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stylesispunk · 2 months

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"The not so invisible string" | part 7

Not outbreak!Joel Miller x f! reader

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summary: you and Joel were made right for each other at the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

word count: 7,8k>

warnings: none but, angst, mentions of bruises, and FLUFF

a/n: Hello, hello! chapter 7 is here! The next one may be the last since it's time to say goodbye to this silly fic, by the way, I hope you like this one because I added everything I could and it's kinda cute. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌 Remember my dm and asks are always open for you if you wanna talk.

dividers by @/saradika.

Joel

I miss you; I haven’t seen you in a week!

You thought that by now, Joel would have begun to behave very differently from the teen boy trying to win your heart back in time, that in your 30s he was going to find different ways to show affection, but he still got the boyish smile on him all the time he saw you, as if you hang up the moon. He still got the dirtiest jokes about salad dressings, and most importantly, he still got your heart in the palm of his hand, but this time he was taking care of it as if it were crystal, and you were so grateful for his actions, talking louder than his promises.

You loved him; he still made you feel like the only girl in the room.

You

Well, sorry for being on a job trip.

I miss you too, but I’m back tomorrow!! Don’t be so needy.

Joel

A delicious dinner will be waiting for you at my house when you arrive.

And well, me.

You

I have a daughter to go see first!

Joel

I will be waiting for the both of you then.

You chuckled at Joel's response; his enthusiasm was evident even through text messages. Despite being apart for just a week, you found yourself eagerly anticipating the moment you would be reunited with him.

You adored the way he always had the time to make you feel special, but he also made his time to include Tara too, as if she were a tiny extension of you to love and take care of as if she were his own daughter.

He was behaving like the father Tara needed.

And you didn’t know this, but Joel was starting to love Tara as if she were his daughter. He knew you and her, plus he and Sarah will become a family soon.

When you arrived again on Tuesday, you made your way to your mother’s house. You couldn’t wait to see Tara. She had been staying with her grandmother while you were away, and you missed her terribly after seven days apart.

As soon as you stepped through the door, you were met with your mother’s smile, welcoming you to enter the house; however, she stopped you for a second.

“Tara seemed to be bothered by something.” Your mom warned.

“What do you mean? Did Dwight do something?” Of course, Dwight was the first person to put the blame on him since he was going to have a day with his daughter because you allowed him to see her once this week while you were away.

“I don’t know, but she was really upset today, and she doesn’t want to talk to me,” she said, her voice tinted with worry.

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix it,” you assured her, with determination in your voice. You knew that Tara often kept her feelings bottled up, especially with all the drama between you and her father.

Heading towards Tara's room, you knocked softly on the door before gently pushing it open. Tara was sitting on her bed, her gaze fixed on the floor, lost in her own thoughts.

"Tara, sweetheart, hey!"" You greeted her, approaching her carefully.

“Mom, you’re back,” she said, stepping up from her bed and welcoming you in a tight hug. You knew her so well that you noticed something was off with her.

You held her close, feeling her warmth and the familiar comfort of her embrace. "I missed you so much," you whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Is everything okay? Your grandma mentioned you seemed upset."

Tara pulled away slightly; her expression was troubled. "It's nothing, Mom," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. But you could see the sadness in her eyes; the weight of whatever was troubling her was evident in the way she held herself.

You reached out to gently cup her face, tilting it up so you could look into her eyes. "You can talk to me, Tara," you reassured her, your voice filled with love and understanding. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out together."

“Shouldn’t you be at Joel’s by now?” she mentioned, dismissing the topic.

You sighed softly, recognizing Tara's attempt to divert the conversation. "I was planning on going there, but you're more important to me right now," you replied, giving her a reassuring smile. "If you want to talk about what's bothering you, I'm here. But if you'd rather not, that's okay too. Just know that I'm always here for you."

Tara's expression softened at your words, a hint of gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thanks, Mom," she said quietly, leaning into your touch. “But you should go; he must miss you by now.”

“He actually wanted both of us over for dinner,” you mentioned, studying her face, which shone at the mention of Joel’s invitation, but it faded soon.

“I just... I don't feel like going out tonight," she admitted softly, avoiding your eyes.

Your heart sank at her words, knowing that Tara's reluctance to go to Joel's house was a sign that something was truly bothering her. "Okay, sweetheart," you said, trying to hide your own disappointment. "We can stay in tonight and talk, just the two of us."

“No, you must go,” she said.

You could sense Tara's insistence—her desire for you to go and spend time with Joel—conflicting with her own reluctance to join. It was clear that she was trying to put on a brave face for you, but you couldn't ignore the underlying sadness in her eyes.

"Tara, if something is bothering you, I want to be here for you," you said gently, reaching out to grasp her hand. "Joel will understand if I need to stay with you tonight. Your well-being is my priority."

Tara squeezed your hand, her gaze meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. "I know, Mom," she said softly. "But I'll be okay. And I don't want you to miss out on time with Joel because of me."

You sighed, torn between your desire to comfort Tara and your longing to see Joel. But ultimately, you knew that Tara needed you more in that moment.

"Okay, Tara," you conceded, offering her a reassuring smile. "I'll go to say hi to him, but I'll be back later, and we can talk more then, okay?"

Tara nodded, her expression filled with understanding. "Okay, Mom," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

With one last squeeze of her hand, you rose from the bed and made your way to the door, feeling a pang of guilt as you left Tara behind.

As you made your way to Joel's house, your heart raced with anticipation. Despite the conflicting emotions stirring within you about leaving Tara behind, the prospect of seeing Joel filled you with a sense of excitement and longing.

Finally, you arrived at Joel's doorstep, your heart pounding with nervous energy as you raised your hand to knock on the door. The sound echoed through the quiet night, and you held your breath, waiting for Joel to answer.

Seconds felt like an eternity until you heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. And then it swung open, revealing Joel standing before you, his eyes lighting up with joy at the sight of you.

"Hey," he said softly, a smile spreading across his face as he pulled you into his arms. "I've missed you."

"Hey," he said softly, a smile spreading across his face as he pulled you into his arms. "I missed you,” he whispered, placing a kiss on your lips.

You melted into his embrace, feeling a rush of relief and contentment wash over you. In that moment, all the worries and uncertainties faded away, leaving only the comfort of being in Joel's arms once more.

“I missed you too,” you replied, your voice filled with warmth as you leaned into him and into his embrace, where you belonged.

“Where is Tara?” Joel asked after noticing the absence of the teen behind you.

“At my mother’s. She said she didn’t feel good, and I know she is lying, but she insisted on me coming to see you,” you said to him.

Joel's smile widened at Tara's thoughtful gesture, his eyes softening with affection but still showing worry. "She's always looking out for you," he remarked, his voice filled with warmth.

You nodded, feeling grateful for Tara's care and concern. "Yes, she is," you agreed, feeling a surge of love for your daughter. "I'm lucky to have her, but she is my priority, so I just came to say hi.”

Joel pulled you closer, his arms enveloping you in a comforting embrace once again. "Maybe you could ask Sarah," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe she knows something.”

“Are you sure?” You mumbled against his shoulder.

“Yes, she is inside; come on.” Joel took your hand, leading you inside his house.

As you entered the house, Sarah greeted you with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Hey," she said, stepping forward to hug you. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, sweetheart," you replied, returning her embrace. "How have you been?"

Sarah shrugged with a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Same old, same old," she said cryptically, her gaze flickering towards Joel before returning to you. "What brings you here?"

“Your dad is her boyfriend, and he missed her terribly,” Joel answered to his daughter for you.

You glanced at Joel; a smile creeped on your lips at his words.

A mischievous grin spread across Sarah’s face. "Is that so?" she teased, shooting a playful look at her father. "You must really like her."

Joel chuckled, giving Sarah a mock glare. "She wants to talk to you about Tara."

Sarah's grin softened into a more sympathetic expression as she turned her attention back to you. "Is everything okay with her?" she asked, her tone serious.

You sighed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders at the opportunity to discuss your concerns with Sarah. "I'm not sure," you admitted, your voice tinged with worry. "She seemed upset earlier, and I can't shake the feeling that something's bothering her."

“Dad, can you let us alone for a bit?” Sarah asked Joel.

Joel nodded, but before heading towards the kitchen, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead as a sign of affection and love for you, saying he was there for you whenever you needed him.

As Joel left the room, Sarah turned her attention back to you, her expression filled with concern.

"What do you think could be bothering her?" you asked gently.

“Well, she seemed off this morning at school. I knew she was with her dad yesterday, so I guess it has to do with him,” she confessed, carefully not to say beyond what she knew; it was Tara who should tell you once she feels ready for it.

You nodded, understanding Sarah's hesitation to delve too deeply into Tara's personal affairs. "That's what I was thinking too," you admitted, feeling a knot of worry tighten in your chest. "But I don't want to push her if she's not ready to talk about it."

Sarah nodded in agreement, her expression sympathetic. "I get it," she said softly. "But maybe knowing that you're here for her, whenever she's ready, will give her some comfort."

You smiled gratefully at Sarah, touched by her insight and understanding. "Thank you," you said, feeling a sense of relief knowing that Sarah was there to support Tara too.

Sarah returned your smile, her eyes filled with warmth. "Of course," she said. "Family looks out for each other, right?"

Your heart warmed at those words, and you looked at Sarah, driven by pure adoration, and found Joel was there spying on the both of you. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Joel peeking in on your conversation with Sarah; his expression was genuine adoration. You couldn’t help but admire the girl he had raised on his own all this time.

As Sarah caught sight of Joel, she grinned mischievously, clearly enjoying the playful moment. "Dad, you're such a spy," she teased, her tone filled with playful banter.

Joel chuckled, stepping fully into the room and wrapping an arm around your waist. "I can't help it if I'm curious about what you two are plotting," he replied with a wink, his gaze shifting between you and Sarah.

You leaned into Joel's touch, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you at the warmth and love radiating from your little family. "We're just talking," you reassured him, exchanging a knowing glance with Sarah.

With a smile, Joel pressed a kiss on your temple, his love for you evident in the gentle gesture. "Well, don't let me interrupt," he said, his voice filled with affection. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

As Joel made his way out of the room, you turned back to Sarah, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "He's something else, isn't he?" you remarked, feeling grateful for the man by your side and the daughter who had grown up under his loving care.

Sarah nodded, her eyes sparkling with fondness. "Yeah, he is," she agreed, her voice filled with warmth. "But we wouldn't have it any other way, would we?"

You shook your head, feeling a surge of love for your family. "No, we wouldn't."

As your conversation with Sarah came to a close, you felt a sense of resolve settling within you. It was time to return to your mother's house and check in on Tara, even if you didn't have all the answers yet.

Turning to Joel, you reached out to take his hand, a gentle smile playing on your lips. "I think I should head back to my mom's house now," you said softly, your voice filled with determination. "I want to see how Tara's doing."

Joel nodded in understanding, squeezing your hand gently. "Of course," he replied, his gaze filled with warmth and support. "Let me know if there's anything I can do."

You leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips, feeling a rush of affection for the man who had stood by your side through thick and thin. "Thank you, Joel," you murmured against his lips, savoring the closeness between you.

With a final smile, you pulled away, reluctantly releasing his hand as you approached the door. As you stepped outside, you paused momentarily, casting one last glance back at Joel, looking back at you with bright eyes and mouthing “I love you”.

You made your way back to your mother's house, your mind buzzing with thoughts about Tara and what could be bothering her. When you arrived, Tara greeted you at the door with a warm smile, ready to go back home with you.

Since you and Dwight ended your marriage, you stayed at your mother’s house for a day until you found an apartment that was perfect for you and Tara to live together.

"Hey, Mom," Tara said, wrapping you in a quick hug before grabbing her bag. "Ready to head back?"

You returned her hug, giving her a reassuring smile. "Yes, let's go."

As you drove back home with Tara in the passenger seat, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease about her. Finally, you turned to her, breaking the silence that had settled between you.

"Tara, sweetheart," you began, your voice gentle. "I know something's been bothering you. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Tara glanced out the window, her expression troubled. "It's just... I don't know, Mom," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I guess I've just been feeling really confused lately."

You reached out to gently squeeze her hand, offering her a reassuring smile. "It's okay to feel confused, sweetheart," you said softly. "But I want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what. You can talk to me about anything."

Tara nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Thanks, Mom," she whispered, leaning into your touch. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart," you replied, feeling a surge of love and gratitude for your daughter. "We'll figure this out together, okay?"

She nodded. “You know you deserve all the best in the world,” she said to you, her voice cracking a little bit.

“Do you think so?” You asked playfully, your eyes still focused on the road.

“Yes, and my father never deserved you,” she finally said.

You felt a pang of sadness at Tara's words, knowing the pain she must have been feeling about the situation with her father. But you also felt a sense of pride in her strength and honesty.

"I appreciate you saying that, sweetheart," you replied, your voice soft with emotion. "But he's still your father after all. What’s between us is just between us; don’t hate him just because he wasn’t a good husband.”

And hating him won't change the past or make things better. It's okay to feel hurt or angry, but holding onto that resentment will only weigh you down."

Tara nodded, her expression thoughtful as she absorbed your words. "I know, Mom," she said quietly. “I just see Sarah and Joel, and sometimes I wish he was my father.”

Your heart ached at Tara's words, understanding the longing she felt for a stable and loving family dynamic. You reached out to gently squeeze her hand, offering her comfort and reassurance.

"I understand, sweetheart," you said softly, your voice filled with empathy. "But “what you have left to say was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing as if Joel sensed his name being mentioned; he was the one calling, “Oh my god, I’m going to dump him.”

Tara laughed at your words, encouraging you to answer the call, so you put your phone on speaker.

You glanced at Tara, sharing a laugh with her before answering the call. "Hey, Joel," you said, trying to hide the amusement in your voice.

"Hey, Doe," Joel replied, his voice warm and familiar. "I was just thinking about you. How's everything going?"

"We're on our way back home now," you replied, glancing at Tara as you drove. "I just had a little heart-to-heart."

"Everything okay?" Joel asked, his concern evident in his tone.

"Yeah, everything's fine," you reassured him. "Just some family stuff. How about you? How's your evening going?"

"It's going well," Joel replied. "Sarah and I just finished dinner. She's upstairs doing homework now. I miss you, though.”

You smiled at the warmth in Joel's voice, feeling a surge of affection for him. "You just saw it like an hour ago.”

“I know, but still,” he said. “However, I was calling you for another reason.”

“Oh?” you questioned, furrowing your eyebrows.

"I wanted to ask if Tara would like to join Sarah and me for lunch tomorrow after school; I’m taking the afternoon off," Joel said, his voice carrying a hint of anticipation.

You glanced at Tara, who perked up at the mention of her name. Tara's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yes, I would love to!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a tint of enthusiasm.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at Tara's eagerness. "You heard her," you confirmed to Joel, a sense of gratitude washing over you for his thoughtful invitation.

“Great!" Joel replied, his tone filled with genuine pleasure. "I look forward to it. See you tomorrow, then.” He paused, “Please tell your mother she is pretty and that I love her.”

“Bye! I love you,” you said on the phone.

You loved the way he had been including Tara in his life since you had returned to his, making an effortless attempt to make her feel loved and included in every single aspect of your now-joined lives.

The next day, Joel led the way to their table, his smile infectious as he engaged in playful banter with Sarah and Tara. The three of them seemed to hit it off effortlessly, their conversation flowing smoothly as they shared stories and jokes.

Throughout the meal, Joel made sure to include both girls in the conversation, asking about their interests and sharing stories from his own life. Sarah and Tara seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely, their laughter ringing out amidst the bustle of the restaurant.

Tara hadn’t felt this loved by a paternal figure since she was nine, and she couldn’t help but feel the beating of her heart increasing, knowing that this may be her reality for the rest of her life.

Tara found herself opening up to Joel in a way she hadn't with anyone else since her parents' divorce. His kindness and attentiveness made her feel seen and valued, filling a void she hadn't realized was there.

Unbeknownst to them, Dwight was nearby, observing the scene from a distance. His heart clenched with jealousy and bitterness as he watched Joel bond with his daughter. He had always believed that he was the only father figure Tara needed, but seeing her smile and laugh in Joel's presence made him realize that he had been wrong.

Dwight's resentment toward Joel only grew; the man hasn’t only kept the hold of his heart in the palm of his hand, but now he is stealing his daughter from him, and his mind is swirling with thoughts of how to regain control over Tara's affections. But little did he know, Tara's heart had already begun to open up to Joel, and there was no turning back.

As Joel led the way back to his truck, Sarah and Tara chatted animatedly behind him, their laughter ringing out in the crisp afternoon air. But their jovial mood came to an abrupt halt when Joel suddenly stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he examined the side of his truck.

"What's wrong?" Sarah asked, her brow furrowing with concern.

Joel crouched down, inspecting one of the truck's wheels. "It looks like we've got a flat tire," he said, his voice tinged with frustration.

Tara peered over his shoulder, her heart sinking as she saw the damage. "Is there anything we can do?" she asked, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over her.

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'll need to call for a tow truck," he replied, his tone resigned. "It looks like we're going to be here for a while."

As Joel pulled out his phone to make the call, Tara glanced at Sarah, her mind racing with thoughts of what could have caused the flat tire.

But a few seconds later, Joel came back. “I called Tommy; he is going to take the both of you home while I stay here waiting for the tow truck, okay?”

The teens nodded as Joel made the arrangements, and Tara and Sarah exchanged glances, silently communicating their concern. Despite the unexpected turn of events, they knew they could count on Joel to take care of the situation.

"Thanks, dad," Sarah said gratefully as Tommy's car pulled up beside them.

"Yeah, thanks," Tara echoed, offering Joel a reassuring smile.

Joel returned their smiles, though there was a hint of worry in his eyes. "No problem, girls," he said. "Just make sure to get home safely, okay?"

"We will," Sarah promised, giving Joel a quick hug before climbing into Tommy's car.

Tara followed suit, offering Joel a hug of her own before joining Sarah in the car. As they drove away, Tara couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Joel's kindness and reliability, even in the face of unexpected challenges.

After the girls were out of sight, a voice interrupted Joel’s solitude.

“First, now, are you trying to steal my daughter too?”

That voice. Joel knew that voice that damn well, and he was getting exhausted from hearing it.

Joel's jaw clenched as he turned to face the source of the voice, his expression a mix of frustration and irritation. "Dwight," he said evenly, his voice tinged with disdain. "What are you doing here?"

Dwight's lips curled into a sneer as he approached Joel, his eyes flashing with anger. "I saw you with your little girl and my daughter," he spat. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to."

Dwight scoffed, his gaze cold and accusatory. "Right, like I'm supposed to believe that," he retorted. "You've been trying to worm your way into their lives ever since she came back and got to know my daughter.”

Joel's temper flared at the insinuation, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I care about Tara,” he said firmly. "And unlike you, I actually want what's best for her." He accused,” You saw her here, and you waited for her to go instead of saying hello to her, just to come up at me just like the pathetic loser you are.”

Joel's words struck a nerve with Dwight, his face contorting with anger. "You think you're better than me, huh?" He snarled, taking a menacing step closer to Joel. "You think you can just waltz in here and take over my daughter's life?"

Joel stood his ground, refusing to back down in the face of Dwight's aggression. "I'm not trying to take over anything," he said, his voice steady. "I just want to be there for Tara, to support her and care for her like she deserves."

Dwight scoffed, his fists clenched at his sides. "You don't know the first thing about being her father."

“And you do?” Joel asked, but the answer he received was Dwigth’s fist directly in his face.

As Dwight's fist connected with Joel's face, the impact sent a shockwave of pain through him. Joel stumbled backward, his hand instinctively reaching up to touch his throbbing eye. Anger flared in his eyes as he regained his balance, his jaw clenched tight.

"Is that how you fix your problems?" Joel growled, his voice laced with defiance. Despite the pain, he refused to let Dwight intimidate him. "You think you can just throw a punch and scare me off?"

Dwight's expression twisted into a snarl as he lunged forward again, this time hitting on Joel's jaw, causing him to bleed, but still, with a swift motion, Joel sidestepped Dwight’s attack, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back.

“I’m not going to hit you, not because I can't, but because I have respect for Tara,” Joel said, letting Dwight go from his hold.

Dwight's expression softened slightly, though suspicion lingered in his gaze. "You think you're some kind of hero, huh?" He muttered, rubbing his sore arm.

Joel shook his head, his expression serious. "I'm not a hero," he said.

Dwight regarded Joel for a moment longer before finally turning away, his footsteps heavy as he retreated. Joel watched him go, his jaw still throbbing from the impact of Dwight's punches on his face.

After receiving a call from Tommy about the altercation between Joel and Dwight, you knew you had to go check on Joel. Despite the late hour, you made your way to his house, your heart heavy with worry.

When you arrived, you felt an uneasiness before knocking on the door. When Joel appeared behind the door, you took a look at his appearance. His purple eye and swollen jaw made your stomach twist in pain.

His eyes softened at the sight of you, but the tension on his shoulder told you he wasn’t pleased at all.

“Who told you?” he asked, not a greeting, nor a hug, nor a kiss.

"Tommy,” you replied carefully, studying his subtle behavior.

As you spoke, Joel's expression tightened, mixed frustration and resignation crossing his features. He didn’t step aside, and he didn’t invite you into the house. He just stood there with a weary expression.

“Are you okay?” You asked again.

“Let’s see. I look like an idiot with this on my face; I can’t go to work like this, and I feel tired of your ex-husband.”

You winced at Joel's words, feeling the blame on his words. You couldn’t help but feel guilty; after all, Dwight had appeared in his life because of you. You wished you could take away all this, but you knew that wasn't possible. Instead, you feel small in front of him.

Feeling the weight of Joel's frustration, you took a step closer, wanting to offer him comfort despite feeling somewhat responsible for the situation. "I'm sorry," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine remorse. You lifted your hands to cup his face delicately, but Joel grabbed your wrists before you could feel his face on your palms.

Your breath left your lungs, and your heart sank.

You could feel the tension radiating from him; his eyes were dark and unreadable as they bore into yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the situation hanging heavily in the air.

"I appreciate your concern," Joel finally said, his voice strained. "But right now, I just need some space."

His words stung, a sharp pang of hurt shooting through you as you withdrew your hands from his grasp. You nodded silently, feeling a lump form in your throat as you struggled to contain your emotions.

"Are you putting the blame on me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You needed an answer before breaking down in front of him.

Joel's expression softened slightly at your question, his eyes flickering with a mixture of emotions. He hesitated for a moment before responding, his voice tinged with regret.

"No, I'm not blaming you," he replied, his tone softer now. "I just... I need some time to process everything that's happened."

You nodded, understanding his need for space but unable to shake off the hurt that lingered within you.

“Go home, Doe,” he whispered.

With a heavy heart, you nodded in response to Joel's words. His request for space was clear, and though it pained you to leave him in such a state, you knew that respecting his boundaries was crucial in this moment.

"Okay," you whispered back, your voice barely above a murmur. "Take care of yourself, Joel."

Turning away, you walked slowly back to your car, the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders. As you drove home, the silence of the car mirrored the heaviness in your heart, your thoughts consumed by the turmoil of emotions stirred up by the encounter with Joel.

It felt like the night he didn’t fight for you when you left him.

Arriving home with a heavy heart, tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you stepped through the door. Tara, ever-perceptive, noticed your somber expression immediately.

"Mom, what's wrong?" She asked, concern evident in her voice as she hurried to your side.

You tried to offer her a reassuring smile, but it faltered as the weight of the day's events pressed down on you.

"It's nothing, sweetheart," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "Just a long day."

Tara studied you for a moment, her gaze searching yours for any sign of what was truly bothering you. Seeing the unshed tears in your eyes, she wrapped you in a gentle hug, offering you the comfort of her presence.

"Is it about what dad did to Joel?” She asked, waiting for your answer.

Your heart ached at Tara's question; her perceptiveness never failed to astound you. You pulled back slightly from the embrace, meeting her concerned gaze with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

"How did you know?" you asked softly, impressed by her ability to see through you.

Tara sighed, her expression filled with empathy. "Sarah”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you nodded, grateful for Tara's understanding. "Of course,” you said. “Yes, it's about that," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just feel so helpless, Tara. It’s all my fault for thinking we could be together again.”

“I don’t want you to say that ever again, mom,” Tara said, her tone clear enough.

Tara's words struck a chord deep within you, her unwavering support providing a glimmer of solace in the midst of your turmoil. You looked at her, your eyes brimming with tears, and felt a surge of gratitude for her strength and wisdom beyond her years.

"I'm sorry, Tara," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I just... I thought I could make things right, but instead, I've only caused more pain."

“I bet Joel wants space tonight, but that doesn’t mean anything bad.” She reassured me, “The way he looked at you, mom, He wouldn’t lose you over the prick of a father I have.”

Tara's words brought a small glimmer of hope to your heart; her unwavering faith in Joel's feelings for you offered a sense of reassurance in the midst of your doubts.

"Thank you, sweetheart," you said, your voice soft with gratitude. "I hope you're right. I just... I hate seeing him hurt because of me."

“He is not hurt because of you.”

Tara's reassurance was like a balm to your wounded soul, her unwavering belief in Joel's love for you providing a beacon of hope amidst the darkness of your doubts.

"You're right," you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "Thank you for reminding me of that, Tara. I needed to hear it."

As the night wore on, you found yourself tossing and turning in bed, unable to shake off the nagging feeling of unease that lingered within you. The thoughts of Joel consumed your mind, his bruised face haunting your thoughts.

Despite Tara's reassurances, you couldn't shake off the guilt that weighed heavily on your heart. The urge to reach out to Joel, to check on him and apologize for everything, gnawed at you relentlessly.

You glanced at the clock beside your bed, its hands ticking away the seconds of the sleepless night. With a heavy sigh, you reached for your phone, the temptation to call Joel becoming too strong to resist.

But as your fingers hovered over the dial button, doubt crept in. What if he needed space? What if he was still angry?

With a frustrated groan, you set your phone aside, resigning yourself to the torment of your thoughts. Sleep remained elusive, the weight of guilt and uncertainty pressing down on you like a leaden blanket.

Just as you resigned yourself to the torment of your thoughts, your phone vibrated with the arrival of a notification. With a flutter of anticipation, you reached for it, your heart racing with hope.

The message was from Joel.

Your breath caught in your throat as you read his words, a mix of relief and apprehension flooding through you.

“Are you awake?”

You typed out a simple "yes,” and just seconds later, he was calling you.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you answered Joel's call, the sound of his voice washing over you like a balm. "Hey," he said softly, his tone carrying a hint of weariness.

"Hey," you replied, unable to mask the relief in your voice.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Joel spoke again, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I just wanted to hear your voice," he admitted, his words sending a shiver down your spine.

A rush of warmth flooded through you at his confession, dispelling some of the tension that had been coiling in your chest. "I'm glad you called," you said softly, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "How are you feeling?"

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I just want to say sorry for the way I acted, and I wanted to remind you that I love you so much, Doe.”

"I love you too," you replied, your voice filled with tenderness. "More than you'll ever know."

“Go to sleep now, love,” he said, knowing you finally felt at ease. He would never repeat the same mistakes with you again.

The next day, you found yourself standing in front of Dwight's house, your heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and determination. You took a deep breath before raising your hand to knock on the door.

After a moment, the door swung open, revealing Dwight's girlfriend, his mistress. Her expression hardened when she saw you, and she spoke with a hint of disdain in her voice.

"My daughter is here," she stated bluntly, her tone bordering on hostility.

You held your gaze, refusing to be intimidated by her. "I didn't come for her," you replied evenly. "Where is Dwight?"

Her eyes narrowed at your question, and for a moment, she seemed to consider whether to answer. Finally, she stepped aside, allowing you to enter the house. "He's in the living room," she said tersely.

“Can you tell him to come outside?” you said, not showing emotion.

“Okay”

As Dwight stepped outside, closing the door behind him, you couldn't contain the surge of anger that coursed through you. Without a word, you lifted your hand and delivered a sharp slap across his face.

"Ouch, what the hell is wrong with you?" Dwight exclaimed, his hand instinctively rising to his stinging cheek.

"You know damn well what's wrong," you retorted, your voice laced with frustration and indignation.

Dwight's expression darkened, his eyes flashing with defiance. "I don't have to listen to this," he snapped, turning to walk away.

But you weren't finished. "Oh no, you're not getting away that easily." You grabbed him by the neck of his shirt.

As Dwight attempted to walk away, you couldn't let him escape so easily. Fueled by anger and frustration, you moved swiftly, grabbing him by the neck of his shirt to prevent him from leaving.

His eyes widened in surprise as you held him firmly, your grip tight and unwavering. "Let me go!" he growled, struggling against your hold.

You tightened your grip, refusing to back down. "No," you replied firmly, your voice dripping with determination. "We're going to have this conversation, whether you like it or not."

“Listen to me now. Joel didn’t press charges against you, but I will if you don’t stop acting like this.” Your grip on his shirt left him speechless. “I’m tired of you trying to ruin my happiness when you know damn well what you did, and not only that, but acting like a bully when you’re pushing your 40s is pathetic; you may be older than me but not wiser.”

Dwight's eyes narrowed as he listened to your words, a mixture of anger and resentment flashing across his face. Despite his attempts to break free, your grip remained firm, holding him in place.

“Are you threatening me?” he spat.

You met his glare with steely resolve, feeling fury and disgust towards that man. "I'm not trying to dictate anything," you replied, your tone unwavering. "I'm simply telling you how it's going to be if you don't change your behavior."

He didn’t say a word, inviting you to continue.

“Tara doesn’t want to see you, but I told her you’re her father, and what happened between us should define her relationship with you, but if you ever pull a stunt like this again, I’ll make sure you will never see her,” you stated firmly, your voice leaving no room for argument. "I won't hesitate to protect myself and my family from your toxicity, so you will take a step away for a while; you will change your behavior and start acting like a man; and once you’re ready to be a father, you call me, and we can arrange a meeting with Tara.”

He gulped. “Okay.”

His shoulders slumped slightly, and he averted his gaze, seemingly unable to meet your eyes.

"Fine," he muttered, his voice lacking its usual bravado. "I'll stay away... for now."

You nodded, not entirely convinced of his sincerity but determined to hold him to his word. "Good," you said firmly. "And remember, this is your chance to make things right. Don't waste it." You paused, “Now I want you to get on your knees and promise me you will never go for Joel like that.”

As you waited for Dwight's response, he hesitated for a moment, his expression conflicted. But eventually, he let out a heavy sigh and slowly sank to his knees before you, a begrudging acknowledgment of your authority in this situation.

"I promise," he muttered, his voice strained with reluctance. "I won't go after Joel like that again."

You watched him carefully, your gaze unwavering, as you waited for him to finish his vow. Once he had spoken the words, you nodded, satisfied that he understood the gravity of his promise.

"Good," you said firmly, your tone leaving no room for doubt. “Go to be happy with the family you choose; you have the chance to be a good father for that little girl of yours. And you will let me be happy with a daughter and the man I love.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, ashamed for the first time, but you didn't want to buy his act so easily yet.

You observed him silently, your resolve unwavering as you awaited his apology. When he finally spoke, offering a half-hearted sorry, you shook your head.

"Say sorry when you mean it," you replied firmly, your tone leaving no room for ambiguity. "And remember your promise."

With that, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving Dwight kneeling on the ground behind you, you were determined to protect your family and ensure that Dwight stayed true to his word.

When you returned to your apartment, your heart skipped a beat as you noticed Joel standing by the door, a concerned look etched on his face. His eyes softened when he saw you, and he took a step forward, his expression filled with worry.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, stepping back at the sight of him, still carrying the colored traces of Dwight’s fist on his face.

“I wanted to see you, but nobody opened the door, so I was leaving,” he said, his voice laced with concern as he noticed a somber demeanor on you.

“Yes, Tara wanted to spend the day with my mom, so she left earlier and I was doing something,” you informed, stepping forward to open the door.

Joel followed you inside, his gaze lingering on your face with a mix of concern and curiosity. You could feel the weight of his gaze, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what was troubling you.

"Is everything alright?" he asked softly.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal about your encounter with Dwight. But seeing the genuine concern in Joel's eyes, you knew you could trust him with the truth.

"Not really," you admitted, your voice tinged with frustration. "I went to Dwight's.”

Joel's expression darkened at the mention of Dwight's name, his jaw tightening with anger. "Did he hurt you?" he asked, his tone low and dangerous.

You shook your head, offering him a small smile to reassure him. "No, nothing like that.” You paused, “It was actually me who slapped him on the face.”

Joel's eyes widened slightly in surprise at your revelation. "You slapped him?" he echoed.

You nodded, feeling a surge of empowerment at the memory of standing up to Dwight. "Yeah," you confirmed, with a hint of pride in your voice. "He had it coming."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Joel's lips. "I wish I could have seen that," he said, a touch of amusement in his tone.

You laughed softly at his comment, “Well, we also talked, mostly me, and I think it's all okay.”

Joel's smile softened at your words, his eyes reflecting his relief. "I'm glad to hear that," he said sincerely, pulling you into a comforting embrace. "You're incredibly brave, you know that?"

You leaned into his embrace, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “I’m not”

“Yes, you’re. You stood by yourself, and that’s always brave,” he reminded you, pulling back slightly. He cupped your face in his hands and met your gaze with all the love dancing in his eyes.

You smiled at him, lifting your hand to caress his face, where his eye was still bruised as a violet. Your heart ached for him, for love, and for the memories he always brought with him.

"This reminds me of something,” you murmured softly, your voice filled with a tint of amusement at the memory.

He chuckled softly, a fond smile playing on his lips as he recalled the same thought in his mind. “And I always get the girl,” he said.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as Joel's words echoed the sentiment you were about to share. "Yes, you do," you replied, your voice laced with affection. "But don't think you can use those puppy eyes to get out of trouble every time."

He stole a kiss from your lips and pressed his forehead against yours. "I still have the ring," he whispered.

Your heart skipped a beat at Joel's words, a rush of warmth flooding through you as you gazed into his eyes.

“Then, ask me,” you whispered back, your voice filled with love and certainty. You didn’t care about rushing things anymore; you knew that, for a marvelous reason, what had made you separate for thirteen years was the same reason that brought you back together, this time older and wiser, and you wanted to dive in, not hold back anymore.

Joel's eyes widened slightly in surprise at your words, his breath catching in his throat as he processed the depth of your request. But beneath the surprise, there was a glimmer of joy and a spark of hope that ignited in his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched your eyes for any hint of hesitation.

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips as you met his gaze with unwavering determination. "I've never been surer of anything in my life," you replied, your voice filled with conviction.

“Well, I don’t have the ring with me right now,” he warned, embarrassed.

Your smile widened at Joel's words; his concern about the ring only added a touch of genuine joy to this. "That's okay," you reassured him, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand.

“I’m doing this anyway,” he said, getting on one knee and causing you to chuckle, hiding the emotion in your throat.

As Joel kneeled before you, your heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and joy. Despite the playful chuckle and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over, you allow him to continue.

"Will you marry me, Doe?"

a/n part 2: Before someone says the last part may be stupid, let's clarify this is fiction.

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @missladym1981 @yomiyasxx @aliengirl99 @lola8888673 @nottodaysattan @picketniffler @violinchick @sadgirlcheesecake @caitlynsixxx @luvwanda @sarahhxx03

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1-49 · 5 months

Text

성찬 : Feeling every bit of this neon midnight that has filled my veins.

ᴘᴀʀɪɴɢ: jung sungchan × f!reader

❝ In which you catch the interest of a handsome stranger at the party, and he embarks on a night-long odyssey in order to validate this* awkward attraction, he strongly believes you both feel.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: romance, some fluff, suggestive; strangers to ? slowburn one-night stand kinda?

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 13k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: +18 i drag a lot in this sry. tiny bit of pinning; real tense and awkward energy; flirting; mixed signals; sungchan is messy; in a sense, he’s both confident yet appears doubtful and insecure at times. stolen kiss ups implied hot moments/dialogue lines. few magic scenes

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: no joke im obsessed with sungchan. this has also progressively made me grow more in love with him he’s so effortlessly lovley & funny, my introvert ass could never! the energy? the personality?? like, no broo stop! i envy him sm. his way with words too...

also any feedback, reblog, or support of any kind will be appreciated. tysm, and enjoy!

A fine night, or so you thought, a showcase of stars in the sky. And while you are admiring the display of lights, in the middle of your peace, you hear the echo of an intruder ──── the sound of someone demanding to get in.

Who would be so brave? Who is willing to leave a party in order to get to you?

U let it pull u closer to the stars, this stranger’s energy that shifts the gears in your head. A stubborn being! Can’t he have a bit of patience? What could possibly be so urgent? What could he possibly be looking to discuss? As far as you know, the rave is inside, not outside.

[22:22] You wish you could describe the magnetic pull you felt just moments ago.

[20:20] In keeping with the occasion, you took great care to make sure you felt and looked your best for your friend’s celebration. You chose a black outfit in accordance with the principle of seeking style through simple tones. Simple wide pants, a velvety sleeveless top, an open back, and some crystals hanging from your ears are enough elegancy to captivate someone. A desire for someone else’s eyes.

[22:23] Moreover, you are trying to make sense of the situation once you get to the balcony, relieved that no one is there to disturb your peace.

Sungchan’s intention, however, was never to make you uncomfortable.

[21:45] On the other end of the room, he had already skimmed everything and everyone, not because he was that type of character, but because he was bored and new to the scene, and his inner extrovert was urging him to go find someone to befriend as soon as possible.

The options were plentiful at the scene, and the liquor in his hand resolved through his system a little faster, making him less rational in his decision. That is how your presence from the other side of the room alone helped him—some mysterious, indescribable force drawing him in.

You…

Sungchan could not figure out why his gaze kept circling the room, passing from one person to the next but always returning to you. He rapidly became solely focused on you. The way you discuss something so profound with your friend makes him think it must be something so interesting and intriguing; the way it has you so invested in the matter undeniably gets him a little curious, secretly wishing to be in the same position your friend enjoys you. Simply put, the indulgence that you are in causes him to become greedy.

The way you smile now and then, the way your teeth graze your perfectly glazed lips, the way your earrings sway—there is just something about you that never ceases to attract his attention.

As a result, he does something about it.

You…

You notice his heated stare at you from afar and across the room—hell-bent, dense, and begging for you.

Sungchan does not immediately offer you a smile, nor does he try to be flirtatious in his gaze, but he absorbs you with such passion, concentration, and keenness that it honestly begins to make you feel super uneasy. You are having trouble reading him.

Thus, as you start to pay more and more attention to him, things start to gradually work in his favor. This also begins to fill you with an odd sense of thrill, and before you know it, you are champing at the bit.

That tummy twirl as the eye-string between you works like a live-wire. Sungchan, lazily propped against the wall, significantly taller than anyone, and with such a pretty yet tempting set of eyes, and with the intimacy you share with him, easily begins to excite and scare you at the same time.

He possesses a spark that straddles the line between danger and enchantment. And sometimes you try to casually shift your eyesight and abandon the site, but the response you get when you return your gaze, which you always do, is that of a wounded animal.

Such a ‘casual’ face that molds into a hot one, then softens and becomes dear in a matter of minutes that whatever you two exchange quickly involuntary culminates in your breaking. Seeing him with his brows tied and slightly pouting, needy and greedy as to why you would try to wonder and abandon him even for a little, is a sight that makes your tummy clench at nothing.

You wish you were strong enough to respond to his request, whatever it is—like holding his stare until your confidence crumbles and he subdues you, or holding his stare until he is truly bored of you and can move on to the next victim.

And, because you are unprepared for any of this and are getting gagged by the space that is gradually getting more packed, you decide to dip the party in order to get some fresh air flowing through your brain.

[22:22] You are leaning over the metal rail, trying to inhale all of the lost air from earlier, and for a brief moment, you feel yourself again, relieved that you are still holding on to that sliver of confidence you promised yourself before this event even began. But the way this complete stranger was erecting himself around you had almost brought everything you had sworn to a halt.

You consider the view from the balcony to be ‘perfectly splended.’ Neon lights make love and oppose the monotonous yet sparkling dark blue sky above you on a very cold December night.

You shiver as you realize you are skin-naked against the harshness of the cold air. It is icy cold, but you are trying to ignore it for the time being. To your advantage, you try to enjoy the solitude of being alone; the tranquility of falling snow is far more appealing than the warmth of the place inside.

True, the bitter cold could not scold you out of there, so someone else had to. You are irritated when you hear the glass door slide, but you do not turn back because you know this one, whoever it is, is coming for your peace.

A pair of hands approaches the rail, and in you sight of vision you notice the grip is somewhat firm, but you do not attempt to acknowledge this person’s presence. Not because you are cruel or ignorant, but because you simply do not feel like it right now. Someone disturbed your peace while you were seeking refuge; it is understandable to be agitated.

“Are you not freezing here?”

The ferocity with which this intruder delivers his words reveals that it is not only his hands that are strong but also his sweet, ’somewhat’ deep voice. It is enigmatic that you are not allowing yourself to be more selfish toward him; he craves your attention, and you provide it.

“I do not mind,” you say as you turn to face him and realize it is him.

“Obviously, your skin tells a different story,” he observes.

And who gave his eyes the go-ahead to roam your flesh? He is still an issue, and you can feel his gaze on you even as you try to fix yours on the scene in front of you.

Sungchan, on the other hand, is a little more confident, and from what he can tell, he still has an impact on you. Apart from the irregular breathing and chest rise, his only doubt is whether the way your skin is covered in goosebumps is due to him or the cold weather.

“I just needed a breath of fresh air. I am doing fine.”

“As you say,” he tries to give you the space you seek by shifting his gaze away from you. “Does not the cold bother you at all?”

“I suppose not. It is something I am used to.”

After a few minutes, you bring yourself to ask, breaking the little silence you two have built. Your feeble attempt at small talk, and, of course, regarding the host of the party because you can not think of anything interesting to say right now, it is as if he is taken over your mind and dumbed you down in the process.

“Are you related to Eunseok?”

“Oh,” he says, giving you his first smile, which is as bright as the light reflected off the lake’s surface and warmer and sweeter than a freshly baked apple pie. “Why? Do we look alike?” Honestly, a warm smile that could make the sun feel cold, and it is spilling out of the corners of his deep brown eyes.

Is there a length of time at which his smile should stop being your favorite sight?

Certainly, no, but—

“Oh, no, no,” you say, backtracking in your head to see if your question was stupid. Finally, you admit, “I am just trying to make small talk.”

“I am aware of that,” he smirks triumphantly, as if he has finally won you over, because being under someone’s influence causes one to doubt and second-guess their statements, and you are doing just that, which he finds absolutely adorable.

You clearly sulk at his victory. “So?”

As a result, his smile broadens even more.

“Eunseok? Eunseok is a friend. A very close one.”

“Ah, I see,” you exhale a sigh of relief. It is even stupid, strange, and awkward that you feel this way, but you do.

“And you? Who is Eunseok to you?”

“May I say, a friend from work? We volunteer together.”

“Mhm,” he hums softly. “Strange, he has never mentioned you.”

“How can you be so certain that he hasn’t when you don’t even know what my name is?” You retort.

You are met with silence. A complete one.

Perhaps he disliked the tone of your voice and the way you responded.

You are not sure what to make of the situation because seconds are turning into minutes and he has not said or asked anything else besides what you asked. You are worried and perplexed as to why you are still glued to being here when you could simply return inside and enter the warmth of the apartment, but you do not.

Why? What is it that keeps you here? Why are you staying out here in the cold with him?

Sungchan immediately abandons his pursuit of observing the city, the moon, and the thousand snowflakes falling from the sky when you finally turn your entire body his way. He is not interested in them anymore, if he ever was.

You unintentionally and unconsciously bring your hands together to hug yourself, not to express to him how cold you are but as a reaction to being out in the cold for too long and forgetting your coat inside.

Your earrings flutter in the breeze, teasingly brushing against your neck and shoulders as if they were windchimes, and you are the music for him.

The wind also tangles your hair as it blows through it. Messy in the sense that your ends sometimes stick to your lipgloss and you try to ignore it. Most of his attention, however, is drawn to your delecate collar bones. And you are not wearing a bra underneath that velvet piece of whatever it is you are wearing. So the hug and squeezing on your chest only highlight your prominently hardened, sensitive spots for him.

And whether all of this divine show you are putting on is for him or not, or if it is all unintentional, Sungchan will have to figure it out on his own.

Sure, for the time being, everything is so unintentional, and he is aware of it. Sungchan understands that the cold has a big influence on how you look right now—the allure of it all—but deep down, he still believes that he, to some extent, causes it, that the cold creeps and shivers that linger on your body are brought on by him, and that it is not just the cold night.

And when he sees you like this—the neon lights reflecting off of you, the countless soft flakes landing on your face, some nestling and making a home in your hair, the way your eyes invite, and the little stars beneath them—he realizes how much he has grown dependent on you in such a short period of time.

While the neon dyes around you, he is hooked on your messy appearance. Blurred illumination and twinkling stars in the distance, but you are the star, beaming with lust in a riot of colors, or so he believes.

“Here,” he says, undressing his overdyed denim jacket in the hopes of trapping you within it—within him.

He does not even give you a chance to object. So, “thank you,” you say softly, despite the fact that you are anything but calm at the moment. His warm hands have brushed up against your arms during the process, which is a legitimate reason for your emotions to become agitated. “I did not bring mine,” you add to be more convincing. “I did not think I would be out this long.”

Sungchan grins from behind you, enjoying the intimacy the action has brought. “It is okay,” he says, brushing down the length of your now-covered arms.

His voice, words, breath, and scent rush from your hair to your ears at the same time. They are far too intimidating, but he is so smooth that it is contradictory, forcing you to disintegrate slowly.

You are trying your hardest not to melt in his arms, but it is a difficult task. You close your eyes for a moment, cursing the thoughts that keep popping into your silly little brain, but this has been such a small gesture—a nice gesture by someone to cover someone. This is perfectly normal. This is not unusual. People frequently go out of their way to cover others who are cold. So everything is okay. This is completely fine. ‘It is fine,’ you tell yourself.

He lines up next to you once you have been wrapped in his scent.

“What is so funny?” you inquire, noticing traces of satisfaction on his face. The majority of them are smug, but it is the bite of his lips to suppress the smile and its reflection in his sweet eyes that perplexes you. He is soooo

“Nothing,” he flirts casually. His eyelid and nose bridge home these tiny, exquisite specks that wink at you, adding to his soft, angelic physiognomy. And this much is true: they are invisible to false gods, but when it comes to you, nobody is more capable of holding onto you than those moles.

“Hmph,” you murmur, cocking your brow. “All right,” you say, only increasing the smile between his bitten lips. Like this, Sungchan is quickly becoming someone who is difficult to be normal about—someone to yearn for.

Mid-eye-flirt, your eyes drop involuntarily, whether due to insecurity or not, but they do. They are on their way to examine his white cotton tee shirt, his broad chest and even longer shoulders, his venied and shivered ivory arms. His neckline too is begging for lips.

You consider his height and how your head would not even reach his shoulders if you were not wearing heels. Perhaps your high will be at his heart level, making it ideal for your ear to check on his heart palpitations. You have gotten so far in your delusion that you are wondering what it is like to kiss someone so tall.

“Sungchan,” he offers playfully, aware that he is destroying a fantasy you are creating in your head.

“Uh,” you remark. Is he reintroducing you to reality? You are extremely embarrassing. You clear your throat and respond with your name.

He begins to softly nod his head, his lips curving once more. The neon is intensifying him in the same way. He looks almost flamboyant against the soft, snowy backdrop that stretches far away.

And, should that be the case, does this signify that your two are now officially flirting?

Considering that the way he looks at you clearly has you sucked in. He wants to arouse your highs and make you fantasize about him even more. And, even if you think this is just another ‘barely even a’ fling, he is powerful and genuine, as well as strangely familiar and gently captivating.

The rest of the background fades away. You cannot feel the air or the ground beneath you; all you can feel is his gaze. Everything dissolves and energizes the ecstatic present, and your constantly rambling mind becomes thoughtless.

By the time he breaks the intimate, soul-crushing silence again, you know you are captivated by him and you no longer want this to be a fling. This is the first time you have failed at flirting. And you know you cannot be bailed out of what is to come. In fact, 8.2 seconds of eye contact is required for love at first sight to happen.

“Why are you here?” He asks casually, as if the minutes leading up to this point had not been too private. “Outside by yourself, I mean? You do not like it inside?”

Now that his jacket is covering you, he has more room to investigate you, which feels like a fair trade for information. Of course, you did not ask for his jacket, and it was he who rushed with it, which is, to say the least, compromising, but here you are.

“I do not know. Not really. All I needed was some fresh air. It became too suffocating in there all at once, so I had to flee.” Given that he was the reason you left the crowded room, your smile appears phony. “It has also been a long time since I had a night out. So many people and everything... Strangely, I like it here even better. Regardless of the cold.”

“Regardless of the cold?” He teases.

“Regardless of the cold,” you say firmly.

“Mhm. I see what you mean. I can say the same thing.”

“But it is you who is freezing in the cold right now,” you say, concerned.

“It doesn’t bother me.”

If only you knew that the cold does not reach him. Being here alone with you is almost everything he does not want to lose.

Unfortunately, such a situation can only last so long. The cold, like the undefined chamisty, will eventually find its way into someone’s bones. You two are complete strangers, neither here nor there, and the atmosphere quickly becomes tense once more. It is borderline hot, cold and awkward. You are both at a loss for what to do next.

And, despite the fact that Sungchan is overjoyed to have you here, spending your precious time on him out of anyone else you could possibly be with, which undoubtedly must mean something, he is aware that he wants more of you, but how does he get there?

Perhaps someone joining you two on the balcony for a smoke can help alleviate the awkwardness that has developed between you two? However, when two more men join you to smoke on the balcony, his only concern becomes protecting you.

For whatever ‘self’ reason, he does not want you to share this space with them. Behaving in a selfish manner, he offers, “Come on, let us go inside. It’s too cold.” Because of the high likelihood that you two will part ways again, even he does not understand his thought process, but his mouth and a strong desire not to share you with anyone may be faster than his brain.

You, on the other hand, naturally accept. As if you could choose. He was the one who offered you the warmth of his jacket, and he is the one who is now freezing in his tee for you. That makes you feel guilty, but not really because his jacket carried the scent that clouded your senses. You admit that whatever you had going on was nice while it lasted.

And you do not let go of his jacket until you are both inside and you are ready to give it back to him. Again, it is not like you want to let go of it. You really do not want to, but you must.

“Thank you for not letting me freeze out there,” you say softly, handing him the overdyed piece of clothing, the dying ember in your eyes almost to the point of yearning. Half hoping he cathes upon it, half believing it is best if he doesn’t. A conflict with yourself.

“You don’t have to thank me. I am glad I could assist.” And as he gently picks it up, he becomes hesitant, as if he does not want to because he will have nothing to bargain with you for.

Sungchan feels like he has already lost you to the mass of people around him, and he feels like he is coming down to being nobody to you again. So he drags on this moment, picking up his jacket, stretching the second as much as he can, and making sure his hands have brushed and touched you irrevocably.

Time passes and the tension dissipates.

[23:13] After an hour, you are still trying to keep up with your few coworkers, who appear to be planning to call it a night and leave. You do not have much of a choice but are thinking about following their decision because Sungchan has not made any further moves towards you.

Simultaneously, this is the point at which you wish things had gone differently, and you consider many different outcomes if the dice had been rolled differently.

What if Sungchan made his move twice—once when he discovered you in the entire room and was determined to have you, and again when he got close to you on the balcony—and this time he was waiting FOR YOU to prove your true intentions and finally admit you are interested in him?

Uh, just when you thought you were going to get away from him, you find yourself wishing for more of him.

However, after witnessing you and your friends bid farewell to Eunseok, Sungchan realizes that it is now or never: lose you or have you.

He dislikes trusting time and does not want to leave you in the future. To play the ‘if’ game. He wants you now, right now, in the present, and he will be damned if he does not tell you. As a result, he rushes to say his goodbyes, leaving you both on the same elevator.

[23:20] There is him, you, and three of your friends in the elevator, and while your friends are in the front and you are in the back, he makes sure to horn his way in to you. Fortunately for you, your friends are unaware of him and will not tease you, as no one has noticed your short romance tonight except the two strangers on the balcony. And they are also so lost in their heated debate, resulting in nothing but noise to fill the cramped four-wall space.

Even though the ride down is brief, you find yourself wishing it were longer because you cannot quite figure out Sungchan’s motifs. He is difficult to understand, in contrast to how he was at the start of the night when your gazes met across the room, when his intentions were banging on your heart’s door, eager to get in. You are not sure if the mystery he is leaving you is drawing you closer to him or making you more distant. You realize you do not want to lose him, and you tell yourself that there must be a reason he got in the same elevator with you, even if he does not say anything.

Sungchan’s fingers brush against yours at that precise moment, and he begins subtly playing, then slowly intertwining them with his, never compliantly taking your hand in his. The forbidden pleasure of the action takes the edge off—just him doing this, teasing you in front of your friends, teasing you so casually that he does not even address you. He is just doing this nervous dance as you turn to him, observing his side profile and looking for meaning in his actions, all while his gaze is fixed on the door in front of him.

So carefree, until the elevator stops and all of you exit, leaving him casually tagging behind.

And, once again, because he does not say, address, or ask you anything, and it was your friends who drove you here, it is only natural that you return to where you live with them.

Why hasn’t he asked you whether you want to stay or go with him yet? Is he leaving the door open for you to make the next big move? Is he unaware that you are not a pursuer? Why is he putting you in this awkward position where every thought and notion ends with him?

For better or worse, you decide to work on it, telling your friends that you have forgotten your phone at Eunseok’s and will head up to look for it. And all the while they insist on waiting on you, you persuade them to leave, that you will be fine calling a taxi and that they should not worry because you may have changed your mind and will stay a little longer at the party as well.

What a scumbag lie, but it works in the end. Getting rid of them was probably one of the worst decisions made in tonight’s series, and for what? You are not even sure why.

‘What are you doing?’ ‘What the f—is this?’ You curse under your breath, despite the fact that you appear cold on the outside but are all hot and bothered on the inside. As you make your way back to the elevator entrance, a few more curses escape your lips as you wait for your friends to leave. Once they have left, you retrace your steps, noticing Sungchan standing there, checking his phone.

“What do you want!?” The request comes out a little louder than you expected. But, in your defense, you are only as direct and blunt in your candor because of his mixed signals.

Sungchan, surprised, lifts his face away from the phone, and the screen noticeably lightens and strengthens his features, giving you tunnel vision with the darkness around you and forcing you to focus on his lips whether you like it or not.

To their benefit, he adds his low and deep tone, “What do you mean, what do I want?”

“Don’t—”

Sure, one way to do this is to be playful, deny, and mislead. And he is still doing a fantastic job of it. However, you can only take so much right now. The more he complicates things, the more you want him, and the more you want your answer, no matter how promiscuous the situation makes you appear.

“What were you doing inside messing with my fingers? Why take the same elevator? Why were you looking for a place to stay earlier at the bacony? Your cryptic cues are, to put it mildly, lame.”

“No, you are right,” he says with a smirk that would irritate even a god. “I am usually direct. Maybe I just wanted to take the long way around this time. And I was not doing anything. They just brushed naturally.”

“Sung—” you clench your teeth, trying to recall the rest of his name. “Sung—” but nothing comes to mind right now.

“Chan. SungChan,” he emphasizes. The satisfaction of seeing you lag when you probably want to throw hands with him is clearly visible on his face, and he is powerless to stop it. “What meaning did you find in them? I mean… our fingers touching? Many people will take nothing away from it and will most likely dismiss it.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “You can’t be serious? If you have a question, why just not ask me?”

“I already have. What meaning do you give us?” He speaks slowly, but with assurance and fixation. He is aware of the confidence he is currently displaying, so he might as well make it more lethal. “What do you want me to ask?”

He would rather you express yourself. You! And, despite the fact that he already has a decent idea of your feelings and desires, he wants you to be more explicit about them. That is why he persists in pressuring you to give in to him. To hook you. To persuade you to ask questions. To convince you that you, too, need him. It is almost as if he is subtly switching roles. And it is he who is being chased this time.

“Oh, it has become what I want now? you mutter. “I cannot believe it.” Turning around, you plan to start walking away from him. You are done with his nonsense.

But Sungchan’s long arm easily reaches out and firmly grasps your wrist. You pause for a moment, unsure whether you should turn back and acknowledge him, but you do. You cannot help but be annoyed because he will not ask you the question you know he wants to ask. He does not. In fact, he dragged on every opportunity he could have asked you tonight, and it is because of him that you lost your drive back home, and it is because of him—and it—

Is his ego that big? And if he does play, why for so long? How did he turn this into you running after him, which is completely opposite of who he was and what he wanted at the start of the night? It is heinous.

But, once again, the two of you can only take so much in the cold weather.

His warmth, in contrast to the cold, spreads from your wrist up the length of your arm to your neck. Hot that feels oppressive but relieves the chill.

His cheeks are undeniably flushed, and the adorable tip of his nose is irritated red. Your jaws begin to twitch, and his lips follow suit. A cold breath begins to emerge from beneath your noses, and your bodies begin to shake as you begin to burn from within. Such unavoidable conflict lingers on your face, and for a brief moment, he feels sorry for having you freeze out here. Sungchan might have had his games going if it had been a warmer season, but that is not the case right now. Finally, he brings himself to put an end to it all.

“I will give you a ride. You must be freezing.”

“Give me a ride!?” You mock, attempting to shake your wrist free from his grip, but it has no effect. You are so fed up with him.

“You lost your ride home because of me, right? He says it with a cheeky grin, as if he is proud of himself, as if missing your ride because of him is such a big accomplishment. “It is only fair that I do something abo—” It is like rubbing salt into a wou—But-but his intentions are all pure!

“Oh, my god,” you say, disbelievingly looking up at the sky before returning your gaze to him. “You are such a jerk. I never would have guessed you were this bad.”

“Your place, or mine?”

“Your game is awful. I am not sure how many times I have to remind you of—”

“As long as it works.”

You bite your lower lip in frustration while rolling your eyes.

The game is bad, but there are not many alternatives. Your phone is still in your small bag, as it has always been, and your friends have gone. Returning to the party or freezing to death are neither of the options that appeal to you. As a result, you end up in his car as the least bad option.

To put it mildly, the ride to his place is quiet; his grip on the steering wheel appears to be steady and relaxed, whereas you are a fucking mess. You desperately hope you do not come across as such and that what is going on inside does not show on the outside, despite your earlier efforts and utmost failures. It is frustrating because you were the one who persuaded him to respond, and you were the one who stayed with him—without him even asking.

Therefore, everything that has happened up to this point has been an inaccurate reflection of who you are. You hope the circumstances did not boost his ego even more and make you a lesser version of yourself.

You divert your gaze away from the window by focusing on his side profile while he maintains his gaze on the road. Uh, infuriatingly beautiful! So, you decide, carelessly, to press the ‘imaginary’ pedal even harder, dazzling reality onto the fantasy, oblivious to the consequences and what if they worsen? And all they need is what you are about to say to escalate the situation.

“You do not strike me as the type, you know?”

“As the type to?”

Nervous, you rub your thighs. “The perplexing kind. To play games,” you pause. “Your smile is lovely, and your eyes are too sincere. You have the face and energy of someone who can play the cheeky extrovert in charge of the party atmosphere. Someone who is witty while remaining sweet. I think that your current self-presentation does not accurately reflect who you are. To be honest, I think you are terrible at pretending. You are so bad at it that you are losing at your own game.”

He remains unaffected, looking ahead at the road. “Then let us keep pretending. I can keep up the tough guy persona for you if you want.”

“It is not about what I want. Plus, you weren’t like that at first.”

He thrives on your somewhat nice compliment. “Was I someone sweet?”

“Shut up,” you repeat, and neither of you says much else after that.

The bottom line is that he can be anything you need him to be. And you notice it the moment you both enter the elevator, your backs against the opposite walls, the gap between you closing but not closing completely. The silence is still, awkward and sexy.

In the literal sense, he is a walking contradiction. Why is he staring at you with his head pressed against the elvator’s metal, his stark jaw, neck exposed, and this dense ‘undressing’ look in his eyes, never losing his sweet smily charm in front of you? He is so good at it that you both despise and admire him. He both thrills and terrifies you.

You have to keep wondering how he manages to be both endearing and seductive. It is peak performance, and it must have taken him a while to get there. It makes you long for him in ways you never imagined possible.

The type to give you a backhug followed by a kiss on your hair while saying, ‘You are mine,’ and then easily transform it into a chokehold while whispering in your ear, ‘Mine!’

Someone you would consider kissing or biting. Someone you would consider walking hand in hand with only to have him act disrespectfully later, when you are in a safe place and it is just you and him. Someone who will kiss your temple and then invite you to sit in his lap.

You close your eyes at the culmination of your thoughts. You are certain he can sense your internal temperature, even if he is not touching you. He is touching you in ways you have not been touched before, and this time it turns into an elevator ride that seems to last forever and you wish it would end as soon as possible.

[23:48] Stepping into the hallway, you try to pick yourself up and carry on from where you melted. You insert the key into the keyhole of your door and invite him in, but you are really second-guessing yourself and questioning your actions. However, it is too late. It is too late because the moment you close the door behind you, you are trapped against the next wall.

Whether provoked or not, he begins sliding your coat down, his hands coming to grip on your shoulders.

Dazed and hurried, you search for some sense in his eyes but you cannot find any. This causes you to resent your hasty, ill-considered decisions, and you try to protest, but no words come out of your mouth. When did things begin to move at such a rapid and high rate?

Sungchan, fit and lean, towers above you, cornering you and putting you in a scary situation where your only way out is to scream. His overdye jacket rises with him as he raises his hands and rests them on each side of you on the wall. Your gaze shifts to his tiny waist as a tiny bit of his white tee peals away, revealing some of his hips.

You silently gulp at how quickly everything resolves. Your words and thoughts are both stuck deeper inside your mouth and will not form.

“Look at me,” he says, pointing out your excessive staring at the floor.

“I-I”

Naturally, you cannot go on because your words are failing you. Should the deep look in his eyes in the elevator forewarn you of what he is about to do?

So, in order to get you to look at him, his fingers grab the thin strap of your top, intending to yank and tear it. Of course he doesn’t, but his strategy proves to work instantly as soon as your eyes meet his.

You start to tremble under the complete hot mess of his deep browns, wondering what would happen if he continued the action. The only thing keeping you from being too exposed and naked for him is the velvet fabric that clings to your body. It gets so hot so fast that you are not sure how it is possible, all while your heart feels like it is about to leap out of your chest. Self-defense kicks in, and you raise your hand to your sternum to keep the material in place just in case.

“What exactly is going on?” You ask, stunned, caged by his hands on both sides of you, and already gone.

“You ask as if you haven’t already calculated the distance between our lips and guessed the flavor of my tongue,” he gruffly replies. “This is everything we both desired from the moment our gazes met across the room.” To make matters worse, he whispers, “Don’t deny it.”

A thought flashes through your mind, as sudden and powerful as a firework reaching the sky, because that is exactly what has been poisoning your mind. That is all you have been able to think about. What would it be like to kiss him? How would his lips taste? Is he the type to smile through the kiss, mocking you because you have given up?

“That—that is completely un—untrue,” you mumble, turning away from him and looking at the door. But your neck muscles work with you, and is the current exposed line meant to tease him even more?

Sungchan seizes the opportunity, moving in closer, pushing your legs apart, and resting his knee against the wall between them. His figure is far too intimidating, while his lazy smile and curious lips climb your provocative neck to your earshell with a bit of his gut feeling that this is where you break the most. “Do you already regret inviting me?”

His tone and breath are light and breezy, like soft sunlight peeking through the curtains at dawn, revealing a scent of freshness as they enter your little universe. They are, however, comfortably casual, which makes him attractively persistent at the very entrance of your ear. “I have already altered, if not ruined, your night,” his lips almost kissing under your ear. “We might as well give in to this absurd affection. What have we got to lose?”

And waiting for an answer, having reached this stage, his instincts and the part of his brain receptive to pain are already bracing themselves. He can feel them clenching in his gut as this two coming to three hour-stand-situation has blurred the lines between lovers, strangers with ‘potential’ benefits, and something resembling a budding romance.

As you keep staring at the door while pressed up against the wall, beneath his words, his high and his strength, completely at his mercy, your thoughts are also protesting against being so emotionally fiercely oppressed. They are getting out of hand, to be honest, as the dislike of not wanting to be clingy, the desire to not be subdued, or the fear of yet another heartbreak are no longer enough to keep these rising hopes in check.

“Tell me,” he demands softly. Soft-skilled, his hand turns your face to him without your permission. He has no concept of consent, and gently, with doe eyes, he thefts your emotions.

“Sung—Chan,” you scorn in a moan as he holds your jaw in his hands and demands that you see…

“You made an effort to remember my name. I am confident you will remember my face as well.”

“You have a pretty forgettable face,” you lie, maintaining your larger-than-life persona. You. make. him. smile.

One of those smiles...

‘FUCK!’

Sungchan’s lashes flatter above you, like venom attempting to doom you, as he catches you ‘dream walking’ between his teeth and his thumb, wishing he could push it past your lips and touch your tongue.

“Will you be able to forget a face you ruined?” He eventually asks.

In pain, you furrow your brows. You are at a loss for what to say in response to the nasty compliment-turn question. It is all on you. You were the one who started it. You are such a speck in comparison to him, having concluded that he is extroverted in every way possible.

“Yes or no?” The more he demands, the deeper his voice becomes. “Answer me,” he says, lowering his head so that his nose brushes against yours. As you watch him formulate his question, his eyes close. “Will you be able to forget someone who intruded on your night in a very honest attempt to—to”

His other hand, which is gripping your waist, tightens. A real physical touch that threatens to melt your left side as you become unconscious of how much your legs rub against his that is between yours. The star details in your eye makeup could be mistaken for tears.

“Seriously,” he says against your lips, his confidence slightly backtracking. “Did I ruin your night?” Adding flaws to himself when he is perfect, “I have been messy and—”

You succumb to his lingering words, losing your voice and forgetting how to breathe, and the closer he comes to you and presses his body against yours, the more sensitive he becomes to the situation. The more he craves it, the more he overthinks, questioning whether he is doing everything correctly. The more he does not want to lose you, the stronger his possessive feelings become.

Obsessed with the idea of making you his even for a single night and oblivious to the idea of consent, he does not waste a second longer and brings his lips to your exposed neck, causing a new wave of warmth to spread out.

You feel your body quiver and break out in a cold sweat. His desperate, awfully warm lips awaken your moans, allowing him to revel in how helpless and breakable you have become this late into the night. And as a reward for his patience, he gets these tasty little audible treats.

“Sungchan,” you mutter in a complete filmic daze, hot all over and clutching his jacket and pulling him even closer to you. “We-we”

He groans into your neck, a whiny protest that caresses your already electrified skin, because he is too far gone, too shallow in his tender need for you, and looking into your eyes now would be too humiliating. All the while, he has to keep his ‘irresistible’ guy impersonation in check, right?

As a result, you are the one who uses force to get him to stop. You give him one last look before pressing your lips against his. You cannot think of anything else but having him smear your gloss all over your face. But before you can even feel his lips violently unite with yours, he pulls back. It is barley a peck.

So, now, you are not sure if his provocative, melancholy expression is meant to delude you even more or if he is actually thinking. But what this giant really does is count to ten before unleashing his thrust that has been building for some hours.

His big hands seize your face again, but this time he tugs on your bottom lip first, retaining it between his teeth and claiming you before moving on. You realize that even the finest alcohol you have ever tasted has never been this potent. The softest, smoothest, and lightest silk you have ever touched does not compare to his hands on your face.

Sungchan’s sweet scent, taste, and shameless sighs overwhelm all of your senses, culminating in you ghasping in his mouth. In his struggle for dominance, his tongue is selfish, and his hand lands on your waist again and starts to pick up the material, exposing your skin to his touch.

His hand smoothly glides across your bare skin before groping you so hard that you bite him back, giving in to your wild side.

“Ouch!” he hisses, furrowing his brows. He takes a step back and completely releases you.

With him doing this, you finally recognize the coldness of the night for what it is because it hits you all at once, and not literally in the sense that the room is cold, but you feel extreme coldness in the distance he just created. You are aware that you and he are still at the entrance and have made no progress, but you are more concerned that you will be unable to continue due to his most recent halt, which you caused. Everything appeared to be going well; your lips had finally paired and become the same, but you had to go and ruin that.

His hand drops and grips the handle. But only if you knew this was your last chance to let him go—the last time he gains enough control to restrain himself. He hopes this is the last time you think clearly before realizing that if he stays, he will be unable to leave this place without leaving you ‘scarred’ in some way.

The kiss’s spontaneity and rapidity caught you both off guard, blanking your thoughts and leaving your minds so empty that neither of you knows whether staying or leaving is more rational.

In response, Sungchan’s hand presses lightly on the handl—

An aching “Stay!” escapes your used lips as you lose control through a clenched fist.

“Why do you need me here?” he wonders.

“I don’t know! I suppose I want to remember this kiss, but it was so brief and happened so quickly. It surprised me.”

“I thought you said I had a forgettable face. So, what good is remembering our kiss?”

‘Mean’ you think to yourself. And what better than to offer him a silly stay? “I have a wonderful bottle of wine waiting to be opened,” you remark as you pick up the coat from the floor and hang it up. “Oh, and you have to meet my fish. One of them looks exactly like you.”

His soft roused pink lips curve into a smile as the corners of his eyes crinkle. Something shifts in you when he laughs. It is as if your heart is swimming in honey. You want to drink it.

“How can a fish suddenly resemble me?”

“See?” you say as you lead him inside. “You are curious, aren’t you?”

“If you accept that we just made out, then fine.”

You return his sarcasm with wide eyes, noticing him softly poking the inside of his cheek and pouting his lips. He is flirting with you a little more confidently now that he has been officially invited into the heart of your privacy, which is your home, and is no longer considered the intruder.

[00:14] In the living room sits the stoic aquarium with his twin fish. The tank emits a cozy neon magenta blue in the middle of the dark room, creating a familiar color atmosphere to the one earlier at the balcony.

As you two get closer, each of you takes a position on each side of the tank. Sungchan appears to be ecstatic about the fact that you were speaking the truth, that you were housing fish at home, and that you were not lying.

“You weren’t lying,” he says automatically, astounded by the several small creatures flapping their tails gracefully. Each one is unique and divergent. They go about their business, going through their insignificant daily loop. Some even resort to randomly breaking out of the loop by lightly tapping their mouths on the glass.

“Can you spot yourself?” You crack the joke over the glass wall.

He investigates the situation further before declaring, “They are kissing,” his finger pointing to two fish at the tank’s very bottom, partially hidden by the green seaweeds.

“Oh,” you say as you tap the glass to scare them away and get them to stop, “they are not ‘in love’ with each other. Actually, fish are the opposite. They are fighting. I am guessing you assumed one of them was the one who resembled you,” you say, tiptoeing to catch a better glimpse of his face over the tank.

He, on the other hand, is not troubled in the same way. He is tall and imposing. “It wasn’t me if they weren’t kissing... Do fish not kiss?”

“Fish may rub against each other or press their bodies together, but this is not kissing, whereas fish who touch their lips or lock in a passionate kiss are most likely sparring or engaged in battle. When this occurs, they are attempting to injure each other, which can cause severe damage. So, thank you for noticing. I might have to take action on this.”

“But why?”

“Because if you have fish that are engaging in this behavior, you must separate them as soon as possible before they injure or—The-the consequences can be fatal, okay?”

“A kiss that can kill?” he muses, his eyes brightening as he becomes fascinated by the matter.

You sense his intent, as if he had not delivered such a kiss a few minutes ago. Even though it was brief, it served as both bait and, most importantly, a promise. That is, it could have been much worse had he not broken it. You have no doubt that he withheld his lethal kiss from you.

“Ugh,” you sigh, pointing a finger lovingly at him to correct his misbehavior. “Don’t look fascinated, as this is bad for my fish.”

He grins at your petty, silly threat.

Casually, as the fish swim in unison, unaffected by their monotonous routine, his eyes begin to reflect the contents of the salty tank. He is both close and far. The light enhances his face’s magical mystery, and you notice another tiny mole at the edge of his upper lip as he opens his mouth in delight. It is as if a top secret has been revealed, and you appear to be the lucky recipient. So tiny, yet celestial. Something simple but meaningful. How come you did not notice it sooner?

Since he is always attracting you so calmly, you eventually come to the conclusion that Sungchan is a true meance. There is a slow-burning beauty about him—a beauty that destroys peace. Soft brown, like the coffee that inks the back of your throat and leaves you asking for more as your mind begins to crack. There is always some bait for you to take—some feature or trait of his that he is constantly working on in order to get you to long. His eyes, his pretty hands, and his towering physique. His broad shoulders, his side profile, and his absolutely stunning nose.

However, his tiny mole is now attracting your attention back to his lips… And the truth is, the last time you thought about his lips... Well, you got them! Which, once more, is something you can have if you wish it.

He reverberates deep inside your innermost thoughts. ‘What about this killing kiss?’ ‘What about it? Just wh—’ You wish to know!

To clear your mind, you choose to pose a question. “Do you know about the soulmate theory? People say that moles are where your lover kissed you the most in your past life. Which indicates that you have—”

“I kissed a lot,” he cuts in.

“You have had a lot of kisses,” you point out.

“Then, what is more repulsive to you: me being frequently kissed or me being a promiscuous kisser?”

“How can I be the judge? You must have done a lot of kissing. That is all there is to it.”

“Alright. But I am curious. How would you kiss me if we had to do it all over again? If we had to take things slowly?”

“Wh—why are you asking?”

“Because everything up to this point has felt like a high that has caused me to act on impulse. But now that I am standing across from you, this calm and comfortable essence, the soothing sounds of this water tank... You. All of this balancing act of our energies seems to be helping to calm down all of that rush. I want to hold your hand and I want you to think I am cute.”

“Right!” you chuckle at him. “What exactly do you mean, Sungchan? Your eyes tell a very distinct—y-your your smile—” You pause for a moment to examine his sincerity, and you discover no flaws in his truth. “Wait, you ARE serious.”

Different shades of the same cyan and magenta spread across his face, each time so new yet so familiar. He rubs his chin, then runs his hand through his hair, ruffling it. “I am.”

The sweet, calming vibrations that he seems to be floating on top of blend with sensual and suggestive ones in a way that is beyond comprehension. How is it possible for someone to be both extremes at once? Sincerely, there is not a comb in the world that could possibly untangle your knotted feelings at this moment. You have had no idea how terribly screwed you are until this point.

Hence, your gaze returns to the fish, and you can tell by the sudden shift in the air that he is about to say something you wish he hadn’t. You make every effort to get him to stop. “But—”

“Look,” he wins over you; “your ability to completely eliminate my desire to socialize with anyone at a party in favor of creating tunnel vision speaks for itself.”

He takes a moment to think of what else to say. “And-And we haven’t even gotten to the laughs and the banter, the bad sarcasm, the conversations, or the warmest embrace... The next-day breakfast that culminates in a ridiculously serious spectacle of coffee making, which I thoroughly enjoy from the best seat in your kitchen while you wear my t-shirt, which fits you far better,”

“Sungch—”

“But that’s THE future. So, then, of course, if I am just a one time guy, I am not kidding when I ask what kind of kiss you want. If you are going to remember or take something from this night, it might as well be something worthwhile.”

At least you should not be held accountable for falling in love because Sungchan is beautiful with his carefully chosen words. And as the chemistry reaches its peak, you realize you can no longer resist it. You tiptoe a little more to get a better look at him without having to look through the glass. His eyes pierce you with a clarity you have not seen before, and you can feel him pulling you through the glass and water like a magnet.

You cannot put it into words, but something is there. A million thoughts, feelings, hopes, and dreams are exchanged without the use of a single word. You let the magnetism take over.

And so he smiles as you drown, or is that his coping mechanism for drowning into you as well?

Really, is there a length of time at which his smile should stop being your favorite sight?

Overcoming the rather tiresome governance of fear, you decide to speak in favor of your ‘lust-ings’, despite the fact that you never intended to spend the night with a guy, let alone invite and bring one home.

“If I had to imagine another kiss, it would be one that happened on the spur of the mome—”

In actuality, everything that has happened so far has happened spontaneously. Startled, he cutely leans over the glass tank, gripping the top edge with both hands. “Again!?”

“It seems to suit your personality, and for what it is worth, I think I like it. A kiss where we banter around because I cannot read your cues or antics, which leads to you being unable to take my sarcastic criticism, so you choose to silence me.”

“Is that how you define ‘cute’?”

Sweetly, you continue to enrage him. “You can’t even handle it right now, can you?”

Sungchan squints, attempting to determine if the patterns of the ‘kiss has already started’ are already there. He lets go of the tank’s glass, crosses his arms, and pouts some more before starting to pull his jacket down, giving the impression of, ‘Sure, it is on... And please, do proceed!’

Yet, refusing to take it off completely, his jacket dangles halfway down his arms. His collarbones and tee collar are in a power struggle. Numerous veins swarm his arms and biceps, screaming for your attention.

Again, something you have seen before, but is that supposed to make it easier for you to process? And how should you focus on everything at all, appropriately? And what should you do in response when he eventually decides to purposefully bite his lip in slow motion? His sheer beauty alone is giving you headaches, not to mention all of these other details.

To turn the conversation back on track, you give him a soft smile and continue to elaborate on what, in your opinion, is the ideal kiss.

“You want to stop me from talking because I step on so many of your nerves, and there is not much else you can do but kiss me. You want so bad to grab me and shake me, but all you manage to do is squeeze my face gently between your palms…” You make a small pause before you continue. “The seconds get progressively slower in microseconds as we stare at one another. I successfully count three of your moles while you complete a ten-count. With that, your excitement to punish me dies down. A new need emerges.”

“I imagine a kiss where you don’t even realize how tender your lips are pressed against mine. But then, I bet you don’t even realize how soft your lips are.” A unique sensuality is added to your voice as it becomes increasingly lower pitched while you speak. “Or-r are aware of the way the corners of your eyes crinkle when you shut them. It is just ughh—ANYWAY, a kiss where your annoyingly long eyelashes, of which I am very jealous, tickle my cheekbones, and my lipgloss leaves sparkles on your nose. You take hold of my hands and slowly raise me up, letting me step on your toes and offering one of those smiles that you have already given me… while you are ignorant of all these tiny, lovely things about yourself, Sungchan. Is that cute enough for you?”

Your last words cause him to tilt his head back slightly, look up at the ceiling, and take a deep breath. “You are safe as long as this wall of glass keeps us separate. But nothing about anything, not even how I will treat you if you decide to move, is guaranteed. I just know that I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“Is that a threat?” You raise a brow.

“Assume anything you like,” he says indifferently. “It can be a threat if that is what you want it to be.”

“Hmph,” you razz him some more, “so you are going back to being the tough guy?” as you take the initial step away from the aquarium. “Might I suggest that ‘you do not seem like the type’? Did you forget, or what?”

“You don’t know me,” he at last asserts, embracing your challenge and making a step too.

As soon as there is nothing separating you two, dopamine levels peak.

“You do it so effortlessly, I bet.”

Sunghcan gives his lips a quick lick. “You have seen and felt it.”

You answer truthfully, “I have.”

With a notorious smile that matches his innermost feelings, he snatches you without warning and begins to drag you over the couch, which is located in a more central area of the room. His stature is so great that he carries you with your feet elevated, and your ‘let me down’ whine is met with his ‘UH HUH, you are going to have to tell me why you have invited me.’

When he finally gets you both there, he exhales and collapses back onto the couch, holding you in his arms. You are slightly leaning on him with your knees around his waist.

Quickly adjusting to the seat, Sungchan presents an offensive sight with his head resting on the couch. You are in a situation where you would like to know how to proceed, where to look, or what else to say, but all of those things have been done before. The only thing left to do is to give yourself entirely to him.

Sungchan goes right to work without much delay. His fingers gently dip on both sides of your waist before he applies more pressure.

There is a noticeable tremble in your voice. “W-what are y-you doing?” You manage to ask despite your heart thumping frantically in your throat and feeling like it is going to choke you from his intimidating appearance and the pressure of his hands on your ribs.

“Act my part?” He says this with such intensity that he cleverly slips one hand past your waist and runs along your backbone, taking advantage of some of the exposed skin on your back.

Feeling tense, your hands start to shake, and you are not sure where to put them other than where his head rests—at the back of the couch. Well, that seems like a safe choice, duh. Or should you touch him back in return? Should—

You truly are clueless, yet all your thoughts can be seen.

So, as you hover over him and look into his eyes, the last thing you hear is his seductive, whispery ‘Come,’ which invites you to close the distance and gives you total control over how to initiate this kiss. His hands press your body against his, and his mysterious, deep tone easily compels you.

As the heat of the moment engulfs you both, nobody says anything. It is what you two—especially him—had been looking forward to for hours. An earlier thought that was driving him crazy was picturing you exactly as you are in his arms right now, only to find that you are even better—even beautiful—and that your skin is hotter and softer than he had fantasized.

He suffers from the same consequences of ‘the closeness’ as you do. You can feel his heart hammering against his chest, trying to break free. His steady lashes are growing more disturbed, and his breathing is labored and drawn out. And when your warm lips finally touch his, his brain shuts down completely. Maybe he is just not used to things going slowly. You are killing him subtly now by doing that.

Actually, this whole night was just a slow, steady death. You can taste the sweetness in him even in his mouth, so you can be assured that even though he can be quick at times, there is an unquestionable sweetness to him. The sweetness that translates from the smile he lets out while kissing you.

Of course, he is skilled at this! He slowly extends his tongue after letting his hums seep into you and the kiss grows deeper.

The sound of the kiss developing into a passionate makeout accentuates the hair at the back of your head. You are completely absorbed by him, lost. And the moment you hear his first pant in your mouth, you scoop his face into your hands. He presses harder against your back as your hands burn from the heat of his cheeks.

You moan, hot yet weak and defenseless, ‘Sung—” polonged “chan,’ meaning to say something but never managing to.

“Mhmm-” As he fills your mouth with his tongue and spreads it farther in an attempt to find more space, the tender kiss seems to turn into something bold and invasive. It quickly descends into sloppy, steamy, wet kissing. A kiss that is actually so strong that it does not matter if you drool or think it is inappropriate.

He holds your waist with one arm while pressing you down onto him, applying pressure to your nape. His jeans quickly became unbearable to be in due to the slight movement causing friction.

Then he begins kissing your jaw. Further down, the dampness of his breath clings to your throat, making you lose consciousness. If it was just his lips the first time, now there are his tongue and teeth as well. He tampers with the strap of the top with his fingers before sliding it down your shoulder. His impatience is evident as his kisses travel down your chest. You are helpless to stop him from becoming needy in his attempts to torture you; all you can do is throw back your head and hope he stays that way the entire night.

In the moment’s trance, he lays you down and hovers over you in a fit of craving. The couch starts to screech because his weight and the pressure he puts on it are too much for it.

It is at this point that you realize how much you enjoy being placed in a vulnerable situation where you cannot think about leaving because of his arms. The more you watch him, the more attracted he becomes to you, because he can see your thought in the way you look at him. Both of you and him get turned on by it. You love how openly and compulsively possessive he is.

And… should you love it?

Just looking at him on top of everything makes you feel fucking aroused. Thoughts of how perverse his lip mole is are all over your head. His hair gets in the way of his dazed eyes, whose brown never stops being drenched in the aquarium’s neon blue.

If the neon fades from him, will everything end?

Feeling a bit annoyed by the question that keeps coming to mind, you find yourself embracing his torso and seeking the comfort of his weight on top of you, biting his shoulder in the process. His writhing gasps are to die for as your teeth and fingernails dig into his white shirt.

Your silent demands are met with Sungchan’s insistence that you look at him. Not to mention that it becomes harder to do that. He is not letting you look anywhere but at him, as his fingers start to lift your top and you feel them drawing damaging figures beneath your belly button, creating such an intensely carnal, gut-wrenching moment as your desires intensify. And there is this throbbing, hot, and silky feeling to your skin, which makes him want to torment you until you lose any control.

To do that, he grabs a tender spot on your thigh to further expose you and carve out more space for himself.

As far as clothes go, for a moment, you wish there was nothing at all between you and him. And as you shut your eyes to the idea, Sungchan plants a kiss under your ear, leaving a trail of smiles across your cheek. Oh, how well he reads you. Have faith—he shares your desire.

You too have, unconsciously, contributed to his shirt being half-rid. Squares make up most of his belly, and they end at the bottom of his low-rise jeans. Your fingers smuggle themselves against his most sensitive skin, just beneath the hem of his jeans.

His lips open up, and you try to learn the precise way he hurts by watching and absorbing every move he makes while his eyebrows tighten at your touch. If you push your hand a little further, what should you expect?

He is fiercely competitive, so he rolls his hips into you after becoming enthralled with your fleeting, tender touches.

You cover your eyes in embarrassment at this gesture, but his voice is already there, right in your ear. “Open your eyes.”

When you shake your head silently, refusing to give in, he grabs your hands and pins them over your head.

“Open up,” he insists. A honey-like voice turned sour. Sungchan is cruel and hard, with the strangest soft skin, a contradictory scent, and the ability to practically lick your face with his words—a lesson that teaches you to be both tough and tender as well. As a result, you gently release the held fear. Your eyes allow him to be with you without you having to say it out loud.

And although he is too shy to let it on or say it, the subsequent crushing of his hips into you speaks of ‘That is right, baby…’ The following one of ‘Nice and slow,’ and the one right after of ‘I’ll go again... and again... and—’

“Please, don’t—” you cry out.

His lips are blazing and red is blooming all over his cheeks, but still, Sungchan resists giving in to his shyness. As an alternative, he tightens his hold on your wrists. “Mhmm. Need words.”

“D-don’t—don’t let this end; it’s-it is just too fucking good.”

“Yeah?” He smiles, releasing your wrists, recognizing that he is actually far too touch-deprived and needs your hands on every part of his body. “You know it is true,” he whispers, stroking your lips with his thumb before your frustration overcomes you and you take in his colossal index and middle fingers in your mouth.

Yeah, you know it is true… You introduce them to your teeth and tongue before you begin to suck.

And is he really expected to be unaffected by that? When you devour him like that? He hurts for you to suck it so much that he is now in raw pain. No succulent sip should be missed. The taste must be unimaginable in many ways.

His mouth opens with a swear word. “As soon as I saw you, I knew you would find this irresistible.”

As you never really anticipated it this far, you are not sure if you feel the same. But here he is, and here you are, acting as the situation demands, so maybe he is right. Your reciprocal relationship is akin to an electric shockwave, meeting both your needs and your own desires in equal measure. The perfect balance... found in a stranger at a party…

Sungchan decides to reach your vulnerable center, soothing you with deep, heavy, lewd kisses. You have no idea what he needs or wants or if his body is adapting to yours, but you can bet that the ‘Fuck’ he sucks into your lips is real.

“Please,” you beg, raising your hands, only to have him slam them down once more while giving you a serious look as if you might have done him more harm than good. But in reality, you are so fragile under him that you steal his heart. Tears of sweat form at his temple, and you manage to free a hand to give him long, leisurely strokes as you brush his hair out of his eyes.

He says something incoherently like ‘sorry,’ leaning in to plant another kiss while entwining his palms with yours.

What is he sorry for?

Nothing about his behavior, not even this kiss, matches his hard, deep, grinding hips. The night’s apex remains unaffected, even though the jeans denim is impenetrable. You want to burst at the way he begins to ease up on you, circling back and forth, momentum building, building, holding your fingers intertwined while his other hand rests on your waist to keep you still while he slows down, which intensifies the pain you are experiencing.

Eventually, he looks down at you and stops whatever he is doing, breathing heavily as though he is just finished a mile. You both suffer from this entire action. Needs and thirst are put on hold by him. At last, he gathers his courage to say something, gazing at you through the same wounded eyes that were there when your attention strayed from his way earlier. “I have something to tell you.”

You reassure him, sensing a weight in his fast blinks, “You don’t have to say it.” He is even quicker to lean his cheek into your palm when you tickle under his chin to soothe him. The touchy-feely, seeking affection he displays pushes you to emphasize what you mean more. “It’s the way you look at me.”

“Isn’t it silly?” He muses with glassy brown eyes that are blown bigger than anyone’s ability to frighten him. “Love at first sight is not something I believe in. No one should, in my opinion.”

“Then, what makes you feel the need to tell me something?”

“I—” His speech falters as he struggles to form a complete sentence before sighing and collapsing next to you onto the overly small sofa.

“Don’t,” you say while squeezing yourself smaller to make more room for him. “Then don’t. You don’t have to say anything.”

“But I am not ready to end this evening,” he fusses, using his finger to tap both of your chests to show how close you two are, “which means I also don’t want what is going on in here to end.”

“I know,” you say with a smile as you take his hand in yours, study it, and then walk the inward lines as though determining whether the two of you have what it takes.

He watches you as you watch his hand; if there is anything he wants to hold onto forever, it is this. There is a certain cruciality to the moment. Despite not knowing if you two are a match, you both want this to continue. And so you say, "Nor do I."

“Seriously?” he asks, raising himself up on one elbow with a shocked expression.

You continue to feel and appreciate his hand, ignoring his question. The beauty of his hands is also astounding. “Would you say this is cute?” You mention his earlier observations about cuteness.

“You remembered.”

“I want to hold your hand and I want you to think I am cute.” You quote him, then tap twice on his nose. “Of course I remember, silly, but it is me holding your hand, not the opposite.”

With his lips heavily affected by all the heavy makeout, Sungchan pouts the biggest pout imaginable.

You draw parallels and say, “I swear, you look like my fish.”

He asks through his giggles, “Who kisses to kill?”

“Right…”

“And…” he is curious, “did it work?”

You sigh mockingly to mimic exhaustion. “A lot of death kisses, yes.”

His heavy arm presses your waist against his body while he tucks his head into your neck in response, seeking to stay.

For the rest of the night, Sunghcahn clings to you, making sure you realize that no one else can touch you or make you feel the way you do right now. Perhaps this is his greed getting the better of him when he realizes that you could have ended up this way with anyone at the party and that, should things change and you decide differently, you could be this way with someone else as early as next week.

His stomach turns at the thought. Your presence tonight brought to light a more beautiful side to the things that had seemed perfect before, completely changing his life. It seems he has a great deal left to accomplish and a lot more to prove… as an intruder.

Though as for tonight, it is as if two entirely distinct universes or two distinct parallel lines that had never intersected finally made contact with one another. You two are so in sync—the type of people sensitive to distance.

[An indefinite persistent dream.]

The best thing he could hope to hear next is, “Mark me yours.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

#jung sungchan #sungchan #riize #sungchan x reader #sungchan x yn #sungchan fanfic #sungchan oneshot #riize fanfic #riize scenarios #riize x reader #riize x y/n #riize smut #riize you #riize fic #sungchan smut #sungchan imagines #sungchan x you #jung sungchan fanfic #riize fluff

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fleuraimer · 5 months

Note

I saw your reblog and i couldn’t help it…

I’m begging on my knees… write a breeding blurb. Doesn’t have to be long cause i can’t wait. Like 100-500 words

PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

THIS IS MY FIRST BLURBY, SO I HOPE U LIKE IT :D pls excuse any typos, most of this was written on my phone 🧍🏽‍♀

wc: 1.7k

cw: smut, minors dni, 17+. breeding kink, and more. not proofread.

It really had started out as a joke.

Thanksgiving inspires spending time with family, and family means entertaining all the new cousins and little nieces and nephews that had joined the family in the past year.

So, Y/N naturally gravitated toward the children.

They’re irresistible! With their chubby cheeks and gummy smiles, innocent stutters and big wide eyes that are subject to tears at any moment.

It’s not as if they put up much of a fight either, Cole and Oliver practically fell over each other to claim the thorn that was her lap.

She was consumed by them; if they went somewhere, she was right behind them making sure their little heads didn’t knock, stubby legs wobbly like a newborn doe. She ate on the floor with them (“The carpet’s comfy, Titi!”), played games with them—if you could even call it playing, they just oohed and ahed and slobbered over a deck of cards—laughed with them, wiped their tears for them, held them close, cradled them into a dreamy state that had her cooing in their ear.

And he saw. From his personal spot on the couch, that he’d homed since the first thanksgiving he could remember, he saw his girl becoming his family, too. He saw the hearts in the eyes of his nephews, he saw her adoration for them (not that he’s much better, they’ve got him wrapped tight around their tiny fingers), saw the bond that began to blossom between them.

He saw how calm Y/N looked as she cared for them, saw how natural she was.

And so maybe, on the car ride back he made a few teasing remarks about her motherly tendencies. And perhaps he mindlessly let it slip that he’d thought about her, pregnant, with his child.

But it was all in good fun, right? She’d scoffed in her seat—though the flush of her cheeks did not go unnoticed—slapping his shoulder to halfheartedly reprimand his crude comments. Sure, it sent a yummy tingle up her spine. And, yeah, okay, her panties got, admittedly, a little more uncomfortable after hearing his confession.

But that didn’t matter, because it was just teasing. Just words that he said to get a reaction, like always.

…Right?

———

Y/N now understands that he was not joking.

Not one fucking bit.

It’s kind of difficult to find miscommunication in any of his words now. She understands him, she gets him—Holy fuck, she gets him.

“Prancin’ around with babies on your hips, an’ you think m’not gonna wanna get you pregnant with my child?”

She gets him, with his fat cock stuffed in her snug, tiny pussy, filling her up, up to her fucking stomach. Literally. With the way he’s got her bent into herself—ankles up to her ears, thighs squishing her arms in, which in turn pushes her tits together, shiny with spit and quite bruised—his cock molds to her, pressing at her tummy, glaring at her. It scares her.

And it’s fucking everything.

She gets him, but she doesn’t fucking get how he has the ability to tease, mock, and degrade her so thoroughly, after so much time spent doing nothing but abusing her poor, helpless cunt. He stretches her out to the point of pain—unsurprisingly, there was little to no prep in the build up to their current state, though, at the time, it didn’t feel needed, she’d been dripping down her thighs as soon as the first button of his dress shirt popped. His cockhead shoves into her cervix relentlessly, viciously. He bullies his way through her, her essence soaking his prick to the base, a sticky mess between their crashing hips.

“Wan’ you stuffed full by the time m’threw with you,” he grunts against her lips, his hot breath fanning over her face, grounding her to this moment. She gasps with every plunge of his hips, the lack of activity in her brain clear as day from the cute, stupid look on her pretty face.

Eyes crossed in the middle every other second, glossy from past and reoccurring tears. Her cheeks puffy and rosy, glistening in the lamp-light from drool and salty droplets of tears. Her hands push fruitlessly against his hard, sweaty abs, chocking out spineless protests.

“S’big, too big— too deep, Daddy!” She cries sweetly, hiding in the puff of his pillows cushioning her head.

“Shhh, Baby, lemme fuck you, plug you up with my cum…” His hands move from the headboard, one pushing down on the back of her thigh, keeping her spread open for him, and the other to her ruined face, three fingers shoving between her kiss-swollen lips. She slobbers over them immediately, brows furrowed in devoted concentration, desperately aiming to please him. “Tha’s a good girl, Puppy, jus’ suck on Daddy’s fingers while he uses your cute, slutty little pussy.”

She whimpers through her gag, nodding dumbly, drooling all over again, the sparkly, moony glow in her eyes letting him know that her head is empty.

“You wan’ my babies, Pup?” His thrusts slow, working himself into her with a heightened calculation, forcing her to feel every vein and ridge of his big cock. She squeezes around him, whining. “Yeah? Tell me, were y’thinkin’ ‘bout it when you were takin’ care of the little ones?” His fingers slide farther into her mouth, his cock hitting places brutishly and delicately at the same time. “Were y’thinkin’ ‘bout bein’ my pretty baby mama?”

“D—addy,” She chokes pathetically over his fingers, tensing up in every way.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “you wan’ my babies, Puppy.” He picks up the pace again, pistoning his hips so her special spot, oversensitive from so much use, gets completely smooshed by his prick every single time he grinds back inside of her weepy pussy. His hand on the back of her thigh moves to the crease between her leg and her slippery cunt, his thumb poking her puffy clit.

“Oh, ma goo—ness!” she bleats, huffy, wiggling away from his assault.

“Cut it out, Sugar,” he tuts, the hand on her thigh coming down to smack against her cunt, strings of her silky cum stuck on his palm when his fingers move to fuss over her achy button meanly. “Fuckin’ take my cock,” he strikes her again, her hips jumping in response, tears sprouting and spilling from her bleary eyes. “Keep still before Daddy gets sick’a your squirmin’ and ties you to the fuckin’ bed.

When his palm makes rough contact with her swollen clit for the third time, Y/N comes instantly.

She squirts, everywhere, as a matter of fact.

“Oh, fuck, Puppy,” he groans, hips stuttering as his cock twitches, and before he can stop himself, he’s being flooded with an overwhelming warmth, his cum spurting in thick, white ropes that paint her insides.

There’s a lot. More than usual, probably. It fills her up to the hilt and then some, dripping from her cunt and smearing down her sloppy pussy lips, over her mound and his faintly hairy pelvis. He fucks her through their simultaneous orgasms, through the crippling, divine sensations that somehow fatten his prick even more, urging on his insatiable desire.

Y/N shakes beneath him, still crying over his finger, chomping mindlessly on them as the pleasure continues to roll over her in waves.

Eventually, his cock slips out of her, too soaked for his thrusts to remain precise. She gasps at the sudden, jarring emptiness, and he grunts, animalistically, at the loss of familiar, snug, wet heat.

He doesn’t immediately push back in, however. His eyes get distracted on the view of his milky cum gushing out of her stretched, abused hole. His hand drops from her mouth to join the other, smearing their mess into her flesh and spreading her puffy pussy apart. Inspecting.

His head tilts curiously while he collects his cum on his middle and ring finger that’d dripped down to her puckered entrance, scooping it up before tentatively pushing it back inside.

It does more bad than good, honestly; more cum spills from around his finger, leaving them right back where they’d left off. But, that doesn’t stop him from repeating the action. Once, twice, hushing her screechy crying when her massages it into her silken walls the third time, smearing it onto her special spot when he pushes it back in the fourth. He jams his fingers into her cunt until he loses count, and the sound of her messy, stuffed pussy is louder than both their moans combined. He adds a third finger and picks up speed when her hand wraps around his wrist, when her voice grows hoarse and she screams bloody murder.

“Too much, too—I can't, please!” she screams, eyes clamped shut, body trembling.

“Shut up, Puppy, ain’t shit too much,” he dismisses, standing to his knees and using his free hand to keep her pinned to the mattress. “M’gonna fuck my cum back into this slutty, precious cunt ‘til you fuckin’ squirt f’me again.”

His gruff voice, his big, veiny hands trapping her to the bed, the incessant press of his fingers into the perfect spot that makes her toes curl and her stomach coil tighter and tighter. The sweat that drips from his face—from the tip of his nose, across his forehead and temples, glazed along his cupid’s bow—his beefy biceps, straining as he fights against her involuntary shudders. His chest, massive and buff, firm and slick with sweat under her palm.

It doesn’t take long for Y/N to oblige his demand.

“Just like that, Sugar, wet the fuckin’ bed, keep fucking coming.”

She keeps fucking coming. When his fingers are gone and his pretty, fat, perfect cock is reintroduced, she comes then, too. Like, as soon as he starts to push in.

It’s embarrassing, pitiful; pathetic.

But she can’t help it. She can’t help anything that she does or says when her cunt is stuffed with cum and cock, her sore pearl rubbed and swatted cruelly, her tits fondled demeaningly. She just lies there and cries, and takes his lovely cock. She lets him dump load after load of his spunk into her, claiming her, marking her as his. Making it stick.

“You’re my little cumdump, Pup,” he grumbles harshly, squeezing her pert nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re fuckin’ mine to kiss, love on, take care of,” she whimpers below, crying for his mercy, “my dumb slut to use, fuck, breed,” he plunges into her as deep as he can go, leaning in close and whispering, “you’re my fucking girl; my pathetic, needy fucking puppy that’s obsessed with my cock.” Y/N nods, gargling agreement.

He smirks, “Yeah, my little breeding bitch.”

366 notes · View notes

wwinterwitch · 2 years

Text

the giver and the taker

summary: one of your lovers is a complete giver, the other is a huge taker

pairing: fem!reader x steven grant, fem!reader x marc spector

word count: 4k

warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), polyamourus established relationship, kinda sub!steven and dom!marc, dirty talk fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), various kinks (hair pulling, praise, spanking), penetrative sex, gentle then rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms.

note: I don't have DID so please let me know about any harmful/incorrect/inaccurate stereotypes you see. This fic does contain a brief reference about marc being able to see what steven does tho.

read part two here(!)

a reblog and/or comment is always appreciated!

You are somewhat of a workaholic. Even on the weekends, you would be on your computer finishing reports and starting assignments that were supposed to be next week's job. Despite being a very good trait to be responsible, you took it to an extreme.

One night, your boyfriend Steven walked up to you, putting a hand on your shoulder. "I'm going to bed, are you coming too?"

"I'll join you later, maybe. I need to finish this."

"Don't you think you've worked enough today?" he tried again.

"I'll be there in five minutes, I promise."

Steven seemed to give up, letting go of your shoulder as he walked back to your shared bedroom. "If you're not here in five, I'll come back to annoy you!" he said from the other room, making you chuckle.

"Please, don't!" you joked back, hearing no response.

After a couple of minutes passed, you kept your promise and went to your bedroom to find Steven already in bed, reading one of the many books he has laying around the apartment. You sat at the end of the bed to remove your shoes when you heard him move, leaving his book and glasses on the night table and crawling towards you.

"You look tired," he pointed out.

"That's because I am."

Steven sighed, but didn't try to argue with you about how you should maybe try to get a free day from work to actually have time to relax. He'd be lying if he said he's not concerned about the extreme pressure you put yourself under and the incredibly high standard you set when it comes to work. Not because he thinks you can't get to said standard, but because you actually can reach it, meaning you always try to push yourself even harder to an unhealthy level.

Instead of saying something, he moved your hair out of the way so he could leave tiny kisses on the exposed skin of your neck. You completely gave into him, leaning your head to the side to give him more room to kiss wherever he wanted. When you were done removing your shoes, one of your hands moved up to his hair, your fingers interlocking with his messy curls as he continued to kiss you. He gently moves the sleeve of your shirt out of the way to expose more of your skin for him.

Knowing Steven would like it, you gently pulled at his hair in an attempt to encourage him to do more than just kissing. The gesture made the effect you wanted, as he began nibbling on the skin of your neck, making you let out a sigh as you enjoyed his mouth and teeth marking you however he pleased.

"Let me make you feel good tonight," Steven muttered against your skin. "Please."

He stopped what he was doing just for a moment so he could look at you. You moved your head so your eyes could meet his and you immediately noticed how eager he was for you to accept his offer. Steven was that kind of lover. The giver. The kind of guy that would give you each and every star in the universe if you asked him to. He lived for you and you only, ready to do whatever you wanted.

In bed, he was no different. He lives to please you, and would never dare to do anything you didn't like or asked. Sex was all about making you feel good, which inevitably makes him feel good.

You replied to his proposition by leaning closer to kiss him. He allowed you to take full control of the kiss, parting his lips just enough so your tongue could enter his mouth. A soft moan left his body as you devour him, one of your hands still lightly pulling at his hair.

Steven was visibly disappointed when you pulled away from him, but disappointment soon turned into excitement when you stood up from the bed and gently pulled him back so he could lay in bed. You quickly joined him, sitting on top of him with one leg at each side of his body.

When you began taking your shirt off, he quickly sat up. "Can I?"

Of course, you weren't going to say no to that.

Your arms fell to the side and Steven immediately started taking your shirt off. He grabbed the piece of clothing by the very end of it, slowly lifting it up just enough to expose your belly. He looked up at you with puppy-like eyes as his hot tongue licked from your lower belly to the edge of where your bra started. Your back arched and your head flew backwards at the sensation of his mouth once again against your skin, kissing, licking and biting every bit that he wanted.

He finally removed your shirt and his lips moved to the newly exposed skin of your chest, leaving kisses all over the part of your tits that wasn't covered by your bra. When he noticed your hands moved to your back to remove that piece of clothing, he once again looked up at you with innocent, yet disappointed eyes.

"You said I could take your clothes off," he says, sounding almost sad that you dared to lie to him about something that apparently means so much to him.

"I'm sorry," you replied.

Steven moved his hands to your back so he could be the one removing your bra, leaving a quick kiss on your lips as he did. "Always so impatient," he jokes.

Lucky for you, he wasted no time to start kissing your tits. He would put one on his mouth, using his tongue to play with your nipple, while his hand worked on the other, gently massaging it. As he took turns with each one, he never once moved his eyes away from you. What he loved the most is watching you enjoy what he was doing to your body. To see you moan for him. It drove him insane to see what he could do to you with his touch.

At this point you could feel his erection beneath you, so you slowly began rocking your hips back and forth, the friction somehow helping to relieve how painfully unattended your pussy has been. You grind against him slowly, making him move away from your chest, letting out a low grunt that made you increase your speed just enough.

"You like that?" you asked, barely able to hold back a chuckle when you saw him frantically nodding.

"Y-yes..." he was able to say. "A lot. Very much."

Both of his hands moved to your hips to help you keep your balance as you continued to grind against him, increasing your speed. He wasn't intending to rush you or change your rhythm in any way. As for Steven is always about you feeling good, he would never dare change a thing.

The way your tits bounced with each movement of your hips was almost a hypnotizing scene for Steven to admire, and he immediately went back to what he was previously doing. Once again, his eyes focused on you as you enjoyed his mouth on your chest and his still clothed cock against your wet core.

"Fuck- Steven..."

You once again pull at his hair, this time much tighter, guiding his mouth to yours for yet another heated kiss. His hands trailed down your back giving you goosebumps on each part his fingers would travel. As you continued to kiss him, one of his hands made its way inside your joggers and panties. The moment you felt his fingers against your cunt you moaned again, this time the sound muffled almost entirely against Steven's lips.

He moves away from the kiss to be able to watch you as he moves his fingers against you in a painfully slow motion, almost forcing you to move your hips again as you silently pleaded for him to go faster. Instead, he puts his hand out of your pants.

You watch as Steven move his fingers up to his mouth, cleaning them off right in front of you. The fact that this was coming from Steven, your awkward and innocent-looking boyfriend, somehow turned you on even more. Only you were the one that could see this side of him.

"Can I taste you?" he asked, once again looking needy and desperate. "Please?"

His eyes light up in excitement when you got off of his lap to lay your back on the bed. He got on his knees in between your legs and began taking you joggers off. The only item of clothing on you were your panties, and you couldn't wait for Steven to get rid of them too.

Your back arches and a moan unexpectedly escaped your lips the moment you feel his teeth bite the skin of your inner thigh, continuing to kiss and nib all around the larger bite mark while one on his hands went up and down your other thigh, stopping dangerously close to where you needed to feel him the most.

He continued slowly worshiping your body and you swore you were going to explode any second now. Lust and desire clouding your judgment as you watched him.

"Baby," you whimper. "Just– I need you."

Steven looked up at you, doe-eyed. "Tell me what you want and it's all yours."

"Fuck– I need you to fuck me with your mouth."

Once again, he wasted no time to give you exactly what you wanted. He left one last kiss on your thigh before he licked one single strap with his tongue, savoring you still with the underwear in the middle. Just when you were about to protest, Steven removed your panties and threw them to the floor.

The sight in front him was absolute perfection. You, laying in bed with your legs open for him. He could stare at this image for hours if only he wasn't so desperate to do other things. You could see he was enjoying what he was seeing, looking almost like a hungry dog who just got offered its favorite treat. Like a thirty man in the desert who just happened to find an oasis– a true miracle. Like he just obtained the biggest reward.

There's nothing Steven loves more than eating you out. To make you cum over and over until you're a sweaty mess. To hear you scream his name. To hear how good he is and how much he pleases you with his tongue. If he were to choose, he wouldlove to stay in between your legs forever.

Holding both of your legs in place, he started to literally devour your pussy. You let out the loudest moan yet, not expecting him to immediately start at such a fast pace. He drags his mouth against you and he's greedy, and loud, and wet, and all you can do is moan as you completely lose yourself to the feeling of Steven eating you out like his life depends on it.

Steven began teasing your entrance with his tongue for a bit before continuing to lick upwards, starting to suck on your clit before repeating the cycle.

You look down at him and his face is completely buried in between your legs. The sight and the filthy sounds filling the room alone almost made you completely lose it.

Your fingers found their way back to his hair and as soon as you pulled slightly at his hair, he let out a groan that made your entire core vibrate. The reaction made you do it again, much harder now. Steven was loving the feeling of you pulling at his hair with such strength, that he focused his mouth on your clit while on of his fingers entered you without you really expecting it.

"Do you like that, love?" he asked, barely pulling away from you before continuing to suck your clit.

"Yes. Your mouth feel so good...oh, I– I'm going to cum all over your face."

You could practically feel the low grunt coming from him when he heard that. Steven loves the confirmation of your pleasure. The way your moans increase when your about to reach your orgasm, the way you'd pull his hair, to hear you say how good he is for you. He just loves to see and hear every confirmation of the pleasure he's providing you.

"Can you look at me? I want to see your face when you cum."

You did as he asked, meeting Steven's eyes already looking at you. His fingers kept fucking you while his mouth sucked at you clit, and you felt yourself closer and closer to reach your climax with each second that passed. Meanwhile, all you can do is repeat over and over how much of a good boy he is for eating you out so incredibly good.

Your muscles tighten, your vision goes blurry and all you see is white as you reach your orgasm with a loud exclamation of his name. Steven surely knew you came, but that doesn't seem to stop him from continuing his attack on your pussy. His fingers were no longer inside you, but his mouth continued to devour you with an insatiable hunger. Your body is on fire, but he gives you no time to rest before your starting to feel your second orgasm building up at the pit of your stomach.

Sure enough, it didn't take very long berofe you cum again. Hard. He was almost in a trance, watching you squirm, moan and scream out his name. You were already a sweaty and moany mess for him and he loves it.

This time he gave you a few seconds to relax, his tongue occasionally licking up your cunt to test how sensitive you still were. "You're beautiful," he compliments you, kissing one of your thighs again. Right after, he started to climb up your body. "And you taste so good," he adds just mere inches from your face.

You grabbed his face to pull him in for a kiss, savoring your own taste still lingering inside his mouth. He groans against your lips, his hands trailing down your sides to rest on your legs. Just a second after, you felt his fingers once again on your pussy. In the heat of the moment, all you could do was bite Steven's lower lip as you continued to make out.

He pulled away just enough to look at you, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. "You want me to continue?" You nodded hoplessly before pulling him in for another kiss. Steven gladly returned the kiss, his thumb increasing its speed. "Can you cum for me again? Just one more," he pleaded in a whisper.

"Yes," you replied almost immediately.

"Yeah?" Steven insisted, once again putting his fingers inside of you, a smile appearing on his face when he saw your reaction .

"Mm-hmm," you moaned, desperately wanting him to go faster.

"Is this okay?"

You barely shake your head. "Faster."

He did as instructed, feeling proud of himself when your moans increased at the change of speed. "Like that?"

"Yes, yes– exactly like that...fuck, Steven, you're so good at this...make me feel so good."

Steven continued his rhythm in and out of you, his lips mere inches from yours. He could kiss you, but he'd hate to silence the noises coming out of you with each thrust of his fingers. Instead, he would watch every move you make underneath him, treasure every moan and whimper leaving your lips, getting goosebumps every time you would trace your fingers down his biceps and back.

Soon enough, you reached your third orgasm of the night, holding onto Steven's shoulders as you combusted with pleasure. He smiled down at you, burying his face on your neck to leave tiny kisses all over your skin.

As you were trying to catch your breath, Steven continued kissing your neck, both of his hands resting at your hips. He wouldn't dare to touch you now, allowing you a much needed rest after three orgasms. His touch and lips were gentle, incredibly sweet and loving. Very Steven. However, you could feel his grip on you suddenly tightening, his mouth hungrily attacking your neck. The sudden shift in his behaviour took you by surprise at first, but it didn't take long for you to realize the one on top of you is no longer Steven.

Marc pulled away from your neck to look at you, already aware you probably figured out if was him. You could just tell by looking into his eyes. He is nothing like Steven despite looking the same.

Steven is a devoted, honest and committed type of lover. You have never felt as loved and cherish as you do now that you're dating him. He treats you like you're a miracle that unexpectedly came into his life, still not understanding why a woman as incredible as you settled for a man like him. You are the most precious thing in his life and he does his best to remind you how happy he is to have the chance to love you every single day. It's like he lives to serve you in any way you need. Whatever it is, he's willing to give it to you.

But Marc is the complete opposite. He is a much more demanding, passionate and complicated man. He has managed to bring into your life something you and Steven lacked off: uncertainty. One day he's cuddling with you on the couch watching movies, the next you're helping him pack for yet another undercover mission to some deserted place to do whatever it is Khonshu has ordered, leaving you to wonder when will you see him again.

Marc is the thrill and excitement you can't provide for yourself. He's constantly encouraging you to push your limits and try new things, helping you to forget about the routine and be more spontaneous. Marc is fun, mysterious, exciting, always leaving you to wonder his next move. With Marc it's you the one who does the serving. Trailing after him with any new adventure he comes up with and willing to do whatever it is he wants you to do.

You were lucky enough to have found two lovers so incredibly different that complimented each other so well. Each give you something that you crave and make you fall in love with them over and over. The gentleness and roughness. The stability and the adventure. The honesty and the mystery. One lives to serve and the other to take. Balance.

Marc is staring down at you, his eyes dark and lust-filled and his hands still gripping each side of your hips, keeping you in place underneath him. "Steven had his fun with you already," he says, the tone of his voice sending shivers down your spine. "It wasn't fair I had to sit there and watch the two of you, was it?"

"No..." you muttered as a reply.

He grinned just slightly after your answer, standing up so he would be kneeling on the bed in between your legs. "There's so much I want to do to you," he confessed, shamelessly scanning your naked body.

Marc quickly removed his shirt as you admired his exposed torso, his muscle flexing exquisitely in all the right places when he leaned back down to kiss you. He completely devoured your mouth, his hips beginning to rock against yours to give himself some relief, his dick impossibly hard at this point and practically begging to get some attention. Your fingers traced down his muscular arms and firm back before one of your hands trailed down to palm his dick on top of his sweatpants. A low grunt escaped his mouth and he immediately pulled away from you.

"Naughty girl," he teased. "Did I tell you to do that?"

"No," you say out of breath, still touching him. "But I wanted to do it."

"Mmm– you want my dick in your mouth, honey?"

You nodded eagerly at his question. Marc gave you one last kiss before standing up again. You quickly got on your knees and pull his sweatpants down, revealing his painfully neglected erection. Your mouth almost watered at the sight in front of you, not wanting to wait any more seconds to put his dick inside your mouth.

Your head leaned close enough as you looked up at him, your tongue tracing a single strap across the length of his dick, watching as Marc closed his eyes at the sensation of it, letting all the air leave his lungs as he muttered a barely audible, "Fuck."

Encouraged by that reaction, you grabbed his dick with one of your hands and put it inside your mouth, trying your best to cover as much of it as you possibly could every time it went in and out of your mouth. Soon enough you found a comfortable rhythm, helping yourself with your hand to cover the part of him that couldn't fit inside your mouth.

The sounds leaving Marc's mouth were absolute heaven. His brows were slightly frowned as he stared down to watch as you suck him off, his muscles flexed, a hand tightly gripping your hair so it wouldn't get in the way, and his hips thrusting along with your movements as he completely lost himself in pleasure.

"You surely know what to do with that mouth of yours, huh?" he asks, knowing very well you wouldn't be able to reply. "Yeah, you're doing so good, baby."

The compliments only encouraged you to go faster, making Marc let out a louder grunt at the change of speed, gripping your hair even tighter as his hips also thrust harder and faster. He quite literally begin fucking your mouth, making your eyes tear up at the speed and intensity of it all. Of course you wouldn't mind that detail, absolutely adoring to have him in and out of you and hear him enjoy every second of it.

"Holy fuck– if we keep it up like that I won't last long," Marc says, completely out of breath. "Turn around," he instructed shortly after, pulling himself out of you and using his thumb to clean the drool off your chin.

You did as told, putting yourself on all four as you waited for him to take his sweatpants off and throw them to the floor. As you turned to look at him, you saw Marc lick the palm of his hand and press it against your pussy, grinning when he realized how wet you already were before he even touched you. His grin only grew wider when he slapped one of your ass cheeks, hearing you whimper right after.

He grabbed both of your hips and he thrusts inside you without a warning, his entire length filling you up and making you let out a loud moan at the sensation. He immediately begin fucking you mercilessly, carelessly, intensely. His body slamming against you loud and hard, the two of you a moaning and sweaty mess as Marc continued to thrust in and out of you like his entire life depended on it.

At the speed he was going you knew you wouldn't last very long, feeling your orgasm building up at the pit of your stomach. Marc's grunts, the sound of your bodies, the grip on your hips that would definitely leave a mark, the sensation of him filling you up so incredibly good and the fact that he just slapped your ass again was too much for you to bare. You were completely lost in pleasure, enjoying every second of Marc roughly fucking you. Finally, you reached your fourth orgasm with a loud scream of Marc's name. He reached his own orgasm just seconds later, and you could feel him filling you up with his release.

You practically collapsed on the bed, exhausted, trying to catch your breath. As you rolled to lay on your back, you saw Marc moving so he could be laying next to you. He took your hair out of your face, leaving a quick and gentle kiss on your shoulder.

"You're okay?" he asks softly before leaving yet another kiss on your shoulder, looking up at you through his lashes.

"I'm great," you muttered, clearly referring to the four orgasms you just had, making Marc chuckle.

"Good," he replied. "Seems like that's the only way to keep you away from your work."

"I mean, if that's what I get for working too much...you'll end up doing the opposite."

Marc rolled his eyes at you, pulling you closer to his body as he did. You immediately accepted his embrace, resting your heard on his bare chest as he wrapped an arm around you. Neither of you said anything else, and so you started to fall asleep faintly hearing Marc's heartbeat and the sensation of him inhaling and exhaling, accompanied by his fingers tracing patterns along your arm.

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant smut #marc spector smut #mcu x reader #marvel MCU fic #marc spector fic #steven grant fic #moon knight smut #moon knight fic

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fairy-writes · 7 months

Note

Hi is this where I send requests in? If it is then could I request hc of Dazai, Chuuya and Jouno (if you write for him) with a s/o who has an ability that allows them to change size at will. Like the s/o can go from 1 inch to 30 foot tall in a second and the s/o is very mischievous so they hide in places that shouldn’t be possible to try and surprise the boys. I can imagine sitting on top of chuuya’s hat when he searches for me. I hope I explained this well and don’t feel obligated to do this <3

PRANKSTER

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairing(s): Dazai Osamu x Reader

Nakahara Chuuya x Reader

Saigiku Jouno x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, not proof read

Notes: Hey hon! I hope you like your request! It was super fun!

Also I’ve never written for Jouno before so this was interesting!

__________________________________________________________________________

Dazai Osamu:

You have to get creative with Dazai.

Because one: he’s a literal genius and would instantly know where you’re hiding if you’re tiny.

And two: his ability would nullify yours which might make for some very awkward situations.

You already wear special clothes that grow and shrink with you at will so there’s no more embarrassing moments where you are in the nude.

Anyway! Back to Dazai!

Like I said you have to get creative and even when you do, you have a 95% chance of him finding you before you can surprise/scare him.

Probably the best way to scare him is by hiding in his coat pocket.

Just be careful because he puts his hands in his pockets a lot.

You’ve actually ripped his pockets more than once by scaring him.

Well… scaring is a bold word.

More like you surprise him and he acts scared.

“You scared me, my belladonna!”

Nakahara Chuuya:

Probably the easiest to surprise out of the three.

Your idea of hiding on the brim of his hat when he’s wearing it has me CACKLING.

Like you’d think he’d be able to feel the slight difference in weight but I headcanon that when he’s really focused he kinda loses spacial awareness of his surroundings.

So you take advantage of this when you’re feeling particularly mischievous!

Another great place to hide is his wine cabinet.

He’s lowkey an alcoholic but in moderation?

If that makes sense?

Like he’ll enjoy a glass or two after work every other day or so but nothing overboard.

Chuuya likes to pretend that he has a high alcohol tolerance.

He doesn’t.

I’m getting distracted again.

But hiding in the wine cabinet is a sure fire way to break a few glasses so use this move sparingly.

He doesn’t get mad per say when you scare him.

Just annoyed and a bit embarrassed.

But a kiss to the cheek or lips is a sure fire way to get him to forgive you ;)

Saigiku Jouno:

Kinda like Dazai, you have to get creative with Jouno.

Like he can hear your heartbeat pretty much at all times so hiding really doesn’t do much good despite him being blind.

He can also hear the rustling of your clothes, the smell of your perfume/cologne, etc.

So you have to resort to using the other Hunting Dogs in your scheme.

And they’re happy to help! (Mostly, it’s usually Tecchou)

Like they’ll hide you in their pockets or up their sleeves so your scent and heartbeat is mingling with theirs.

It takes some work, but ultimately is possible if you try hard enough!

And also like Dazai, he doesn’t get really scared.

Maybe he’ll subtly flinch.

But that’s about it.

He’s also the most likely to get upset with you.

Like he knows you’re joking.

But you’re most likely a fellow Hunting Dog and therefore should act accordingly.

#dazai osamu x reader #Dazai Osamu #chuuya nakahara x reader #Nakahara Chuuya x reader #osamu dazai x reader #jouno x reader #jouno saigiku x reader #saigiku jouno x reader #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bsd jouno #fairy writes #Bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs

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supernovafeather · 8 months

Text

A Loving Couple

Leto Atreides x F!Reader

Summary : Leto and his wife enjoy some alone time in their quarters.

Content : fluff, slight angst (nightmare), fluff fluff fluff, sexual innuendo.

Please comment and reblog if you like it !

The moon seemed to levitate high in the skies, left unbothered by the noise of thehundreds of powerful waves that attempted to dig their way up the cliffs. Behind your chambers window, you suddenly felt tiny and insignificant as you remembered the solar system simulations you got to study years before. From there you couldn't feel the powerful wind exploding with rage and affected anything that could get stuck in its grasp from leaves to flags that were too loose in the first place, the Atreides coat of arms flying away into darkness. You narrowed your eyes, a sudden anxiety gnawing you from the inside as your wet palms played with your nightgown. One day this House would disappear, like any other one. Nothing was eternal, no ideology, no name, no civilization. Even the ones you cherished the most, as well as your memories.

"Afraid of the storm," inquired a voice behind you.

Leto had been mostly silent tonight, too tired to even try to start any meaningful conversation. This could have passed for negligence for his spouse but you knew better as you let him embrace you from behind, your gaze still glued to the sudden rain now whipping the land. The way he hold you was firm, reassuring. That was what he did best. A safe and protective soul by your side that appreciated your own safety and protective nature.

"No," you replied with a frown, "it's merely an inconvenience tonight. But I found it quite beautiful when the moonlight bathed the scenery. Now it only looks more sinister. Depressing. This time it feels as if the sun is never to be seen again."

Without much reaction to the butterfly kisses finding their favorite spot on your neck, you stared at the moon. It was magnificent. Sometimes you wished you had nothing to do with all those political affairs. Maybe being a rock floating across the solar system would make more sense but alas you got doomed by mankind's greatest and most horrifying gift : consciousness.

"I know how to distract a Lady upset by those negative thoughts," he mumbled before nibbling your ear. "Of course you do," you chuckled, "you always know. You always have a solution to everything." "I try my best. So please my Lady, how may I put an end to this melancholy of yours? If I may add… do you have any detail coming to your mind? Something we could explore together."

After a long list full of previous marital experiments as well as quite a long time spent at testing them again just to make sure you got it right, slumber found you. Then dawn found you as well and for once you were the one being awake first, in a good mood at the sight of your husband completely lost in his deep sleep. The comical view of his open mouth soon let place to a sour feeling as he closed it, his jaws clenching and his thick beard rubbing against the pillow. You knew that face too well and soon the nervous gestures of his arms muscles showed you how right you were. In silence, you extended your hand to Leto, grazing his temple gently with a sympathetic look. He exhaled sharply before jolting but still asleep he then turned his head the other way, clenched his jaws. Another jolts.

"I love you Leto. I'm here," you whispered.

Your husband calmed down and muttered something under his breath as you wiped the thin layer of sweat now forming on his forehead.

"Not fire not again," he mumbled between undecipherable words. "No there is no fire Leto, I'm here right next to you." "They said you weren't."

Some pride remained in him. He would refuse to acknowledge how damaging it had been for him to hear all the remarks about your marriage. All those insults, rumours, jokes. The sincere worries about their respected Duke about to share his life with a widow accused of being a serial widower. Leto was the love of your life and no question mark would ever appear next to those words. You fell hard for a man that chose you for an arranged marriage after thinking that life had nothing to give you anymore. Life gave you the greatest present it had to offer. And this gift needed reassurance.

"I'm here Leto I love you. I'm listening to you and answering. Everything's fine my beloved Duke." "But the fire…" he argued faintly. "There is no fire. I'm not in there. I'm here, healthy and right by your side." "They didn't burn you," he asked with a confused frown. "I'm safe "

A slight convulsion of his legs then he turned his head towards you as he could feel your hand playing with his beard. His lips looked dry so you stopped touching him to pour some fresh water in the glass waiting on the table right by your side of the bed.

"A river, love it" he mumbled.

You smiled, put the glass down the table before crawling up to Leto, a kiss placed on his forehead as you felt his mind calming down.

"A beautiful river, birds singing and your wife that loves you," you promised.

The sudden and powerful snore coming out of his mouth woke Leto up as violently as you jolted away from him and you watched the way he scratched his beard with closed eyes, his tired face translating the confusion reigning in his mind after this.

"Good morning my lovely liege, I got some water for you." "G'morning," he groaned in a cracked deep voice.

It took him a few seconds to stop looking around, a smile appearing as the nightmare left his mind slowly but for good. As your husband took long sips you kissed his cheek then his temple, grinning while doing so as you got closer to him, your hands wandering under the blanket to run down his warm thigh flesh. After he finished drinking he raised an eyebrow at you.

"How can you do it more than twice" he asked in disbelief. "I just wanted you to start a new great day with your great wife and her great care. So let's say that three might be good sometimes."

After a few seconds spent at rubbing his thigh you kissed the corner of his lips to push your corruption attempt even further.

"I love you Leto. I hope you know it. You are a wonderful husband. Not only in bed. In general." "I love you too and thank you, wonderful wife but I have the regret to inform you that sadly, this won't be possible right now," he replied with a tired face but mischievous eyes.

Not insisting anymore you still let a trail of kisses on his bare shoulder, appreciating the muscles rolling under his skin. Even when nonsexual the contact of his skin appeased you. This was his power.

"As you wish my Lord, my Duke, my liege," you whispered against his lips.

Leto kissed you deeply with a slight grin that vanished as he interrupted the kiss in an almost authoritative shift, a stern gaze examining your face.

"Why so much eagerness this morning ?" "I don't know. I want my husband to be all mine all the time these days. I love him very much after all." "I'm all yours every day, every second. After all I have other ways to show you, even when I'm tired."

The playful mood erupting on your face got replaced by one of surprise as you fell backwards. The laugh that erupted from your mouth echoed in your ears before getting silenced by a gentle kiss crowned with a smile.

- - - - -

Thank you for reading please comment and reblog if you like it !

@queen-of-elves @qrjung

#leto atreides #leto atreides x reader #leto atreides x you #oscar Isaac

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hyperfixated-gvf · 1 year

Text

Baby, It's Cold Outside

On the third day of Tropemas, hyperfixated-gvf gave to me:

A One-Bed fic with whiny sub!Jake, and it's a Neighbor's AU, too!

Christmas Song Pairing: “Christmas Eve" by Justin Bieber

Trope: One Bed

~~~

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader

Warnings: Language, smut, F. Dom, M. Sub, pet names, a tiny bit of restraint, a single tear, begging, oral sex (f. receiving)

Words: 4.4k

Author's Note: Thank you all for your kind words and generous reblogs, tags, and comments, they mean the world to me! They're also addictive, just so you know ;) Anyways, this one got away from me a bit, so I've decided that each boy will have one longer smut piece and the others will be short and under my self-imposed word limit. Except for Danny. My love gets all the long smut.

18+ / MINORS DNI

~~~

“Mom, I frew up.”

You almost slammed the door on Jake’s face when he tiredly looked at you with his mournful, moony eyes, but the fact that his own joke only made his lips twitch told you that he actually had a reason to be at your apartment door at 1:45 am.

The twins were good neighbors. Relatively, at least. You could sometimes hear them arguing through the wall, and other times, you had to send them a text to get them to stop playing their instruments into the wee hours of the morning. Your little duplex townhouse walls weren’t all that thick, but other than the occasional noise complaint that they always dutifully listened to, you were glad to have the happy-go-lucky musicians next door. With how many game nights you’d had and beers you’d shared, you’d even go as far to say that you were friends.

So, you sighed and leaned against the frame, looking at the man expectantly. “What do you need, Jake? This beauty needs her sleep.”

Jake nodded back to his own place, making a face that was both pitiful and disgusted at the same time, which was quickly explained when he said, “Josh brought someone home, and usually some headphones will fix it, but…oh god, please don’t make me describe my trauma.”

He shivered in the cold December air, and that’s when you realized that he didn’t have shoes on and the only clothes protecting him from the wind were his threadbare sleep shirt and equally frayed plaid pajama pants. All in all, he looked like a little puppy, trembling from the cold and without a place to sleep for the night.

You were no monster; there had been enough nights in your life as a roommate where you wish you didn’t have ears at all that you recognized and acknowledged his pain, but the thing was, you weren’t sure what he wanted you to do about it.

“I won’t. But I..sorry, I’m just not sure what this has to do with me.”

Trying to make it as gentle as possible so that you didn’t put him off, there was really no roundabout way to go about the question. Especially not when its answer would get you both out of the cold.

Jake furrowed his brows in confusion. “Oh. Sorry, I just thought, you know, maybe I could use your guest room? I mean, if you’re comfortable with that,” he said quickly. “We’ve been neighbors for a couple years now, but I don’t want to assume anything. I would rather ask and get rejected though, than try than have to deal with that,” he said venomously, looking back at his place with that same pronounced frown on his face.

You appreciated his attempts to make it your decision but, again, there was just one problem. “I don’t have a guest room,” you explained, grimacing as his face fell. The situation must have been dire if he was that downtrodden after finding out that your second bedroom was an office since…well, since it was just you living there. “But…my couch does double as a futon. It’s not super comfortable, but if you wanted to crash there, I guess, feel free.”

Pure relief spread across his features, and you opened the door wider to allow him in, cursing yourself for not just bringing him in at the beginning and saving you both some body heat. “Anything,” he muttered, quite seriously. “Literally anything else but what I was dealing with over there. She sounded like a fucking banshee giving birth. And there’s no way my hobbit brother is that good with his dick.”

You snorted, retrieving some sheets from a bin in your hallway closet. “Your hobbit brother… that’s also your twin? That one?” Jake bobbled his head, but didn’t say anything as he began to tug at the back of the couch to free the bed. “Also, it doesn’t have to be his dick,” you pointed out, but Jake shook his head violently at your revelation.

“No. No, no, nope, no thank you I am finished thinking about that twerp in any way, shape, or form for the night.” His words were less convincing when they shook like a dog’s growl as it played tug o’ war. He seemed to be losing the fight with the couch, and you stood there, shamelessly admiring his form in half-amusement and half-serious appreciation.

He had a backside that was better than yours, and after all the years of being ogled at by men as you went about your daily tasks, you figured the universe could look away this one time.

“Oh shit!” he yelped, falling back on that perfect ass as the couch came half-loose with a pop, a grind, and then the tinkle of tiny, flimsy metal screws hitting your floor.

You both stayed quiet for a moment, staring at your mutilated couch that was now propped up on one end and slanted in a way you were certain it wasn’t supposed to slant. And didn’t seem all too eager to go either back down or all the way out, no matter how much you half-heartedly pushed at it.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N,” Jake said defeatedly after a moment. The apology was clear in his voice, and you knew this was bound to happen sooner or later; the couch was, after all, a remnant from your college days. Even then, it had been a curbside find that you and your roommate had tied to the roof of your car with borrowed bungee cords. “I’ll buy you a new couch.”

While you wouldn’t decline the help, it obviously wasn’t his fault entirely, so you shrugged and returned the blankets to their place in the closet. “Don’t beat yourself up for it. Contribute a fourth of the cost to a discount couch from Facebook Marketplace and I’ll let you off the hook, destructo,” you joked, turning around to face him again. Now that the couch option was gone, Jake was clearly unsure of where he stood, staying at your place.

“Your bed doesn’t happen to be a bunk bed, right?” he asked dryly, knowing that it wasn’t from the very few times he’d seen it. It got a small chuckle out of you as you thought about your options, considering a few different solutions when Jake sped the process up. “Well, sorry to bother you, Y/N. Thanks for letting me almost-crash here. I’m gonna…go bash my brains out.”

It was obvious he wasn’t fishing for anything else – he was genuinely expecting to go back to his flat of sin without another thought to finding a different solution, but you quickly took the few steps to get to him before he took off and met his questioning gaze. “Wait, Jake. Just…it’s late. Stay here, we can share the bed.”

Neighbor friends could totally innocently share a bed. Call it the proverbial cup of sugar.

His eyes grew saucer-wide, and he jerked his head back slightly at the suggestion as if you’d just proposed he buy a leather flogger and build a dungeon. “Are you sure?”

You looked at him, completely deadpanned. The late hour was getting to you, and you just wanted to make it to bed before the sun came up again. “No, I was pulling your chain.” Jake smiled sheepishly as you continued, “Yes, dumbass, I’m sure. I offered, after all. And in the name of complete platonic-ness, either join me in bed or sleep in the street. Up to you.”

He obviously chose to follow you into your bedroom, and since both of you were already in your pjs, you slipped under the blankets as if it was the most natural thing ever. “Thank you again, Y/N,” Jake whispered, once you’d flicked the lamp off.

“I’d say any time, Jake, but if you wake me up at this god-forbidden hour again because your brother is having sex, I’ll move.”

You heard his huff of laughter at your empty threat and you smiled, too, already starting to drift into that hazy state between sleep and consciousness. The fan and low brown noise you had playing from phone was enough to drown out the strangeness of someone else in the room with you – the extra intakes and exhales of breath, the scratch of blankets, the dip of the mattress – and you would have been totally content to fall asleep then.

If it weren’t for Jake’s incessant moving.

The first time he shifted, it was fine – didn’t even register. But then he rolled over again. And again. And again.

“Jake,” you groaned, flopping your hand behind you without a care for where it landed. “Stop fucking moving.”

“Sorry,” he responded softly, voice a little higher than normal.

That would have been that, but then it wasn’t rolling over, but he was obviously still moving, and you could feel it. You might have had a Queen-sized mattress, but that didn’t mean you weren’t unconsciously hyper-aware of someone else in your bed when you were used to sleeping alone.

“Oh my god, Jake,” you exclaimed exasperatedly, turning your lamp on and abruptly rolling over to see just what the problem was. “What is wrong? Are you sleeping on a pea or something, princess?”

In the dim light from the wax melter candle plugged into your wall, Jake stiffened, and he didn’t answer.

Thinking your words came out too harshly, you sighed. “Sorry. I’m not mad, I’m just trying to sleep. Seriously, though, what’s wrong? Do you need to cuddle to get to dreamland or something?” you joked lightly in an attempt to clear the air.

“That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Jake’s answer was so soft, you nearly didn’t hear him. But once his words registered, you furrowed your brow, confused and a little offended that he couldn’t even crack a joke back, because now you felt a little embarrassed of your joking suggestion. “Okay. Because one of us is a ticking time bomb or something? I wasn’t being serious, Jake.”

The offense must have shown through your thinly-veiled attempt to hide it, because Jake was silent for a second, and then croaked out, “I wouldn’t want you to hate me.”

Now laying down again, facing away, your confusion outgrew your offense, and once again, you rolled over, seeing that Jake had remained stiff as a board with his back to you. “Why would I hate you?” you asked genuinely, less edge to your voice.

But Jake didn’t answer. Didn’t have to, because when he shifted again, the movement originating from his hips and obviously something Jake was trying to suppress. You finally took in the way he was scrunched up, knees pulled to his chest and arms tucked where you couldn’t see them. You recognized that position, from one past boyfriend that always seemed to get an erection at the worst possible times.

“Are you…” you let the sentence trail off, and Jake sighed out a shaky breath.

“I’m not a creep, I promise,” he said with conviction, if a little shakily. Out of nerves, arousal, or fear, you didn’t know, but you felt bad for him all the same.

Sometimes it happened – you knew that. It was basic anatomy. It was also basic anatomy to understand why the blankets started feeling a little warmer, and why you began to get the same impulse to shift your hips as Jake seemingly had. There was a very attractive man in your bed, hard and a little vulnerable because of it, that you admittedly had experienced fleeting thoughts of desire for.

“Jake,” you said softly, breaking the tense silence. “I don’t think you’re a creep. And I also don’t want you to think I’m a creep.”

Jake peeked over his shoulder at you, straining his neck to catch a glimpse. “What? Why would I? I’m the one who got in your bed and– and fucking immediately got an erection.”

“Mmmhh,” you hummed, acknowledging the truth of his statement. “But I’m the one who’s having filthy thoughts about it.” When you heard his swallow harshly, you delivered the final blow. “And I’m the one about to offer to help you take care of it. If you want, of course,” you assured lowly. “If not, you can use the bathroom and we’ll never speak of it again.”

You waited on bated breath for Jake’s response, and he finally responded, his voice breaking in the middle of the word, “Please.”

Excitement lit up your extremities, and you tingled with a newly-found energy as you rubbed your thighs together, your body’s natural response now magnified tenfold with the promise of action. “Thank you Jesus,” you breathed, waiting for Jake to turn around. “Come on, Jake. Show me what we’ve got.”

He hadn’t so much as touched his shoulder blade to the mattress when you pushed the covers off, licking your lips at the tent in his pants. “Are you sure I’m not dreaming?” Jake asked, watching you watch him with a predatory gleam in your eye. “Because I’m pretty sure this has happened before, but I woke up with a mess to clean in the end. It wasn’t fun.”

You chuckled and gently put your hand to his cheek. “I dunno. Does this feel real to you?” You planted your hands on his chest and swung your leg over his hip. Once you settled your weight over his cock, a broken noise escaped his lips, and his hands came up to rest shakily on your thighs, flexing up into the friction. “Feels pretty real to me.”

“Pretty damn real,” he repeated, gulping down air and squeezing his eyes shut.

Shifting your hips so as not to torture the poor man, you watched him accept your gifts, and eventually his face relaxed as he let you work. “Good. I have to ask, though: what got you so worked up in the first place?”

Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to peel your shirt off, not when you wanted an answer. But the unwavering attention that Jake payed the slight sway of your breasts, moving with the little shifts of your body, was a suitable second prize. You upped the stakes again, though, splaying your hands out under his shirt and working it off, as well. The growing wetness between your legs was already beginning to demand more, and you didn’t intend to keep either of you waiting for long.

So instead of insisting on an answer, you got off and relished in the small whine that came from the man who blinked sluggishly at the loss of your weight and heat against him. But when you unceremoniously stripped your pants off and then smacked his hands away from his own drawstrings, you said, “No. My house, my rules, Jake. And the rule here is that I get to unwrap all the gifts you’ve brought me tonight. Such a good guest,” you cooed, dragging his plaid pants down until his cock sprung back up, bobbing with a shiny tip that was begging to be sucked.

Not one to keep yourself from what you wanted, you bent down and thumbed across the skin of his hip at the taste of salty precum, spreading across your tongue as you swiped and swirled it around his head, pulling off with a pop as soon as he gasped and bucked his hips up. “Please don’t stop,” he asked, so polite even worked up as he was.

“But you never answered my question,” you laughed with a shake of your head, mounting him again and spreading your cunt so that you could rub your clit along the length of his cock for your own relief. He moaned quietly and took what you gave him, no attempts to change the pace, the pressure, the movement – nothing. “You’ve been so good for me otherwise, Jakey. Answer me, and then I’ll get you all suited up so that I can fuck you. Get you the good relief you deserve.” He struggled to keep his volume down, but you saw the way his lips trembled. “What got you so worked up?”

He was apparently more desperate than he let on, though, because when he was able to find his voice, it was a weak little whimper that sent another wave of arousal through you; so much that it made your head spin with want. “The sheets,” he whined, fisting them in his palms. “They…they smell like you. And when you— you…”

With your grinding becoming nearly too slippery to continue, you knew you had to fuck him soon before he came from this alone. “When I what?” you asked, climbing off of him to retrieve a condom.

You wiped him off for safety and then made sure the latex was securely on before you poised him at your entrance, waiting for his final answer.

Jake watched your with hooded, hazy eyes, desperation written out on his features. “I liked it when you called me princess,” he admitted quietly.

You smiled victoriously, sinking down on him until his balls were pressed against your ass in one go, and you felt him twitch inside of you. “That’s so sexy, princess,” you admitted. “Thank you for telling me.” Your eyes closed as you stretched yourself out on his cock, beginning to bounce on him. The resulting audio was almost better than the visual. You wouldn’t have pegged Jake as one to beg in bed, but he had been brushing off all the subconscious labels you’d attached to him since arriving.

“Holy shit,Y/N, oh god, your pussy is–” he cut himself off with a grunt as you slid your hands up his arms to his wrists to pin his hands to bed, watching as he immediately clutched at the pillows above where they lay, immovable with your weight resting on them. “Hold me down,” he cried out. “I– ah-h– please, please, please, fuck me harder,” he whined, shifting his hips up as you came down, the explicit sounds of skin meeting skin slapping out into the silence.

“Yeah?” you panted, loving the way you had front-row seats to every face his features morphed into as you experimented with him – taking notes of what made him tick. “You like it when you can’t move, princess? When you can only lay there and take it?”

He nodded, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you lurched forward on your thrust down, taking him for the ride of his life. “I’ll take anything you give me, beautiful,” he breathed, straining against your hold as he got closer to finishing. “I don’t mind it a little rough.”

“Good to know.” You leaned down and let your hips slowly grind in circles as you pinched the skin where his neck met his shoulder between your lips, nipping it before saying, “Keep your hands there, and don’t make me tell you twice.”

Jake agreed willingly. “Anything.”

Your nails scraped lightly down the undersides of his arms to his chest, where you dug them in to make little crescent marks and continued your quest to make him cum harder than he ever had before. “Fuck,” you moaned on an exhale, trying to find your own g-spot with Jake’s dick. “You’re so good for me. Who knew that Jake Kiszka, rockstar extraordinaire, was such a whiny little princess in bed?” you chuckled, looking down at his red face, his shiny, open lips, his hooded eyes, looking at you like you hung the moon. Just to drive the point home, you combed your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly along his scalp until you reached the back, where you tightened your grip to make Jake shout and arch back, exposing his throat to you. “That’s it,” you cooed. “Let go for me. Give it up. Cum inside me.”

He was obviously holding himself back, and he told you why when he panted out, “What about you? I wanna– I– please, please don’t make me cum yet,” he begged, squirming underneath you but still not letting his hands dip below where you’d put them and told him to stay. “I want to feel you cum with me! I don’t want to cum yet, I don’t want to be a bad fuck– I always make them cum,” he claimed, still thrashing, trying to get way from the steady pleasure tightening his balls and making him leak, getting him harder and harder and harder. “I can make you feel so good, Y/N, just let me– let me– shit, FUCK no no no no noooo—” he moaned, long and low and pitiful.

His pleasure manifested throughout his entire body and he lost control for a second, jerking and spasming as he filled the condom to the brim. His teeth were bared as he drew breaths in to fuel the sobs and grunts that came out, his arms moved listlessly against the sheets in a sacreligious snow angel, and you could feel his legs twisting and bucking as you continued to ride him into oblivion.

You finally slowed once a single tear fell from his eye. Wiping it away, you sucked the pad of your thumb into your mouth, watching his chest and stomach heave with a deep-seated satisfaction running through your veins. Still buzzing with excitement and arousal, you finally leaned down to kiss him, grinning as he kissed back desperately, vying for your every touch, word, and request and pliable with the desire to please you.

“So needy, Jake – crying because I wouldn’t let you help me cum. But don’t worry, princess,” you murmured, smoothing his hair back away from his fucked-out face. “I still intend to collect my pleasure. And these perfect little Cupid’s bow lips are going to get me there.”

He kissed your fingertips as you skated them across his mouth, whispering, “Thank you,” and then pushed himself up on his forearms, moving to crawl between your thighs. And as incredible as that would be to see, you stopped him with a palm in the center of his chest, pressing him down to the mattress once again.

You shook your head. “Ah, ah. I quite like seeing you on your back for me,” you said, licking your lips. “You’re so pretty splayed out like this.”

Jake made a strangled noise and didn’t protest even for a second. “Works just fine for me, beautiful. Come here; let me show you how grateful I am for taking such good care of me tonight.”

He tugged at your hip and you went willingly, turning around so that you could see every shift, flex, and squirm of his body as you positioned yourself over him, hovering just above his face. You hummed. “Ready for me?” His response was to pull you down against him, and your clit throbbed as soon as it got friction again, making you sigh. “That’s it, princess, show me what that mouth can do. I want to feel how thankful you are that I let you into my bed,” you said breathlessly, starting to move and ride him again, this time higher up his body, but just as good. “That I was so understanding when you couldn’t control that cock of yours and that I used it so that you could get off.”

Even though you hadn’t established it (and you really should have), you lifted off of him when he tapped you, making sure he could breathe. But he didn’t take that time to take any deep breaths, only to say, “Don’t forget about the couch,” before licking into you again.

You smiled at his reminder, and reached back to grip his hair again. His whine traveled throughout your pussy and made him sucking on your clit just that more enjoyable afterwards, sensitive from the vibration. He was quickly torn away from you as you bore down with more pressure, feeling your clit brush his bottom lip and then his tongue as he stuck it out for you to use for your pleasure. “You’re right. We can figure out a proper consequence later, though. You were begging to make me cum; I don’t think I should reward you for breaking my shit.”

With him manipulating that particular muscle, you quickly approached the peak you’d caught sight of while riding his dick, and you didn’t stop this time. You did, however, reach down to take his sensitive cock in your hand, roughly pumping it up and down until he cried out into your cunt, just to see him twist in overstimulated pleasure.

“Come on, Jake, get me there, just a little bit more,” you directed, feeling your orgasm balloon inside of you. “Yes, Jake, yes, yes, yes– there you go-ooo, princess. Just what you wanted,” you keened, keeling over as you lost the strength to stay upright. You let Jake lap at you for a little while longer, shivering as he gently brought you down by avoiding your clit, but laving attention on the rest of your pussy. He cleaned you up like that, gathering all the excess slick on his tongue and swallowing it down.

You were sure that he’d suck on you until you told him to stop, but eventually, you dismounted him, your stomach clenching as Jake made a small noise of complaint as his oral fixation was taken away.

“Come here,” you sighed, opening your arms for him. You weren’t about to let him go to sleep without proper aftercare. It only took a small roll for Jake to plaster himself against you, legs tangling with yours, his fingers skirting across your skin as he wrapped his arms around you, and a sigh that puffed out warm against your throat as he relaxed into your embrace.

This time, when your fingers made their way to his long locks, you were gentle in petting him, softly massaging the back of his neck as your other hand rubbed comforting circles on his lower back. “I think I lied,” you said sleepily, and Jake made a questioning noise against your skin. “I think I want you to come here every time your brother has sex from now on. Okay?”

Jake placed a lazy kiss to your neck. “Is it okay if I don’t wait for Josh to sex? Who knows when the next time he gets lucky enough that someone looks down and sees him will be,” he giggled, fully aware that he was only a half-inch taller.

You smiled, warmth spreading through your limbs. “Mmmm. Yeah, princess. You come over whenever you want to. I’ll keep the bed warm.” With one last kiss to his brow, you closed your eyes.

Thank goodness for your shitty college couch.

~~~

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#12 days of tropemas 2022 #tropemas 2022 #gvf fics #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fic #gvf smut #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut

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maybege · 2 years

Note

Ooo okay okay 222 and 223 with either Paz or Boba? 👀

Marital Favours

Summary: You ask your husband for a favour.

Pairing: alpha!!Paz Vizsla x omega!fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.0k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, marriage of convenience, enemies to lovers vibes (but really it is just idiots to lovers), dom!Paz, sub!Reader, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, size kink, pet names (some of them a tiny bit degrading, but all of them loving)

Prompts: #222 “No one can ever find out about this.” + #223 “For your safety I'll be gentle.”

Thank you so much for the prompts, anon! And shoutout to @ayybtchch for giving me the idea to pair these prompts with etl!Paz and to @galacticgraffiti for sending me thots when I was supposed to write my thesis. As always, let me know what you thought in a comment or reblog!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

This was one of your lowest moments, you decided, as you stood in what you had dubbed the Throne Room.

Your husband still insisted that it was merely a gathering place but the prominent chair at the end of the cavernous hall made you think differently. Especially when you saw him sitting there, bare-chested, fur cape on his shoulders, thick legs spread wide as he rested his chin on his fist, listening to his advisors.

It could not be anything less than a throne, not with the way he was sitting on it.

Paz had made a comment, once, about how his wife ought to have her own chair next to his. You had put it off as a joke, knowing that the Vizsla clan would never accept an outside like you. And you did not want one either, happy to hide in your rooms or the archives or the childcare quarters when it came to the weekly storytelling sessions.

But whenever you had thought about spending more time with him, you could not help but feel a flutter in your chest. You had tried to blame it on you being an omega at first. After all, your husband was an alpha and a giant one at that, it was only natural to find him attractive. But after weeks of your marriage had passed and the tingling in your fingertips and between your legs had grown stronger with every gentle word, every discussion, every teasing remark he made, you had to face the fact that maybe … maybe you were attracted to him.

Great.

So here you were, heart hammering in your chest as the moon took residence in the sky, its light shining through the windows high up on the ceiling.

“So, what can I do for you, my wife, that you seek me out in the middle of the night?”

You debated turning around and leaving. The alpha’s voice was deep, playfully posh and you knew he was in a good mood when he chose to tease you. That didn’t make it easier though. You shifted on your feet, the hem of your nightgown barely brushing the cold stone floor. You remembered when he had wordlessly handed it you. (“It’s colder here than your home, omega,” he had said, “No need for you to get sick.”)

“No one can ever find out about this,” you started carefully, your voice echoing around you and you found yourself thanking the stars that even the guards had retired at this hour. You two were probably the only people awake in the entire covert.

He leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “You have my word.”

“I was thinking about what you said today when we were going over the inventory plans,” you admitted shyly, “About making me feel good with … with your fingers.”

He hummed, the epitome of relaxation in front of you. “What about it?” he asked.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to say.

“I want you to do it.”

“What?”

If you hadn’t been so nervous, you would have laughed at the shocked expression on his face. You had seen Paz Vizsla display many emotions but shock was never one of them. Maybe because he had seen so many things already, saying of himself that “there is very little in the universe that can surprise me anymore.”

But his silence, the way his eyes had widened and his whole body had tensed had not helped you in your insecurity. You avoided his eyes, following the lines of the grout on the floor and shifted on your feet. “I want you to, uh, to finger me,” you repeated shyly.

His laughter made you flinch and for a second you feared that perhaps he was laughing at you. Rejection burned deep in your belly, the fear of him rejecting you even brighter in your chest.

“C’mon up here then,” he grinned, patting his thighs and you took a tentative step towards the dais he was sitting on.

“Don’t worry,” he grinned, his legs spreading, “For your safety I'll be gentle.”

You rolled your eyes and he laughed, warm and full. His hands were warm and slow as he bunched the fabric of your up around your hips. You hissed as the cold air touched your bare skin and the desire to hide away from his gaze – from anyone’s gaze – was stronger than ever. But then his hands landed on your thighs, running up and down as if to calm you.

“Has anyone ever touched you like this?” he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle. You put your hands on his shoulders, spreading your legs so you could open up for him. His fingers brushed over your inner thighs and you took a deep breath, allowing yourself to enjoy the way he was touching you. Yes, this was the enemy of your birth clan, the man your parents had warned you about again and again. But this was also your husband and the only alpha you ever dreamt about.

You nodded, avoiding his heated gaze as you thought back to one of the first intimate encounters you ever had. A large hand came up to your chin, tilting your head so you had to look at him.

Seeing him like this, in the half-dark, dressed like the alpha leader he was, you remembered how scared you had been when you had first seen him. How intimidating he could be, still, when someone crossed him. But he had never hurt you, never even touched you unless you had indicated your consent. No, Paz Vizsla was an alpha clan leader through and through but he was a good one.

“Another alpha?” he asked, his lips tight. For a moment, you imagined seeing a furrow between his brows, his scent a little sharper than usual. Was he jealous? Of the man you had been intimate with before him?

You shook your head. “He, uh, he was a beta.”

For some reason, that seemed to relax him and you melted into his touch when his hands reach around to your back, pulling him closer to him.

“A beta, hm?” he echoed, his nose brushing against yours. You could feel his breath on your face and your heart started to race. Was he going to kiss you?

The thought made the blood run into your cheeks. Somehow you hadn’t really expected a kiss to happen. You hadn’t expected him to want to kiss, well, you. You had never thought he wanted to kiss you.

“My parents never allowed me near alphas,” you burst out, trying to distract yourself from how nervous you were, “You know that.”

“I do,” he nodded, his mouth landing on your neck and you shuddered when his lips brushed over your unmarked scent gland. It had been your decision, your condition, that he wouldn’t mate you upon your marriage, something that Paz had never questioned but at that moment, you wished he would just sink his teeth into your skin and mark you as his. “I remember how they locked all of you princesses away when it was time for negotiations,” he rumbled, his nose nudging that space just under your ear, “Only got to see you at the dinner, that one time, remember?”

You did. What surprised you was that he remembered. But you did not dwell on it when his fingers rubbed softly over your pussy. “Oh, you’re wet,” he chuckled, pressing a quick peck to your neck before leaning back, clearly admiring the view of his hand on you. You squirmed, trying to close your legs but his spread legs kept you from it. That and his disapproving look.

“Keep them open for me, omega,” he instructed, “I want to see how pretty you look, all stretched out for me.”

“Paz,” you gasped at his words, yet you could not keep your hips from bucking towards him when two of his finger sought out your clit. It did not

“Is that all for me?” he asked you teasingly, nipping at your bottom lip and it was instinct, to lean closer to him, to chase his lips, to whimper for just a taste of him.

“Ah,” he breathed, brushing his mouth over yours, “I think it is all for me. Your pussy is weeping for me, little one.”

“Uh huh,” you nodded eagerly, moving closer to his fingers, to his mouth, to him, “Just for you.”

You could feel his fingertips at your entrance, gathering the wetness there, and you wished you were brave enough to ask him for more. Wished you could put all that you desired into words. Without shame, without fear, without that dreadful feeling in your stomach every time you thought of something that you wanted just for you.

Paz pressed his mouth to yours just as he slowly pushed one finger inside you. It should not have fried your brain but it did and your walls closed around him. He was much larger than your own fingers and despite the many nights you graduated from two to three fingers (especially when your heats neared), you felt the stretch of his finger inside you and you could not shake the nervous feeling from you.

Here was your husband, the first alpha who touched you like this and you didn’t even particularly like each other – or at least you tried to tell yourself that – but then why did it feel so good, the way he touched you, the way he pumped his finger inside you slowly, as if he was just as nervous as you were?

The little peck quickly developed into a kiss that had your toes curling and your hands tightening on his shoulders until the need to breathe became too strong. With a gasp, you parted from him, your heart skipping a beat when it was Paz that followed your lips, breathing into you. His eyes were impossibly dark, looking into yours, and his scent of woods and fire and something sweet burnt itself into your nose.

“Relax for me,” he whispered, his thumb circling your clit and you shuddered, trying to ignore how your legs were trembling, perched on top of him. You could feel your slick on his finger, easing his way into you even more and you tried to relax your thighs, resting more of your weight on his lap.

“There we go,” he murmured, his mouth brushing against your ears, “Good girl.”

“Oh,” you whimpered, your pussy fluttering around him again.

“Can you feel how you open up for me?” he asked you quietly, his voice just a whisper in the wide halls and as if to prove his point, he sunk his finger into the knuckle. He hit something inside you then, a spot you had never felt before but that made you clench even harder. Pleasure overcame you like a wave, and you fell forward, trying to find something – someone – to hold on to.

“Steady, ‘mega,” Paz warned you, his other hand gripping your hip, while he crooked his finger inside you, “You’re meant to enjoy this, are you? Enjoying it?”

You wanted to slap him for how smug he sounded but all you managed was a weak attempt at grabbing his shoulder. You could barely put two words together and he made it a point to ask you something? Insufferable.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he grunted, rubbing the heel of his hand against your clit, causing another moan to escape your lips, “Stars, you’re so pretty like this.”

The blood was burning in your veins and you could feel a kind of knot in your core that seemed to get tighter and tighter with every brush of his fingers over that spot inside you. And Paz seemed to notice it, too.

“One finger and you’re already so tight,” he hissed, slowly pulling out of you, “Sure you can take more than one, little wife?

Stars, how could the pet name that used to infuriate you to no end suddenly make you want him even more?

“P-Paz,” you whimpered, feeling painfully empty. You ground against him, trying t create some of the friction that was missing when you felt something hot and ... hard underneath you. Paz’s groan was so loud it seemed to surprise you both and your entire body heated up even more when you realized that he was aroused … by you.

You did it again, rubbing your folds against the bulge in his pants and in the

“Good thing I haven’t mated you yet,” he growled, moving his hips up against yours, “I don’t think my cock would even fit in that little pussy.”

You whined, rubbing your pussy against his crotch again; the thought turned you on more than you would ever admit. The image of him above you, driving his cock impossibly deep inside you again and again and again –

Two fingers pushed inside you and you moaned, trying to move your hips even more so you could chase the high that had been building ever since he had started touching you. “Look at that,” he marvelled, running his nose over your scent gland, “My little wife riding my fingers like the good omega she is.”

Your cheeks warmed up with embarrassment but when he carefully scissored his fingers ever so slightly, you decided you could not care less. You needed

“C’mon,” he growled, his mouth opening over your neck, sucking at your scent gland and a whole body shudder went through you, “be a good girl and come for me, ‘mega, you can do it.”

“I – I can’t,” you shook your head, whimpering when his thumb brushed over your clit again, “Please, Paz, I – “

“Yes, you can,” he murmured, “I got you, love, I got you. What do you need?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to think, trying to feel, trying to –

“I – I don’t know,” you shook your head, continuing to bounce up and down, “It just all feels so good and I –“

Paz growled, surging forward and kissing you, his teeth clashing against yours, nipping at your bottom lip. You gasped in surprise, your arms tightening around his neck as you continued to grind against him. His free hand went to your neckline, pulling it down until you heard a rip and you felt his fingers on your pebbled nipple.

You arched your back, overwhelmed by the new sensation that made your entire body tingle.

“Omega,” he grunted, rolling your nipple between his fingers, “If you don’t come right now, I’m gonna have to knot you and then you will have the entire night to get used to my size.”

“Fuck,” you cursed, clenching even harder, “A-Alpha!”

“Oh, shit you liked that, huh?” he chuckled breathlessly, his mouth moving over your neck down to your tits, “You like the idea of letting this dirty alpha claim you? What would your parents say? Their pretty little daughter whoring herself out to the next best clan leader, she can find? Melting at the thought of a thick cock stretching out those walls?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he hummed against you, “I am the only alpha who ever felt the way your pussy clamps when you’re getting close,” he sucked your nipple into his mouth, “And I am going to be the only one who knows what it feels like when you come for me.”

It was the image of him mating you, of spending all of your nights in his arms, that finally broke you. You came around his fingers with a gasp, your walls clenching so tightly it almost hurt as your hips moved against him.

“There we go,” he whispered, his fingers slowing their pace inside you, “Good girl, let it all out.”

You whimpered at his gentle words, burying your head in the crook of his neck, your entire body feeling numb and tired and relaxed in a way you had never experienced before. Your pussy was still pulsing around him and only slowly did you become aware of the wet mess between your thighs.

Feeling so vulnerable was not something you were used to and before you could even try to calm yourself down, you tried to shimmy out of his lap, avoiding his eyes. Stars knew if you looked into his eyes, it would all be over.

“Not so fast, love,” Paz grumbled, his arm keeping you close to his chest. You could feel the heat of his body against your bare skin and your eyes fluttered closed when you felt his heart beat against yours – it was just as quick.

“B-but your pants,” you mumbled, feeling shame and insecurity build up once again, “I made a mess, I’m so –“

“Don’t you dare apologize right now,” he interrupted you, his voice still so calm, his nose still at your neck and you could feel the way his scent imprinted on your skin before he pressed the lightest of kisses just under your ear, “You just came apart in my arms, little one, aftercare is non-negotiable.”

“After what?” you repeated with furrowed brows, tilting your head so he had more access to your neck.

His large hand ran over your back, to the side of your thighs until it reached behind him, closing around one of yours. “Aftercare,” he whispered, pulling your hand to his lips, his thumb brushing over the scent gland on your wrist, “I am making sure you are feeling okay, that you have enough time to come down and that you are comfortable.”

You had never been more comfortable than right now, resting against his chest. But you would never tell him that. At least not yet.

“So, who was that beta?”

“Is my husband jealous?” you joked, a small grin on your face and you turned your head, resting your chin on his chest.

Paz’s face was serious and he was looking far away as if he was lost in thought. “Maybe he is,” he grunted, his lips absentmindedly pressing a kiss against your wrist, “Maybe he is.”

(You hoped he was.)

#maybege writes #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader #smut #etl!paz vibes

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dual-plunger-enthusiast · 7 months

Text

Stuff DaFuq?!Boom! has done, a masterpost

As a Skibidi Toilet fan and artist, I do NOT condone any of what he has done. Blugray is a bad person and I do not support him in any way, shape or form. While I may still make fan-content, it does not mean I support him and his shitty actions. Liking content does NOT equal liking creator.

As a notice, this is all I have found so far, and I haven't really bothered with finding anymore new things. I have a life, I don't even really want to make this post, but I'm making it for awareness sake. If you have anymore information about Blugray, feel free to reblog with it. Thanks.

I do usually refer to DaFuq?!Boom as Blugray, as that is one of his aliases and is also quicker to type.

TW: THE N WORD IS USED IN THE FIRST TWO TWEETS, AND MENTIONS OF NAZIS IN THE NEXT TWO.

Tweet 1: 2021 screenshots of Blugray using the n word, claiming he has the "n word pass" which does not exist and does not condone him using the n word.

Tweet 2: Literally a whole VIDEO of Blugray saying the n word, along with dropping a hard r in the same video.

Tweet 3/Tweet 4: Same video, just in 2 different parts. Blugray's take on the Ukrainian/Russian war. I do not and will not engage in this sort of discussion due to personal anxiety, but it's kind of just Blugray being ignorant and believing in the propaganda fed to him.

This is a screenshot that doesn't belong to me or the entity that sent it, but there's also a George Floyd joke he made which is pretty fucking insensitive.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Though it is not as serious (it still is serious, just not as much) as Blugray's racist behaviour, he has also been copyright striking basically ANYTHING he can find Skibidi Toilet related (I believe theorists and reaction channels are excluded???)

I do not know much about copyright myself, so take this with a tiny grain of salt. I don't use twitter, I simply just get sent these for awareness, and I'm putting them into a post to help others know too.

Many are bummed Blugray is copy-striking content, although he doesn't technically own majority of the assets of Skibidi Toilet, just the storyline alone (and the toilet models I think), along with the fact the Skibidi is a mashup of two songs, that both happen to be copyrighted (I think?)

On the other hand, others defend Blugray's copy-striking since there ARE idiots out there stealing Blugray's content, along with even falsely copy-striking one of HIS actual videos, which Youtube did a wonderful job (sarcasm) handling. Blugray may just be copy-striking everything just to not deal with anymore theft and false copyright strikes.

I cannot say much about this in particular, because as mentioned, I don't know much about copyright. Once again, take with a grain of salt.

Tweet 5: TL;DR: Blugray copy-striked Gametoons for a Skibidi animation they did. Gametoons reached out offering to Delete all their Skibidi videos, but Blugray offered to do some licensing instead, and promising to NOT copy-strike anymore of their videos. He then turned back on his word and copy-striked two more of their videos, which has lead to a chance of channel deletion, meaning Gametoons will be gone forever.

Along with copyright striking Gametoons, he also copyright striked a really popular Roblox Skibidi fangame apparently? I do not have evidence of this, I simply saw news that the game was striked twice, and if you look on Roblox now, every single Skibidi fangame has been renamed to not have "Skibi" in its title.

This is all I have by far, I will try to update the post best I can if anything new arises, but just a reminder, I have a life and I do NOT really want to dedicate all my time just for this post. Thank you.

——————————————————————

Update 1: Gametoons has been resolved. However, all other copystrikes still happened and tbh I’ve lost track of what’s happened at this point so uh yeah take that as you will.

#skibidi toilet #edit: i found out the difference between the r slur and the hard r which was why i got confused (i thought they were the same thing)#edit 2: gametoons update

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mazeinthemiroh · 2 years

Text

jeong yunho boyfriend headcanons

genre: fluff

word count: 0.7k

warnings: none

requested?: yes

song rec: payphone by maroon 5

pls like and reblog if you enjoyed! feel free to request anything <3

yunho is the sweetest boi ever

i can see him being quite shy at the start of your relationship. he may be a bit nervous initiating too much physical affection in the early stages because he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. but as you guys get more comfortable with each other he will become more and more assertive with his affection, taking the opportunity to link arms with you when walking together, or placing a kiss on your cheek at the end of a date he's so cute hfbhjthf. as your relationship progresses he will definitely hug and cuddle you a lot more. he's like a big teddy bear, he loves that type of affection!

he's such a puppy, all he wants to do is just make you laugh and smile. it would mean a lot to him if you share his type of humour and get his jokes, and especially appreciates it when you join in on his jokes, playing off each other. you guys are a funny duo

he loves to hold your hand idk there's something about how your hand perfectly slides in to fit with his. he just finds it adorable! also he totally compares hand sizes like all the time. he gets all giggly and say stuff like "you're hand is so tiny" when really its just his hands being massive lol

will randomly just whisk you up into his arms and dance with you in the middle of the living room. like it would be totally out of the blue but you guys will just be smiling and giggling together like two idiots in love <33333

yunho is kind of traditional when it comes to romantic relationships. he'll do cliche stuff that you find really adorable. even if its just simple things like getting you a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates each time he picks you up for a date. or wanting to go on an evening stroll with you after your date, arm-in-arm as you talk to each other. will totally give you his jacket if he sees you so much as a shiver, he doesn't want his baby to be cold now does he

you guys very rarely get into arguments, and a lot of people admire you as a couple for that. but this means that when you guys do get into an argument, it is about something more serious. he gets really concerned when you're upset with him and will probably take some time to himself just to think things through. usually, you guys resolve your arguments by just sitting and talking things out

but like i said, these arguments very rarely happen. and this might be because yunho is good at reading your emotions. sure he's a cute and funny sort of boyfriend, but he puts a special effort in to know your wants and needs. if he sees you are upset or stressed about something, he will try to distract you or make light of the situation with some witty remarks, trying to put a smile back on your face

can be quite protective (in a very balanced way.) he will make sure you have gotten home safe from work or will walk you back from your date if its dark. if he sees someone mistreat you or speak for you disrespectfully he will wrap his arm around your waist and make a snide remark at the person. he will probably ask if you want to leave if things escalate

dates with him would include:

fancy restaurant - restaurant dates are his go-to. as i said before, he's traditional! being the classy gentleman he is, he will like to treat you to these dates every now and then. he always keeps an eye out for different restaurants to go with you

video game dates - he just loves playing video games with you. will patiently teach you the controls on how to play. he gets hella competitive though; he's not gonna go easy on you! gets all pouty if you beat him tho

movie nights - you will have a designated night where you guy will just order a takeaway and watch a movie together (usually on fridays or the weekends when both of you are less busy)

so yeah, bf yunho is a keeper. would definitely recommend!

#jeong yunho #yunho #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #atz fluff #atz #kpop #fluff #requested #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

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streamafterlaughter · 11 months

Text

Fundamental Differing

Chapter XIV: Away To Nowhere Plains

nav | master list | playlist | pin board | chapter XIII

summary: a welcome home party in hawkins, a break from the whirlwind of rock n roll fame.

tags/warning: flirting, consumption of alcohol, weed, swearing, normal chill stuff nothing insane, LOTS of use of Y/n sorry guys nicknames are for couples!!!!! slow burn, mutual pining, tension as per usual

a/n: I MISSED YOU GUYS. i’m so sorry this took so long to update, i was following paramore around the east coast for a few weeks like a crazy person. should be posting waaaay more regularly now. please enjoy! Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. please reblog and comment to support the author!

—

December 1986

You rub the sleep from your eyes as you wake, Eddie’s pretty face slowly coming into focus. “Hey, sleepyhead. How’re you feeling?” His voice is soft, soothing to your ears.

“Better this time around. I think you chased the nightmare off, I dreamt of you instead.” You weren’t planning on telling him, you blame your fatigue for the confession.

“Yeah? Was it hot?” He jokes, and you bite your bottom lip because yeah, it definitely was. “It was, wasn’t it?!” Eddie hops out of bed and starts pacing the floor. “Let me guess, we were somewhere cool, like the woods. We were camping! Yeah, and you forgot your tent, so we had to share, and bing bang boom we’re waking up the wildlife.” He looks back to you, eager for your confession.

You cackle at his guess. “Not even close, man. You were a fucking rockstar. Got up on stage at The Garden, and everyone was there for you. Kicked some fucking ass, might I add.” You leave the part where you jumped on stage out, not wanting to give Eddie any ideas for future Corroded Coffin shows.

“Can I tell you something?” He plops back down next to you, shaking the bed. “Remember the party? When you told me the band could be something, and I told you that was never really the plan?” You nod, and he sighs, “Well. I was lying. It’s been the only thing I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid. What you said meant a lot to me, and I wanted to believe you, but we’d just met, and I wasn’t sure if you were being serious or if you wanted to get in my pants.” He grins, and you know he’s joking.

“It was both, obviously!” You backhand him, and he fakes being hurt. “But mostly the former, I really meant it. I do mean it! You’re talented, you’ve got a great group of friends.”. You open your arms, and he scoops you into his, wrapping his legs around your waist like a koala. He mumbles something into your neck, sounding embarrassed. “What was that?”

He removes his head from your shoulder. With his legs still curled around you, he grasps you by the shoulders, as if to steady your already unmoving frame. He looks deeply into your eyes, and though he looks exhausted, he is absolutely stunning. You fight everything in you to jump him there, forget about a night out with friends, and just ravage the boy in your arms all night instead.

“I love you.”

You swear your heart stops. In fact, you are definitely dead. You died, flew into some deluded version of Catholic Heaven where you get everything you want, no consequence. Eddie tries to read your expression, and you hope to god he can because you sure don’t know what the fuck to feel. “You don’t have to say it back, in fact, don’t. Not yet. But I mean it.”

“I-“ Eddie cuts you off with a kiss, and you let him. You close the tiny gap between his chest and yours, and kiss him to convey all the feelings your words aren’t capable of.

“Now, put on something sexy, we’re going out tonight.” Eddie rolls off of you, snatching his towel from his chair on the way out of the room.

Holy shit.

Your POV

“Is anyone here to pick us up?” You ask, linking your arm with Steve’s as you exit into the terminal. The airport is bustling with families on their way to Disneyworld and Martha’s Vineyard for their summer vacations, meanwhile you’re about to spend a week in one of the most traumatizing towns of your young adulthood.

“Yeah, Nance and Jonathan are- and speak of the devil!”

Nancy and Jonathan approach from the other side of your gate, and you take off running. Nance catches you in her embrace, squeezing you tightly as you fall into her arms. “Hi, baby!” You squeal, keeping your old friend close.

“Hi, honey! It’s so nice to see you!” When she lets you go, you move to hug Jonathan as Robin and Steve say their hellos. Eddie and the guys are further back, sending waves to them. Nancy doesn’t accept that, though, and throws herself into Eddie. “Hey, Ed.” She mumbles into his shoulder.

Eddie’s POV

“Hey, Nance. Long time.”

“Too long!” She separates herself from him and backhands his chest. “Visit more!”

Eddie scoffs. “Hey, you’re in Boston now, don’t give me that shit!”

“Sure, but I come home every summer. I know you’re big and famous, but this is still your home!”

“How is the big guy?” He’s talking about Dustin, eyes betraying a glimpse of who Eddie used to be.

“He’s good. He misses you. We didn’t tell him, or any of them actually, that you were coming.” Nancy’s shy, suddenly.

“Because we weren’t sure if you actually were.” Jonathan explains, and Eddie nods, pressing his lips together. It makes sense, he’s made plenty of empty promises to visit already, only finally pulling himself together because of you.

“But you did! You came! Both of you came, which is even crazier. But it’s great! We’re having a party tonight, Steve’s hosting, we can all drive over together.” Nancy blurts, her mind moving faster than her mouth can.

“A party?” You ask, voice raising an octave higher than it usually sits. You sound nervous.

“Well, what us casual folk consider a party. You guys will probably see it as a pathetic attempt at one.”

“Oh, please!” Steve interjects, “My parties are never pathetic. I was the king!”

Eddie groans dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, man. We know, you peaked in high school.”

“I did not.” Steve crosses his arms, and your laugh draws Eddie’s attention back to you.

“I for one would love a Hawkins style party.” You add finally, a real smile spread across your face. “It’ll be nice to see everyone.”

Nancy nods, taking your carry on from your grasp. “Great! Let’s get you settled.”

“Did you book us a hotel? Eddie asks, surprised. That’s above any level of friendship he’s had with these two specifically.

They both laugh. “A hotel? You’re staying with us!” Oh, fuck.

—

Your POV

“So, my parents happen to be away for the week you’re all here,” Nancy starts, unlocking the door to her childhood home, a building that housed many a party, many a D&D game. “so we have it to ourselves! The couches up here and downstairs, the guest room, and obviously Robin and Y/n will be sleeping with me, to catch me up on the Hollywood Gossip.” Nancy winks at you, and you smile. You’ve missed her, missed Hawkins, despite everything.

“When are the kids getting here?” You ask. You mean Max, specifically. You owe her some money. Eddie and the guys make their way downstairs before Nancy answers,

“They’re at Dustin’s, they’ll be over later today. Something about needing to catch up on the news?”

You bring your palm to your face. “Shit. I was gonna tell you over drinks, lots and lots of drinks, but uh, there’s a rumor flying around that Eddie and I are, y’know,” You trail off, fidgeting like an embarrassed child.

Nancy brings her manicured hand to her open mouth, quick to hide her pity. (It doesn’t work.) “Oh, god. Are you? Sorry, that was rude. How are you handling it?”

You laugh, unfazed by her curiosity. “I don’t really know what we are right now,”

“So you’re something?” She smirks.

You roll your eyes. “We’ll always be something.”

She shrugs, a truce. “What are you gonna tell them? Tell Dustin? You know how he gets.”

You shake your head. “That’s Eddie’s problem.”

Nancy chirps a laugh, placing your suitcase at the end of her bed, and Robin’s backpack beside it. “Fair enough. But didn’t Max bet you the break up wouldn’t last?”

You snort, “Yeah, I owe the kid fifty bucks.”

“If I’d known we were putting money on it, I’d be freaking rich!” Robin teases, and you try to smother your grin. She’s right, she’d been betting on you and Eddie reconciling for the past two years.

“Sorry, Bob. Ya snooze, ya lose!”

“Speaking of snoozing, I need a nap before this party. Pretty sure I broke my neck on the plane.”

Nancy rouses you and Robin from your slumbers gently, shaking your shoulders while whispering that “It’s time to get up, rockstars!” The time on her old alarm clock blinks 4:15PM, both you and Robin had slept the day away. You take your time getting up, stretching your limbs slowly as your eyes adjust to the sunlight, streaming through the blinds. Your stomach growls loudly, and Nancy chuckles. “Pizza’s on the way! We’ll eat before we go to Steve’s. For now, though, go get dressed. Remember your bathing suits!” She’s in Mom mode, taking care of you and Robin while running around like a crazy person.

You dig through your suitcase, coming up empty handed. “I don’t have a bathing suit.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Yes you do!” She takes your suitcase from you, pulling out the skimpy bikini from beneath your piles of clothing. It’s black with cherries on it, and teeny tiny. You bite your lip in embarrassment. It’s a cute bikini, but it’s super inappropriate to be wearing around the kids.

Robin seems to read your mind, though. “They’re all adults now, y/n. You don’t need to walk around in a mumu. Plus,” she wiggles her eyebrows teasingly, “we both know who’ll love this number.”

You groan, snatching the fabric from her grip. “Fine! But you have to wear your yellow one. I’m not gonna be the only one walking around almost-naked.”

She giggles, agreeing. “Doesn’t bother me!” She finds her suit in her backpack and leaves the room to let you change.

Eddie’s POV

“So, why are we staying here if we’re having the party at your place?” Eddie asks before biting into his pizza.

“Because Nancy insisted on staying here, but she can’t host a party to save her life. Plus, I have a pool.”

“Your parents have a pool. You live in a tiny apartment in Seattle with two other people.”

Steve shoves Eddie’s shoulder. “Man, shut up. At least I have friends to live with.” Eddie’s face falls, and Steve notices immediately. “I’m sorry. That was too far.”

He shrugs. “It’s alright, you’re not exactly wrong.” He’s glad he’s not home right now, it gets lonely there. The thought of seeing all of his friends again, though, is still overwhelming him. He has no idea what he’ll say to Dustin, or worse, what Dustin will say to him.

Before Eddie can panic further, though, you and Robin enter the kitchen. You’re in shorts and a tight black t-shirt, the strings of your bikini visible underneath. Your short hair is clipped to keep it out of your face, the vibrant color having faded since the beginning of the tour. You send a small smile his way, melting Eddie’s insecurities, even temporarily. He can’t seem to peel his eyes from you as you walk over to the counter, helping yourself to a slice of pizza. He has to fight the urge to walk over to you, wrap his arms around your waist, rest his head on your shoulder. It practically pains him, when you’re out of his reach.

“Eds?” You snap him out of his trance, waving a hand in front of him.

“What?” He shakes his head, as if to rid the image from his brain. “Sorry.”

You grin shyly, and Eddie could melt at the sight. “I asked if you’re ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m all set.”

Your smile widens, and you hold your hand out for him. He takes it, expecting you to drag him out to the car, but you pull him hooking, hooking your arm around his. “Okay, then. Shall we?”

He can feel the eyes of the room on the pair of you, his cheeks warming. You don’t seem to notice, only looking up at him, your eyes shiny and warm.

Mere hours later, Steve’s parents’ house is full and loud, music bumping through the surround sound speakers. Eddie’s in the kitchen nursing a beer when Dustin enters. He’s grown taller and more muscular since the last time Eddie’s seen him, and the beginnings of a beard pepper his face, making him look more like a man than the last time he’d seem the boy. Susie’s on his arm, smiling kindly when she meets Eddie’s eyes. “You wanna drink, Dusty?” She asks sweetly, and Dustin nods. She exits the kitchen, leaving the boys alone.

“What’s up, Dusty?” Eddie tries to joke, extending his hand for Dustin to shake. He swats it away, instead pulling Eddie into a much needed hug.

“Hey, Eddie.” His greeting is muffled by Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie returns the hug without shame, wrapping his arms around Dustin’s shoulders. The two stay like that, long lost brothers seeing each other for the first time in years.

“Missed you, man.” Eddie finally says when Dustin breaks the hug, holding Eddie at arm’s length. “You're lookin’ great.”

“I’ve been hittin’ the gym a little, check this out,” Dustin flexes a bicep, the beginnings of muscle protruding from his arm. Eddie chuckles, nodding an approval.

When the small talk dies, neither speaks at first, unsure of where to take the conversation besides the elephant in the room. “How’s tour treating you?” Dustin finally asks, taking a seat at the kitchen island. Susie returns with two sodas, handing one to Dustin and sipping the other.

Eddie shrugs, taking another sip of his beer. “It’s been alright, pretty standard stuff.”

Dustin chuckles, and the sound is deeper than Eddie’s used to. “Standard, huh? Touring with the ex love of your life?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Right to the point, huh?”

“Obviously, man! I haven’t seen you in years, and the one time you come back, it’s with all this new information I’m not aware of! You know I hate being out of the loop!”

“I know, and I owe you a lot of information. Trust me, I wanna tell you everything,” Before Eddie can continue, you’re stumbling into the kitchen, giggling drunkenly with Robin as you wobble to the coolers in the corner.

“Hi, boys! Oh my god, it can’t be. Is that Dustin freaking Henderson?!” You gasp dramatically, pulling a big smile from Dustin as he approaches you. You swing your arms around his neck, having to get on tiptoes now to reach him. He wraps his arms around you, and you sway as you hug him tightly.

“Hey, Y/n.” He greets warmly, then releases you to hug Robin with the same welcoming arms. “Hi, Bob.”

“Hey, buddy.” Robin hums, rubbing Dustin’s back as she hugs him closely.

“Sorry to interrupt, I know you guys have a lot of catching up to do. But we’re about to play chicken, and I need a partner.” You look from Dustin to where Eddie is, leaning against the counter, opening his fourth beer of the night.

“What, me?”

You roll your eyes. “Obviously, silly. C’mon! It’ll be fun.” You’re wasted, eyes glazed over and posture loose. It’s impossible to say no to you.

“I’ll be out in a second.”

“Okay!” You sing, hooking your arm through Robins again. The two of you exit the kitchen, into the back yard. Eddie can’t look away as you peel your shirt over your head, revealing a tiny black bikini top.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Munson.” Dustin taunts as Eddie pulls his stare from your silhouette.

“What are you talking about?”

“Seriously? You can’t tell me that is how friends look at each other,” He mimicks Eddie, staring open mouthed at the wall, eyes wide and unblinking. “It’s pathetic!”

“This is why I haven’t come back here, Henderson.” Eddie teases, backhanding the kid’s stomach. “Can’t deal with your know-it-all bullshit.”

Dustin snorts a laugh. “Hey, man, I'm just callin’ it like I see it.”

Your POV

You dip your toes into the cool water while you wait, letting the feeling contrast with the alcohol induced warmth of your body. You feel a presence sit next to you, another pair of feet meeting yours under the water.

“Hey, kiddo.” You greet her, leaning your head on her shoulder.

“What’s up, big shot?” Max leans her head on yours, her way of hugging you without committing to it. She looks the same, despite being a little taller, and maybe her hair’s gotten a little longer.

“Oh, y’know. Same old.”

She snorts. “Word on the street is you owe me some money.”

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get that to you this week. Nice to see you, too.”

“Hey! It is nice to see you! I haven’t in a while, I’m sorry.” Max wraps her arms around your shoulders. “I missed you, y’know.”

“I missed you too, Maxie. How are things?”

“They’re alright. I don’t live here anymore, that’s a big plus.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods. “Moved out after college, got a place in the city with Lucas. I’ll show you some time this week maybe?”

You nod. “For sure.”

“But enough about my endeavors, how are you? Y’know, with all this shit going on?”

You shake your head. “I dunno, dude. Weird, I guess. Everything’s weird.”

“I take it you and Eddie aren’t officially back together, then?”

“Not exactly. But not, not together. Does that make sense?”

“Not at all. Good to see you two haven’t changed too much.”

You giggle, nudging her shoulder with yours. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, c’mon! You two used to dance around the idea of dating before you started. You think we didn’t notice? I was fifteen, not stupid! It took you so much time to admit you liked each other, then even more time to figure out you needed to break up. Now here we are again, watching Eddie and Y/n tiptoe around their feelings for each other.”

You sigh, the alcohol not letting you fully grasp what she’s saying. “I hate when you’re right.”

She grins smugly. “I know, and I’m sorry. It happens a lot.”

Before you can respond, Eddie throws the screen door open. “Who’s ready to play some chicken?” He’s very drunk, but not in the sad and angry way you’re used to seeing him lately.

Max gives you another grin, and you roll your eyes before getting to your feet. “You’re in for it now, team Scoops.” You point across the pool, where Robin and Steve stand in their bathing suits discussing strategy. Eddie shoves his pants to the ground, revealing a too small pair of swim trunks you're sure have belonged to him since freshman year. He tugs his shirt over his head, discarding it with his pants in the grass. You do your best not to stare at the tattoos scattered on his torso, littering his arms. You refuse to look further than his chest, not risking even a glance at his waist, his hips. Instead of gawking like you want to, you pay close attention to undoing the button of your cutoff shorts, shimmying out of them and tossing them onto the chair beside you.You’re completely exposed, standing only in the tiniest bikini you own because it was the only one you could find before leaving.

As much as you don’t want to draw his attention, the feeling of Eddie’s eyes on your body surges your confidence. Without looking back, you get into the pool, taking each step slowly to adjust to the temperature. It’s fairly warm, and you say a quick thank you prayer. You definitely cannot be walking around with pointy nips right now. Eddie wades in behind you, splashing you in his wake, steps clumsy. Once he’s settled, he turns to face you, squatting so the water reaches his chest.

“You ready, sweetheart?” You try not to seem fazed by his slip. He stopped calling you that after you broke up, and the only times he has since then, he’s apologized for it. Now, though, with his guard down and his judgment obscured, he smirks at you like he knows what he’s just done. You pretend you don’t get it.

“Sure thing, Munson.” No pretty boy, not even this drunk. He’s not yours, not now.

If he notices, he doesn’t let it show, keeping the same expression as he motions you forward. You’ve done this hundreds of times, over the course of the few summers you had in Hawkins. You and Eddie used to drive over on Fridays and stay the weekend with Rob, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan, babysitting the kids and enjoying your time as immature adults while you still could. It feels the same, even after all those years have passed, you’re still in the same small town, with the same group of friends, playing the same stupid games. You climb onto his shoulders, and try not to react when his hands grasp tightly on each thigh, locked on either side of his head.

“Alright, listen up!” Dustin has gathered the rest of your friends beside the pool, while scattered guests you barely remember from your semester in high school crowd around to spectate. “This is Drown The Chicken. The first person to fall off of their partner loses. There will be three rounds, each one five minutes. A shot of liquor will be taken by the loser after each round. If both opponents fail to knock the other off of their partner, a tiebreaker will take place. Today, the tie breaker will be…” He pauses for dramatic effect, and Mike takes the opportunity to slap his legs in a drumroll. “A shotgun race!” The whole backyard cheers, and you groan. The worst thing about these kids being in college, is that they’re too young to realize drinking is not the only thing adults do. It is one of the most fun, though.

“Both members of each team will shotgun a malt beverage of their choosing. First one to finish wins the tiebreaker for their team, and therefore the round! At the end, the losers will have to drink a shot of the winners’ choosing!” The four of you nod in understanding. Regardless, you know you’ll have to drink at some point. “On your mark, get set, GO!” Will clicks his timer, and the party guests start cheering, egging you on. You hear shouts of, “I’ve got ten on Munson and L/n!” and “Kick his ass!” and Robin reaches for you suddenly, catching you off guard. The music is cranked through the speakers, giving the match a soundtrack of Pixies’ Here Comes Your Man. Steve wades toward you, Robin clutching a handful of his precious hair to keep her balance. You take advantage of his winces of “Ouch, Rob, not the hair!” and shove, sending Robin almost entirely backwards. Steve catches her at the last second, wobbling as he tries to keep her out of the water.

“Lucky shot!” Robin shouts, stretching her arms out toward you. You lean back, and Eddie catches you, gripping your thighs tightly on his shoulders. He moves with you, saving your equilibrium, and you stretch towards Robin. The two of you tangle your arms, while the boys below you swat at each other, hurling meaningless insults and taunts. Finally, you gain the advantage, shoving Robin’s shoulder with enough force to send her backwards, slipping quickly from Steve’s grasp. She splashes into the water, submerged up to her neck. “Shit.”

“That’s one for team Hellfire!” Dustin claps his hands loudly as he hands your opponents each a shot, and you giggle as Robin struggles to climb back onto Steve’s back, their skin now slippery with pool water.

“Nice moves.” Eddie cranes his neck, and you meet his eyes. His face is soft with intoxication, his guard lowered. Yours is higher than ever, though, and you look away before he can reel you in any further.

“Round two!” You repeat the motions, this time while Smells Like Teen Spirit blares from the radio, and your former classmates yelling and cheering for their preferred team. Robin catches you by surprise, kicking one of your knees enough to throw you off balance, then shoving you to the side. You topple off of Eddie’s shoulders, into the cool water. You stay there for a second, keeping your eyes closed to avoid looking at Eddie’s surely disappointed expression.

But when you dare to peek through one eye, the other still tightly shut, he’s smiling at you. Not his usual toothy grin, the one he gives to his friends. His smile is soft, lips pressed together as if to stop them from quivering with a rogue giggle.

He’s drunk, you remind yourself. You have to remember he’s drunk.

“What now, Munson?!” Steve sends a splash at Eddie, and he scoffs in mock disgust.

“Boys, please, you’ll have plenty of time to play mermaids after Eddie and I kick your ass.” Eddie giggles as you climb his back, repositioning yourself on top of him. It’s more difficult, now that both of you are soaked from the neck down. Dustin hands you both a shot, Eddie’s whiskey and yours vodka, and you both down them easily.

“Final round, people! This round wins it all! See Max to confirm your bets. Are the teams ready?” The four of you give variations of a confirmation, and Dustin shouts, once again, “On your mark… get set… GO!” You square your body to hold better balance, as Eddie and Steve approach each other slowly. Eddie’s hands grip your thighs tightly, and you hope he can’t feel the heat growing between your legs. Not now.

You continue to dodge and dance around each other, narrowly missing one another as you swing your limbs, stretching and reaching for Robin as Eddie tries to sneak around Steve’s guard. After five long minutes, Dustin startles you with the newly found volume in his voice. “TIME’S UP! WE HAVE A TIE!” You can hear the conflicting emotions of the crowd, probably correlating to their own predictions. “Y’all know what that means!” The four of you sulk as you leave the water, defeated by the dreaded tie breaker.

Lucas passes you each a can and a miscellaneous tool to puncture it with. You’ve barely grown to like beer, even after months of being surrounded by it, but it’s the only thing available that you’re physically able to shotgun. You’ve chosen a Red Stripe, in honor of your teammate.

“The rules of the tiebreaker are as follows: You will puncture your can when I say go, and you will chug for thirty seconds before opening the top. The first person to finish their beverage wins the tiebreaker for their team. Got it?” Eddie groans a confirmation, while you and Robin nod and Steve taps each side of his face lightly to psych himself out. Dustin counts you off again, and you each stab your cans, quickly rushing the liquid into your mouth. Will counts from 30 out loud as he watches the timer, and the crowd is eerily quiet, focused on the race in front of them.

“30! Crack ‘em open!” You do as you’re told, quickly snapping the tab of the can to relieve the pressure. You can tell you’re slowing down, grossed out by the bread flavored piss water sliding down your throat. Luckily, though, Eddie is devouring his own, his head tilted to make sure he’s getting all of it. The feeling between your legs has returned, and you quickly shoot your gaze to Robin, who’s also struggling to finish her beer. In reality, this is a race between Steve and Eddie, winner takes all. All in this case is bragging rights, and probably a horrible hangover.

Eddie is the first to finish, lifting the can above his head in celebration. Thank god, too, because you definitely shouldn’t consume another shot.

“We have a winner!” Dustin runs between you and Eddie, hoisting each of your wrists to the air as the backyard guests cheer and boo and yell. You chance another look in Eddie’s direction, admiring his whoops of victory as he high fives his bandmates.

Eddie’s POV

It’s 3AM as the party starts to die, and people he’d never spoken to in high school approach him to say their goodbyes. Eddie is pulled into hugs, handshakes, and conversations with his former bullies, and girls that never looked at him twice. Though his eighteen year old self would be relishing in this sudden change, he’s tired. He knows it’s not real, that none of these people even care about his art. They care that he’s famous, and that they know someone famous. But the only person in this room that knows him is behind him, falling asleep on the basement sofa.

“Hey, Y/n?” Eddie is finally able to approach you, after breaking away from another pointless conversation. “You wanna get going?”

Your eyes slide to his face, glassy and warm with inebriation. “Aw, you’re leaving?” You pout, staring up at him, and he could melt. You’d been talking about going home not five minutes ago, but it’s clear your brain has stalled.

“Only if you wanna. We can stay as long as you want.”

“I can come with you?”

He can't help but laugh, you’re so cute like this, so soft. “Of course you can.”

“I thought you were sick of me.” Your face slips slightly, lips twitching into a frown.

“What?” Eddie shifts so his whole body faces you. “I could never be sick of you.”

You shrug, clearly not understanding the gravity of his words. “I dunno, we’ve been in close quarters since tour started, I don’t mind giving you space if you need it.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to feel his own drunken insecurity surface. “Are you sick of me?” It’s barely a whisper, but you hear him.

Your eyes widen quickly, shocked at his words. “No! Eddie, of course not.”

“Okay, good.” He flashes you what he knows is an unconvincing smile. “You wanna go home?”

You shake your head. “Can we go for a walk?”

Predictably, you end up back at Hawkins High, the parking lot pitch black in the buzz of a summer night. Even looking at it, Eddie feels the chill of his memories washing over him. This is where he was stuck for six years, where Steve had shoved him into a locker their freshman year, where Jason Carver had made his final senior year miserable. It is the building that harbors Eddie’s darkest thoughts, where the seed of his shame had sprouted from. Where he had to deal with Chrissy’s death, and being framed for it.

But it was also where he met you. Where he’d introduced you to some of his closest friends, where he sat with you at lunch every day, dancing around each other until after midterms. As much as Eddie still hates to admit it, and as horrendously tacky as it sounds, high school is where he’d fallen in love.

Eddie lets his eyes wander in the darkness, knowing you won’t catch him in your hazy state. Your arms hang limply by your sides as you stare up at the school building, seeming to admire it. He wonders how being here must make you feel, as someone that left as soon as they could. It hadn’t been easy for you either, restarting your entire social life in your senior year.

“Do you ever miss it?” Your words catch him off guard, your voice almost inaudible even in the quiet.

“Hell no,” He scoffs, and feels you shift beside him. “I spent way too much extra time here to even think of missing it.”

“Okay, maybe not the actual, physical place. But, don't you miss how easy it was?”

“You’re joking, right? We fought an underground of Hell Monsters, Y/n, that wasn’t what I’d call easy.”

You groan, and he chuckles at your drunken frustration. “Christ, okay, I mean how small our world was, before all that hell monster shit. We didn’t have to worry about people outside of Hawkins, outside of the little bubble of our friends.”

“And you miss that?” He’s genuinely curious. You had always been looking to move, spread out beyond the small town your parents dragged you to. He never expected you to miss it.

You shrug. “Sometimes, yeah. Despite everything that happened, I was happy here. I had a home.”

Eddie’s vision blurs with the implication of your words. Of course, you’d had a physical home, but you'd also had him. And Steve, Robin, Nance, the kids. You’d never had a solid friend group in Boston.

“I miss parts of it,” He finally confesses, turning his head to fully look at you again. “Some more than others.”

You look for him, finding his eyes easily in the dark, and he adjusts quickly to see you better.

“You think things will ever be that easy again?” There’s a hint of optimism in your voice, and it begs him to join it, just for a second.

“I really, really hope so.”

Your POV

Somehow, you and Eddie find your way back to Steve’s, tiptoeing clumsily through the front door to a mass of passed out Hawkins alum. Steve is sprawled on the couch, while Dustin and Mike are on the floor beside him. In the basement, Will and El are cleaning the empty bottles and red solo cups from the absolutely destroyed basement, bobbing and weaving around members of Corroded Coffin and DDA, and they inform you Lucas and Max have gone back to Nancy’s already. Upstairs, the rest of your friends are in respective bedrooms, sleeping to prepare for their unavoidable hangovers.

“There’s one room left.” Eddie leads the way to Steve’s parents’ bedroom, the only one left untouched by party guests.

You peel the heavy comforter back, shimmying off your shorts, so tired and so absolutely plastered at this point, you don’t realize he’s watching as you untie your bikini top, letting it fall to the floor.

“Whoa! Um,” Eddie spins himself to face the window, losing his balance as he does. Even though he can’t see you, he still smacks his hands over his eyes. “I, uh, I’m gonna go find a spot on the floor.” He begins to sidestep towards the door, still refusing to look at you without a top on.

“Eddie,” You know the alcohol is making you flirty, and you’ll probably regret this tomorrow, but fuck it. You’re on vacation. You tug on Eddie’s shoulder, turning him to face you. He keeps his eyes glued to your face, barely blinking, definitely not letting them wander. “Stay here.”

He clears his throat, wincing. “Y/n,” Your pout cuts him off. “What’s that face for?”

“It’s weird, hearing my name out of your mouth. It was always sweetheart. Or baby, or pretty, or love. Now I’m just Y/n.” Your words slur together, exhaustion taking hold. You let your fingers dance up his bare arm, his shirt still somewhere in Steve’s yard. Still not daring to move his eyes from your face, he has an answer almost immediately.

“You’re not just Y/n, you’re Y/n! The Y/n, actually, a songwriting, vocalizing, rockstar badass. I’ve seen it firsthand.”

“Well then, the Y/n wants the Eddie Munson in bed with them.” It’s a bold choice of words, but you don’t care. You need him right now, even through the thick fog of the liquor.

“I want to, you have no idea how badly i want to, Y/n, I promise you that,”

“Then why won’t you?”

“Because I shouldn’t. I can’t.” He’s blunt. There is no arguing, he’s made up his mind.

And still, you prod him with inquiries. “Is it because we’re drunk? Because I trust you. I know you wouldn’t hurt me, Ed.”

He sighs, his hand finally moving to caress your burning cheek. “It’s because we’re drunk, but not because I'm scared of hurting you. I can’t let our first time together in two years be something you’ll regret tomorrow, but I also can’t chance either of us forgetting it.” He says it quietly, like he’s had the volume on himself turned down. You’ve heard him anyway, but it takes you a second to digest what he’s said.

“Okay,” You accept his answer, and before he can turn to leave you add, “Can you just sleep next to me?”

Eddie hesitates for a second, searching your expression. He must find an answer, because he nods. “Okay, sweetheart. But I gotta have you put a shirt on. For my own sake.”

You giggle, the satisfaction of hearing your nickname making you malleable to his words, nodding in agreement. Eddie exits the bedroom, and returns a bit later with a piece of fabric in his hand. His shirt. Of course it’s his shirt, what was he gonna do, give you Steve’s to sleep in?

You’re surrounded by his smell, his warmth, instantaneously. You crawl into the king sized bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. You hear Eddie’s pants drop to the floor, before he climbs into bed, hoisting the covers to slide underneath them. You scoot back, and he knows now to wrap his arm around your waist, without the weird hesitation and awkward shuffling before you give up for the sake of comfort. Eddie rests his face behind your neck, the warm exhale of breath tickling your skin.

“Goodnight, baby.” He mumbles into the fabric of your-slash-his shirt, and your body vibrates with glee.

“Goodnight, baby.”

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