outfit from the day is somewhere at the bottom of your bag. The night air is crisp and cold, and you can see your breath in the air when you exhale. Your fingers are starting to slow due to the cold as they grip the handles of your backpack. 

As soon as you round the corner, you can see Hyunjin’s car. The engine is roaring, loud. Exhaust clouds around the car, pale white in the cold. He sees you as soon as you see him and rolls down his window, a wide grin on his stupidly handsome face. And his hair is red. Bright crimson, the color of something sweet and artificial. 

You can’t hide the shock on your face as you walk over, cupping a hand over your mouth. “Your hair!” you exclaim softly. You reach his window, and he lets you touch his silky scarlet locks. 

“What do you think?” he asks smugly. 

“It’s different. Looks nice,” you say honestly. You walk over to the other side of the car and toss your backpack in the back before settling into the passenger seat. The heated seats are nice on your chilled skin, and you hold your numb hands up to the warm heat that’s blowing from the vents. Hyunjin reaches over, his big hand gripping your cold thigh through your thick sweats. He squeezes the flesh there. 

“Missed you,” he admitted. He keeps his eyes on the road. 

“Did you now?” you ask, staring at the neon green number on the dashboard. It reads 4:47 AM, blinking in the darkness. 

“I did!” he insists, “that’s why I’m here now.” 

“What is this?” you blurt out. 

You watch the muscles in his jaw tense as he clenches. His skin looks green from the light of the glowing numbers. “It’s a camping trip,” he says thickly, nodding to the equipment stuffed in the backseat. At least that answers your question of whether or not he brought stuff for you. 

“You know that’s not what I mean.” You sound firm, sure of yourself. A lot surer than you actually are.

Hyunjin has stopped smiling completely. “Can we not talk about this now?” 

“Then when? I’ve waited months. I’ve tried to bring it up. And all you do is dodge it and change the subject. If you don’t answer me right now, I’m jumping out of this car.” You’re yelling, your voice filling the expanse of the vehicle. 

He slams on the brakes, then takes a deep breath and properly pulls over. He turns off the car, and the two of you are left in darkness. The only thing you can hear is your own blood pumping through your ears; the sharp nervousness and reality of what you just said sinking in. Finally, he lets out a short breath, an attempt at a laugh. “I don’t know. It’s what we said it was when we met. Isn’t it?” His voice is low, and you’re unable to decipher any feeling in it. 

“Well, yeah…” you trail off. Your voice sounds small and pathetic. Your request only sounds more pathetic. 

“Then that’s what it still is,” he says carefully, “nothing serious.” 

“Of course,” you say quickly. There’s so much more you wanted to say—you wanted to slap him in the face for even daring to say that, for shutting you down and playing stupid. Is it a little over dramatic? Maybe, but you can feel your anger bubbling in your stomach, salty tears burning the rims of your eyes. For once, you’re thankful for the cover of night. 

That’s when the sun starts to rise. When Hyunjin starts the car again after you both refuse to break the silence, the sound of the engine starting up does the job for you. It roars to life, tiny neon lights flashing in your face as he pulls back onto the road and continues the drive. You know he knows—he isn’t an idiot. If he didn’t know before, he knows now that you’re hoping for something more from him. He knows that you want him in a different way now, that obviously other things in your relationship have changed which led to your feelings changing. 

Warmth finally breaches the seemingly eternal darkness of night. Black turns to dark blue, which turns greenish at the horizon with the arrival of the sun, which exudes warm rays of orange and yellow and pink, expanding as the sun reclaims its spot in the sky. You watch silently as your surroundings start to appear before your eyes; other cars on the road in all different muted colors, a stark contrast to the colorful wildflowers that are growing by the side of the road. uncontained and free. Fluorescent signs are staked into the ground every so often, telling you that there’s construction ahead or that you need to slow down. You peer out the window at the car next to you; a couple sits in the front, laughing together at some presumed inside joke. You’re jealous, watching their mouths move in unison. Are they singing the same song? Their song? 

At the next stoplight, Hyunjin quickly picks up his phone, scrolling through it while trying to keep an eye on the lights. 

“I’ll tell you when it changes, just hurry up,” you say, nervous as you watch him do exactly what you shouldn’t do when you’re behind the wheel. 

He shoots you a withering look but finds what he’s looking for. The catchy constant of his playlist cuts suddenly, and you hear a song you love playing over the speakers. He turns it up just a little so that the lyrics are clearer, and he tries to watch your reaction—subtly, or so he thinks. You can’t help the warmth that blooms across your face, the surprise at his tenderness. He remembers, you think, that I showed him this song all those months ago. 

The gentle voice of the singer warbles in your ears as you sigh happily, leaning back into your seat and drifting off into a calm sleep, visions of plentiful wildflowers and red haired princes filling your dreams. 

---

It’s not like you’re asleep the whole time—you wake up when he stops at a gas station, about halfway there. You come to when the car slows to a stop; you open your eyes to see Hyunjin getting out of the car and squinting at the gas prices in disbelief. He had noticed you stirring and grins at you, somewhat sheepishly. 

“If you need to use the bathroom or something, now’s the time.” He pulls out his phone, looking at a colorful map, and points out the long, winding road ahead. “We won’t hit another stop until we get there.” 

You stifle a yawn and rub your eyes, nodding. It’s warmer here—you’re further south, and the sun is high in the sky. You guess that it’s a bit after noon, and when you check your phone that only confirms it. 

The lights inside the gas station are just as harsh and white as they are at midnight. One of the long, exposed bulbs flickers at the far end, near the ice cream that’s probably expired. You’ve never really disliked gas stations—really, you just never thought about it—but now, as you stare at the hostile face of the cashier, their beady eyes watching your every move, as if they suspected you already, you want to get out of there as soon as possible. 

The bathroom is somehow worse. There’s a singular shred of toilet paper left on the barren brown roll, and there’s no replacement in sight. There’s stains everywhere, both fresh and old, which makes you wonder about the last time it was properly cleaned. You leave as quickly as possible, scrubbing your hands roughly with the nameless neon pink hand soap and trying to kick the door open with your foot—the handle is crusty, and you don’t want to touch it. 

The cashier is still watching you when you walk out, and they continue to eye you as you try to ignore the stare and pick up a bag of pretzels. You pay, avoiding eye contact, and speed walk out of the doors. 

It’s actually hot outside now, even though it’s well into autumn. You’re grateful that you kept your t-shirt on and denied when Hyunjin offered you one of his hoodies. Your forehead already feels damp, and you dab at it with a hand as you walk back towards the red car. 

Hyunjin stands beside it, watching his tank fill up and bopping his head to music. He’s put his own playlist back on now, much to your disappointment, but you weren’t about to let him know that. He notices you as soon as you walk up beside the car and get back into the passenger seat, leaning back and opening your bag of pretzels. 

“You really trust any of the food from that gas station?” he asks. His voice is muffled, so you roll down the window and shrug in response. He leans over, and opens his mouth, wordlessly asking for one. 

“Hypocrite,” you mumble, but you shove one in his mouth anyways. He catches it with his perfect pearly teeth, and gives you a toothy smile, showing it off. 

“Thanks,” he says around the dry mouthful. The crumbs that sprayed from his mouth as he spoke probably should have turned you off, but you only found it endearing—another piece of evidence that suggested you were hopelessly pining for this man. 

Finally, he himself gets back in the car and you’re back on the road. Some might call you cynical, but you think you can only appreciate the scenery for so long, and it doesn't take you long to fall asleep again. The constant movement of the vehicle puts you to sleep easily, and the several late nights you’d been pulling because of looming midterms only added to it. It’s only when you feel yourself lurch to the side heavily that your eyes snap open, but you feel safe and secure. A strong arm pins you to your seat, and when you look down at it you realize that you’ve also been covered with a hoodie, draped over your front like a blanket. It’s dark green, and it smells strongly of Hyunjin’s cologne. “Sorry,” he says, and you turn to look at him, confused, as he takes his arm off of you. “Some idiot cut in front of me and I swerved a little. We’re almost there though, so it’s good that you’re awake now.” 

“Thanks,” you say shortly, your mind still fuzzy from sleep and the two kind gestures. 

You watch as the winding road ahead slowly turns to a dirt path, pebbles getting caught in the tires as Hyunjin grimaces and tries to steady his precious car. He pulls off of the path when you reach a small clearing, only a few trees and dry bushes to cover you. You stiffen, looking around for some sort of bathroom—really, any building—but to no avail. “Where are we?” you ask nervously, “this feels like the plot of a horror movie.” 

“I come here a lot with my friends, it’s a really nice campsite,” he says, almost defensively. “And I wouldn’t murder you. If I wanted to, I would have a long time ago.” 

“Yeah, because that’s reassuring,” you mutter, to which he casts a withering look at you in response. “Just saying…” you say under your breath, though you’re fairly sure he hears you regardless. 

He parks the car, but not before giving you another sour look as he gets out and starts unloading the camping supplies from the back of his car. You help, but soon wander off in search of something more interesting. You leave him to struggle alone with the new tent he’d bought—apparently, it didn’t come with directions, and he didn’t take it nicely when you suggested that he’d probably just misplaced them. You can still hear him cursing as he struggles with the poles as you walk over a small hill and peer at all of the desert flora and fauna. Upon first glance, the landscape is literally a barren desert—there’s nothing but sand and a few scrappy plants amongst the rocky, pebbly terrain. But as you crouch down to stare at a singular crispy looking bush, you see some light green buds on the branches, and the beginnings of perhaps some blossoms. Small insects crawl over the new life, seemingly anticipating its arrival. Momentarily, you think of the possibility of larger, more dangerous wildlife, but you brush that thought away as you admire a massive brown cricket leap out of your way. 

“Thanks for all the help,” a sarcastic voice calls from behind you. You stand up, emerging from the squatting position you’d been in, and chuckle at Hyunjin as he approaches you, bare feet sinking into the warm sand. 

“It seemed like you had it under control,” is your cool reply while you shift around awkwardly, trying to ignore the heaps of sand pouring into your sneakers. His gaze drops to your covered feet, and now it’s his turn to chuckle. 

“It’s a lot easier if you just take off your shoes,” he says matter-of-factly, and you bite your tongue to avoid mocking his tone, trying to bend down to reach your shoelaces without falling onto your face. 

Wordlessly, he walks over and kneels in the sand to do it for you, making you feel guilty for being bitchy again. He slips them off your feet, and you peel off your socks as well, feeling immediate relief as your skin touches the sand. Hyunjin dumps out your shoes, the sheer amount of sand in them making you both giggle. “Isn’t that better?” he asks triumphantly, waiting for praise, and you shrug, trying to hide your smile from him. He notices this and walks over, grabbing your waist and kissing you until you break into a grin and you’re laughing aloud, pulling away so you don’t literally laugh into his mouth. “You’re so cute,” he sighs, pulling you into his side and ruffling your hair. You appreciate this much less—it makes you feel like a child. So you squirm out of his grasp and take a few steps away, in the direction of his car. 

“Did you finish setting everything up?” you ask, clearing your throat before to at least attempt to provide a conversational transition between his compliments and your question. 

He seems a little offended that you pulled away so fast, but his facial expression remains unchanged; he isn’t going to let you know that it bothered him. Is it even within his rights to get annoyed at that? That’s more boyfriend status, he thinks, and then he opens his mouth to reply. “Only the tent, everything else is still just in a pile right next to it.” 

“I’ll help now,” you say with false brightness, speeding off in that direction. You clutch your shoes and socks in one hand, the other clenched into a fist. You can hear his footsteps a short distance behind you, but you don’t stop to wait for him. You don’t stop until you’ve reached the campsite again and you see exactly what he was talking about, with all of the bags haphazardly piled right beside it. “You didn’t lie,” you say, scanning the equipment. 

“Why would I?” he counters, but playfully. 

Slowly, the two of you unpack the necessary things, rolling out your sleeping bags, organizing toiletries and taking out hiking equipment—to which you firmly denied going on a hike in the damn desert. Hyunjin pouted, but brushed it off by saying that he liked hiking alone best anyways, and that you could have fun at the boiling hot campsite by yourself while he explored trails deeper into the site. Keeping up your act, you tell him to have fun, and leave it at that. Surprisingly, you don’t notice the way his face falls slightly as he realizes that you really don’t mind not spending time with him. 

The late afternoon sun is blazing, unbearably hot. You retreat to the tent, which provides little to no comfort—there were no trees around to set it up in the shade, and Hyunjin insisted that you weren’t supposed to pitch a tent underneath trees anyways. Especially here, he said seriously as he smoothed out his sleeping bag, the branches are all so dry that they could fall on our heads any time. You fought the urge to say that you’d prefer a crispy branch falling on the tent over sweating your skin off in the direct sunlight. 

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck. You can feel the hairs that gather at the nape of your neck and how they’re plastered to your skin from the damp heat. You pat the area gingerly with your hand, feeling it come away wet. Your phone is charging, but you’re trying to stay off it to preserve the battery life on your portable charger. Instead of scrolling endlessly through random apps and social media, you’re grumpily sitting on top of your sleeping bag with your legs criss-crossed, slowly chewing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Luckily, Hyunjin had brought a lot of food—more than enough to sustain you for the duration of the trip. It shouldn’t be that long anyways; you both have to be back on campus by the time the weekend is over. 

“The sun’s setting now, so it should be cooling down soon. Might want to get that hoodie back out,” Hyunjin says, entering the tent. He nods towards the hoodie that he’d draped over you in the car earlier, and you chuckle. 

“I’ll put it on if I need it. It’s way too hot to be wearing pretty much anything right now,” you say, trying to fan your moist face with your hand, both of which are sticky with jelly. 

Hyunjin touches the back of his neck too, pushing up the small low ponytail that he’d gathered his bright red hair into. You can see that the dye is so fresh that it’s bleeding into his sweat, leaving scarlet rivulets across his skin that look like scars. “Sorry I didn’t warn you about the temperatures out here. It’s kind of crazy sometimes,” he says softly. 

You shrug, finishing your sandwich and flopping onto your back, which you regret a little; the slick thermal cover of the sleeping bag sticks to your skin immediately upon contact, and the entire surface is warm. Hyunjin mirrors your actions, falling back on his own matching sleeping bag. “That was some hard work we did,” he says, with an approving tone. “For someone who’s never gone camping before, you didn’t do too bad with the tent and everything.”

“Thanks,” you say, somewhat dryly, but only because you don’t know what else to say. A slightly uncomfortable silence ensues, before Hyunjin clears his throat again to speak again. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

You turn your head to look at him, the movement creating a swishing noise against the sleeping bag. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, you’ve just been acting kind of weird recently. Especially today,” he admits, doing the same and turning to face you. He props his head up with his hand, his elbow sinking deep into the plush sleeping bag from the weight. 

It’s hard to swallow the last bite of your sandwich, because of both the thick peanut butter and your suddenly dry throat. “Well…” you trail off. For a moment you think you want to be honest with him, because truthfully, he’s a good guy—sure, he has his moments, but he never really intends to hurt you with his actions. He isn’t obligated to coddle you. 

“You can tell me anything, you know that… right?” he asks. “Like—I’m here for you, even if we’re not…” 

This time, he’s the one to trail off, but he doesn’t avert his gaze. You feel it on you as you stare down at your hands, fiddling with your fingers nervously. “That’s the issue,” you blurt out, “we’re… not.” 

“Not?”

“You know what I mean.” You’re embarrassed, so you turn away from Hyunjin so you don’t have to look at him or cringe at the shocked expression spread across his handsome features. 

“You—you want to be…” 

“I mean… yeah. Not at first, but now… I guess I feel differently.” Your voice grows softer. 

“Since when?” 

“Sort of recently. Maybe a month ago.” 

He says your name with such gentleness, such care, that you feel your eyes starting to water. “If I knew… I wouldn’t have been so…” 

“Such an asshole?” you ask scornfully. You can’t help it. This was why you didn’t want to ever have this conversation with him. You knew that there was resentment, even though he didn’t really do anything wrong. You knew that by bringing this up, you’d be breaking down your own walls that you put around the feelings you had for him, locked away deep deep down. 

He exhales loudly, clearly not pleased. “Well, I don’t know if I’d say that.” 

You don’t reply, because you know that if you do your voice will break, and then he’d say something about you crying. Something nice, probably—he’d want to comfort you, which makes everything worse. You wished that instead, he’d laugh in your face or say something douchey, just to give you a reason to hate him and get over it already. Quickly, you wipe away a tear that’s threatening to spill from your eye, and you get up and leave the tent. 

You have nothing with you: no shoes, no hoodie, no water or food. The remnants of the peanut butter taste in your mouth turns sour and dry as you take deep gulps of air, sprinting away from the tent. You run further than you did when you were exploring, faster than you’ve moved in years. You stumble a few times, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment every time the sand trips you up, but eventually you think you get far enough away from Hyunjin that he can’t see you any more. You come to a stop when you reach the only somewhat memorable landmark you’ve passed on your run—a medium sized rock that has been flattened at the top to create a seat out of the natural material. Panting, you sit down on it, the hot surface crackling across your skin. It’s not hot enough to burn you, but it’s hot enough to be slightly uncomfortable. Yet, you stay there, hands gripping your itchy thighs, which burn from the rock and from the exercise, as you try not to choke on your own breathing. 

Wiping the sweat from your eyes, you feel a sudden chill in the air that makes goosebumps rise on your arms. You look around to see the sun starting to sink below the horizon; you have the perfect view across the long, flat landscape. The campsite seemed to be in a sort of valley; a lower part of the ground that did not allow you to see across the land. 

It would be dark soon, and you were in the middle of nowhere with nothing. 

“Why couldn’t we have had this talk when it was still warm out?” you muttered aloud, angrily. You wrap your arms around yourself, starting to shiver as the warmth disappears along with the sun. There’s a cool bluish cast on everything now; the sand looks gray and the rock looks black, in contrast to the constant reddish warmth that the desert had embraced during the day. You again wonder if there’s any dangerous wildlife here, and curse yourself for pulling such a stupid move. You curse at yourself for a lot of things—the main one being that you actually came here with him and expected everything to be fine. 

Perhaps that isn’t true though: but isn’t that worse? 

Deep down, even though you’d never admit it, you came on this trip because a small part of you still yearns for his love. You don’t like to change the way you act for a guy; that’s lame and pathetic. But that small part that disagrees seems to have more power over you than you previously thought. You came here because you thought that there was a chance, no matter how small, to get him to love you. Maybe, he would realize just how beautiful you were in the orange light of a sunset. Maybe, doing things that he enjoyed would make him relate to you. Maybe, you would be able to impress him with some secret hidden skill that even you didn’t know about until you showed it off for him. 

You have no tears left, only anger at yourself for being such an idiot, as you pull your legs closer to your body and stare into the darkness of the night. 

You couldn’t have been there long, but you can’t be sure when Hyunjin finds you. By that time, you’d run through a million possible things to say to him when you saw him again, but you end up saying none of them. He too is silent, and the only thing he does when he sees you is hand you the same green hoodie, which you take without hesitation. You’re too cold to give a damn about your dignity any more. 

The walk back is silent. Your toes are freezing, because the sand is completely cold now that the sun isn’t there to warm it. You shuffle behind Hyunjin, who takes wide, reaching strides with his long legs that easily eat up the desert terrain beneath him. He looks beautiful in the moonlight, as he always did, and you think of the first night you met him at that party, when the very same thing captivated your attention and refused to let go. The only difference now is the red—his hair, still burning and bright in the darkness, rather than the silvery blonde that made you do a double take. It’s no less mesmerizing though, to see it bob and sway as he walks, leading you silently back to safety. 

“This is why,” he says, his voice shaking. The raspiness breaks the quiet, disrupts the still air.

“Why…?” 

He stops suddenly, and you almost crash into his back. He turns to face you, his brow furrowed, his lips pressed into a tight, small line. He says your name again, tenderly as always. “This is why we’re stuck like this.” 

The campsite is in view, and your gaze drifts from his pained face to the lonely, singular tent that’s sitting in the sand. “Because I’m a fucked up person?” you ask bitterly, knowing damn well that isn’t what he meant. 

He just shakes his head. “That’s not what I said.” 

“But it’s what you mean, isn’t it?” 

“(Y/N)...” 

Dawn breaks, warmth spilling back over the hills and valleys, turning the sand a bright orange. You watch as the light washes over Hyunjin’s tall frame, a mile long shadow being cast by his lanky body. Neither of you says another word, and then he just shakes his head again, scoffing so quietly you can barely hear it, and turns to walk back to the tent. He doesn’t look back, and then ducks inside. The rustling sounds stop, and you’re left standing there alone, clad in the dark green hoodie, when your tears finally overflow. 

---

Men. 

You want to blame Hyunjin. You always want to blame him, because honestly, it is partially his fault, just as much as it is yours. Once, Jimin had muttered something about men always being disappointing, especially men around Hyunjin’s age. His personality and looks didn’t help either; he knew that he was attractive and desired, and he took advantage of it. That’s the worst part about pretty men, you thought, their own fucking self-awareness. 

Or maybe that’s not the right term, because there’s a lot of shit about him that he was just blind to. He never understood why you got mad when he said something insensitive, thinking that he was just being honest and communicating. His naturally flirty personality attracted a lot of people, who he messed with for fun instead of taking it seriously. Here, you were torn: you genuinely could not tell if you were just another body to him, or if he actually cared about you and thought you different from all the other losers that he’d mess around with. 

You feel nothing but guilt when Jimin pulls up to the campsite, an unreadable expression on her pretty face. She stares you down as you pick up your bag and trudge over to her car, your furrowed brow and frown a clear indication of your emotions, the complete opposite of her. She doesn’t help you into the car, instead staring straight ahead and gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles are pale and bloodless. 

You’re about to shut the door when Hyunjin peeks out of the tent and notices that you’re leaving. He gnaws on his plush bottom lip for a moment, as if he is pondering whether or not to do what he thinks he should, and then he stumbles out of the unzipped flap and walks over to you. His nose is scrunched up, his eyes narrowed a little from the effort. “Are you leaving right now?” he asks, somewhat stupidly. 

“Obviously,” Jimin spits, venom lacing her words. 

Hyunjin looks surprised at her hostility, and his gaze flickers between you and her for a moment as you avoid eye contact with both of them. 

“Can I say something to you before you go?” he asks. His voice sounds unnaturally rough, like he’s struggling to speak. 

Jimin looks at you, and you realize that she’s letting you decide for yourself. 

You stare up at Hyunjin, at his gorgeous face that looks almost hopeful as you stare into his deep brown eyes. 

“No.”

“N-No?” he repeats, stumbling over the first syllable, pathetically—a first for him, straying from his usual graceful, cool tone. 

“You heard her,” Jimin snaps, and she reaches over you, snatching the door handle and slamming it shut in his face. He looks appalled, shocked, as you drive away. The wheels on her car spin in the dirt before they finally get a grip, and she pulls away from the campsite, away from the lone brightly colored tent in the beige landscape, away from Hyunjin and all of his unspoken emotions. 

“I’m sorry, Rina,” you say immediately, looking down at your hands shamefully. “I should have known better.” 

“What happened?” she asked, “What did he do to you?” 

“He didn’t do anything. Honestly, that’s kind of the problem,” you say, scoffing at the end at your own foolishness. 

Jimin presses her lips together until there’s nothing left but a thin pink line, showing her exasperation with you. “Well, let’s hope he doesn’t ever get to do anything to you,” she says, stepping on the gas as her car finally touches the smooth paved road again, escaping the rugged, bumpy terrain of the dirt pathway you’d been traveling on thus far. 

“One can only hope,” you mumble, just a little sarcastically. 

Jimin cracks a smile, and you feel your guilt melt away as she covers your hand with her own, a small gesture of comfort. You sigh aloud, and wonder why you bothered to get yourself into such an emotional situation in the first place. You were done being a doormat, done being the other woman, and done with Hyunjin. 

---

Fuzzy socks, a mug of rose (chilled, but you felt as if you looked fancier and more seasonally appropriate drinking it out of your cute hand painted mug), and a Halloween movie marathon on your laptop. That was the medication that Dr. Jimin had prescribed when she dropped you back off at your place. She didn’t say anything about the long drive there and back and how you really just wasted away half of her weekend, and she gave your cold hand a last comforting squeeze before she left. You didn’t realize how much you didn’t want to be alone until her car disappeared around the corner, and you realized just how quiet your apartment was. All of your housemates had gone out for the weekend, with one of them away visiting family and the other at their partner’s, and the silence seems to sting your skin as you walk around mindlessly for a few minutes. 

You toss your backpack onto the floor of your bedroom, not even wanting to think about unpacking it even though there’s hardly anything in there. You peel off your clothes, watching stray grains of reddish orange sand spill onto the hardwood below. A trail of clothing items leads from your bedroom and to the bathroom, where you sit down on the floor of your shower and let the hot water run over your skin until steam rises off of it and it’s fevered to the touch. Only then do you bother to wash yourself, scrubbing away the last day with Hyunjin, peeling away his touch little by little. 

You don’t feel raw when you step out of the shower, like you probably should. Your skin is irritated from the temperature and the friction, and you wrap yourself in a clean towel and trudge to your room, ignoring the puddles joining the trail of clothes on the floor. 

You follow Dr. Jimin’s prescription, getting reluctantly dressed in clean and comfortable clothing and turning on a movie marathon. You pour yourself a full mug of wine, the pink alcohol slopping over the rim of the ceramic container. Though you wince at the mistake, you don’t bother to clean it up. You make a mental note to clean before the weekend is over, so that your housemates don’t return to a dumpster fire in the apartment. 

You lay down on the couch, your warm laptop acting as a heat source on your stomach. You’re facing the one big window in the entire apartment, and the curtains are parted, allowing you to see outside. It’s raining heavily, with fat droplets slapping against the glass almost angrily, mirroring the emotions you’d been feeling lately. Everything is gray, the once bright autumnal foliage now dampened and soggy as the season begins to transition into the next. This is the worst part of autumn in your opinion: the decay that comes after the bright happiness. It’s so fleeting, but so beautiful that you can’t help but stick around even though you know nothing but desolation awaits you once the flame dies. You laugh to yourself at your dramatic nature, comparing the changing seasons to your relationship with Hyunjin. It’s almost cathartic to be so wholly passionate and silly about it all, to let yourself feel all of your emotions at once and not worry about what people will think. The movie playing on your laptop drones out the steady pattering of raindrops against the window as you chug your wine, beginning to feel fuzzy as you drink more and more. 

You’re not drunk enough to hallucinate—you know that for damn sure. Does alcohol even do that? You’re not sure but you think you’ve been blackout drunk enough to get there, if it was a real thing. Then you realize that it’s real—he’s real. Through the blurred window, you can see a bright red car parking in front of your building, and an individual with the same lanky frame as Hyunjin stepping out of it. His hood is pulled up over his head to keep out the cold rain, so you can’t be completely sure, but you’re pretty positive that no one else you know drives a car like that. So really, who else could it be?

You have to pretend like you weren’t secretly hoping this would happen as you walk over to the door, expecting him to knock at any moment. Sure enough, a sharp knocking reaches your ears, and you unlock and open the door immediately, staring directly into Hyunjin’s eyes. You glance upwards ever so slightly and see the dark black bangs hanging in his face—his hair has been cut and dyed. 

“What?” you ask dryly, the implications finally getting through your muddled mind. Simultaneously, you try to ignore the new changes to his hair. You wonder what Jimin would do if she knew he came to your door. Probably beat his ass, which at the moment you thought was quite deserved. 

“I do like you,” he says hastily, the statement escaping his lips plosively and suddenly. You watch a raindrop slide down the tall bridge of his nose and fall. His damp, short bangs peek out from beneath the hood of his gray sweatshirt. The entire garment is spotted with rain. 

“Okay…” you say, feeling your heart catch in your throat. You try to sound nonchalant, ignoring the pounding in your chest and the way your head starts spinning. 

He ignores your response, continuing in a desperate voice. “I do like you,” he says hastily, “but I don’t think I can be in a relationship right now.” 

“You came all this way in the rain to tell me that you don’t want to date me?” you ask, raising your eyebrows at him. 

“No!” he protests, and you step aside to gesture to him, letting him inside. He shivers in his damp clothes, and you roll your eyes as you toss him a throw blanket that was laying around. It definitely isn’t yours, and you add “laundry” to your checklist of chores to complete before your housemates come back. He wraps himself up in it, fuzzy pink fluff surrounding his face, which is wetly streaked with raindrops. “That’s not what I was saying.” 

“So you do want to date me?” you ask bluntly, picking up your mug and taking another massive gulp. He eyes the nearly empty bottle of wine sitting on your coffee table. 

“Are you drunk right now?” he asks. “Where did you get this from?” 

You wave him away. “Someone left it here after a house party a little bit ago, we needed to use it up so here I am being resourceful and eco-friendly.”

“That’s not what that means,” he says, cracking a small, crooked smile. 

“Whatever!” you say, rolling your eyes yet again. “What did you have to say to me?” 

“You’re honest when you’re drunk. And sassy,” he comments. 

“That’s what you have to say?” 

“Give me a minute!” He huffs, sitting down uninvited on the edge of the couch. “Listen, I do really like you, but I’m really busy and it wouldn’t be fair to you if we were in a weird half-relationship just because I don’t have time.” 

“And is that all that different from what we do now?” you ask crossly. “Only you have zero commitment right now, and you’d maybe have like… fifty percent commitment if we did that.” 

“You’re drunk,” he states, as if it weren’t obvious as well as previously established, multiple times.  

“And you’re an asshole.” 

He stops, the playfulness completely gone from the banter. 

“That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it,” you say slowly, “I’m not mad any more, I’m just saying. And what I’m saying is that that’s the exact bullshit guys say to you when they don’t actually want to date you, but want to fuck you.” 

Hyunjin blinks slowly at you, in disbelief. “You really think I’d do that to you?” 

“Why not me? I’ve seen you do it to so many people—even when I’m out with you. You think that messing around with all these people has no effect, that everyone can just brush it off like you do. But not everyone’s an asshole like you are.” 

“Stop calling me that.” His voice sounds small, wounded even. 

“Stop being one, then.” Your voice is cold, but pain creeps through the cracks and shows your true emotions. You’re tipsy and you’re crying in front of him, and you’ve never felt more pathetic. 

“I’m sorry, I really am,” he says softly. “I should have been honest with you from the start.” 

“You had a lot of chances to do that,” you reply. 

“So did you,” he reminds you—not out of malice, but out of honesty. 

“Yeah. I wasn’t perfect either,” you admit, though your ego takes a bruising from that single statement. 

“People aren’t meant to be perfect…” Hyunjin says, trailing off at the end, like there was something else he wanted to say. You wait for it, studying him as he picks at the fuzzy corner of the blanket. “So can’t we forgive each other and try?” 

“Try what?” 

“Try… us. Try being together, even if it doesn’t work out in the end.” 

You know what you want to say as soon as you hear him say that, but you also know the ending already. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you and Hyunjin weren’t exactly compatible. There were so many arguments, even though you were never officially together, and you had little to nothing in common. Though those weren’t dealbreakers on their own, when put together, and along with all the other little things you picked up on as you got to know him, you knew the real answer, the right answer. You reach out to caress his face. His skin is warm now, and his hood slips off of his head to reveal the full haircut. It’s short, as you presumed, only the top layers left somewhat long. His bangs tickle your fingers as your hand drops. 

The rain only pelts against your window harder as you take his cold hand in yours, intertwining your fingers for the last time, and press your lips to his knuckles. Hopefully, he looks at you, awaiting your answer. 

You smile sadly; the moment is bittersweet. Goodbye moonlight, goodbye to our song, goodbye to your stupidly loud car and your soft hair, you think, goodbye.

“No,” you say simply. “We can’t.” 

DIVIDER CREDIT | @cafekitsune

© petrichor-han 2023, all rights reserved.

[lilacfiresoul]

forbid, april 4 -- @jegulus-microfic -- 1,393 words

thank you to @magswrite & @ninety-two-bees for the cat names for this one, was really struggling to think of some <3

second microfic posted today, only because i want to keep up with the dates for all of them lol and i genuinely am procrastinating uni work

----

So, Regulus can safely say that making a cake is harder than he thought.

It’s not like he’s not following the recipe—he is. He scoured the internet two days ago for a good Devil’s Food cake recipe, eventually finding one he could follow along well enough; he even stopped by the supermarket on his way home from work yesterday to get all the ingredients, writing a list and ticking items off he as went to make sure everything was accounted for.

He’s being thorough, meticulous.

But he’s never baked anything before, and, with rapidly dawning fear, he realises he’s greatly underestimated the skill that goes into it.

Dread, and the crippling desire to make this cake perfect for James, leads Regulus to run flour-dusted fingers through his hair as he squints at the recipe for the buttercream. The recipe tells him not to “over-whip”, but how is he supposed to know what that means? He’s just thankful that James, clearly the cook in this household, has all the equipment and devices needed to bake, so at least he’s got that.

By the hob, two halves of something that resembles a cake cool on a wire rack. They don’t look exactly like the picture, but hopefully it will still taste good. Hopefully.

To be honest, Regulus will be pissed if it doesn’t, as the kitchen is … Well. He glances away from the stand mixer mixing the buttercream ingredients together to stare at the evidence of what he’s been doing this afternoon.

Used bowls and utensils overflow in the sink. The majority of the countertops are clustered with baking ingredients: the bag of flour still open next to the cocoa powder; the egg box flipped open with two eggs missing. If Regulus were to run a finger over the surface, he’d probably find it dusted with a fine layer of flour too, as he learnt the hard way that one has to open a bag of flour slowly.

James usually keeps it spotless, and whilst he doesn’t forbid Regulus from cooking—actually he wholeheartedly encourages it, gazing dreamy-eyed as Regulus tries to focus on what he’s doing and not imagine having him for dessert instead—there’s the unspoken implication that the kitchen is James’ playground, whilst the study/library is Regulus’.

But he’ll clean it all up. He has still an hour and a half before James is due to get back home from work, which is plenty of time to figure out this icing problem, put the cake together, and for Regulus to clean up.

There’s a nervous feeling of anticipation in his stomach when he switches off the mixer, peering in at the icing. It looks good actually, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Okay, this might work.

Just then, one of their two cats, Leo, walks into the kitchen, followed by the other, Astraeus. James had named the former, a gorgeous white cat with one black spot at the base of his tail, and Regulus had named the latter, a Russian Blue with glowing yellow eyes that, when they were adopting cats, Regulus insisted he couldn’t leave behind.

“Hello, you two,” he says, picking up Astraeus and planting a kiss between the cat’s ears before setting her back down again. Leo, always craving being the centre of attention, hops up onto the counter.

Regulus is about to fuss him, too, when he hears the scrape of a key in the front door lock, indicating James is home. Panic flares in his chest, because Regulus is nowhere near done with this cake, and it’s going to spoil the surprise.

“Hi, love!” James calls out, the door closing behind him.

“Hey!” Regulus calls back, glancing around at the kitchen. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles under his breath.

At the sound of their other father’s voice, Leo scrabbles into action. In his haste, he knocks into the bag of flour, sending it flying onto the floor—

And exploding everywhere with a loud thud.

“What the hell?” James exclaims from the hallway. “Reggie? Are you okay?”

Spooked, and probably scared of the consequences of his actions, Leo flees, knocking over—it really can’t get any worse, can it?—the box of eggs as he does so. Astraeus, pinning her ears to her head, follows instantly.

And Regulus? Heart literally jumping into his mouth, he manages to catch the eggs in time, only one of them cracking in its cardboard container. Putting them safely back on the counter, he sighs and rests his forehead on the cool surface, taking a deep breath in before answering, “Yeah. I’m okay,” and then turning around to assess the damage.

The bag of flour has well and truly split everywhere, sending white fireworks all over the floor and up the sides of the cupboards. It genuinely looks like a small flurry of fine, powdery snow has blown into the kitchen, as if every single piece of flour has expelled itself from the bag.

James darts around the kitchen doorframe, concern and worry written into the lines of his face, mouth open to ask if Regulus is okay again, when he freezes at the state of the kitchen.

For a second, he doesn’t say anything. Regulus can feel his heart thundering beneath his chest, loud like a drumbeat. Fuck, he’s in so much trouble. He watches James’ eyes flick from the flour-y explosion on the floor, to the cake cooling on the side, to the unwashed pans in the sink, and then back to Regulus.

Guilt floods through him. He should’ve just gotten a store-bought cake instead. He needn’t have gone to all this trouble, all this hassle, spent all that money, wasted all this time, because now their kitchen is an absolute mess, and they’re going to have to spend James’ birthday cleaning it up.

He almost expects a reprimand when James opens his mouth again, prepares himself for it, his body tensing, eyes narrowing, bracing himself for the reprimand to come—

He does not expect James to burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, Reg,” James wheezes, pressing a hand to his mouth. “You— there’s flour all over you …”

Looking down at himself, Regulus groans to find that it’s gotten on him too, though thank God he’s wearing an apron. “Jesus.”

Still laughing, James crosses over, cupping Regulus’ face in his hands. “I’m not talking about the apron, love. It’s,” he gets out between laughs, “it’s on your face. In your hair. What— What have you been doing?”

Fighting a smile, Regulus lets James brush flour from his cheeks and get it out of his hair, and then jerks his face away. “I was trying to make you a cake for your birthday, but, uh. I guess it took a turn. Leo got excited to see you. And you’re home early.”

“They let me go early,” James explains.

“Oh,” Regulus says. And then, because he has to ask, “You’re— not mad?”

“Mad?” James echoes, confused. “Reg, this— is hilarious. I’m flattered, and so, so happy that you went to all this effort for me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“But it’s your birthday. Happy birthday,” Regulus says, as if he didn’t whisper it into James’ ear this morning. The relief that James isn’t mad at him makes his knees buckle.

“Thank you, my beloved,” James tells him, turning to the cake on the side. “Is this chocolate cake?”

Regulus nods. “Devil’s Food cake to be precise. I looked up a recipe. I don’t know if it’s any good, but …”

The smile on James’ face could light up Regulus’ night. He steps over to the icing bowl. “This the icing?” and before Regulus can reply, he dips his finger in and licks it off. Regulus’ eyes widen.

“This is good, Reg. Like, really good. You know, you could actually be a good baker.”

“You think so?”

James comes back over to his side, this time cornering Regulus against the counter, one that is, thankfully, empty. “Definitely.”

It’s a long while before they clean up the flour on the floor.

[eddiernunson]

Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ | PREVIEW

Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves…difficult.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie’s general appearance.

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when I wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie’s energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

I'm posting a sneak at this one, because it was a surprisingly close call. I'm not sure when I'll be done, tbh. But here's the first 900 words!

As the night swallowed you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car while she drives you to the ER. While rough housing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you roll your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sat in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain at each one. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called to the back as you read the memes and watch with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.

Your eyes flick onto someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally in the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.

His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Somehow, he was just so enticing, everything about him drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage, wondering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and white tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

If you want to be tagged when the full fic is posted, just let me know in the replies. Again, I have no idea when that will happen, it's not done yet. Maybe this'll give me the motivation i need

[yenqa]

GLUE SONG!!

synopsis : love songs were definitely your favorite song to write. but with little experience it’s hard to get the right words out, so you search left and right for any opportunity. until you realize, he’s been hiding in plain sight all along.

warnings : uhh theyre so awkward Lawl, i dont think theres any tho?? just fluff

wc : 606 words

003 : great minds think alike

Being productive on a Saturday morning was something you didn’t expect would happen. But your mom just couldn’t get out of bed this morning and forced you to buy ingredients for dinner.

Though, she let you use her money to go shopping as a reward for the fact you probably had to go to three groceries stores just for her special surprise of a dinner was truly a karma itself coming for you.

So you didn’t mind the fact you had basically gotten free money, even if you had to take a little detour on the way home.

Deciding to try a new cafe today, you pull open the heavy door admiring the calm atmosphere of it.

The cafe wasn’t busy, but still had a few people sitting around, a majority with eyes glued to their laptop and an empty coffee cup sitting next to them.

You walk up to the cashier, waiting for the tall man to notice you as you make sure they have the drink you want to order.

He looks up to you, eyes widening as he quickly puts his phone down, walking up to the cashier.

“Sorry, not many customers have come today, surprisingly, what can I get you?”

Before you can even realize, you say “Do you have a recommendation? I don’t know what to get.”

That's a lie. You always drink a latte.

“Oh, that’s okay, I always get the iced americano.” 

He has a faint smile on his face, and a slightly bigger one grows on your face. His smile is cute, You think, admiring how his hair is styled or the few moles on his nose.

“This is awkward, I don’t really like strong coffee flavors, do you have anything lighter?” You let out a chuckle while saying it.

“Oh—sorry um, you could get a latte? The weather is getting colder, can't have you catching a cold, can I?” He blushes slightly while saying that, making sure to look everywhere but you.

You want to curl up in a ball and roll away. Can you believe this gorgeous man is flirting with you and can’t even look at you? 

Quickly glancing at his nametag, you let out a grin, “Wow Sunghoon, we just met and you already care so much for me? And yes I’ll have a latte, please.”

He nods, adding the order to the machine.

“Sorry—Um I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, is that all for you?”

You let out a breathy smile, “Don’t worry Sunghoon, you didn’t. Yes that’s all.”

“Oh okay, sorry—Your total is four dollars and ninety-five cents, you can insert the card here.” He points at the small black box in front of you, you quietly thank him, paying and leaving to sit down.

Soon after you sit down, he places your cup down in the order station, unsure of how to get your attention as he looks at you awkwardly. Chuckling, you walk up to him, taking your drink.

“Thank you!” You glance at the glass doors you walked in, “I’ll see you around, yeah? I’ve got to run some errands for my mom.” 

“Oh—yeah see you around.” He waves goodbye as you happily take your drink.

The second your out of view Sunghoon sits back down, why does he have to be so awkward around everyone? Especially pretty people like you?

He thought he was crazy for flirting with you out of nowhere, he probably made you uncomfortable and now you’ll never come back to the cafe again. He sighs, going back on his phone to distract himself.

Little did he know that you’re thinking the same thing.

back masterlist next

YENQA > first meeting what do we think 🙏

taglist : @nicholasluvbot @latriii @wtfhyuck @wonqr @enhastolemyheart @luvistqrzzz @jiawji @yswon @fakeuwus @xharisrealm @yeokii @xrvrqs @wonfied @redm4ri @keikeu @melsjy @enhaz1 @wvnkoi @noascats @mrchweeee @collectaed @noirxraa @jakeists @sngvhs @yuemvi @delulu4-life @envirae @heelover5 @kjrcrz @darly6n @girlokarina

sorry if i missed u (if i did dm me!)

[taeskooksbin]

BEGUILE ; kth

CHAPTER TWO

[ previous episode ]

[ series' masterlist ]

you respect his fucking relationship. yes you do.

i kept telling myself over and over again and searched up his details, according to the media, kim taehyung is over thirty nine years old.

and so fucking handsome.

he had a god-like body, out of the world facial features and perfect fashion sense, he almost seemed perfect. he was a well known lawyer, not only in korea, not only in italy but all around the world, everyone knew him.

he was truly a whole package of brain and beauty, a package that clearly did not belong to me.

i bit my nails anxiously and searched up another thing that was making me interested and nervous.

kim taehyung and ciandra park.

almost immediately swarms of pictures of taehyung and ciandra took over my laptop screen.

his girlfriend, ciandra, was pretty, no wait she was gorgeous. no wonder she was his girlfriend. she was over twenty seven, had a perfect symmetrical face which almost made me insecure as well, almost.

glass like tender skin almost pale like paper, perfect pair of plump lips and the most enchanting eyes ever. she had a lean and slim figure, her thin arms standing out of the most and most importantly her height.

she had no breasts whatsoever but her hips did stand out, long and healthy black hair complimenting the pale skin.

i searched her up and it turns out she was a model. of course. however to top all of the 'insecurity' that was building up in me, she also had her own fashion line, not quite popular but it did well, she was pretty-much known in business with over ninety something followers on instagram.

damn, i'm nothing in front of her, no wonder he chose her.

disappointment filled me to the brim after getting to know he was in a relationship, i mean not like i was planning on getting with him, but i did raise my hopes to at least flirt with him.

nevermind, alex will do for now.

━━━━━

"once again, how much older is he than you?" aurora asked while looking at her nails that were almost done. "twenty years" i answered back. "oh, well atleast he's handsome right?" she said.

"very much" i answered back while sophia kept doing our nails. "very well then, he isn't married right? you can shoot your shot" she said while sophia looked at us and then back at her work.

"he has a girlfriend" i sighed as i slightly rolled my eyes, "it doesn't matter 'ella, if he cheats on his girlfriend with you, that ain't your fault" she replied back.

"i don't know 'rora, it might be your thing but it's a no for me, truly" i sighed while trying my best to look at the bright side.

but no matter how much i try, he is just a forbidden fruit that i can never have.

"well it's alright but remember, if he flirts, then flirt back"

━━━━━

it was thursday and i was shirtless scared, although aurora's idea was slowly taking over me. i mean it's not my fault if he flirts with me now is it?

of course i'm not gonna make the first move but if he does it then who am i to stop? right? well, then a little bit of seducing wouldn't hurt anybody.

ugh i'm so stupid to think that he would even glance at me while leaving his model girlfriend. he wouldn't allow a dumb nineteen year old to destroy his perfectly made relationship.

but nevertheless, i got up and took out a green sleeveless dress which revealed the majority of my cleavage and ended till my knees. 'perfect' i thought as i stared at my reflection.

i was halfway through imagining my victory when i heard the main door opening, "he's here 'ella!" i heard mom yell from the kitchen and ran downstairs only to stare at the godly figure in front of me.

"fiorella, pleased to meet you" he smiled to which i smiled back at, politely.

"likewise, mr. kim" i smiled and he shook his head, "please call me taehyung" he smirked and leaned down to leave a peck at my cheeks which had my knees trembling.

i took a sniff at the expensive cologne he was wearing, only if i could wake up to this smell surrounding my whole body. not once did he glance down at my exposed legs or my cleavage which surely left me disappointed.

at least, he's loyal.

"well, where are we gonna start now?" he asked and leaned back, "will dad's office room work?" i said and he nodded. "of course, i just need to focus you anyway" he smiled and we walked to father's office room.

after reaching there, i took a note - not once did he try to stare at my cleavage of my bottoms that i was trying to use to seduce him desperately.

he saw the organised and really neat books and the things that were kept there which i made sure doesn't looks messy, he chuckled "i could not even imagine how much you were disappointed at your grades"

he looked over at where he was staring and smiled, "oh i bet you can't". he picked up one of the books, "i'm getting ptsd just by looking at it" he said while i chuckled.

"can you show me your result again? i need to know the area of improvement" he asks and takes a seat at one of the chairs while i nodded and walked to the table to grab my pad and handed him the results.

we went through the whole exam and re-solved the questions together, two minutes into it and i was feeling damn stupid.

i cursed myself fully knowing that i studied way too hard for this exam and didn't do a single thing correctly.

when we received the results, i heard the degrading chuckles of the teachers and smug faces of the people who deteriorated me into saying that i'd be better off as a housewife. the teachers were really cruel though.

"i'm feeling so damn stupid" i said as i looked at the common mistakes i made which degraded my grades more than before.

"don't be darling, do you know how many times i had to re-do my exams?" he chuckled. "wait really?"

"of course, in college, i was way too immersed in all the bad things that were called the 'cool-kid things' back then, such as drinking, partying and being a playboy, i did everything but study which cost me a huge loss" he let out a laugh.

"but even though i suffered, i'd still say that a little bit of fun wouldn't hurt anybody, instead it will refresh your mind surely" he smiled.

"but despite all the obstacles and distractions, i still managed to get through, and i'm sure you would too" he smiled and kept a hand on my shoulder encouragingly, not once did his eyes slip from my face to the cleavage.

it made me ashamed of my acts, did i come out as too desperate? or should i dress up a hot more revealingly next time?

the grades and his gentleman-like behaviour was making me overwhelmed, i was upset not because i was ashamed of my acts but because i wasn't able to woo him.

stop doing this, he's committed.

"hey, why are you crying?" he looked at me with concern lacing his voice.

"i'm sorry" i muttered, "don't be, princess, i know how hard it is for you, it is for everyone but you would pass it no matter what, i do see a lot of potential in you to do so" he said while patting my head.

"yeah, i can be a baby sometimes" i said when the embarrassment rushed through me, my cheeks blushed since at this point i was totally giving off a vibe of some spoiled daddy's princess who didn't get what she wanted.

it was the grades, in my case.

"don't worry, we'll work this through, alright?" he said and held my cheeks in his hands wiping a tear off of my face. i nodded and refrained myself from pouting when he took his hand back.

girlfriend fiorella, fucking girlfriend.

"i'm giving you some homework for today, you need to prepare for the first portion of your test and i'll return with a test next week to make sure you got everything right, is that okay with you?" i nodded

"we need to change your study method as well so how about i stop by on monday to see how you're doing, how does that sound?" he said with a little smile to which i nodded.

"thank you" i smiled and stood up. "anytime darling" he replied and stood as well, totally towering my small figure which had me ogling for a second.

he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me a bit closer to which i slightly widened my eyes, my delusional mind already making up all the possible (not) scenarios of all the possibilities of him liking me back as i wrapped my own arms around him

and thank you for the sweet words as well" i whispered in his ears sniffing his cologne. i was a bit disappointed when he pulled back since it left me extremely empty and lonely.

"not really a gentleman like behaviour if you see a pretty girl crying and don't help her out, right?" he winked a bit playfully and then broke into a gorgeous boxy smile instantly making me fangirl over him.

shit, i'm going to seduce the fuck outta him.

━━━━━

[ next episode ]

[ main masterlist ]

[olderjustneverwiser]

For the Hope of It All

Steve Harrington x fem reader. WC: 11K.

A story about old friends and a summer romance in Italy. Set roughly 10 years post season four (so mid-nineties? Yeah, let's go with that). Inspired by august by Taylor Swift and those Joe Keery Italy pictures.

Warnings: Smut, MDNI. Talks of death of a parent, discussions of leaving a toxic relationship (nothing is specified though). Not really a happy ending so if that's not your vibe consider this your warning.

The Playlist

June

Salt air, and the rust on your door

I never needed anything more

The day started as most of your off days did; with a steaming cup of coffee at your favorite little café down by the shore. You had found this gem just after moving to Italy, its gorgeous patio and delicious coffee had cemented itself as one of your most frequented spots in town. It had become somewhat of a custom over the past few years, to have your morning coffee with only the salt air and sea birds to keep you company.

It could be lonely at times, but it beat sipping mediocre coffee in an empty apartment.

May had just turned into June, though, so your part of the world was quickly becoming overrun with tourists on holiday, and it seemed like every single one had managed to find your favorite spot away from the tourist traps. The outdoor seating area had filled quickly given the nice weather, so it really came as no surprise when a voice broke you from your reverie, asking if they could take the empty seat across from you. What did surprise you was the voice that spoke. It was a voice you hadn't heard in nearly five years, since you left the backwater town you grew up in to get away from it all, from your fucking ex that drained the life out of you.

You almost didn't believe that you had heard it correctly, but you knew you did. You'd recognize that voice anywhere, even after all this time had passed. Once you turned your gaze away from the sea, what you knew to be true in your heart was confirmed.

The man was sun-kissed, with wild, windswept hair and a glittering smile that only widened when you turned to face him. Once he pulled his sunglasses away from his eyes and pushed them into his hair, you knew.

Steve fucking Harrington. 

Steve, once King Asshole Steve of Hawkins High, was in front of you, halfway around the world from Indiana. Steve, your good friend, confidante, partner-in-crime, first crush. Steve, who you left back in Hawkins, along with everyone else you cared about, because you just couldn't handle how suffocating the small town was or seeing him around town.

Steve fucking Harrington was standing right in front of you for the first time in years and you didn't know how to feel about that.

You almost had to laugh at the absolute absurdity of it all. Why the hell was he even in Italy? How, in all of the places in the world, had Steve managed to find you here? Was this planned, or a chance meeting? Pure happenstance, or fate? 

You had so many questions.

God, he was stunning. He still looked like the kind of men you'd read about in cheesy romance novels. Older, of course, and more filled out, but still looked like Steve. Soft, suave, too handsome for his own good. He looked golden, dangerous. 

He still looked like a heartbreaker.

His face morphed into something else once he noticed that it was you, a mix of surprise and pure elation as he whispered your name, seemingly to himself. Almost like he couldn't believe it either.

"In the flesh," you replied, a joking lilt in your voice because you just couldn't fucking believe this.

"Oh-oh my God!" His outburst seemed to bother the patrons around you, but neither of you really cared when you grabbed the hand he reached out to you, only to be pulled up into a crushing embrace. 

He smelled different than you remembered. A different cologne, more manly now, more comforting.

Dangerous.

Steve pulled away after a beat, but he didn't retreat completely. His hands moved from their spots around your frame only to land on your arms, like he didn't want to let you go yet.

For some reason, you didn't want him to let go either.

"What the hell are you doing here, Harrington?" 

Steve finally released you completely then, taking the seat across the tiny wooden table from the one you had occupied. You followed suit, allowing yourself to really look at him.

The years had been kind to him, that much was obvious. There were a few barely-there wrinkles around his eyes, a scar or beauty mark here and there that wasn't there before, but he still held the boyish charm he always had.

He still looked like your Steve. 

He seemed to realize that he'd yet to give an answer at the same time you did, so he just shook his head, ran his hands down his face like he couldn't believe this was happening, either.

"Sorry, I just- fuck. Can't believe I found you."

"Ah, so you were trying to find me," you said, taking a sip of your now lukewarm coffee to hide the smile that threatened to break.

Steve just shook his head, "I've actually been in Italy for a few weeks now, kinda a spur of the moment trip, y'know?"

You really didn't, but you supposed Harrington money could afford a month-long spontaneous vacation to Italy.

He continued on, "I started out in Rome and have just been kinda moving along. I knew you lived here, from your letters, so I wanted to come and see if I could find you. Turns out luck was on my side."

That explanation gave you even more questions than answers, but you let it rest for now.

"Well shit, Steve. I guess it was." You couldn't help but feel like this was meant to happen, somehow. Out of all of the little cafés and restaurants in this town, he'd turn up at the one you came to every weekend.

Definitely fate, or something like it.

"Why don't we talk about it over dinner tonight? Catch up on everything?" He asked, charm oozing out of every bit of him, and you wondered if this was how all of the girls felt when Steve Harrington asked them out. Pure butterflies and wildflowers in your chest, fluttering and blooming before you could blink. 

Something told you that letting Steve Harrington back into your life would be exhilarating, saccharine, all-encompassing. The summer would allow you to feel alive for the first time in years, while leaving you heartbroken at the inevitable end.

You should have heeded the warning signs; the small part of your brain telling you to stay friendly, but that was it. To not let him grow like ivy on your heart. To entertain him for a week or so then send him on his way because you had left your feelings for him back in Hawkins years ago, back before your heart got stolen away by someone else. You were fine, had been fine until he waltzed back into your life, looking like that and stirring up feelings that were long gone.

But if you were being honest with yourself, the thought of not being with Steve for as long as he'd stay hurt so much more than how it would feel when this would inevitably end in tears.

-

You took Steve to Ke Palle for dinner on that first night.

It quickly became one of your favorite restaurants ever since you moved, and Steve hadn’t been, so it was perfect. It was busy given that it was a Saturday evening, so you and Steve took your arancini to-go, got a bottle of wine at a shop across the way, and settled at a small table the two of you found near the water. The large red umbrella made the late afternoon sun just a little more bearable as the two of you ate, drank, and caught up on everything you had missed over the last few years. Once your bellies were full and the bottle of wine was near empty, you once again found yourself examining Steve in between conversations. 

It was odd, seeing him again. Sure, your friend group had exchanged a couple of pictures over the years but seeing him in person again was entirely different. He had matured since the last time you had been together. There was something in his eyes, a look that told you that he had grown up more than you knew. It told you that he definitely wasn't King Steve anymore; that he had seen shit, been through shit, and that he was a man now.

As the sun began to set around you, you noted the flecks of gold in his hair, the little highlights mixed in with the brown that you had never noticed before. You noticed that you missed seeing his eyes, given that they were currently shielded by his sunglasses, and you hated that you missed something like that. You definitely noticed how his arms filled out the navy tee he was wearing, how big his hands looked curling around his pack of cigarettes-

He cleared his throat and you turned away, embarrassed that he had caught you staring. But hell, how could you not, when he looked like that? The asshole smiled at you then, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking, when he pulled out a lone cigarette from the pack. "Want one?"

"Definitely not. You know how bad those things are for you, right?" You chastised.

"Still hate that I smoke, huh?"

"I'll always hate that you smoke, Steve. Keep it up and you'll fuck up that pretty face, and you know that's your best feature."

He just shook his head and chuckled, gave you a look that said, wanna bet? "Enough about my bad habits, tell me about life and all that."

You told Steve about your life; things that went farther than letters sent across an ocean could handle. You told him about the winery you worked at in town, about how stressful running the place could be, but you enjoyed it anyway. You talked about your favorite coworkers and about how the tourists got to be too much sometimes. Later on, after he indulged and bought another bottle of wine to share, you apologized for leaving Hawkins, that you hated to leave but you wanted more than Hawkins could ever offer, and that you just had to after finally mustering the courage and self-confidence to leave your ex. 

Steve asked if you were dating anyone. You tried not to read into it too much as you gave a definitive 'No'. It was impossible to tell if the flush on his cheeks was from the red wine he'd drunk or from your answer, but you hoped it was the latter.

"Enough about my nonexistent dating life," you said as you waved a rogue cloud of cigarette smoke away from your face, "Tell me about home, how's everyone?"

He shrugged noncommittally before answering. "Everything's good, Robin's good, Eddie's kid is hell on wheels, but she's awesome. Nancy is still livin’ it up in New York. Job is good, those little middle school fuckers drive me crazy, but I love them."

"Still teaching then?"

He nodded, "Yeah, still teaching the youth the joys of dodgeball and how to hold a baseball bat. Pay's not the best but, you know, it's fun. Rewarding, I guess." He was holding something back; even after being apart for so long you could tell there was something he wasn't telling you.

"Yeah, but you don't gotta worry about money, right? You're a Harrington."

The laugh that left him was devoid of humor. Instead, it held something like contempt. It almost sounded hollow. "Yeah, guess not. Especially now, since my dad left us a fortune." He sighed at the confused look on your face and continued on "My dad, uh, died back in April."

You felt your eyes widen in shock, you definitely did not expect that and you hated that you didn't know what to say, "Oh my God Steve, I'm so sorry. Why didn't you say anything?"

Steve just shrugged, "He was a dick."

"He was your dad, Steve."

"Yeah, and he didn't even like me," Steve said the words like they didn't phase him, and you wondered if they secretly did. "Anyway, I guess his life insurance had a pretty high payout. Left us with a pretty penny that my mom split with me. She sold the house in Loch Nora and left Hawkins. I had to get away from everything, so I took the rest of the school year off, and now I'm here with you. Seems like a perfect trade-off to me" He finished with a smirk.

"Steve…"

He took your hand in one of his then, dwarfing your own, "Hey, seriously, I'm fine. And if I'm ever not fine, you'll be the first person I tell, okay? I promise." His eyes were sincere, and suddenly you felt like you were eighteen again, Steve confiding in you that Nancy had dumped him and called him bullshit. You had missed the way the two of you had confided in each other back in Hawkins, but it was your fault that you hadn't had the chance to do that again, you figured. 

"Anyway," Steve leaned back, continuing like he hadn't just dropped that huge bomb on you, "I'm glad I found you. I missed you, y'know."

"Yeah, missed you too. This is nice."

"You look good, by the way. Polaroids don't do you justice." Your cheeks burned at his words. They sounded innocuous, innocent, but you could tell how he meant them by the way he looked at you when he leaned back in his chair, took another puff of a second cigarette he had pulled out of the pack.

Still, you gave a roll of your eyes, tried to pretend like his words didn't affect you at all. "Still a flirt, huh Harrington?"

"Hey, I'm just saying! The sea suits you, is all."

"Yeah, I suppose it does. Think it's done me some good over the years." You were quiet for a beat, just long enough to appreciate how the setting sun bathed Steve in its golden light. "You look good too, obviously."

Steve gave you some noise of acknowledgement, taking one last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. "I think I've had enough sun for one day. You wanna get outta here?"

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

You felt like you were floating as you and Steve raced through the town to get to your apartment. It almost felt like a dream, the thought that something was about to happen. Neither of you had explicitly said that anything was happening once you got upstairs, but you could feel it. It was like an electric current in the air, something between your fingertips as he held your hand in his during the walk. Steve could feel it, too. You could tell by the way his eyes were a little wild the entire walk home, how tightly he held onto your hand.

You willed yourself to calm down as the two of you neared your building; your heart pounding against your rib cage. Part of you was nervous that you'd hyped this up so much in your head that the real thing would be a disappointment, but you knew that wouldn't be the case. No, you were scared that this would ruin you for anyone else.

Because this was Steve you were talking about. There was history here, secrets shared and experiences that had bonded you two for life, no matter how far apart you were. And the way Steve looked at you as you unlocked your front door and stepped into your living room, as if you were the only thing he wanted to see for the rest of his life, solidified the simple fact that you were going to be fucking ruined after this.

You didn't care.

He watched as you set your keys and bag down on the small table in your entryway before leaning back against your door, smoothing down the front of your sundress to calm your nerves because it had been so long since you had done this. Steve seemed to sense your nervousness by the way he leaned into you, softly, a finger tracing down your arm with just enough pressure for you to feel it. "You okay?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm great. Just been a while, that's all." If he noticed the goosebumps that erupted from his touch, he didn’t comment on it.

He nodded, his gaze softer now than it had been at dinner, "Yeah, been a while for me, too. Y'know we don't have to do anything, right? If it's too soon or whatever."

Maybe it was too soon, because while you and Steve had been friends for years, the two of you were so different than you were years ago. Different people at different stages in your lives. Different continents. Hell, you hadn’t even been in the same room as each other for half a decade. But you still knew Steve, still felt the same comfort and security you’d always felt with him. 

It might have been too soon, but in this moment, it felt like a long time coming. It felt like it was always going to happen, at some point. And there was nothing you wanted more.

"I know, but I want to. I really want to, if you do."

"Are you sure?" He whispered, his mouth now close enough to yours that you could smell the hints of smoke still on his breath and the spearmint gum he chewed on the way.

You wanted to reach out, to touch him, but all you could do was curl your hands into fists before flattening them out on the tops of your thighs again. Fingertips tingled, wanting to mirror the path he was making on your arm, trace the veins on his forearm. You held back, almost scared to pop this little bubble the two of you seemed to be in. You wanted to kiss him, really wanted to kiss him. It would be too easy to close the small gap that still lingered between you and finally find out what he tasted like, but you waited. It was torture, but you waited.

"Yeah, of course I'm sure. Are you?"

The nod of his head was earnest, his eyes refusing to leave yours as his fingers abandoned their path along your arm only to find purchase on your jaw, his thumb barely tugging on your bottom lip before finally pressing his lips to yours. 

It was a desperate sort of kiss, the kind that made your toes curl in your sandals and your hands wind in his hair, if only to pull him even closer. Steve pressed into you then, and the feeling of his weight against you had little moans leaving your mouth, which Steve took full advantage of, licking into your mouth when your lips parted.

You didn’t know why it felt so natural, kissing Steve, but it felt like both a first kiss, and a kiss that you had shared a thousand times. Somehow, it felt like this had to happen, because Steve had drawn you in and he was yours and you were so, so ready to fall. Face first, all in, into whatever this was, whatever this would turn out to be. Still, you tried your hardest to sear the feeling of him into your mind. How his kiss tasted, how he sounded, how it felt to have his body pressed against yours like this in case this one a one time thing.

You really, really hoped it wasn't a one time thing.

He let his hands wander, dropping them to squeeze at your waist, letting his mouth wander, too. He moved to your jaw, down to your throat and you felt him smile against your skin when you gasped.

You felt one hand snake down your dress to the side of your thigh, his hand spreading wide, ghosting a path beneath the hem until his fingertips found the edge of your underwear. You felt him shift against you, just slightly, only to continue his path to your front and press into you. It was pathetic, really, the noise that came out of you from just a simple touch.

“Like that, pretty?” Steve cooed, using the same finger to trace up and down over the thin fabric, “Saw you staring at my hands earlier. You wanted me to touch you like this, hmm?”

You tried to roll your eyes, but he pressed harder into you making you feel the wetness sticking to you and you could only close them, letting out a huff, "Are you always this annoying during foreplay?"

He just smirked, his fingers never stopping, "Only with you." He leaned in closer, leaving a peck just below your ear. "Besides, I think you like it." 

You did roll your eyes at that, taking hold of his forearm to stop him, tired of his teasing, "Steve, shut the hell up and take me to the bedroom."

The moment the two of you were in your bedroom, Steve had you pushed against the nearest bare wall he could find before kissing you again. His hands roamed your neck, your waist, the curve of your hip and you felt him everywhere. It was like a live wire running through you, from your lips, red and kiss bitten to the tips of your toes.

His hands found the hem of your sundress again, and he started to ask if he could take it off but you cut him off, answering with a breathless 'yes'. He backed up from you, just enough for you to loosen the zip on the side and let it fall to the floor around your feet. You felt warm under his gaze, him mapping out skin he hadn't seen. You felt too exposed, given that he was still fully dressed, but he was back on you in a second, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

"So fuckin' pretty," He praised, pulling your underwear to the side, let his fingers glide through your folds without the offending barrier before sinking one, then two fingers into you.

The smirk he was wearing quickly disappeared once your breaths turned to moans as his fingers worked you, in and out, long enough to hit that spot and have you feeling close to bursting. His jaw went slack, his cheeks a little flushed and he finally looked as affected as you. 

You scrambled for his shoulders for some sort of stability, nails pressing through his shirt when he crooked his fingers into you, making your breath hitch in your throat. 

"Fuck, that's it, huh? Feel good?"

You only nodded, already feeling dizzy. You let your head hit the wall as he worked you, eyes closing and getting lost in the feeling of him, here with you, against you. 

But you wanted more. You wanted him. 

“Steve, please,” you pleaded, your hands grazing down his abdomen until you reached his belt buckle. “Want you.”

His shirt was thrown near your bed post, his belt clinked as it hit the floor along with his pants, neither of you really caring where they landed. He was on you again, kissing you until you both crawled into bed, his mouth on your jaw, your collarbone until he reached the edge of your bra, mouthing at the fabric before unclasping it and throwing it to the floor. You were impatient, dragging your underwear down until you were fully bare and his lips parted; his eyes devouring you before reconnecting his mouth to yours.

After that, it didn’t take long for him to rid himself of his boxers, slip on a condom and push into you slowly. Teasing, controlled, trying to drag out the moment because you felt fucking fantastic around him. He stilled once he was buried inside you, interlacing your fingers with his and pressing your hands into the bed as you moaned into his neck. You clenched around him at the tender gesture, silently begging him to move by curling your legs around his waist. 

“Fuck, you feel - God - fucking amazing,” he grunted, eyes squeezed shut as he moved against you.

“Steve,” you keened, relishing in how he looked on top of you, blissed out and slick with sweat. How he felt against you, inside of you. How each drag of him made you feel that familiar hook in your belly, like a string pulled tight, stretched, close to snapping. A release building. 

“Yeah? You close?” he asked, fingertips digging into the softness of your hips and he'd sounded close himself. Your breath hitched, back arched prettily because he'd dropped his hand between you, thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit.

"Yeah, Steve yeahyeah," you twisted your fingers in his hair, hips lifting to meet his every thrust until you snapped, your orgasm ripping through you, making you tremble against him. It was enough to send him over his edge, his hips faltering as he came, his face buried in your neck to muffle his groan.

The night seemed quiet then, the sounds of skin on skin and dirty praise whispered between you gave way to your combined breaths, slowly evening out. The air smelled like sex and Steve; smoke and mint, a hint of the salty sea air. You felt calm, peaceful, so, so content with Steve next to you. 

And that was how your summer began.

-

You were vaguely aware of fingers tracing down the length of your back and the smell of fresh coffee invading your senses, but you were so warm and soft and relaxed and did not want to leave the dreamlike state you were currently in. But then you felt soft kisses to your shoulder, a murmur against your hair that made your eyes open to see Steve, mussed up hair and still shirtless from the night before, with a steaming mug of coffee in his hands.

He looked like a damn dream.

"Morning, sleepy. Coffee's on your nightstand, just a splash of cream and sugar, right?"

You nodded, finally making yourself sit up against your headboard and grab the mug from your bedside table, "How'd you remember that?"

Steve only shrugged, crossing the room to take his side of the bed again. You hadn't taken a look at your bedside clock yet but it had to be early morning, considering how the sunlight slipped through the open blinds. The light painted Steve's torso in bright stripes of light; his tan skin looking even more stunning in the sunshine. This whole scene felt almost too domestic. The two of you, drinking coffee in a comfortable silence, Steve leaning over ever so often to press a kiss to your shoulder, your cheek. 

It felt nice. It felt normal.

But you knew it couldn't last. You and Steve were friends, good friends, and he was just passing through, traveling through Italy to find himself, or whatever he was doing. The thought made you ache, but it was the reality. 

Clearing your throat, you started to ask the question, rip off the band-aid. "So, when do you think you'll move on from my part of the world?"

"Actually, I was thinking about sticking around for a while, if you'll have me." Steve said the words a little shyly and they lit a little spark of hope that bloomed in your chest. You knew it wouldn't be forever, that the end would come, but for now, you had him.

"I don't think I'd mind that at all, Harrington."

July 

The summer was a whirlwind, and you loved every second of it. 

Your back beneath the sun

Wishin' I could write my name on it

You still went to work everyday while Steve did his travels, sometimes taking day trips out of town for the day and then coming back to your apartment at night. He'd show you the photographs he'd taken, letting you pick one or two to keep for yourself. 

Sometimes he would join you when you went out with your friends. Your friends had promised to help you show Steve all of the best spots. The two of you would join them for drinks and dancing some nights, other nights opting to go on your own, then crawl home and end up back in your bed sheets before ending the night.

And then you'd do it all over again the next day. 

On the weekends, you'd let Steve pick a new city to see, and the two of you would spend a night or two. You had explored Cinque Terre, saw the canals in Venice (which Steve correctly decided were too touristy), and Steve even treated the two of you to a few days near Tuscany after you agreed to play hooky that following Monday. 

You felt like you were twenty again. Back in Hawkins, hanging with Steve and the gang. Swimming in the Harringtons’ pool, picnics at the lake, settling down with take-away pizza and a movie on quiet nights in. Weekend drives to Indy for rock shows that Eddie dragged you all to, stopping at the same all-night diner after for fries and milkshakes. It was familiar, it was lovely. 

Having one of your old friends back made you feel lighter. Besides the company and great sex, it was nice to just have someone from Hawkins here. Someone you grew up with, who knew you inside and out. Someone you felt comfortable with, someone you trusted with your life.

It made grueling work days a little easier, made coming home a little more fun but the days were slipping away too fast. July was ending, but it still felt like the beginning of June and Steve had just landed back into your life. It really was cruel, how quickly time starts to pass you by the older you grew. Especially when you didn’t want it to. When you needed it to slow down. 

You wondered if Steve felt the same. If the days he spent without you, doing whatever he was doing in whatever little towns he found, were ending too fast. Was he excited to go back to Hawkins, to his students and the friends you had left behind?

More importantly, when was he going back?

The two of you hadn’t talked about it; you didn’t have the time. You hadn't even talked about what the two of you were doing, as if kissing one of your best friends goodbye every morning and fucking them before bed was normal. In all honesty, you didn’t want to talk about it. Because talking about it would make it real, and you were perfectly happy with living in blissful ignorance for now. Seeing as July was coming to a close, the end would come soon enough, anyway.

-

Another work week had just ended for you, and since you had the next few days off, you and Steve were currently lazing on your couch, coming up with ideas for how to spend the weekend. 

The two of you bounced ideas back and forth to one another over a shared bottle of wine, none of them ever feeling quite exciting enough. Suddenly he looked at you, snapping his fingers like he had just thought of the perfect idea, “How about we rent a boat?” 

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t help the way your voice squeaked at that, because who just thinks to rent a fucking boat on a whim?

“Not like a big boat, just a boat. You know, take it out in the water, cool off in the sea. Any place we can rent a boat over here?”

You squinted at him across your sofa, “I forgot you know how to handle a boat. You really are the definition of a rich boy cliché, you know that?”

“Oh shut up,” he muttered, but the fondness in his eyes told you that he didn’t really mean it. “So, whaddya say?”

And that’s how the next morning found the two of you waking up with the sun, Steve cooking a light breakfast while you packed a cooler with sandwiches, fresh fruit, and a big canteen full of limoncello. You took a cab to the ritzy part of the town, the part with the towering, expensive resorts and private beaches. You’d figured it would be the perfect place to get what Steve was looking for, and it turns out that you were right.

It wasn’t a big boat, but definitely enough room for you and Steve. You watched from the docks as Steve spoke with the worker, noting that the little Italian you’d managed to teach him was coming out of his mouth with ease. You wondered how it felt to be such a natural at damn near everything, how Steve could just pick up anything and be a pro.

Soon, the boat was yours for the day and you and Steve were off, Steve quickly shedding the linen button down he’d put on due to the hot sun. You had to admit, this was lovely. The waters were calm, the sun warmed your skin and you got to watch Steve work, looking like a natural behind the controls (and if you had stolen the disposable camera out of his bag and snapped a few pictures of him, shirtless and a cigar hanging from his lips, well, that was your business). Briefly, you wondered where he was taking you, if he even knew himself, but you found that you really didn’t care. The waters were a beautiful, deep blue, all around you, surrounded by gorgeous coastlines and away from everything else. You let yourself lay back and relax, focusing on the sound of Steve humming some song he knew as you closed your eyes and let yourself drift. It could have been minutes, maybe an hour, but eventually you came to a secluded shoreline that was more rocks and cliffs than beach, and he was beginning the process of anchoring down.

“Pretty spot, huh?” He said through a grunt as he lowered the anchor down.

You nodded, “Yeah, how’d you know this was here?”

“Guy working the docks mentioned something about this. He said there probably wouldn’t be many people here but damn, it’s nice not having anyone here.” He looked around, hands on his hips in an approving stance before he turned to look back at you, “Wanna cool off?”

Once Steve confirmed that the boat was secured, you shed the tank and shorts you were using as a cover-up and jumped into the cool water, Steve quickly following suit. The cold was a shock to your heated skin, but you welcomed it, taking your time to float back to the surface. Once you reached the surface you wiped the water from your eyes to look for Steve, only to find him right behind you in the water, hair an absolute mess and a hand reaching out for you. You took it, allowing Steve to pull you to him until you were settled in his lap, both of his arms around your waist to keep you flush against him. 

Steve smiled at you then, squinting a little under the bright summer sun. "Hey, sweetheart." 

"Hi," You answered back, winding your arms around his neck before kissing him, just because you wanted to. Just because you could. 

His eyes were softer when you pulled back, his grip a little tighter as if he was scared you'd float away if he wasn't careful. But soon after you noticed it, it was gone, replaced with a look of mischief you remember all too well.

"Steve, what're you-" before you could finish your sentence he'd maneuvered your legs from around his waist, grabbing handfuls of your thighs and throwing you back under the water. 

You were met with the cackle of Steve's laugh once you fight your way out again, "Way to ruin the moment, jackass."

"We'll make more," he told you, still smiling and you couldn't help but smile with him, not even minding when he lunged for you and pulled you under again, you taking him under, too. 

The hours passed, and the splash fights under the hot sun made you both crave the lunch you packed sooner than later. You swam back near the shore together, Steve making his way back to the boat to grab the cooler while you headed to a large, flat rock that looked suitable for lounging near the water.

The two of you were quiet as you ate, side by side, thighs touching as he peeled your oranges for you and you split your sandwich with him. Nostalgia hit you like a freight train, and you remembered sitting on the edge of Lover’s Lake some time in your very late teens, you and Steve in this exact same position, eating Pringles and candy while you two talked about life and what the two of you wanted to be.

Part of you wondered, back then, if you and Steve would ever be something more. If you could ever stop being scared and tell him how you felt about him, if he would feel the same. But Steve still seemed hung up on Nancy and you were scared, because Steve was a good friend, and he was Steve and the thought of not having him in your life hurt. So, you stayed quiet, met your business professor in your second year at Hawkins Community College, and fell in love. 

Or maybe lust, or just some false sense of security. Because he was an older guy, stable and sophisticated. He called you pretty and made you feel good and safe, enough to give everything up and make him your world. What a colossal fucking mistake. 

Needless to say, you and Steve never became anything more until now. Now, sitting beside him on a beautiful cliff in Italy, you wondered if you could have been more. If you would have told him then, would he have surprised you, told you he felt the same and kissed you breathless?

Would everything be different today?

“How’d you decide on this place?” Steve asked you suddenly, effectively breaking you from the thoughts spiraling in your brain.

“You mean Italy?” When he nodded, you replied, “I knew I hated Hawkins and I hated seeing my fucking ex everywhere, so I needed to leave. We had talked about coming here, maybe for a honeymoon or something. I always thought the pictures looked so pretty, so I came. Leaving you guys was hard as fuck, though. The hardest thing I've ever done."

Steve looked at you then. Something in his gaze told you that he wanted to say something else, but he settled for, “I was proud of you for leaving, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“For sure. I mean, I’m still proud of you for getting out when you did. Wish you would have never even met that asshole, but y’know, I’m glad you did what you wanted to do. I’d say you picked a good place, though. I like it here. Can see why you love living here so much.”

There it was again, that little bit of hope that just kept growing and growing. The hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d get out of Hawkins, too. It was a pipe dream, you knew it, but that small fact didn’t squash whatever was blooming. But then:

"Even though I was also super bummed when you left. You know, I had a huge crush on you."

What?

"Wait, what?" You exclaimed, turning your body to face him because what a fucking bombshell.

He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly shy under your wide eyes. "Yeah, had a crush for a while, even when you were, uh, with that guy. Just never had the guts to tell you."

"Steve, I liked you too!" You whined, "I always thought you wanted Nancy! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" He countered, sounding flustered as ever. "I mean, I did still want Nancy, y'know, after we broke up, but that didn't really last long. Not after we started hanging more."

You groaned when you let your head fall into his shoulder, "Dammit Steve, you mean we could have been doing this when I was still in Hawkins?" Your mind was racing, your heart felt like it was about to beat right out of your chest. The missed opportunities and what ifs flew through your mind at the thought, and it nearly made you sick. Because for so long, having Steve as you did back in Hawkins was enough for you, but God you wanted so much more. And now you knew that you could have had it.

The thought that Steve could have been yours for so much longer than these fleeting summer months, that maybe if one of you would have actually had the guts to speak your mind, everything would be different. Maybe you two would have been together. Hell, the two of you may have even been married by now, with one or two little Harrington spawn running rampant all over Hawkins.

The thought made your heart hurt.

"Yeah, guess we could've been," he said it more to himself than to you and it sounds a little like regret. You were both quiet as you sat there, your forehead to his shoulder and his hand on your bare back. You wondered if he was thinking the same thing you were, wondering where you went wrong, how you could be so stupid.

You wondered what this revelation meant for the two of you. 

August

The month of August was one of the best you could remember. 

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine

After working overtime for the first two weeks of the month, you had managed to convince your boss to let you take your summer holiday during the last two weeks of August. It was normally unheard of, since most of the continent was on summer holiday and it was still peak tourist season, but you somehow managed to convince him that your second in command could handle the winery for a couple weeks. 

Begrudgingly, he agreed. 

Steve was set to leave on the last day of the month, since the school year was beginning just after the start of September. While you didn’t understand how that would leave him with enough time to get himself ready for the new school year, you didn’t question it. 

You had your friend for a little longer, and that’s all that really mattered to you.

Steve had insisted that the two of you do something fun for your last weeks together, promising to foot the bill and make it memorable for the both of you. After too many pretend arguments that almost always ended in kisses and one of you underneath the other in your bed, the two of you landed on Barcelona. It was freeing, to pack a bag and just leave for a good reason this time, with a good man with good intentions by your side. 

You and Steve went without a plan, apart from Steve booking The Serras Hotel for you both. It was a lovely old building, with bed linens softer than any fabric you'd ever felt in your life and a perfect view of the water from your room. 

If you didn't know any better, you'd think Steve was trying to impress you.

Your days were spent consuming your weight in paella and sangria, then walking it off in the city, only to find more delicious food in the evenings. Dancing the nights away at whatever little night club you walked by that looked interesting. Going to the beach, then deeming it entirely too overrun by people, then opting to go back and spend the day at the rooftop pool instead. You did whatever you wanted, or whatever Steve wanted, with no rules and it was some of the best times you could remember. 

Near the end of your trip, you and Steve decided to spend the day trying to find the Sagrada Familia simply by wandering the city. Steve had said that "It's such a tall, pointy building, how hard could it be to find?" And who were you to argue with that very sound logic?

It turned out, finding a 'tall, pointy building' was, in fact, very difficult when you were on the ground and literally every building around you was a tall building.

The two of you wandered for hours, stopping for a quick lunch only to walk some more. Your legs were tired, your back ached (Steve tried to carry both his bag and yours, but you shut him down every time). Near two in the afternoon, you were tempted to beg him to just get a fucking cab, but you didn't really mind because Steve never let go of your hand for the entire walk, and he never stopped trying to make it all a little more bearable. And God, it worked. He didn't even have to try to make you smile, really. He just had that effect on you now.

It was that day that you realized something very important, and very fucking terrifying. 

That day, as you were both sweaty and sticky, tired from walking and not minding one bit because Steve was by your side, you realized that you had fallen in love with him over the summer. 

Or had you fallen back in love? Had the love you felt for him in Hawkins ever really left you? You thought that it had, because it had been years. Years of a failed love with someone else, of moving to a different country and leaving everything you knew behind. You thought that the mark Steve left on your heart had faded away long ago, but now, you weren't so sure it had ever left.

Sometimes you swore you could see it in his eyes, too. Not just lust, but some sort of adoration that went far beyond the bedroom or the realm of friendship. You thought you saw it in the way he held you at night, the way he never let go of your hand in the busy city streets. It wasn't just Steve being Steve; no, there was something else there. Something else beyond the nice gestures and sweet smiles. 

You almost asked him about it countless times. If his feelings for you lingered like yours did. If they were somehow found again over the summer, or you were just making things up in your head. 

But once again, you were too scared. You never did ask.

On the last night of your stay, you were both tired of the sweaty nightclubs and busy streets, so you opted for walking down to the beach to get away from the tourists instead. 

The beach was peaceful as you spread a blanket out onto the cool sand. It was almost empty, save for the random passerby every now and then. The only sounds were the soft crashing of waves, the distant sounds of the city, and Steve’s voice in your ear as the two of you talked about the trip, the summer, what to eat for breakfast before heading back to the airport in the morning.

Never about what was coming in a couple day’s time. Not about him leaving, and not about what would come after.

That was okay, though. 

Because you were together, for now. You and Steve, sitting side by side, stealing kisses between watching the waves lap at the shore. 

"Good idea, huh? Coming here?" Steve said, gesturing at nothing, but you assumed he meant the overall trip.

You agreed. "Yeah, although you didn't have to do all this. You could at least let me pay you-"

"Nope, not a chance. This was paid for and sponsored by the Harrington Estate, thank you very much."

This was the first time he'd mentioned anything about what had happened ever since that first night. "Do you wanna talk about it?" You asked softly.

"About my dad? No, told you, I'm fine."

"Steve, are you sure?"

You felt Steve shift beside you then, mirroring him when he sat cross-legged to face you. "Hey, I promise I'm fine, okay? We hadn't talked in a few years before, anyway. Sure, he was my father, but he wasn't a dad. So, I'm okay. And if I'm ever not okay, I'll let you know, okay? I'll call you up and you can listen to me scream and cry. I promise."

You snorted despite the moment, "That'd be a hell of a phone bill."

"I don't care. I miss hearing your voice anyway. Letters aren't really the same, you know?"

You did know, they really weren’t the same. They were never enough, and they'd never be enough, especially after this summer.

Steve spoke again, "Are you okay? After everything that went down in Hawkins?"

"Oh, yeah! Yeah, I've been good. Went through a period of berating myself for being so fucking stupid, but that's about it." 

"We all do stupid shit when we're in our twenties. I think you're good."

You offered him a nod, "I forgave myself for it a while back. I just wish things could've been different." You hope he'd catch the meaning behind your words, that you wished things could have been different for you and Steve. That maybe the two of you could have built a life together. 

You didn’t miss the pain in his eyes before he averted your gaze, the nod of his head that told you that he knew exactly what you meant, and yeah, he felt it, too. "Yeah, wish they were different, too." He brought his hand to your bare knee, tracing some pattern onto the skin, "I'm gonna miss the hell outta you, you know that?"

A lump formed in your throat at his words, at how tender he was being, so you only nodded. Afraid that you’d let out a sob if you did anything else. So, you just laid a hand on his, squeezing, almost as if he’d float across the ocean right then and there. Because you were going home tomorrow, and Steve was leaving you the day after, and you weren't ready for that yet. He seemed to understand your silence, so he didn’t wait for you to respond. He already knew what the answer would be, anyway. Instead, his free hand found the nape of your neck, tangling through the hair there and pulled you closer to him, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was a little clumsy, and a little messy, but neither of you seemed to care because the time was slipping through your fingers like the sand underneath you. 

And as the two of you fell back into bed together that night, something shifted. It felt different than all of the other times over the summer. It was like it always was, in a way, with Steve pressing his lips on any bare skin he found and whispering praises against you, but it felt different this time. This time, he made sure to take his time with you, exploring all he could, leaving marks he was sure would last for longer than his remaining time with you.

This time, it felt like saying goodbye. 

So much for summer love and saying "us"

If Steve noticed the way your mood would randomly sour during those last few days, or why you got a faraway look in your eye on the plane ride back to your home, he never commented. He'd always bring you back with sweet nothings and a kiss to take you out of your funk. You wondered if he was distracting you on purpose or if he was just that clueless. 

It would work, obviously. His little distractions would remind you that he was still here, still yours for a little while longer and you'd force the thoughts to the back of your mind. But they always came back, haunting you.  

The metaphorical tick of the clock was always there in your mind, because time was running out.

You wondered what would happen after. When Steve got on that plane back to America. Would things be as they were? A letter exchanged every few weeks, an email every other day once you both were able to get a computer? Would Steve ask you to go back to Hawkins to visit, or would he want to come back here to see you? How often would you be able to see one another? Because before, when you and Steve were just good friends, you both went five years without seeing one another, and somehow, you'd both survived. Letters sent across an ocean was enough. The wanting to see each other again was enough. But would it be enough now? How could it ever be?

You wondered if he would ask you to go home with him.

Would he want you to be with him, back in Hawkins? Would he want you to leave with him? Leave the life you've created for yourself here? If he begged you to run away with him, would you?

Or, would he want to stay here in Italy? Pack up his old life and build a new one in a new country? Shit, could you even ask him to do that?

More importantly, would he say yes if you did?

Livin' for the hope of it all, for the hope of it all

The morning of August 31st came way too soon.

You and Steve had been sitting on your bedroom floor all morning, packing the last of his things in between sipping coffee and reminiscing about the months you'd spent together before you had to leave for the airport after lunch. The coffee did little to soothe the knot in your stomach, but you held onto your mug anyway, needing something to do with your hands. A thought had been eating at you for the past few days; worming its way into your brain until you could hardly think about anything else. 

Because little sparks of hope had been lighting all summer. Comments made by Steve about the country, kisses pressed into your skin under bedsheets, laments about Steve not wanting to go back to Hawkins. They all bundled together and lit a fire of hope in your heart.

But what was the phrase, hope is a dangerous thing?

You wondered if you should just get it out. If you should ask the question that had been on the tip of your tongue for days. It might have been selfish, or wrong, to ask. It might have blown up in your face, but you had to ask. No more being scared to speak up for what you wanted. 

“Can we talk about something?” You asked suddenly. When Steve nodded, you opened your mouth to speak, closed it, then repeated the process. Now, that you had his attention, you couldn’t get the correct words out. Finally, you settled for, “Did you like it here?”

Steve didn’t answer right away, seemingly perplexed by your random question. “Yeah, I loved it here. Y’know, the food was awesome, I liked where you worked, it was cool. And yeah, being with you was amazing. Why?”

You considered his answer, averting his gaze when you asked your follow up, “You ever think about leaving Hawkins, too?”

“Sweetheart, what-”

“Would you want to stay here with me?” The silence that followed your question was deafening. After a beat, you allowed yourself to meet Steve’s eyes again to try and figure out what he was thinking. 

“Do you mean to- I, what do you mean?”

“I mean you could stay. This summer with you has been amazing and I-I think we would be good together. Would you ever consider it? We used to talk about leaving Hawkins, when we were younger - do you still think about it?”

He stood then, running his fingers through his hair. When he remained silent you continued on, rising to your feet as well. You felt frantic, like you had to explain yourself more. “You could go home, you know, get everything in order, but then come back, if you wanted? And then we could be together, like, actually together. Would you ever want that?”

Steve sighed then, a loud sound that made you stop in your tracks. “Sweetheart, I can’t just not go back, or go back just to leave again. What the hell would I even do here? I can't just pick up a teaching career in Italy, can I?” You hated how his voice sounded regretful, almost pitying and damn near making you cry, but then he surprised you.

“Would you want to come home with me?”

His words were a shock to your system. They knocked the air right out of your lungs. His eyes were on you, and they broke your heart because they were pleading, begging you to say yes. You couldn't think, could barely fucking breathe because didn't you want this? Didn't you want to be together with Steve? Didn't you want to keep him forever, build a life with him? To wake up in the morning close to him, sip coffee across from each other before work? Go home to him every night, instead of an empty apartment?

It sounded nice, right? 

But could you leave this? This little idyllic part of the world you’d called home for years now? The job you loved, and you had friends here, too. Could you be happy back in your shitty little hometown again? Worst of all, what if you did leave with him, and everything would blow up in your face? What if you followed Steve home, only to realize that you were only good for each other for a short while, and not for the long haul? And then you two would break up and have to see each other all over Hawkins, remembering what you gave up here?

You didn’t know if you would be able to handle that. 

Steve continued, “I thought about it too - it started in Barcelona - I was thinking about how much fun we had this summer, right? And thinking about leaving hurts, and it's 'cause I'm leaving you. So, would you ever consider coming back? Fuck, you could even come with me right now, I’ll buy you a ticket, I don’t care-" 

You knew what he meant, because the thought of him leaving was killing you. You hated knowing that you wouldn’t wake up next to him in the morning, and that you had no idea when you’d see him again. Still, you knew the answer to his question, and you hated that you had to give it.

"Steve, I don't want to go back." You tried to take a breath, but you couldn't calm yourself because you saw the hurt in Steve's eyes at your words. "I wanna be with you, I want it so badly, but not there. I can't just leave. I can't leave this just to go back to Hawkins."

You watched as he physically deflated, his disappointment quickly turning to indignation. "You're saying you'd never go back? For anything?"

"I- fuck!" You brought your hands to your eyes, rubbing until you saw stars, remembering the question you had tortured yourself with for days. 

If he begged you to run away with him, would you?

You had wanted the option for the whole summer. You wanted Steve to ask you to be with him, even if you didn't know if you could leave with him. Or, at the very least, you wanted him to want to stay. To fall in love with the country like you did and want to make his own life here. 

“I can’t leave this,” you said, tears gathering on your lash line because it killed you to say those words.

You watched as his eyes narrowed, shoulders rolled back, and you could practically see the fight ignite in his eyes, “Are you saying you won’t come back for me? After all this? You won’t come back, but you expect me to just stay here ‘cause you asked?”

“You’re a fucking Harrington, you can do whatever you damn well please. Hell, you booked this trip on a whim, you could stay on a whim if you wanted!”

“It’s not that easy!” He wasn't screaming, but the sudden volume of his voice startled you. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re adults now! We’ve got things to take care of, so no, I can’t just stay on a whim.”

He moved closer to you then, “You know what I think it is? I think you’re just scared. You were scared back then, after all that shit happened so you just left! You left me, and everyone else. You just ran away from your problems because you were a coward, and you’re still a coward.”

“Don’t call me a fucking coward!” you yelled, voice cracking, and you hated how his words cut you because this felt a lot like a breakup, like you were losing him for good. This felt like the end. 

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

Steve only continued, and you saw a glimpse of the old King Steve that you thought he had left behind. Biting, out for blood. “No, I think you’re just scared. You’re scared to admit how you feel, scared to leave this little bubble you’ve created for yourself.”

“Dammit Steve, you want me to admit how I really feel?” You felt your tears flowing freely at this point, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “Yes, I’m scared to go back because I’m scared that it’ll all be for nothing! I’ll go back, and we’ll realize that we were only part-time soulmates, and then I’ll be miserable again. Because that would hurt even more than this does, and this hurts like hell.”

He was silent, his eyes were softer but you couldn't stop. "Why can't we be together here?" You begged, "Why can't we just stay here?"

When you were only met with his silence once more, you realized that you were at an impasse. Neither of you were willing to give up the lives you've built in order to build another life miles away, not even for each other. You both seem to come to this realization at the same time, because Steve's shoulders sag, and your breath hitches, and you see the shine of tears line Steve's eyes. You realize that the time for the two of you had passed, and that you're not going to be together after this. Now, you're just two people who fell in love at the wrong time.

"This isn't gonna work, is it?" His voice is lower now, but you don't miss the way it hitches at the end. "You're not coming with me."

You shake your head, heart sinking at the finality of his statement because this was it, "And you're not staying here."

"No, I can't, sweetheart."

You were expecting that answer, you knew that answer, but hearing it still stings. Because while you knew it was selfish, you wanted to keep him here, all for yourself. Even if you knew how unrealistic that dream was.

But the dream was over.

"Hey, come here," he whispered, and you didn't hesitate to fall into him when he reached for you. “I’m sorry for yelling; I didn’t mean to call you a coward. I didn’t mean any of it.”

You allowed the tears to fall, dropped your head to rest on his chest one more time. His grip around your waist was crushing and you felt the wetness of his own tears on your neck, but you didn't dare pull away from this. You breathed him in to ground yourself; rosemary and mint shampoo, fresh coffee, remnants of his cologne mixed with your laundry soap. The mix was intoxicating, comforting, and you wished you could bottle it up, save it for when your apartment would feel empty once he was gone.

Because you knew it would. You’d feel him everywhere, his side of your bed, his favorite coffee mug, the mark he'd left on your heart. He’d linger for long after he was on that plane.

“For what it’s worth, I love you” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Well that doesn’t do us any good now, does it? It might be the worst thing I’ve heard you say all summer” he responded with a caustic chuckle. “But for what it’s worth, I love you, too. You know that.”

Though it was hard to admit to yourself, you saw the bitter irony and humor in it all and found yourself letting out a small laugh through your tears. The two of you stood for a few more minutes, not wanting to break contact, but knowing it was inevitable.

"What happens now? Still friends?" You heard him mutter against your shoulder, felt him hug you a little tighter like he was scared to let go. You were glad that you weren't facing one another now, because you hated to lie to his face.

If you were honest, you'd say that you'd try to stay friends, but that wasn't really going to happen, was it? Not after everything that happened over these months. No, Steve would go home, you'd both write to each other for a while, acting like you never broke each other's hearts. But then, Steve would find someone else, and maybe you would, too, and the letters would just bring up glorious, painful memories about what happened here. What could have been if things had been different back home. And then, pretty soon, you would both forget about this summer. The pictures on your fridge would fade and eventually Steve would just be someone you knew in a past life.

You could try to keep things as they were, but soon, you'd drift apart. No matter how much you both wanted to pretend that you wouldn't. That's just how life goes.

"Yeah, Steve," you said, tears flowing freely, unashamed of the way you were clinging to him before this moment was over. "Still friends, always."

[qqtxt]

[🌸] comfort w/ txt.yeonjun [2/5]

✿ pairing: yeonjun x reader / idol!txt / non.idol!you / comfort fluff ✿ mini-fics with each member for the same situation / less than 1000 words for each member ✿ in which they’re so used to you being strong, and one day they find you in the bedroom crying [masterlist 🌸] / other members will follow suit!

the world felt cruel today. any other day and you’d persevere–of course you would–but today... today life won. you’ll let life win today. you return home to quietness; living alone granted you that. privacy, security, and... the full allowance to cry to your heart’s content. you only go so far as to make it to your bedroom, stumbling past the door and ending up by the end of your bed. you abandon your bag left by your side, the tears falling faster than you can catch yourself as you cradle yourself on the floor.

everything’s clouded, everything’s hazy...

[🦊] yeonjun there are two ways yeonjun usually makes his presence known to you. he’ll first use the key you’ve given him to enter, and he either: screams how much he needs to see his gorgeous love of his life or gives you a sneak attack because he adores the way you’re surprised to see him. today was the latter.

he twists the doorknob carefully, quietly and pads his way in. closing the door behind him, he puts his things down by your sofa as he peers over to see that–huh, you’re not there... which is strange, because ninety-nine percent of the time, that’s where you are right when you come home.

the telltales of where you are starts to reveal itself to him when he hears sounds from the bedroom. his fight or flight kicks in; half-debating if he should retrieve a knife before he goes investigating but... he resists the urge and calls himself stupid for considering that when i’m gonna kill taehyun for playing that horror movie.

he finds that the sight that welcomes him is far more haunting than a horror movie.

pushing the door open, he almost falls to his knees at what he’s looking at. before he knows it, his body is already moving before his mind can, his first instinct is to get as close to you.

it’s like you know it’s me, baby–it’s me–what’s wrong? are you hurt? are you okay? even with no words being said back to him, yeonjun knows you know he’s here. you don’t spare a glance at him, eyes still shut, but he’s able to ease you up from your position on the floor, sitting on the foot of the bed as he gets you to sit on his lap. he slots your face against his chest as you cry, your hands shakily holding onto his shoulders as he finds his footing on the floor, him holding you with his every being as you cry; find your release, let out the emotions wailing from inside out.

he tries not to cry, but the sounds you’re making gets the best of him. you sound so hurt, so in pain, that he presses the side of his head against yours as you tremble. a couple of tears fall from his eyes, but he keeps it together for the most part.

it’s a while; long or short, yeonjun doesn’t care, doesn’t notice. all he does notice is that slowly, your breathing regulates and he’s able to notice that you quiet down from the cries. he licks his lips and leans back, just enough so he can get a good look at you. his hand reaches up to brush the hair covering your face, some sticking to your face and dried up from the tears but yeonjun still thinks you’re–”hey there, pretty thing.”

you sniff and your voice is a little gruff, but yeonjun would give the world as long as he could hear your voice.

“i probably have snot running down my face and crust in my eyes.” you mutter under your breath, trying to wipe your face but yeonjun’s beating you to it, doing it for you before you can with a smile on his face.

“nah, still the prettiest thing i know.” he scoffs, but then he laughs when he sees it made you chuckle. the hilarity subsides when yeonjun’s holding the side of your face, his thumb brushing the under of your eye even though the tears have long dried and he’s staring at you. you manage to hold eye contact for a couple of seconds before looking away, then looking back, then away, then on him once more to see how intently he’s watching you.

“you... hungry?”

he tuts, shaking his head.

“you sure?”

he hisses this time, and you’re unsure of where you’ve gone wrong.

“how can you still ask about me when clearly you’re not okay?”

your mouth opens to argue, but when yeonjun widens his eyes at you as if he’s challenging you to go on, try and see if i’m right or i’m right, you slowly close your mouth and relent.

“you wanna talk about it?” he muses gently, peering up to you with such concern that this... this alone, was all that made you feel better. you shake your head, eyes staring at a spot on his shoulder.

“what do you wanna do, then?” he asks, patient. and you watch as he waits for your answer as his hands move from stroking your cheek, to fixing your hair, to putting the strands back in place and the cycle all over again to calm you down while you think of what you want. when the answer comes, yeonjun’s prepared to do anything that comes–”could you just hold me?”

yeonjun does this thing with his mouth, lips pursued and cocked to the side in a grin. he’s pleased. he’s happy. not that it’s the right situation to be, but he just feels happy knowing his presence was enough. he decides not to say anything, knowing that’s the last thing you need right now. he nods and makes you lay down on the bed with him, legs still dangling off the edge and he makes you roll into his arms as he holds you close.

he may not know what was bothering you, and he doesn’t know if you’ll tell him in five minutes, or in five days. regardless, as long as he has you with him like this, maybe he doesn’t need to know. all he knows is whenever you’re ready, he’s ready.

but for now, he’ll enjoy having you close as much as you do having him close.

[cellard0ors]

I've given this thought and while I'm kind of sick this Xmas Eve ('cause fuck my life) I'm STILL going to make a little naughty...

(cut for NSFW words/ideas - set in The Full Deck series)

Laura thought she hated Travis when he was the sheriff of North Kill.

But then she met Sheriff Malloy.

Malloy is in his late twenties and a complete dick.

He's entitled, he's egotistical, and he bends the law in ways Travis never would and yeah, okay, Travis covered murders and held people hostage, but he didn't outright discriminate and use his authority over people to get what he wanted.

For example, Malloy is the kinda guy who will intimidate a woman into going out for a drink with him - like, ohhhh, I pulled you over for speeding (they weren't), but if you go to Dixie's with me, well, I'll treat you to a Cosmo and we can forget all about it...

...a Cosmo? What year is this? The late nineties? Early two thousands via Sex and the City-gendered-womens-drink-bullshit?

Malloy wasn't even the deputy! He only got promoted to sheriff because his Daddy painted the right palms green. So. Malloy is the sheriff and Travis's boss and a total tool to boot.

He also makes these snide little comments about Laura being a golddigger or Travis a cradle robber and Laura is looking for ways to get back at him when she gets lucky.

...and so, ironically, does Travis.

Because Travis has some sniffles and is told to stay home and work from there and Laura, with the day off, manages to come across him while he's on a conference call.

Sure, he's on mute (right now) and Malloy is droning on and on while other officers and officials listen in, but that's not the point. No. The point is, muted or not, they're on camera.

And Travis's laptop camera is small. And shitty. And pointed directly at his face, making it perfectly easy for Laura to covertly sneak into where he is and then down low and quiet until she can ease around his legs, right between them, and (in fact) beneath his desk.

Travis almost jumps a mile high and hisses at her to go away and Malloy's voice comes across tinny, asking if something is wrong and Travis has to unmute to say no and lie and say that the cat just startled him even as Laura's fingers go for the fly of his jeans.

Travis mutes again so fast and gestures at her to stop and to go, all while appearing casual and unaffected, but Laura has the most evil grin in the world and he knows what this means, because it's her 'I'm getting my way no matter what' look and he's already hardening as she draws him out into the open air.

And he crosses his fingers for erectile dysfunction of all things to hit him and hit him now to save him from this, but no - oh, no - he's already raring to go, like a damn teenager the moment she gets those pretty little lips of hers wrapped around his length.

It doesn't help that she hums like he's the best, most delicious thing she's ever had in her mouth and she's sucking and licking at him like he's a melting popsicle and it's true he is melting and his hands are curled into hard fists and one is pressed against his mouth and he has his eyebrows knitted together like he's thinking hard but he's really not thinking at all as Laura bobs her head smoothly up and down a couple of times.

She's looking up at him - blue eyes glassy and gorgeous and it's a very 'what's wrong, Travis?' teasing look and the hand that's out of sight from the camera, the one balled as a fist on one of his thighs goes to her loose golden hair.

His thick fingers plough through the silky masses, tugs and pulls, until he forms it into a rough, makeshift ponytail, the back of his knuckles scraping her scalp as he starts encouraging her, because his willpower is zip, and he can't fight the strong ocean tides of Laura Kearney.

She openly moans around him now and he's glad he has that one fist to his mouth and that the mute button is on as he groans and his balls pulse and if this baby girl doesn't draw off of his dick soon...

...and he's never ever thought of her that way before, but considering she's going down on him in a very pornographic way he can imagine her by a pornographic title and she lets out a whimper as she squirms beneath him and presses her own thighs tight together and slowly he opens the fist he has over his mouth, resting the heel of his hand against his top lip - mouth still covered - as he asks her roughly if her clit stings.

Laura's mouth is full of his dick and she's doing her valiant best to reach the root even as she shoots him a big doe-eyed sorrowful look and manages something close to a 'mm hmm!' in answer to his question.

Voice deadly soft, he whispers 'Poor sweetheart - I'm sorry it hurts, but you have to wait. Have to be a good girl and swallow me first' and she lets out the most fantastic sound

It's angry yet wanting and excited and he flexes his hips and oh fuck, oh fuck, it's happening soon. It's happening now and it's-!

Travis's head falls back and both hands are cradling her head now, practically crushing it, as he starts cuming in long, hard pulls - ropes of cum painting her throat and the inside of her cheeks and then she sputters and they're on her face and Travis can see the pearly sheen of his release and he feels like it'll never stop-!

...until it does.

It does and his head falls back against the office chair limply and out of the corner of his eyes he can see a red-faced, angry Sheriff Malloy and he pushes the unmute button to ask thickly "What?"

"Hackett! Have you been listening?!? I was asking you about the latest cases of graffiti tagging in Low End Park and I look up and you look like you're having a seizure! Did your old man ticker give out or what?!?"

Travis is about to answer only for Laura to pop her face on screen, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright as she says, "No, his ticker is in great working order! As are his other parts! Gotta go!"

And with that, Laura snaps the laptop shut, ending the call.

And Travis looks at Laura as if she's lost her mind. And as if she's the most perfect, most angelic person in existence. And then she's crawling into his lap and biting her bottom lip and moaning, "My clit still hurts, honey..."

...and what else can Travis do?

He takes care of the situation.

Like he takes care of everything.

And, surprisingly, Travis doesn't lose his job. He does, however, get told video conference calls for him, from now on, are a complete no go. Muted, unseen telephone conference calls from here on and out.

And Travis will take that.

He'll take that and then some...😏