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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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ೀ⋆OCT 16TH CLUELESS ━━ megumi fushiguro + step-cest !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. megumi fushiguro + step-cest. are you totally buggin’ or is your college-goer, goody two shoes step-brother kinda into messing around with you? (7.6K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, dark content, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, enemies to lovers (?), step-cest, photos, videos, fingering, choking, praise kink, panty sniffing, body worship, riding stuffed animals, daddy kink, soft sex, unprotected sex, bimbo-ish + fem!reader, step-brother!megumi fushiguro.

୨୧ — director’s note. lets gooo another kinktober installment! i actually haven't written for megumi in ages and this is kinda long so...i hope this is okay? sorry this is late btw, please enjoy! <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

let’s get one thing straight.

not all daddy’s girls are dumb.

on the contrary, you’re actually highly intelligent and thoroughly educated — graduating at the top of every single one of your classes in high school, despite negotiating a fair portion of your grades with your teachers. after school, however, you couldn’t quite figure out what you wanted to do and everyone else you knew spent their time growing up around you. daddy wanted you to go to college, get your degree so you could find your footing in the world…he would even pay for it too.

but like every other twenty-something year old girl your age, you were completely and utterly clueless about the direction you wanted to take.

perhaps that was the reason as to why your step-brother, megumi, annoyed you so much. indoctrinated into your family unit of two (yourself and your father, of course) — megumi had joined you to play happily-family when his mother married your father. their fast-paced union didn’t last long, however, for your parents were quickly divorced by the new year…and apparently, you can only divorce people. not children. meaning that your older step sibling had decided he would much rather stick around for the long haul.

it could even be said that megumi fushiguro was an even bigger daddy’s boy (or kiss ass) than you were a daddy’s girl. he went to college on daddy’s money, ate on daddy’s money and got jobs using daddy’s money and power. now, he’s some big time hot shot at an environmental law firm and it irks you just how much your father is pushing for you to be just like megumi. in everybody’s eyes, your step brother was the picture perfect child, an example to follow, a fine gem.

and since your father liked that so much; likes how responsible and diligent megumi is — it would explain why your older step-brother could get away with sneaking up on you in your own house (favourite child privileges). “what are you all dressed up for?” the husky lilt to his deep voice sends shockwaves through your system and a shiver down your spine, making you jump away from the fridge you’re rummaging through.

“a party.” you say frigidly. the dark haired male makes a face and you roll your eyes at him in a disapproving manner. as if megumi was in any position to judge you for your plans and late night endeavours. he was a boring old college student clinging to his younger step sister whilst you were doing society a favour and helping your friend get together with the guy she liked.

it’s what you do! helping the less fortunate instead of studying for some boring piece of paper and graduate degree.

you were such a good person.

turning away from the cool air and dull hum of the fridge freezer, you tuck a few juices to be used as mixers for the party into your bag — ignoring the heaviness of your step brother’s admiral blue gaze as it slips over the curve of your waist, the expanse of your thighs and the bounce of your chest peeking out from your skimpy little get up. it’s funny, how you’ve never liked the way boys have looked at you in the past — but something about the way he drinks you in as if you’re the last glass of water on the plant makes your legs shaky and your breath turn short and…

“can i come?”

with his lips pressed into a thin line and his emotions hidden behind the perfect mask of his perfect face — megumi slams the fridge door shut, to make you squeak again. his brows raising expectantly while he waits for your answer. “a-as if fushiguro.” you huff in annoyance, jabbing the older step-sibling in his shoulder as he towers over you. “aren’t you too old for house parties? i wouldn’t want you to cramp my style.”

“i’m not that much older than you.” he laughs, it’s melodious sound sending a warmth through your body.

rolling your eyes, you snap back. “you’re old enough.”

you make yourself small as you pass by him, attempting to escape his suffocating presence. he makes you feel weird, and you don’t exactly hate it — sure megumi is annoying, snarky and a little mean but he’s… attractive, like next level attractive. he’s got those dreamy sea-storm eyes that make you feel as though you’ll die and go to heaven, a sexy smirk that gets you hot and bothered even if it’s not directed at you. all of your friends have had crushes on your step brother at some point, ones that cause jealousy to brim just under the surface of your skin, pricking you like a thousand tiny needles. your jealousy totally doesn’t have anything to do with you trying to hook your friend up tonight by the way (lying to yourself makes you feel better).

however, feeling this way about megumi is wrong, nowhere near normal. anybody could have told you that — it’s just that your family relationships make things complicated and you don’t want to make this weird between you both. you’d never admit it, but you do enjoy the back and forth sibling-like banter the two of you have. would ruining that be worth it? even if your step-brother was like…everything you’d ever wanted in a guy; not like those snot-nosed, unhygienic, monkey-brained losers you used to go to school with.

instead, megumi was smart, established and with his future practically set in stone. maybe that’s why you picked on him, why you acted like a spoiled brat whenever he was around, why you pretended to despise his every existence and wish he’d never become a part of your family. because megumi constantly reminds you of your failures or what your future could be if you put your mind to it and actually tried.

“maybe, college guys like me wouldn’t seem like such losers if you actually gave furthering your education a shot,” your step brother cuts through your thoughts, stalking behind you with his hands in his pockets as you leave the kitchen and head towards the foyer — getting ready to head out for the party. “just do what your daddy wants, angel. go to college, get your degree so he can get off my back and you can be smart like me. yeah?”

“and why would i listen to you?” there’s nothing you can do to shake him — your older step brother tailing you as if he’s your own personal guardian. he stops walking when you stop walking, bumping into your back, while a shocked whimper lays flat on the seam on your lips.

megumi passes you a jacket (which you slide on by yourself) whilst he chuckles again, the sound rumbling in his chest and through your body pressed hotly against his. “‘cause i’m your big brother.” his voice is almost scolding, playfully so, holding a darker tone that you almost recognise as lust whole his larger-than yours hands force their way down to the fat at your waist. “now c’mere, let me fix your outfit. can’t have you goin’ out like this…” megumi squeezes your hips, using his grip on them to spin you around so that you can face him.

you expect him to tell you to cover up more — that your pretty white dress is too short and that you’re too promiscuous. what you don’t expect is for the dark haired male to sink to his knees before you, soft and attentive fingers sliding up your inner leg to fix your thigh-highs as that have slipped down. you barely manage to choke back a needy moan.

he doesn’t let up on the eye contact either; only serving to fog up your pretty little head. “s-step brother,” you manage to remind him gently, finding your voice.

fushiguro rolls his eyes, poking his tongue into his cheek. “that was your take away, pretty girl?” he doesn’t stop touching you, going as far to peek his head up your skirt — pretending to finish fixing your socks despite the subtle press of his nose against your panties and pinging them against your backside once done fondling you. “there we go, better.”

he even goes as far to pat your bum in accomplishment too.

you feel pathetic for letting your step brother touch you in such a taboo way, failing to push megumi off. but he’s never been so bold and you’ve never wanted him more — craving megumi through an insatiable burning in your chest. there’s always been a sexual tension brewing between you both, fuelled by your banter, your rage and mischievousness but how could you act on it?

megumi was practically family. your family. it would be weird. you couldn’t be anything more without crossing the line of what’s deemed acceptable and what isn’t for step siblings. you have to remember who he is to you, an older brother, a menace to your friends who crush on him and someone who had called you selfish once upon a time.

finally snapping back to reality, you force yourself away from the tendrils of your step-brother’s grip — swiping your purse from the entryway table and storming towards the door. “you’re buggin’ gumi!” you squeak from the porch. “stop being weird a-and stay out of my room!”

the door slams harshly as you vacate the property in favour of the party, practically running down the steps with a rapid shake of your head. doing anything you can to rid yourself of all thoughts concerning the enigma that is your older step brother.

the party doesn’t help, and instead ends up a total disaster.

your plan to set your friends up completely falls apart when your ex-best guy friend decides to make a move on you on the way home and drops you off in the middle of nowhere after rejecting him. to top it off, some asshole robs you for your fendi purse at a gas station and makes you lie down on the ground in your matching designer dress!

the whole ordeal nearly reduces you to tears and forces you to call the one person you’d been trying to forget about all night. megumi.

he picks you up without a word of protest, but you swear that you can feel his disappointment radiating off of him in thick, asphyxiating waves. “please don’t tell daddy,” you had sniffed, eyes big and teary. and megumi can’t bring himself to blame you or to be mad at you because you’re so sweet and sensitive and a little too good for this world. that and you have no idea how much seeing you cry fucks with his head.

“you’re a smart girl, baby.” he’d replied softly — though his eyes were hard and his grip on the steering wheel even harder, indicated by the white of his knuckles. “you shouldn’t be messing around in places like this. it’s exactly why you should be in college.”

like the good big (step) brother he is, fushiguro sneaks you back into the house without a word to your watchful father. instead, he spends the rest of the night comforting you with silly cartoons to heal your inner child. deep down, it means a lot — usually the two of you would argue over control of the remote, and he would always win. this time, megumi lets you be.

“i don’t think i’m cut out for college,” you sigh after a moment’s silence, ren and stimpy providing the backing track to your vocalised thoughts. “‘m not much aside from my pretty face.”

fushiguro rolls over so that you lay side by side, nudging you with his elbow playfully. “what would you do instead?”��

“i dunno,” growing bashful, you tuck your face into your shoulder — afraid that he might laugh. “start a fashion business, give people make overs? i think i’m good at that.”

“you’re good at a lot of things, angel. and making people feel god about themselves is one of them,” rather than belittling your dreams, tearing them down like you’d expect — megumi encourages you, flashing you a small yet supportive smile. “you take care of people.”

flustered by his praise, you lean into megumi’s side — playing footsie with him at the end of your bed shyly. “you’re better at taking care of me, though.” you whisper, nearly missing the way his eyes drop to your lip-gloss smudged lips.

“yeah? s’what big brothers are for, right?” he whispers back, a breath’s width away from your lips, nose inches away from nudging yours as if he’s going to kiss you. he wouldn’t be your step-brother if he wasn’t so full of annoying surprises, instead of pulling you into a lip lock — megumi grasps at the remote on your other side in an attempt to change the channel to something more boring and scholarly.

you protest in the form of a sibling play fight causing you both to roll around in the sheets — fighting for the remote or perhaps dominance over the sexual tension that thickens the air. heat rises throughout the room and your wrestling turns to megumi pinning you to your babyish pink sheets, straddling your waist. he grips your wrists, clasping them together between his large, veiny hands and forces them above your head.

everything happens so quickly, yet so slowly and all at once. one moment you’re fighting like siblings do and the next — megumi fushiguro is finally kissing you, tongue lapping at the crack between your parted lips from where you’ve gasped in shock. tasting every ounce and every essence of the remainder of your gloss, breathing weightily into your mouth as if it’s a relief to have it pressed against his own. you swallow everything he gives you and drink up his saliva as it pools into your mouth to the point where your head spins and you feel like he’s spiked you with arousal.

this is wrong, on so many levels. as if you would ever make out with your step brother. but this isn’t some kind of twisted dream, it’s a reality you find yourself basking in. you pull megumi onto you by the roots of his dark hair, mewling each time your lips slot together perfectly and whining when his hips start to jut down to meet the softness of your tummy. or when his large hands push and pull at sensitive parts of your body.

“you’re nothin’ like those college girls.” he tells you once you break apart for air. megumi’s nose nudges your cheek and his kisses dive lower into the crook of your neck while he waits for you to catch your breath. “you’re softer, prettier, you’re—“

he lets go of your wrists.

tilting your head back into your plush pillows, your shaky fingers tangle in the dark, unruly curls of your step brother’s baby hairs. “i’m what?” you tease through a series of pretty little moans, like music to megumi’s ears. you feel him twitch against your inner thigh and the temperature of his body spikes to a sweltering degree.

“perfect.” his rough tongue swipes over your prominent collarbones and over the fabric of your dress, slipping under the crevice where your breasts meets your rib cage. using his teeth, fushiguro pulls down your dress until it inches off of your shoulders, revealing more of your skin marked with scars, beauty and stretch marks. it comes off easily, exposing you to a pair of hungry, murky blue eyes. the dress remains bunched at your middle.

you must be tripping out — you’ve never seen this look in your step brother’s eyes before. he stares up at you, lips swollen and breath ragged, as if you’re the last meal on earth he’ll ever get to taste. the sexual tension was never obvious to you, and while you’ve always found megumi weird — it didn’t mean you disliked his company.

“quit staring,” you whine, arching your back into megumi’s touch as it drags across your searing flesh. “it’s weird…you’re making it seem like it’s a bad thing…”

he yanks down the front of your dress, smooths down the valley between your breasts and over your tummy as they rise and fall with each of your baited breaths. “you don’t like it when i look at you, pretty baby?” then suddenly, his thumb slips back over your naked nipple, curling your sensitive areola before applying a gentle pressure that makes you jolt up the bed. “there’s nothin’ bad about you.”

fushiguro’s grip runs down to your sides like an easy stream of water, grasping at any flesh he can while simultaneously pulling your hips up to meet his — slotting perfectly against your body to make sure you can feel how hard he is for you. “i’m not like those college girls you’re usually into…” comes your shaky whisper. “‘m too dumb.”

it’s weird, megumi’s never made you nervous until now.

“no. you’re smart, you’re perfect… you deserve more than the guys that you’re into. you shouldn’t waste your time.”

his steady hands slide over the curve of your ass, dip beneath the hem of your dress to play with your doughy thighs and every note of his praise is sung over your quivering body.

“so what?” you go on, stepping into the dark to explore whatever the fuck this is with your step brother. “i should waste it on college boys like you?”

the tail end of your words are lost in a gasped breath as megumi nudges a knuckle against the crotch of your underwear — chuckling softly at the wetness that pools in the seat of them. “you would be if you came with me.” a sort of sick and twisted expression, morphs on his handsome face. one that’s usually so stoic and unreactive to your whines and mewls. but this version of megumi seems to like watching you squirm, revels in the way your hips buck up on instinct the further he presses his fingers between your sticky, viscous folds. “god, sweetheart. your princess parts are already so wet for me.”

heat flashes across your face, accompanied by the unfamiliar twinge of lust you for megumi you feel buzzing beneath your skin and swirling with the blood in your veins. the way he coos down at you, eyes hooded and tone condescending — it only serves to cloud your judgement and your mind. you shouldn’t be doing this. but you want to. so badly.

“shut up.” you huff and look away, eyes threatening to roll back into your skull as megumi flicks at your clit from over your skimpy panties. the more he plays with you, rubs at his little sister’s cute pussy, the more your thighs twitch apart — revealing the treasure between them to his dirty-minded gaze.

the groan that follows vibrates around in the cavity of megumi’s chest before shooting down to your glistening core as it convulses under his fingertips. “you’ll miss me when i go back, don’t deny it.” he tells you like he knows you, voice horse with growing desire. “you should really come with.”

you scrunch your nose up at his request — of course he would choose now of all times to be annoying and tease you about college. “as if, megumi.” you warn, though it’s hard to stay mad at him when he presses two fingers against your spasming entrance, azure eyes darkening at a stream of your arousal dampens your panties — defining the shape of your puffy folds even more.

“yeah, yeah. i know, baby. not the time, huh?” megumi hums in amusement, gaze flickering up to your face to watch it twist with euphoria as he continues to pinch and rub at your cunt until your chest is heaving. “you want it that bad. wanna be touched so bad. pretty girls like you can’t do anything without their big brothers...” while he rambles over the drool replacing logical words on his tongue, your step brother pulls his hand away from your sex briefly to push past the lace scalloping on your underwear and access your wetness. “all this, ‘cause of me?”

“all ‘cause of you.” you breathe the words out like they’re air and nod shyly at your own admission despite the high pitched, babyish tone. to let your stupid older step brother know how much he affects you is embarrassing, borderline humiliating, but you can’t help but fall into him. megumi rewards you with two fingers stroking their way past the tight ring of your entrance, curling instantly to explore your gummy, oozing walls and locate the exact spots that make you tick.

he presses a chaste kiss to your sweaty cheek, body hunched over your shaky one as if to shield the scandalous sight from the world. his little sister split open on his fingers, drenching him in her scent and her slick as fushiguro scissors them and fucks you silly. “mhm, that’s my girl. so nice for me and my fingers. i like you better this way,” he slurs, long and dark lashes (ones that you’d die for) fluttering against your skin as his digits move faster and faster within your selfish, ribbed walls. “when all you can do is cry and make those pretty noises, instead of being a little brat to me all the time.”

fushiguro pauses his ministrations, forcing you to wriggle and writhe and chase your pleasure for only a moment. “m-megumi!” your hips jut upwards in an attempt to coax some friction out of him, anything on your pulsing clit or against your pleasure spots dotted along your insides. “p-please. fuck, gumi— i need it.”

he only smiles, his thumb finding your clit and his fingers pick up the pace — bearing down on your g-spot with every thrust into your tight heat. “that’s what i like to hear, none of that back talk. just your pretty voice, beggin’ for me.” he sweet talks you over the dirty, lewd and squishy sounds from your thoroughly fucked cunt as they ring out into the sex tainted air. they form a chorus with your hiccups and pathetic bleats for more — and if your body is a choir, megumi fushiguro is the conductor. he guides you to the gates of heaven, feeds you pieces of pleasure from the grapevine of sun and you let him.

because he’s your big (step) brother, and you trust him after all.

“fuck, you’re so pretty. could watch you make a mess of me all night.”

the bricks bliss build up in your lower tummy, cemented together by megumi’s relentless fingers pumping in and out of your slick sex. you’re the perfect vision, a sight to behold — darling gem eyes shiny with tears, tongue tied to the roof of your mouth by strings of saliva and your body doused with a glimmer of perspiration. your step brother can’t help but create a copy of you grinding against his hand on his mind. filing it away for later.

pulling his fingers from your selfish heat, megumi brings his hand down against it in a harsh slap — his entire body shuddering at the surprised wail you let out, and the stream of juices that fly up his arm as a result. “ooh, baby. what a pretty noise you just made.” he laments with a rough voice, soothing over the spank with soft flicks to your swollen clit. “can you do that again for me?”

he doesn’t give you the chance to answer, spanking your pussy again, and again and again until his head is heavy with the sounds of your broken moans and your panties are soaked all the way through — darkened by the running two of your sweet honey nectar that allow his slender fingers to slip back inside you with ease.

they tease at your stimulated walls and push and pull your tight little hole — and you swear you can practically see the stars that line the night sky with every new sensation. fushiguro is in no better state, cock painstakingly hard and straining against the insides of his sweats while his cool midnight eyes drink in the way your hips stutter and struggle to keep up with the pace of his digits inside of you.

“‘gumi… i think i—“ your words escape you, drowned out by your own pussy as it squelches around megumi’s fingers.

he kisses your forehead, contrasting my soft compared to the way he stretches you open and preps you for his cock. “i bet that feets good, huh? you feel like you’re gonna cum.” his tone turns into a mocking one, deep enough to send shivers down your spine and threaten to knock down the wall of mounting pleasure in your lower gut.

tears teeter over the edge of your waterline, streaking a hot path down the apples of your angelic cheeks as your hips lift off the bed — chasing the high only your big brother could give to you. “feels so good, p-please let me cum, ‘gumi.”

you look to him for reassurance and permission, hiccuping as megumi pulls his fingers out of you to trace from your clit and down the length of your juicy slit. pride swirls in his blazing chest when your body jerks at the sensation, hips running after the source of pleasure. you’re such a good little thing, so pliant and naive — following after your step brother no matter what he does to you. maybe you’re right, maybe you’re a little too dumb for college. but it doesn’t matter right now, not with the way your creamy entrance clenched down on fushiguro lovingly, pleading with him to let you cum.

you’re so close and he knows it, he’d have given into you if he weren’t trying to make this last.

“actually, i want you to do something for me.” he stops right before you’re about to burst, dragging his fingers out of your pulsating pussy to smear your wetness across your tummy and thighs.

a babyish blubber bubbles up on the swell of your pouty lips, coated in a layer of salt from your free-flowing tears. “w-what? m-megumi! i was so close!” you say in a petulant manner, squishing your thigh together and trapping his hand between them as if to coax him back into making you cum.

“so spoilt, more like.” your step brother bites back, almost punishing you by removing his body from yours so that he can rid himself off all of his clothes. he tosses them off the bed, but not before pulling his phone from his sweatpants and setting it to the side.

you swallow thickly when his cock springs free and slaps against his washboard abs. megumi is lengthier than he has girth, his balls heavy with an incredulous amount of seed saved up just for you. his tip is pink, almost bright red but coated in a layer of pre that’s no doubtedly smeared along the inside of his sweats but it’s a delicious sight to see nonetheless.

now you really must be bugging. you’re most certainly clueless to have never thought of megumi this way before today.

your throat bobs when he grabs hold of his rock hard shaft, hissing at the first few lazy pumps he gives himself. “i want you to do something for me. then i’ll make you cum.” fushiguro proposes gruffly, locking eyes with you carnally. “put on a show for me princess, ride one of your cute little stuffed animals over there so i can make a memory for when i go back to college.”

his ask doesn’t register in your pretty little head, and megumi figures he might have left you dazed from withholding your orgasm. or maybe you’re distracted by the way in which he fists his cock, spreading webs of milky white up and down his shaft and over his mushroomed tip with each movement. you hardly notice the fact that he’s reached for his phone, setting it to record using his free hand.

“you hear me, pretty… fuck…girl?” he curses in a low moan, squeezing himself.

this time, your attention shoots to his face while your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “y-you want me to… fuck my stuffie?”

you ask megumi so innocently, head tilted to the side like a sweet little puppy dog and he swears he might bust to you right then and there.

“fuck…yes.”

“and you won’t touch me?”

“not until i’m satisfied, princess.”

and like the bratty little sister you are, dress pushed down to your middle and makeup askew, you huff at your step-brother — all while grabbing your favourite and biggest stuffed bear to tuck against the ruined treasure between your thighs.

“you’re so fuckin’ mean, ‘gumi,” you try to keep your cool, but you’re too sensitive — lowering your twitching sex onto the soft toy slowly. “o-oh…”

he angles the camera perfectly to record you, zooming in on your cute little cunt as it slips and slides over the bear with ease.

even beyond the camera, you’re a sight for megumi fushiguro’s sore eyes, each of your curves and dips illuminated by the glistening beads of sweat that roll over the expanse of your skin – catching the low, warm yellow light from up above. he always knew that his little step sister was pretty, practically an angel, but up until now he’d relied soley on his dirty imagination to picture the way you’d look fucking yourself for him. the stuffed toy easily disappears between the meat of your pudgy thighs as you rock back and forth over it, nudging your clit against the nose of the fluffy brown bear.

“feels good, right?” he mumbles lowly, the sound vibrating in his chest. megumi can’t help but be engrossed in your every move, the soft jut of your hips and the bite down on your plump and shiny lips, the way in which your fingers dare to dance up the salacious softness to your curves and skin. “my pretty little thing. i can see why your daddy loves you so much. you’re such a good girl, listening to everything i say.”

megumi’s words waft over your mind like a thick fog of lust, darkening every pure thought you’ve ever had. your whole body twitches at their patronising air, dopamine crackling about in your skull and shooting down to the heartbeat swirling around your fluttering hole. it gushes and gushes, like an endless stream of erotica and glazes over the apex of your thighs like the shin of a sugary treat.

one that makes your step brother’s mouth water with anticipation.

each of your sweet mewls and whistle-tone bleats run through his ears like thick honey, rotting him from the inside out. perhaps that’s what makes megumi so perverted and what makes him crush on his perfect and prim little sister, you’re a fool to have not noticed it before. how he looked at you then and how megumi looks at you now, midnight blue and stormy orbs drowning with lust. your gaze flutters down to his cock, standing tall and flushed against his creamy white skin, neglected as it leaks all over his stomach.

“oh you like that, huh? you shake so much when i talk to you like that.” fushiguro starts to fist his cock faster, matching the speed at which you shakily circle your hips over the poor stuffed animal — panting as it’s fabric darkens with your wetness. “a daddy’s girl through ‘n through.” he teases while you throw it back for his phone.

sure enough, the camera picks up his warm chocolate voice as it coos its praises to you. such a good girl. ride it out princess. all of it fills you to the brim with wanton and desire, makes you crumble before the glaring lense of fushiguro’s phone.

“s-shut up.”

“uh-uh. and you were doing so well,” your step brother sounds almost cruel, reminding you of the reasons you didn’t get along before today. acting like a school boy picking on his crush, being mean to her because deep down he knows that she likes it. that you like it. “don’t be rude baby. put on a show for ‘gumi.”

he takes to palming himself more, precum slinging across his knuckles and down his thighs the more turned on he gets. it clings to every vein on his shaft, spreads to the weight of his balls and no doubt can be heard through the camera since slick and lewd noises of the both of you touching yourselves echo throughout your bedroom. megumi does his best to keep the camera steady, but he can’t help himself — following your movements and thrusting up into his closed fist to mock your pussy while you ride your stuffie for dear life.

you’re still so sensitive, but your big brother can tell you’re trying so hard to keep up for him — fighting off your next orgasm as it builds up strong in your lower belly. you want to please megumi, at the end of the day. a smart girl like you knows “that’s it, keep it movin’ for me…god, you make me wanna cum.”

you pout at the praise, rutting over the face of your stuffed animal as you breath heavy. it feels way too good, you’re overwhelmed by too many senses and megumi watching you spill your juices about the place doesn’t seem to help. dragging a hand up to your bare chest, you tweak your nipples and tug them until a needy squeal dancing on your wobbly bottom lip — doing your very best to please the dark haired college student.

you want him to cum, want him to memorise the way your eyes roll back and your moans and quivers — you feel so beautiful beneath his heavy, desire burdened stare. “m-megumi,” you say for the millionth time that night, squirming before his very eyes while you dream on the nose of your precious toy. “i-i’m close!” your hips burn holding back you release, exhaustion and just intertwining in your veins — combusting in your lungs.

clueless. you were absolutely clueless as to how it would feel falling apart under the caring gaze of someone who loves you so much.

“yeah, pretty girl?” fushiguro hums gently, giving his cock one last squeeze at the base — cutting off the stream of ore that he dribbles from the source. “c’mere, i gotcha.” he shuffles over to you on the bed, catching you before you fall with his lips pressed to your wet babyish cheeks. “i’ll let you cum, but only on my cock. you’ve got to stay good for me, okay?”

nodding timidly, you accept a few more kisses from megumi — the ones that he peppers across your face, before he manoeuvres you onto your side and nestles in right behind you. “say you want me,” the words coast along the back of your neck and your body erupts in goosebumps. his voice will always be like a dragon breathing life into a fire. sure to be careful, megumi lifts one of your thighs and hooks it over his slender waist so that he can better access your sluice sex.

he tugs your underwear to the side with one hand and positions his cock at your entrance, sliding the length of his shaft through the strings of your arousal glueing your pussy lips together. both of you hiss in harmony when his bright red tip grinds messily against your pulsing pleasure bud. your unused hole clenches around nothing, pushing out juices as if to claim megumi.

your head rolls back to rest on megumi’s broad shoulder and you reach a hand behind you to tangle in the dark mass of his sweaty locks — keeping him close. “i need you, ‘gumi. please.” you rasp weakly as his shaft breaches your silken walls, coating him in everything your body has to offer. you spoil megumi, giving him a moment to remember before he leaves for college again.

there’s a delicious residual burn from the way his girth stretches you out causing your cunt so selfishly squeezes down on every inch of your step brother’s milky cock. with a stuttered breath, fushiguro bottoms out until his balls are pressed hotly against your ass and his seedy mushroomed tip is just grazing your womb.

“just what i wanted to hear,” he purrs into the shell of your ear — nipping it tenderly. you blubber softly into the satin pillows, prepped with a fresh set of tears as you push back onto megumi to meet the push and pull of his dick into your tight, creamy sex. “you’ve always needed me, pretty thing. my precious baby sister, relyin’ on me for everything. even this.”

your entire body burns bright with desire for megumi, you’re surprised you’ve gone this long without him before today. maybe you’ve always needed to feel his sticky tip grind against your juicy walls or his hot breath fanning against your shoulders and neck. you’ve always needed your step brother to guide you in the right direction. you’ve always needed megumi.

“f-fuck, g-gumi!”

fushiguro fucks you slow and softly, pouring all of his affections into you — letting it buzz in the sex scented air between your salt slicked bodies. his fingertips leave their paw prints along your tiger striped thighs and soft tummy, he’ll kiss them better later, but for now he just wants you to know how much he’s always needed you. “oh i know pretty girl, i know.” comes megumi’s low, bristling simper — adding to the stacks of pleasure cementing together in your lower tummy. “you’re so good, taking me just right. i’ve always known you’d be good for me.”

your back arches away from the molten centre of your step brother’s chest but he refuses to let you run from him — wrapping a strong arm around your middle to anchor you and your pussy down on his throbbing cock. “i never wanted to ruin you.” he drawls hungrily, but that doesn’t stop the salacious buck of his hips upwards and the way his hands traverse over each of your perfect imperfections. “but you’re such a sweet thing… you always have been. god, baby, you drive me crazy.”

fumbling around on the bed, megumi gasps at the phone and hits record once more — propping the device up on the nightstand opposite you so that he can remain hands free. “this body, this princess cunt… the way you grip my hair—“ as if on cue, your fingers tighten at his dark roots and tug him down for a sloppy, spit swapping kiss. “everything about you, s’perfect.”

the room spins with ecstasy and your pathetic screams die in your throat at the feeling of megumi’s abs contacting against your back, his cock hitting that spongy spot inside of you over and over again. you drip sweet nectar onto the sheets, his pelvis and his thighs — tainting him with your precious sin. everything burns with exertion and exhaustion, so you’re forced to slump against your big brother and rely on him to carry you to the high heavens of pleasure.

he doesn’t disappoint, cupping your swaying breasts as you jolt up the bed from the force of his pounding thrusts, flicking at your nipples while keeping himself tucked in your squishy insides. you’re pleasured from every possible angle and it’s all caught on grainy film for megumi to take to college when he leaves without you.

“‘m so fucking happy… t-that our parents got divorced. s-so that i can…have you like this.” fushiguro tongues at the pulse point under your ear, giving you one hard thrust to emphasise the point, it makes you jump, pushing you that little bit closer to the edge. your step brother never stops pumping himself in and out of you, hardly giving you a second to breathe between sucking on your tongue and slapping a hand down on your slit.

“aren’t you happy?” he goes on to ask, carving the shape of his dick into your raw sex. “take a deep breath for me, gorgeous.”

megumi wraps a hand around your throat from behind, squeezing ever so slightly and your glistening doe eyes tear away from the camera to focus on him. you witness the stars align in his azure orbs, the adoration they hold for you and a cry-baby wail slips from between your cherry bitten lips in response.

“look so pretty with my hand around your throat ‘n my cock in your pussy… look at that. it’s like your body was made for me.” he chimes up again, watching the drool deep from the corner of your mouth as it hangs open with dry moans, like a a cute puppy panting. “how lucky are we?”

“o-oh! gumi!” you sniff blearily, not caring that there isn’t enough air in your brain to think straight. you’re swallowing down his cock and he’s leaking fat droplets of precum against the ridges of your walls — only adding to your wetness. megumi can’t expect a single logical thought to escape you this way. “‘m s-so glad. s-so lucky! so happy! i-i love you.”

the stuttered admission brings out the worst in megumi, causing him to lose his shit. your panties are rubbing his shaft raw, your pussy’s so good that he feels like he’s fucking high, not to mention you sound so pretty he could die here and be the happiest man alive. a feral desire takes over your step brother, his snapping his hips into you so hard that your headboard repeatedly smashes against the wall.

your panties are completely soaked through at this point, equally as ruined as your cunt… but megumi doesn’t care. “love you too. my good girl, my good fucking girl.” he coos, his thrusts growing animalistic and erratic — your bodies dancing to the tune of desire as you chase release. “can you cum for me, pretty? wanna see it, bet you’re so gorgeous when you’re cumming for me little sis.”

despite being fucked brainless, you still manage to do what you’re told — your hips back onto his from their own accord, puffy pussy locking down on megumi’s base to keep him inside. “i’m close… r-right there gumi!” you choke out.

“right here, baby?” is all he manages to respond with, moaning pornographically into your sweaty shoulder while he shifts the angle of his thrusts. “wanna feel you gush all fucking over me.”

that’s all you need to hear before your toe curling orgasm comes crashing down on you like a large tidal wave. the knot in your tummy finally unravels and you break beneath the pressure of it all, waves of your juices splashing out onto the sheets and megumi’s pelvis — rewarding him for fucking you this good. you cum so hard that it’s enough to force megumi from your twitching hole, expelling a musky scent into the air.

“f-fucking shit, fuuuck me…” fushiguro stumbles off the edge not long after, using the seam of your panties to finish himself off while you twitch through the aftershocks of your high. he just barely makes it, fucking your underwear and nudging his sensitive cockhead against your abused mound until he’s filling the seat of your panties with fat globs of white hot seed. “jesus…’hmygod, baby. you’re such an angel...d-did so fucking well for me.”

he peppers you with smooches until you’re calmed down enough to be rolled onto your back. megumi is careful to pull away from you, staying close while you sniffle and come back down to earth. he babies you throughout, lifting the rest of your dress over your head and waiting until you say he can move before grabbing you a spare shirt from your dresser.

“let me see you.” megumi whispers lovingly when he crawls back onto the bed to join you. he grabs his phone from the nightstand and ends its recording, pushing your thighs apart to snap pictures of your cum soaked undies and the thick white that clings to your fat pussy lips and clit. “perfect, you’re so perfect.

“i am?” you whinge — camera shy. but you don’t tell him to stop, letting your older step brother rub his sensitive and overworked cock over your crotch, smearing the last evidence of your orgasms against you for a quick video. another one that’ll be added to his spank bank for later. “‘gumi…” you warn once you start to feel overstimulated.

he chuckles at how whiny you are, tugging your clean shirt over your head before he pulls you into his arms. “i got it, i’m sorry.” rocking you both back and forth, fushiguro kisses the crown of your head. “yanno… if you’re so serious about not joining me at college. i’ll try and convince your dad to let you stay in town. as long as you keep up your promise and try to start a business.”

your heart skips a beat, and you cast a glance upwards at your step brother. “really?”

“really. if it means that much to you.”

sleep settles heavy in megumi’s bones and on his pretty face — one you didn’t realise you loved so much. “it does! thank you, ‘gumi,” you say quickly, pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw. “m-maybe you college boys aren’t so bad.”

“oh come on now, didn’t me fucking you stupid literally just prove that?”

“maybe.”

“so you’ll come visit me at college then. since you like me so much.” fushiguro quips cheekily, narrowly missing your swat to his chest.

you roll your eyes and try to unravel yourself from your step brother’s affectionate grip, but don’t hide your smile. “ugh! as if, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

but teasing megumi further only gets you dragged back into the sheets — two sets of laughter echoing throughout the room in what appears to be another sibling fight.

except this time, you’re not as clueless.

you know that something like this, and with megumi, means something much, much more.

9K notes · View notes

liillyliilly · 3 months

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No Free-Solo

kenji sato x reader words; 10021 synopsis; from high school on, kenji couldn't do it alone, especially not when she was there for him.

“You’re missing me with that busy shit. You’re missing me with your whole ‘I can’t come over tonight’ act.” Kenji sat in what she liked to refer to as his dungeon, his lair, his Ultraman den. His too large for life couch made of black leather was cold and the emptiness was expansive in his mansion. He wanted her near, he wanted her to come back.

“I really can’t come over, I’m helping out Ami with Chiho tonight.” She tried to let him down gently, but he huffed through the phone.

She wasn’t a nanny per se, but she did do a fair amount of long-term babysitting for lots of people, mostly for Ami, occasionally for other busy mothers. She had a certain touch to the whole watching and raising kids thing, entertaining the child while also educating them.

Chiho was snoring in her bed. Ami was out with her fellow reporter boyfriend. And she, well she was watching movies in the family room of Ami’s house. Drawings that Chiho had done were covering the walls, plenty of Ultraman pictures to Kenji’s amusement.

She knew the Sato family through a long-winded connection by friendship shared between mothers. Kenji’s mom was best friends with her mom. In terms of maturity though, she was light years ahead of Kenji even when they were in high school. Back in America, when life was typical (meaning lacking in Kaiju and Ultraman responsibility) and the LA Dodgers still reigned supreme in Kenji’s head. They had met for the first time right before her junior year and his senior year.

She would be the youngest junior at the school and he would be one of the oldest seniors at their Los Angeles high school.

Her mom had insisted they visit her good friend the summer before her junior year started, and that she would need to help the son out in adapting to American High school since they had just moved from Japan.

She was worried due to a potential language barrier, but her mom assured her that he would be fluent in English. But how would her mom know that? Her anxiety was off the charts. She spent hours studying basic Japanese, which she found was probably going to kill her, why a language needs more than one writing system was beyond her.

“Ah! It’s so good to see you, Emiko!” Her mom went in for a big hug, and the petite Japanese woman returned the hug with as much enthusiasm as had been given. Her mom muttered about the separation between Emiko and Hayao, and Emiko gave a strained smile, leading them into the house.

Kenji was lounging on the couch, which she soon learned that he loved to do, a tendency to sprawl due to his height and lankiness. He was switching TV channels, until he landed on a baseball game and committed to watching that.

Her mom ushered her over to him, telling her to make conversation and get to know him. How she expected her to do that despite not knowing him at all was a wonder. She didn’t suspect that they had anything in common, and with the zeal he was watching the baseball game, she also suspected that he wasn’t going to be a huge fan of her preference for movies and shows over sports.

So she mustered up a greeting in Japanese from a textbook she had picked up. She had missed the way his eyes glinted with amusement, it was at that moment he decided to play just a small inconsequential game. A game where he pretended he didn’t know any English.

He responded in Japanese, and she realized she really knew nothing at all about Japanese. He sat up and patted the seat next to him. The moms left the main living space in favor of drinking some tea upstairs on a balcony, leaving her alone and incapable of communicating.

Pointing to herself, she said her name with a forced smile. He said ‘Kenji’ while pointing to himself and saying a variety of other words that she had no idea meant anything at all. At least Japanese sounded pretty, so she started thinking about the linguistic history and design of the syllables. He waved a hand in front of her face and she snapped out of her mini history lesson to herself.

Pushing his joke a little further, he used his head to point to a door near the stairs. She raised an eyebrow. He spoke for a few more moments, and she could only stiffly smile and nod in return. When he grabbed her hand and went to the door she thought she was going to die.

Inside the door was his room, and she really thought that this was the end of her sanity, her childhood, her innocence. She had fandangled herself into an intimate relationship with someone who didn’t even speak English and her heart was going to burst at the seams. Trying to recall all the words she had memorized, she was mad that she never learned the words for; no, stop, or I’ll kill you.

It was when she began to slink towards the door and hold her arms across her body in a cross shape that he realized maybe he should drop the joke. Her ears seemed like they were burning and her breathing had increased to a mile a minute in pace.

“Relax, I just wanted to show you my baseball cards.” He held up a binder and opened it to reveal a collection of player cards double sleeved and tucked neatly into a sheet protector.

“I thought you didn’t speak any English!” She frowned and put a hand to her heart. He laughed and she realized she had fallen for a trick.

“My bad.” He holds his hands together and puts them up near his head with a slight bow to apologize. Kenji pushes his bangs back and licks his top row of teeth, “Do you know if our school has a baseball team?” He asks.

She nods. “We’re in the top bracket for playing, it’s super hard to get onto the team though, my friend tried-”

He raised a hand to get her to stop speaking, then he informed her of his inherent athletic prowess, “Believe me, I’ll get onto the team.”

And he had. He’d even qualified to play on the varsity team.

A few months into the school year, while she was eating in the library with some friends, Kenji came bustling into the open space with his pack of baseball players. They always tagged along behind him, treating him like some sort of fancy foreign exchange kid, which she realized was exactly the situation and so her mental analogy didn’t end up working out and she clicked her teeth.

But the majority of white boys at the school did tend to lean a little too hard into the racial stereotypes and unfunny jokes. All Kenji could do sometimes was purse his lips and keep eating his natto. They thought because they had an Asian friend it was an excuse for their behavior, why Kenji never stood up to them and told them off was a huge confounding plight in her eyes. Kenji himself didn’t quite understand it either. Not even when they shortened his name into just Ken for ease and convenience.

Before she could tidy up her comparison and dissection of Kenji Sato, he was leaning on her desk, eating her carrots and searching for her eyes to meet him. He said something in Japanese, and she tried to remember how the words sounded so she could look up what he had said.

“I need your help.” He stole a bite of her sandwich, then drank some of her water. Before he even took it without asking, she offered her pastry to him and he ate the whole thing in one bite and mumbled a ‘thanks’ with his mouth full. He finished chewing and swallowing.

“I need you to pretend to date me so I can get these guys off my back.” He stuck his thumb in the direction of his teammates.

“Absolutely not. No way in hell, Kenji.” She started to pack up her bag, but he just put his hand on her bag and pressed it hard against the desk. With his other hand he gently grabbed her by the chin, and tilted her face up to his. Inches away. Her eyes went wide.

“Pretty please?” He licked his lips and she tried to bring her own face back to avoid his tongue getting to her lips.

She thought about what her mom said, telling her to help out Kenji if he needed it. This couldn't apply though, right?

“I’m going to need so many favors.” She groaned, managing to get her bag out from under his hands.

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, ruffling her hair and heading out with his friends who began to goad him for keeping her a secret for so long. He had just taken her first kiss and it didn’t seem like it bothered him at all. She was too busy pressing her hand to her lips to even notice the way his ears were a scorching hot red.

When she went to research what he had said to her, she thought she must have misheard him because the proposed English translation was something along the lines of, ‘please let this work out in my favor’.

Continuously, she called in favors, and he was there to meet them. Getting books off the top shelves in the library. Sharpening pencils when they were studying. Even helping her learn just a little more of his language.

“No, no you gotta give each syllable its own beat. Copy me.” Kenji went over the blended ‘r’ and ‘l’ sound that felt clunky in her mouth.

She did replicate what he was saying, at least to her own belief that that was her best ability. He laughed a little and she frowned.

“Okay, move your tongue a little, right behind your front teeth, but also not touching your teeth, just let your tongue kinda do the sound in the middle.” Kenji opened his mouth a little so she could observe. She tried again but it sounded even worse than the first attempt.

“I wish I could just move your tongue for you so you could get the motion right.” She looked quickly side to side, biting her bottom lip. Kenji backtracked immediately, “That didn’t come out quite right, I think that’s enough Japanese for one day.” She nodded rapidly and closed the journal she was using to take notes.

He said that they could go get food, she agreed and they got burgers and milkshakes at a run down family owned diner. He paid, despite her insisting she could pay for her own food. Saying that that was apart of the whole fake dating thing.

“You know, you do a lot of things under the guise of our not dating, dating thing.” She sipped her milkshake. Kenji took a bite of his burger, musing about what he would say.

“Well, we’re friends as well right?”

“Yeah, we’ve been hanging out since you basically arrived here. We’re friends, but honestly, we behave more like best friends.” She finished off her shake and cleaned up her area.

That was something he liked about her, her consideration for cleanliness and organization. But also her appreciation for others around her, cleaning up her stuff so that the likely overworked waitress didn’t have to. A person who thinks about other people. Now that was his type he decided.

“I’m happy with being best friends.”

In all fairness, he was probably the best fake boyfriend that a girl could’ve asked for. They had settled on knowing their relationship was best friends, but for others they had the additional label of dating. Sometimes though, he’d do something like grab her hand or wrap an arm around her. When those situations presented themselves, she always looked for possible viewers, his teammates. But based on her data, he only did things like that around 20% of the time when his teammates were actually watching. Meaning that the other 80% of the time he did the physical acts of affection, no one was around to watch.

While his English was practically perfect, he had the hardest time in social studies and history, so he got her help with his U.S. government class. He claimed that because he hadn’t lived here at all, and because he had Japanese citizenship that this class was completely useless for him. His defeatist attitude towards history made her roll her eyes at him.

One day, when she was intending to come over to help him, Emiko crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe as he cleaned up his room. He threw his baseball socks and jersey into the dirty clothes hamper.

“She’s coming over then?”

He mumbled an affirmative answer.

Emiko got giddy, saying she’d make a good rich curry tonight for dinner and that he’d need to tell her to stay for dinner. He gave a wave and kept picking up his room.

When the doorbell rang, he ran to the door. Emiko chastened him and told him to calm down. He let her in, and she greeted his mom, giving Emiko the box of fruit her own mom told her to drop off. He complained in Japanese that she always went straight to his mom instead of greeting him first. Emiko in turn smiled at her while scolding her son again in Japanese.

Watching the conversation unfold, she shrugged, Japanese was just not her strong suit.

“How hard is it to understand a constitutional federal republic?” She looked over his essay answer to a prompt she had given him to practice for his upcoming test. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, chewing the end of a pen. She was leaning against his bed frame, reading papers and marking up his essay with her red pen. Each time she made another red mark, he grumbled. Of all the people she had tutored though, his handwriting was the best.

“Correct these things first, and then I can edit again with my orange pen.” She held up said pen while handing the paper back to him. He just mimicked what she had said, holding his own pen the same way she had held up hers, even going so far as to bring his shoulders upwards to make him appear smaller.

In response to the insulting imitation she grabbed her notebook and hit him repeatedly on the knee. He let out a pained ouch, and she felt bad, so she put the notebook away and just patted his knee instead.

“If you really loved me you’d just write out the whole essay and then I could just memorize it and cross apply the right parts for the actual prompt Mr. Henry gives in class next week.” Kenji adjusted his body position, and her hand wasn’t on his knee anymore but dead center of his thigh instead. He smirks, and she immediately retracts her hand.

“Good thing I don’t love you then.” Kenji presses his hand to his heart and sighs, falling back into his pillow. “Just do the essay Jiji.”

He lifted his head and repeated what she had said, “Jiji?”

“Kenji.” She says his name and enunciates the two syllables cleanly.

“I like Jiji, I think it suits me. It’s a cute nickname.”

He finished rewriting the essay while she poked around his room. Photos of him with his mom and dad, which she already knew not to ask about because last time she did he went total silence for two weeks. But then he felt guilty about ghosting and took her out to get a sweet treat everyday after school for one week straight. Trophies from his old school back in Japan for his baseball achievements. Multiple MVP awards from the games he had played here.

The other photos that were in his room were mostly of him and his teammates. He just didn’t look too happy in those ones, so she tried to skim them, but failed. His teammates did their best to make him seem like he was a part of the group, but it just didn’t click all the way. Kenji always looked too serious in the photos, or it seemed like he was actually looking at the baseball diamond instead of the person taking the photo.

There was an adorable little figure, made either of acrylic or vinyl, of a little superhero with a red and silver supersuit and a blue circle on the chest. She picked it up and inspected it. What she assumed was Kenji’s name was on the foot of the toy. She bent the arms of the toy and moved it around like it was flying midair.

Kenji had completely paused writing his essay in favor of watching her dart around his room. He clenched his jaw for a second when she picked up the Ultraman toy, then eased his body language when she started making the toy fly around. If only that’s what Ultraman really was, just a toy. Just a toy and not an impending responsibility to protect and serve the people of Japan from Kaiju monsters. He wondered if she’d ever want to live somewhere besides Los Angeles. Tokyo for example.

“Kenji! Curry! Get the applesauce from the cabinet please!” Emiko called out.

She set the toy down and turned around, but Kenji was already standing right behind her. He had only meant to watch her movements a little more closely, but now this was entirely too close. He played it off like he was adjusting the Ultraman doll, smiled and then opened his door for her to exit and head downstairs.

When he heard the steps trailing down, he silently screamed and raised his hands to the sides of his head. Then he dragged a hand down his face and carded fingers through his hair. He envied the self he saw in the photos, cool and nonchalant.

“So, are there any boys you think are cute at school?” Emiko ate another bite of katsu that was drenched in curry sauce.

She swallowed thickly for a second, “I- uh, no. There’s not many good options for dating material at a hyper-athletic school.” She laughed to cut the edge off the conversation.

Emiko drank some water, but then prodded a little more. Kenji wished the earth would open and swallow him up.

“Not even at a school full of athletes? I would’ve sworn there were some good options for you on Kenji’s baseball team. What was his name? Eric? Eli?”

“Ohh, Ezra Johnson?” She supplied, eating some applesauce and then tapping her mouth with a napkin.

Kenji looked to her, then to his mom, then back at her. He was trying to stuff his face with his food so he could exit the conversation and then drag her and himself back to his room. She seemed insistent on blocking out the whole fake dating thing from his mom’s view and perception.

“Yes! He’s a really nice kid! He actually greeted me when I went to the first game. It was so sweet of him. His mom and I got to know each other a little bit. I can send you his details if you want?” Emiko grazed the back of her phone.

“No!” Kenji burst. His mom and his fake girlfriend both looked at him. “Uh, Ezra is talking to this girl named, um, Claire. Yeah, Claire.” He held his plate up and his mom nodded.

Rinsing his plate off he put it into the dishwasher, then from behind his mom’s back he tried mouthing to her so they could go back upstairs but she was too busy still talking to his mom to notice anything.

When she finally finished eating, she said she needed to go back home.

“What about my essay though?” Kenji rested his forearms on the kitchen counter while she was busy doing the dishes despite having to gently fight with Emiko about letting her even do the dishes in the first place.

“I gave you enough content to work with, just do the corrections and you’ll be good to go.” She bumped the dishwasher with her hip to close it, and he wondered what her bumping into him would feel like. And then he groveled a little that he wanted to be a dishwasher for even a split second. “I need to do my own homework now, tell your mom thank you again for me, okay?”

She rubbed his arm to comfort him slightly, but he took his chance to reach to her hip, tugging her lightly into him.

“What are you doing?” She hissed at him, trying to keep her voice down in case Emiko was still lurking around.

“Saying thanks for the help, goodbye, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He grabbed the hand that she had on his arm and held her hand for a second, then brought it up to his mouth to press a light kiss to her knuckles.

She smiled, then pushed his shoulder.

When she had left the house, he flung himself onto the couch and giggled a little. Kicking his feet that were dangling over the arm of the couch. His mom peeked downstairs to see Kenji wriggling around and muttering. She just laughed a little. Maybe her instigation had worked out in the end.

The next week, she was hounded by baseball players after school.

She kept holding up a hand to cover her face, but they would not relent. Asking questions about her and Kenji. What Kenji was like outside of school, outside of baseball. If Kenji ever stopped being serious and aloof for even a minute. At this point they were just crowding her and not giving her the space to breathe.

She kept giving short curt answers, tugging her backpack straps closer and closer to her. At one point, one of them stepped on her foot and she winced a little.

It was like some kind of sonar sensor, Kenji could tell something was wrong. When he turned the corner, all he could see was his girl getting cornered by a bunch of idiots who didn’t even have his best interest at heart. The only reason why he asked her to fake date him was so that he could get out of dates with the girls his teammates had thought would suit him. The secondary reason was so she could avoid his teammates entirely. But clearly, the second reason did not go as planned because his teammates were a bunch of no-brainers who didn’t even really care about baseball.

“Hey, let’s go, I’ll drive you home today.” Kenji stuck his hand in between two of his teammates, and she grabbed it, so he was able to pull her out from the crowd they had made around her.

He strung two fingers around her jean belt loop and guided her to his car. When they finally sat down, and Kenji had started the engine, she let out a shaky breath. He put his hand behind her seat, and then moved his hand so he could lightly touch the back of her neck at her nape.

“Are you okay? I had no idea they would do something like that, I mean, it’s just completely ridiculous. I don’t even talk to them that much, if at all. And they treat me like some kind of foreigner, which I may be yeah, but really come on. That’s just herd mentality to the max. Ridiculous behavior, so childish.” Kenji kept talking while driving, she thought that maybe he needed a chance to really unload everything and mitigate the tension that had built up around him.

When they got to her house, he apologized again. And again.

“Don’t let it eat you alive, it’s all good, no harm no foul, if it makes you feel better, they totally reeked of body odor.” She chimed in after he finished his long wind of apologies. “And, um, what time is your game on Wednesday? My mom asked, she wants to hang out with your mom.”

“And here I thought you just wanted to see me completely kill the opposing team.” Kenji tried to lean out of the car just a little more, but his seatbelt kept him from getting his head out of the passenger side window. “I’ll text you. Get to your house safe ok?”

To her house from the car was approximately seven steps. The smile she gave him wrinkled her eyes and creased her nose just perfectly. He slid his hands up and down the wheel, smiling to himself as he started home.

The game went perfectly, he stole practically all the bases, and he made two home run hits. And an LA Dodgers scout was there. Once he got the documents and the scout shaked his hand, he was over the moon excited to play for the best team in the United States.

When he saw her with her mom and his mom, he just couldn’t hold himself back. In a second, he was hugging her and ranting about the scout continuously just repeating the experience over and over. Since his mom knew she would have a hard time prying Kenji off of his best friend, she just had to listen in to what he was saying, and she clapped when she had finally heard it all, celebrating from just far enough away to let them enjoy the moment.

His graduation was boring, she sat with his mom in the stands waiting for him to get his name called out. There were a lot of speeches, and she recognized the valedictorian from various library encounters, but for the most part everyone was a stranger to her. Emiko kept getting a call from an international number, but she didn’t try to ask about it.

Kenji barrelled through the crowd of graduates to get to his people, his mom and his best friend. When he started to talk about what he was going to do over the summer, his baseball camps and training, getting to meet the members of his team. His mom put a gentle hand to his shoulder, and he furrowed his eyebrows at the serious environment his mom had suddenly crafted. She backed away a little, but Kenji grabbed her hand and shook his head, telling her to stay for whatever his mom had to say.

“Kenji, your dad, he’s, your dad wants to talk to you. He’s, he’s on the phone.” Emiko couldn’t help but stutter a little, unnerved with how Kenji would react.

Kenji shook his head no, pulling her closer to him trying to use her as a crutch to prevent an interaction with his father from occurring. She looked between Kenji and his mother for a moment. Emiko with her tightened face and hand gripping the phone tightly said more than what her original request was saying. Emiko wanted Kenji to answer the call. So, she in turn encouraged him to answer it.

“Jiji, just answer the call. It’s your dad.” He felt betrayed.

“I’m not picking up the phone, I’m not talking to dad, and I’m getting a ride with a friend.” He pulls his hand away, despite missing her touch, and leaves his mom and her standing and stunned from his reaction.

Emiko pulled her into a side hug. “Thanks for backing me, you’re much more mature than I think people give you credit for. I have udon at home, call your mom and let’s have a girls night. I don’t think he’ll be home for a while. I’ll let him blow off steam today, but don’t think I’m soft on him, he’ll have some hell to pay when I catch him tomorrow.”

Patting the back of her head, Emiko went to the small electric van. She stood for a second, thinking about the space Kenji had just occupied. Maybe the family dynamic in the Sato household was more complex than she had anticipated, Emiko seemed to still love her husband despite them being separated. Kenji seemed adverse to and angry with his father, but Emiko didn’t carry any slight of resentment.

Girls night was a blast, including face masks and bad romance movies. Kenji got back around midnight, just as her mom and her were leaving his house. When she left, he was the one who closed the door after her. He gave a short pained smile and a wave. In her mind, it was a win because at least he wasn’t upset with her for taking Emiko’s side.

Summer was hot and burned the apples of her cheeks, leaving both sunburns and memories in it’s fragmented state. Kenji was busy conditioning for baseball practically everyday. Somedays he’d invite her out just to watch him play, so she could sip some icy lemonade and sit in the shade instead of being cooped in her house doing whatever it is that homebodies do.

It would be deceiving to say that she didn’t enjoy just watching him play. The way his baseball jersey would bunch at his elbows and shoulders when he hit the ball. Or the way he would run the bases each time he missed a throw from the ball machine. He still needed to get a haircut, so his bangs would completely cover most of his face, until he ran a hand through his sweaty hair and his almost snake-like eyes would study her from afar.

The best part was when he told her to move her legs a little, so he could sit on the row of bleachers in front of her. Eventually positioning himself to settle in between her legs, resting his arms on her thighs and his head was leaning on her torso. Although his sweat would lightly mark up her shirts when his hair dripped from his practice rounds, she still loved to be there for him in this capacity.

Either he was here with her or he would be at the diamond alone and angry. When he came alone, he would throw his bat when he made a mistake instead of just brushing it off and doing a lap. Somehow, doing baseball training alone while waiting for official LA Dodgers’ orders made him all pent up and out of control. So when she came to observe, it felt like he had more things in his control, his ability to manage.

“How are you gonna survive without me next year?” Kenji rolled his shoulders before getting his water bottle and guzzling down the IV infused liquid.

“Well, as far as everyone knows, we’re still dating, so I’ll have another year of free solo-ing the romance world at a hormone ridden cesspool.” She slid her backpack on, ready to start the trek home.

Kenji slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, then quickly switched which shoulder his bag was on once he saw which side she let her bag rest on, so that their bags wouldn’t bump into each other as he walked her home.

“You’re not gonna tell people we ended it?” Kenji sucked in some air through his teeth, readjusting the bag’s weight placement a little.

“Nah, it’s just easier that way. At graduation though if anyone asks how we’re doing I’ll say you found a supermodel that preys on greenie Pro-Baseball players.”

He nods, accepting the route she was going in order to terminalize their fake relationship.

“I was a good boyfriend though, right?” Maybe he asked so that he could feel out the possibility of a real one, or seeing what he could do better when he finally worked up enough courage to ask her out for real and for forever. For now though, he knew that friendship would satiate most of his yearning for her time and attention.

“Comparatively, to what I heard other girls went through, you were practically a saint. I mean, you never did press me into a couch so we could make out. Ruby held that over my head for the whole year once her girlfriend did that to her.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad actually,” Kenji stroked his chin, “One last boyfriend duty for me to do before I get too busy, ya know?”

“Kiss me without permission and you're a dead baseball boy.” He held up his hands defensively.

“That was one time.”

“In the middle of the library, in front of a good majority of my friends, right after I had been begged to be a fake girlfriend.”

Kenji raised his eyebrows, and tilted his head, “I do not recall begging.”

“You definitely begged,” She clasped her hands together and turned towards him, pausing their pace on the sidewalk for her to parody him, “Pretty please.”

She fluttered her eyelashes and pouted dramatically.

He rolled his eyes and tugged her hands so she would keep walking.

The postseason began around October for Kenji, and he made his official debut into the stage of professional baseball. Around the fifth game he played, he snapped. And that’s why he was sitting on her bathroom counter holding a bag of peas to the side of his face, while she dug through the closet just outside the bathroom looking for a first aid kit.

The catcher had just stepped out of line according to Kenji, messing up his at bat routine with his comments about his age, his inexperience, his lack of genuine talent. The first punch was Kenji’s, the second punch was the catcher’s and it rocked Kenji immediately.

Tasting the metallic blood in his mouth, he was just glad all his teeth were okay. He did feel bad for going to her instead of going home. But he knew that his mom would’ve killed him for hitting another player. The only reason why his mom wasn’t at this specific game was because she had some research files from years ago that his father needed, so she was spending the time trying to transfer data from floppy disks to USB drives.

She should’ve been asleep, or studying for her upcoming exams. He felt like an inconvenience and like a child who was being coddled, but he did feel like he was being fawned over by her which he could live with. Even the way she had reacted to him texting her and asking if she could help patch him up a little. She had sent nearly thirty messages, mostly angry, but also laced with worry.

“This might sting a little.” She reached up and pressed a cloth to his lip. He lurched away from the disinfectant, and she almost fell over due to having to reach up to get to his face.

“Hold on, give me a second.” Kenji got off the counter regardless of her complaints, she stopped complaining and was silenced once he swapped their positions, her sitting on the counter and him in front of her with his hands on either side of her hips, placed on the edge of the counter. “Better.”

She hummed a little, pressing the cloth to his face again, he tried to not lurch away this time. She put some triple antibiotic ointment on his lip and temple where there were some cuts. Putting some small star shaped bandages on his face where the cuts were biggest.

“All done!” She put her hands on his shoulders and gave a big smile.

Maybe he leaned in, maybe he didn’t. But their lips were definitely touching. When she pushed him away he realized he must have made a fatal error. So he decided to play it off.

“Sorry, a little faint from the fight earlier, not in my right mind.”

“Yeah, you, uh, you were just trying to, yeah.” She chewed the inside of her mouth.

Kenji helped her off the counter, and walked to her front door, ready to head out.

Holding onto the door, she stuck her head out and commented to him before he got too far away from hearing distance, “No more fights okay?”

He threw her a thumbs up before leaving her house. When he was safely back in his car, he did something that was all too familiar when he slipped up around her, he silently screamed and gripped his hair.

Years went by.

They stayed close, and he made sure of that. Baseball was going great, but no championships under his belt. She had graduated college, working at an office as an assistant. She moved out of her family home and got a shared apartment with some college friends who also worked in the main part of Los Angeles

Then, his dad hurt his leg, and everything went to hell. Hayao had called, telling Kenji it was finally time to take the name of Ultraman. He now needed to bear the gauntlet, the responsibility of keeping his home country safe. His mom just agreed, putting her hands on Kenji’s knee. Telling Kenji it was finally time for him to go home and be who he was supposed to be. And he was supposed to be Ultraman?

Baseball was his thing, he knew baseball and he was good at it too. Baseball felt like home, LA felt like his home, she felt like his home.

On top of all that, within a week of his father’s request and his mother’s urging, his mother had an accident. He had no idea what happened. Just that one day, Emiko was there and then she wasn’t.

He was depressed, and so he drank. His house was a mess. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink, he was wearing the same clothes from four days ago. His toothbrush had become unfamiliar. He didn’t bother turning on the lights, staying in the dark and sulking.

When her mom found out about Emiko’s disappearance and presumed death, she called her daughter and told her to check in on Kenji. He had been distant lately, and she knew that the distance was a result of his grief. Her stomach twisted into knots, and she realized she hadn’t reached out to him in a few weeks.

His front door was locked, she had a basket of fruit and a stack of tupperwares filled with lunches and dinners for an entire week. She tried to think about what food were both comforting and had a lot of protein, so she made a variety of pasta dishes with extra meat.

“Kenji?” She knocked repeatedly, checking her phone only to see that her messages had been left on read. She called out for him again, knocking harder. “I know you’re in there Jiji.”

Opening the door made her grasp the gravity of the situation he was in. His hair was covering his face, he seemed to have recoiled into himself, wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt instead of his typical jeans and jersey thrown over a solid color tee. He smelled too, not of his usual mintiness and clean linen, but of all and any sort of alcohol. With eye bags darker than dirt, and hollow looking features, he just left the door open as he lurked back into his blacked out house.

Setting her gifts on his kitchen counter, she turned on the lights, and got to work. First the dishes, and then she picked up all the clothing and started a load of laundry. She made him a plate of the food she had brought, and a big glass of water and some Advil for the inevitable hangover he would have.

Lying on the couch, Kenji played with the hem of his sweatshirt. He tried to take another sip straight from a bottle of red wine when she stole it out of his hands. Whining, he told her to give it back and turn the lights off. She clicked her tongue.

“Eat this,” she handed him the plate, “Drink this,” she sat the water and pill on the coffee table. She tapped her foot, her arms folded in front of her chest. He groaned but did as told.

Satisfied with his actions, she dragged him upstairs and told him to take a shower. Hearing the water running, she looked around his room and cleaned it up. His passport, along with a one way ticket to Tokyo for one month out, was on the floor, covered by blankets that were strewn around. Opened letters were lying on the floor as well, pictures and clippings of ‘Kaiju’ attacks in Japan. Maybe she needed to brush up on her international news instead of staying in her little bubble.

Coming out of the shower with baggy clothes on, he dried his hair with a small towel.

“What are you doing?” He saw her holding the letters his dad had sent. He reached out for them, but she held them back and to her chest.

“What are Kaiju?”

Soon, he was sitting on his bed with her as well. He had the Ultraman doll in his left hand and a stuffed animal that she had given him some years ago in his right hand.

“Basically, I’m this, by blood,” He shook the Ultraman doll, “And I’m supposed to fight these back home. Since my father can’t anymore.” Laughing slightly, he slammed Ultraman into the stuffie repeatedly.

Her eyes were wide. She may not have understood everything about what he was, or what he was supposed to be doing, but she knew it was important to him to some degree. It was irrelevant that his dad needed him, the only thing he cared about was that his mom had asked him to take the step to become something he wasn’t sure of.

But the idea that her best friend was going to be a superhero? That he could change into some kind of robotic monster slayer? She had to disconnect a little from reality just to process the whole thing.

Suddenly, he thought of something that could possibly get him out of his funk. Something that could make his time in Tokyo, living an entirely new life bearable.

“There’s some extra rooms at the place I’ll be living in. I know that you want to go to some kind of graduate school. There are really good graduate schools in Tokyo.” He scratched the back of his head, if she said yes, then he would be truly mortified that she had seen him like this but he would also get to have neverending time with her on a day to day basis if she agreed.

“I remember none of the Japanese you taught me, I’d need to get a visa,” She started listing off all the things that would keep her from leaving, “But, uh, I think I’ll go with you. Yes.”

“I can handle the visa thing, you’re just going to need to sign some papers and have an interview with some people, and you’ll need to wear a ring on your ring finger. As for the Japanese, I’m a better teacher now than when I was 18.”

Getting married was not on her bucket list, but at least she could get better tuition at her graduate school for technically being a form of naturalized Japanese national. Her mom was glad to see her living away from LA, and she was grateful for Kenji going with her daughter. Her mom just didn’t know about the marriage for a green card/visa situation, and honestly, she didn’t plan on telling her mom.

The whole flight to Tokyo she was practicing her Japanese with Kenji. For the first time in a long time, he was actually happy. Not ready for the whole Ultraman thing, but ready at least to leave home and be out of LA. Los Angeles reminded him of his mother, every street sign, every restaurant, the greenery and flowers, it all came back to his mom.

What he had explained to her as the Ultrabase wasn’t just some place that he was staying at, it was a literal industrial modern masterpiece of a mansion. The sleek design ebbed and flowed into the molding of the island it resided on. Ceilings higher than a museum’s, she traced her finger along every surface trying to soak in the elitism of it all. He reclined himself on the ginormous couch, watching her observe the surroundings.

To him, she was the best feature of the homebase. Where most things were cold and stricken with a detrimental weight of his responsibility, she was like a beam of no expectations. She gave him the space to just exist without pressure. That and she was always fighting with his robot assistant MINA which also made each time returning back from fighting a little easier to endure.

“Listen MINA, I just think that you’d be more effective if you were pink, also can you pass me my pencil case.” She was sitting at the kitchen table, snacking on candy and working on an assignment from one of her professors on her Master’s Committee. MINA used an extended robot hand to fly over the pencil case that had been in her backpack.

“If I was pink, it would detract from my integrated design.” MINA floats around her head, observing her completed work thus far. “Your work is completely correct, why are you changing the grammatical structure?”

“For the love of the process MINA, for the love of the process.”

Kenji just ate another bite of his New York Strip, enjoying the free entertainment. When he finished his meal, he asked if she wanted to go out for an adventure.

Matching helmets, black and gold design with her wearing one of his extra leather jackets just in case. For safety he justified. The cool Tokyo air felt even colder as they rushed around the streets, lane splitting and cutting in between cars. The headphones had built in bluetooth so they were listening to a shared playlist they had made. Blending rap, RNB, pop, and EDM crafted the right ambiance needed for a late night drive.

In some ways, Tokyo was similar to LA. She reasoned that it might have been the lights to a certain degree, but here, the lights were brighter and bolder. Neon signs and air pollution were the common denominators between the two cities.

He takes a corner just a little too hard, and she instinctively tightens her arms around his waist, tucking her head a little closer to his shoulder.

They end up taking a break for a minute, pulling off the side of the road to grab some vending machine drinks. Tea for her, coffee for him.

That’s when his watch begins to blare red. She fidgets with the ring on her hand, she didn’t need to wear it around he told her, but the cool diamond gem had grown on her. Just as a precaution if the case workers came around to check on their ‘marriage’, that was the explanation she gave to him for why she always had her ring on. They never talked about why he always kept his on too, despite interviews asking and continuously pestering him about the ring. The baseball world had just concluded it was either a secret wife or for the style since he never gave an answer.

“I think you have to go do your whole superman thing.” She pointed at his watch that he was trying to ignore.

Kenji groaned a little, calling for a ride so she could get back to his place. MINA had already gotten to them by the time the watch had started to blare.

“Ken, it is time to mitigate the primary conflict in Shinjuku.” MINA did a bow with their robot body. She tried to throw a pebble at MINA to test for reaction time, that being said MINA caught the rock. She shrugged.

Back at the dungeon, also known as the Ultrabase much to her distaste for a name like that, she was surprised to see an elderly man with a crutch sitting on the couch in the central living room.

He was watching a big hologram screen, which now clearly looked like Kenji (in Ultraman form) fighting with a pink monster dragon thing. When he got a particularly nasty body slam she sucked in some air through her teeth.

“Ahh, hello strange girl in the Ultraman base.” He circled her for a moment, his crutch slowing down his assessment of her.

“Ahh, hi strange grandpa in the Ultraman base.” She waved, and the older gentleman introduced himself as Professor Sato.

“Kenji’s dad?” She checked.

“Yes, I’m his father.” She nods, getting a glass of water.

When Kenji gets back to the base, that’s when things get a little crazy. What was once a slimy egg turned into a cute komodo dragon mutant baby. She was all over the baby in an instant, trying to get to know it better.

“She’s adorable. I love her.” She was tapping the glass of the containment cylinder, cooing at the infant Kaiju. The baby seemed to respond positively, making little coos back and stomping around a little.

Kenji just folded his arms and took it all in. He was still trying to get rid of his dad, despite his father’s willingness to help out. He just couldn’t balance it all without Hayao’s help, he realized. Especially when Emi needed more assistance, and help avoiding the KDF’s insistent attacks. She loved Emi, despite the Kaiju having the ability to totally crush her, Emi reciprocated quickly to her. Considering the contrast in how long it took for Kenji to demonstrate that his Ultaman form and his regular self were the same through systematic desensitization.

They became a family, even if a family consisted of a pro-baseball player, his fake wife/best friend, an estranged but loving father, a Kaiju baby, and a robot assistant.

A learning curve consisted of a lot more mistakes and complaining, but at the end of it all, Kenji had to commit. He was Ultraman now. He needed to protect Tokyo. At least now he had a support system he could rely on. Slowly, changes occurred with him. Putting others before himself, really truly thinking about life and the value of other human beings. The catalyst was a Kaiju baby named Emi, especially the way that said Kaiju baby loved openly.

The misadventures of raising Emi were wild and laced with KDF fights, but in the end, Kenji and his dad were brought together by defending Kaiju in a unique way. The monsters weren’t intentionally villains, humans had just made them out to be like that. That’s life though, people defining and categorizing things into concepts and schemas that made sense to them.

That’s what his dad was doing when he and Emiko separated. Hayao was trying to find ways to open human eyes to the world and beauty of Kaiju. Living in tandem with them may not have been immediately possible but why shouldn’t it be ever given a chance? Professor Sato, his dad, wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, he was trying his best to make the world a little bit better. Forgiving a father who he once believed left him wasn’t an easy road, but it was a path that needed to be traveled.

Saying goodbye to Emi was rough, yet, the Kaiju Island was close enough to go and visit on occasion. Baseball was great, winning the championship and going into a post-season diffusement.

Yet, Kaiju still came and wreaked havoc, and Kenji still had to fight and protect Japan. Even if that meant coming back to the base bloodied and bruised. She was almost always there, wrapping his arms in white bandages and wiping off blood with towels. Running ice baths and making cold soba noodles.

Which is what she was doing at this moment, rinsing the noodles in ice water and stirring a sweet sauce for Kenji to pour over rather than dunk his noodles into.

He was resting a frozen water bottle on his shoulder, hoping it would numb the pain, the Kaiju just had to try and rip his good arm off didn’t it?

“Hey, can I come in? Got your soba.” She knocked on the bathroom door using her elbow, since both hands were carrying bowls of soba with sauce containers precariously resting on her lower palms.

“Yeah, I’m wearing swim trunks.”

“Good because I’m not ready to see you naked, like, ever.” She chuckled, but pulled a chair next to the ceramic tub, breaking her chopsticks and saying a quick itadakimasu. He copied her, immediately drowning his noodles in the sauce she set on the edge of the tub. She rolled her eyes at his action.

He laughed a little, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, “What, it tastes better like this.”

She hummed an affirmative sound, but her eyes glinted with an agree to disagree conclusion.

The noodles had been fully digested, but she was still there, dipping her fingers into the water and making small swirls. The frigid temperature makes her fingers feel detached from her body.

Kenji lowers himself in the tub for a moment, getting his hair wet. When he came back up, she was pushing his bangs away from his face, smiling. Her hand stayed in his hair, brushing the strands away from his face as they dropped droplets down the back of his neck and then into the tub again. The ice cubes bumped into each other, melting slowly but steadily.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, uttering a few words, “Hot tub?”

She nods and heads out of the bathroom to get a swimsuit on.

The pool on the second to bottom floor of the base had an attached hot tub. He turned on the low lights, leaving the space in a warm brown shade of yellow light. The glass wall gave an outlook over the city and the ocean that surrounded the base.

MINA zoomed into the pool area, “Shall I put on some smooth jazz Ken?”

“No. Do not do that.” Kenji waved off MINA with red stinging his ears. MINA states they were just trying to speed up the whole process, and quoted one of her favorite phrases adding an addendum of MINA’s understanding and AI learning, “For the love of the process, especially if it's about love.”

The hot tub was warm, not quite boiling, but warm. She rested her arms on the outside ledge of the tub, looking out through the window. Kenji came to her side and replicated how she was positioned, before remembering that his shoulder hurt and gave out a small sound of displeasure. She giggled a little, rubbing the back of his shoulder where there weren't any distinct injuries.

“You’ve changed a lot since we were in high school.” She closed her eyes and dropped her head so that it was on her crossed arms.

“That’s what happens with time.” He wants to ask why she brought up his self-improvement. But she cuts him off before any words settle in his mouth.

“Yeah, but you’ve made a lot of great changes. You’re actually friends with your teammates now. And you’ve taken on this whole responsibility for an entire country. You aren’t just Kenji Sato, you’re also Ken Sato, and Ultraman, and I like to think you’ve fully embraced your father again, and not to mention our friendship.” She looks up at the ceiling, “You’re like an actual adult now.”

“I’ve been an adult for way longer than you.”

“But not like this, like an actual responsible person. You can juggle everything now.”

She sniffles a little, “Which is why I can understand if you don’t want me to stay once I finish my program you know?”

Kenji grabs a hold of one of her hands, “What the hell? Why would you ever think I’d want to kick you out?”

She shrugs.

He continues, “I hate to say it, but I think you’re stuck with me. You know too much about my dark secrets.” She smirks in response to his teasing tone.

Kenji dives deeper into things he wished he would’ve said earlier.

“I mean, you already have the ring to prove it too.” Her mouth gapes open a little, raising an eyebrow.

It would be amiss to say that this wouldn’t alter everything, but it was time.

“I know that we’ve only ever been friends, but you need to know what I feel.”

“I think I already know.” She cups the side of his face, and he pulls her into him, and makes her face him. She’s sitting on the expanse of his thighs, and he looks up at her from how he’s leaning back onto the wall of the hot tub.

Wrapping arms around his neck, careful to not rest too much of her arm on his shoulder, she brings their noses to brush against each other.

“Mine now? Right? You’re mine now?” When she doesn’t respond he continues, “Pretty please? Mine?”

“I thought you said you never begged?” She grazes his lips with her own and he sighs with a light shudder in his chest.

“I’ll beg for this, for you.”

“Fair enough.”

He tightens his grip and pulls her flush to him. Angling his neck up and tilting his head, he kisses her. She smiles too much for it to be a proper kiss, but he keeps pressing against her mouth. When she stops smiling and starts responding with her own pressure of lips to lips, he has to suppress the hunger to bite her.

His tongue brushes against her bottom lip and she opens her mouth for him, he runs his tongue along the inner lining of her mouth before biting on the tip of her tongue when she tries to take her turn. He chuckles when she pulls back a little, nose crinkled and lips wet.

“C’mere.” He trails kisses down the side of her face, going to her neck and collarbones, glad that her swimsuit was low cut enough for him to graze the top of her chest, where the rise of her curves began. She just presses kisses to the top of his head while her hand tangles into the hair at his nape, twisting the locks into fake curls.

When their fingers were wrinkled from the water in the hot tub, they showered and curled up on his bed, watching a meaningless show.

“So, my thoughts are that we can just skip the dating thing and go straight to marriage since legally we already are.”

“My mom will kill me.”

“Good thing she loves me, just say we eloped.” He wraps his good arm around her and pulls her down to lay on the pillows. She snuggles into the silk blend pillow cases and murmurs a little, tired from a long day. He caresses the side of her face and rests his hand on her hip.

MINA flits around the base, erasing specific footage from the recordings in the pool room, for everyone’s benefit.

Kenji paced back and forth in the base, waiting for her to get back from babysitting Chiho, hoping that Ami’s date would end shockingly early for his benefit.

He’s still on the phone with her, “I don’t want to wait to see you.” He kicks a throw pillow that had fallen on the ground from the couch.

“Have patience, I’ll be back around one AM.”

“This is spousal abuse.”

“It really isn’t”

MINA chimed in and agreed with her, so she exclaimed and said that even a robot knows the truth that Kenji was just a little clingy.

“I think you should stop watching other people’s babies and come take care of your family. And by family, I mean me.”

“I know what you meant.”

He looks to the clock, three more hours of waiting would be excruciating. But at least she’d be back in time for him to wish her an extremely early happy anniversary with the new ring he got.

#ultraman #ultraman: rising #ultraman x reader #kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #ken sato #ultraman rising #friends to lovers #slowburn #hot tubs play a role there somewhere #ken sato x reader #identity reveal #girl dad fr #best friends #best friends to lovers #pining #childhood friends to lovers #mutual pining #lilly's red string of fate

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minnesota-fats · 1 year

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A fic-lit about Danny working at the watchtower, not as a superhero but as an engineer.

This is based on an prompt I read months ago but cant find where Danny put that he was a halfa on his resume but the hiring manager didn’t pay attention to it and hired him anyway. Rather than that its just Danny working at the watchtower and vibing on break when a tiny Robin finds him in the viewing deck.

—

Danny had been working for the justice league watchtower for a couple of months. He has seen hero’s come and go, paying him no mind and he was absolutely living for it! Unlike at 14, he was just a simple, normal worker—despite being half dead and the next in line for the crown in the infinite realms—he is just a simple mechanical engineer, Danny Nightingale. No one to fight, no one to save, just a big space station that needed someone to help keep it up in space.

And that's another bonus to this job; Space!

He gets to spend his shift up in the stars, looking out at the cold expanse of their solar system. Admiring the earth from a whole new angle, and he is getting paid to do it! Sure he could go into space any time, but being able to spend a good portion of his time here really made his core sing in joy. When he was on break he would wander around the areas he had clearance to go into, looking out every window at every star. Cataloging the ships movement through space with sharp eyes. His favorite place to go is the viewing deck, it was exactly what it sounded like, a place to just go and view that space outside.

It was there that Danny decided to take his break today, the Watchtower was at just the right angle to be able to see the earth from the viewing deck. Danny smiled watching the planet he lived on from afar, this really was the best job he could have ended up with!

A few months back he was having a hard time finding work after college, sure he had all the proper qualifications for the positions he applied for. But due to his medical condition—being half dead with a slow almost nonexistent heartbeat—they all refused him, afraid that his heart wouldn't keep up if he left the atmosphere to board any of the space stations orbiting the earth. To be fair it wouldn't have, he tested it by flying up to the moon and back the old fashioned way. But he couldn't just tell them that; being an ecto entity was still a crime that he was just barely able to get away from at age eighteen.

He came out to his parents once he graduated high school, they reacted poorly. Danny’s mom saw red and tried to kill him the rest of the way, claiming that Danny was just a ghost “piloting” his corpse around. Danny’s dad just stayed silent and watched, but before maddie could really do anything he acted. Jack knocked Maddie out with a strong blow to the back of her head. Danny remembered the hope that he had when Jack did that, but after he looked up at the man that hope died in his chest. The man looked torn, both angry and sad and in a voice lacking any of the familiar warmth said, “leave before she wakes up.” And he turned to pick up Maddie and made his way up the stairs. It was because of his dad that he was able to get away because after that Danny Fenton was declared dead. With the help of Sam and Tucker he was able to make a new identity for himself and go to school. From that day on Danny decided to move on and never look back.

After putting his name out there time and time again he was rejected. It wasn't until he got a letter in the mail saying he had been scheduled for an interview at Wayne tech of all places. He didn’t remember applying there but decided to go anyway, needing some sort of job to get him through. But when he got there he was greeted by Lucius Fox and Batman of all people! Danny nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the dark knight, Danny couldn't help but think the worst. But before he could bolt, Lucius explained that Batman was looking for workers with the help of Wayne Industries for the base of operations for the Justice League—The Watchtower. Turns out all his applications to several different space programs caught the man’s attention. He even explained that Danny wouldn't even need to have a physical or get on a spaceship because The Watchtower utilized teleportation technology. Danny was so excited that he agreed on the spot without even knowing the benefits he would get from working with them. Which—surprising to no one—were a lot of benefits.

Danny was drawn from his thoughts when he heard the soft, almost nearly nonexistent footsteps coming from behind him. Danny turned and saw a child—no older than twelve—wearing a hero’s costume that looked like he was mimicking a traffic light. The kid froze in his tracks when Danny turned to face him, the two staring at each other for a few moments before the kid smiled and waved at him.

“Hi,” the kid beamed at Danny, “I’m D—Robin!”

Danny lifted a brow, “you a part of the justice league?” He asked, not remembering a kid being a part of their team.

The kid shook his head, “No, my guardian is though!” He explained.

“Ah, neat,” Danny said nonshalontly as he turned back to look at the window, “you come to see the view?” He asked.

The kid walked farther into the room and gasped when he got a better look at said view. “Woah—”, he exclaimed, now standing next to Danny.

Danny looked beside him to see the stars reflecting off of the kids' eyes, “cool isn't it? I come here on my lunch breaks," Danny says.

The kid looked at him and then squinted suspiciously, “if you're at lunch where is your food?” He asked.

Danny smiled, “I forgot my lunch at home today,” Danny lied, seeing the stars gave him enough energy to continue going. He usually eats when he gets home.

“Really?” The kid asked with a raised brow.

Danny smiled and looked around to see if anyone else was there, when he saw no one he asked, “do you wanna hear a secret?” He asked. Robin looked around himself as well before he leaned down a bit so Danny could whisper into his ear, “I actually just absorb the energy from the stars to sustain myself.” He explained.

“Really?” Robin asked, looking at him again, trying to gauge if Danny was lying or not.

Danny smiled, “yep,” he said, popping the p, “that's why I got a job here, that way I won’t starve to death.” Danny grins.

“But cant you just look at the stars from earth?” Robin asked, tilting his head.

“I mean, sure,” Danny says with a shrug, looking back out the window, “but this is so much better, isn't it?”

Robin looked out the window, “yeah!” The boy exclaimed, “it's so much clearer up here than in Gotham.” He commented.

Danny smiled and looked back at the boy, “I live in Gotham, too.”

“Really?” Robin asked, “No wonder you come up here,” the boy commented, causing Danny to snort in laughter and it wasn't long before Robin joined him.

“You got that right,” Danny says with a smirk before something dawns on him, “Wait, hero from gotham? I didn't know Batman had a kid?” Robin looked away, Danny could feel his nerves and sadness pass through him.

Danny was about to tell him that he didn't have to talk about it but before he could get his words out Robin spoke up, “My parents died about a year ago… he took me in only recently, he decided to train me when I found out he was Batman,” the kid says looking down at his feet, a glare etched on his face, “i never got to avenge my parents, the murderer had a heart attack before I could even get to him….”

Danny reached out to the kid and placed his hand on Robin’s shoulder, Robin looked up at him—as if remembering that Danny was there with him.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Danny says softly, Robin looks away from him. “But I can tell you wholeheartedly, your parents are proud of you and what you are doing,” robin began rubbing at his mask, preventing him from wiping the tears away from his eyes underneath. “Here,” Danny says as he goes to pick up the 12 year old, “let's get you back to the Big Black Bat, I bet he is looking for you.”

Danny sits Robin on his hip and walks out of the room, rubbing circles into the child’s back. They walk together in silence, Robin resting his head in the crook of Danny's neck. “…Thank you,” Robin mumbles.

“Don't mention it kid,” Danny says as he looks around the corridor trying to spot anyone who could help him get this kid to the upper levels, “I know what it's like to lose your parents….”

“Really?” Robin asked, his head lifting off of Danny’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Danny says, “they didn't die, but they basically said they never wanted to see me again.”

Robin gasped, “that's not nice!” Robin declared making Danny laugh again.

“Your right,” Danny agrees as he turns down another hall towards where the zeta tubes were, maybe someone in there could help. “But, now I'm here, having the time of my life with the job of my dreams.”

Robin smiled again, “you could say you're living the HIGH life.”

Danny paused in the hall and started snickering, “that was a good one, Birdy.”

“Birdy?” Robin asked.

“Yeah, your name is Robin, that's a bird, so Birdy,” Danny explained, “its a nickname

“Does that make us friends?” Robin asked.

“Sure, as long as your guardian is ok with it.”

The boy smiled happily, excited at the idea of having made a new friend. The calm was interrupted but Danny’s supervisor yelled from across the room, “Nightingale!” He shouts, causing Danny to jump.

Danny turns to look at the man, “hey boss—” he starts, blocking Robin from the man, not wanting to scare the kid.

“You are late to clock back in! You're not getting paid to sit around with your head in the clouds!” The man shouts.

“Sorry sir, I was—”

“No! You need to get back to work, NOW!” He demanded, “this is a multibillion dollar space station, everything needs to be on a strict schedule!”

Danny sighed, his supervisor hasn't liked Danny from day one. Something about him being “young and nïeve” or something like that; “head higher up into space than we were right now.” At least that's what Danny heard him say about him once or twice.

Danny was about to talk back when something just past his manager caught his eye. It was Batman, walking fast with a look that told everyone to get out of the way. But Danny could feel the worry bleed off the man in waves. Must be looking for Robin, Danny’s mind supplied. Danny sidesteps his supervisor and shouts, “Hey Batman!” To catch the dark knight’s attention. Danny had to restrain his laughter when he saw the look of horror pass on his supervisor's face.

Now with the vigilanties cold glare focused on him, Danny smiled and adjusted his stance to show Robbin to him. “Looking for you kid?” Danny asked.

Robin smiled nervously and waved at Batman, guess he wasn’t supposed to wander off like he did. “Hey B!” He shouts.

Batman’s glare softens so slightly, a regular person would have missed it. However, Danny could feel the man’s previous anxieties melt away into a strong relief. Batman strutted forward and glared down at Danny—despite Danny being taller than him. Danny just smiled and adjusted Robin on him so he could hand him over to the dark knight.

Now in Batman’s arms, Robin tapped his pointer fingers together nervously. “Sorry for wandering off,” he mumbled before his smile came back full force, “but,” he exclaimed, “I made a friend! His name is Danny and he liked my puns! And we both have bird names!” He exclaimed all while pointing at Danny.

Batman looked from the kid in his arms to Danny, “hmm,” he grumbled. A man of few words, Batman nods at Danny.

Danny nodded back, “He’s a good kid, glad I was able to help.” Danny replied. Feeling gratitude from that small gesture alone. Batman isn't the most expressive but being able to read emotions like Danny really helps when talking to people.

Batman turns his head to look over at Danny’s superior, “hmm.” After that Batman turned and walked away.

Robin climbed to sit up on Batman’s shoulder and waved back at Danny, “Bye bird buddy! Have a good day!” He shouts as Batman enters the elevator. The doors closing behind them and leaving the zeta tube control center in near silence.

Danny looked back to his supervisor who looked as pale as a sheet ghost, Danny gave him a shit eating grin and shrugged at him. “I tried to tell ya—”

“Get back to work Nightingale!” He shouts.

“Ok, ok, I'm going.” Danny says, turning on his heels and walking away from the man with his hands held up in surrender.

—

I have so many ideas for this au and if I write more I might post it on my AO3 feel free to read other things I posted on there!

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hysteria-things · 6 months

Note

ok hear me out… matt or chris x reader and nate threesome😮‍💨😮‍💨

also (kinda) based off of this

EYES WIDE OPEN

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate, dom!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: nate tells his best friend about what you two did on prom night, and it ends up with him showing chris how it’s done.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: THREESOME, PURE FILTH, swearing, p in v, fingering, some praising/degrading, hair pulling, dumbification, ROUGHH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,634

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sorry it’s late please still love me🙏

“you do know i fucked her right?” nate tells chris, pointing to the bathroom door just down the hallway.

“what?” chris questions, crossing his legs and looking over to his best friend.

you’re fixing yourself up in the restroom, and somehow, the boys start discussing how you have the most obvious crush on chris.

chris’ brother nick is your best friend and you practically grew up with them. since you’re a year younger, you’ve gotten close with nate being that he’s the same age as you.

you went to prom together senior year of high school, but it wasn’t serious. it was as friends.

chris chuckles, darting his eyes around the room. he may or may not have wondering eyes for you too, but he can never act on it. he’s one of your best friends, for god sake. “when?”

smirking, nate gets comfier in his seat. “after prom. remember when i said i couldn’t come over because my mom needed me home? i lied.”

his mind wanders, thinking back to what you were like in his backseat.

the rain sounds soothing on the car windows. the parking lot is empty, with only one streetlight illuminating in the distance.

lips smacking together in need, you grind on nate’s now growing hard-on through his dress pants. his tie is untied, his blazer thrown to the front seat with some of his shirt buttons undone.

nate’s hands roam up and down your body, gripping your ass each time he brings them to that part of you. he then starts to unzip his pants, pulling them down past his thighs along with his underwear.

the fluffy area of your dress is bunched above your hips, giving you easy access to nate’s dick. when he starts to pull your underwear to the side, you pull away and whine. “it’s too big.”

he chuckles, holding your hips to guide you down. the expanse is painful, but you tilt your head and moan nonetheless.

you wrap your arms around his neck and start to rock your hips slowly, whimpering and whining each time you move forward.

“there you go, just like that. i knew you could take it.”

he snaps out of it and sighs. “you need to see it for yourself one day.” nate suggests, taking a sip of his water. “she’s a good fuck, man.”

chris looks at his friend like he’s insane. “why are you telling me this, dude?”

“because you need to get laid.” he points out.

chris scoffs. “i don’t need to get laid.”

nate crosses his arms and eyes him, seeing right through his bullshit. “when’s the last time you hooked up with a girl?”

staying silent, that gives him his answer. “exactly.”

the bathroom door shuts, the sound of your footsteps coming back to the living room. “sorry, guys. i didn’t mean to take so long.” you giggle, sitting back down next to nate. they both eye you up and down, and you feel a little— no. very intimidated.

“do you remember prom night?” nate asks out of the blue, your eyes widening slightly.

“of course.” you start. “it was fun. why?”

he and chris both get up, the atmosphere feeling closed in around your body when they both hover over you. you gulp.

“do you remember when i fucked you?” nate asks, and your face heats up instantly. chris is standing right there. nobody is supposed to know about what happened with you two that night.

“i need to show chris here what he’s missing out on.” he continues, nodding his head to the right where he’s standing. “want to help me out?”

before you can answer, he cups your cheeks and kisses you with passion, laying you down back flat on the couch. you pout when he pulls away to remove your shirt. chris is now standing by the far wall to watch.

why don’t you question it? you have no idea. why do you enjoy it? also no idea.

he takes off his shorts and top, throwing them on the ground before his knees dip into the sofa at your sides. without warning, he takes his fingers and places them into your bottoms.

nodding to silently prove his point, he turns to chris. “she’s wet already.”

he practically rips off your shorts as you squirm, feeling embarrassed before he starts to rub your clit with two of his digits. gasping, you throw your head back. he moves them in a circular motion. you start to pant when he changes up the movements, either going hard or slow. “nate.” you whine, clit getting red from the penetration.

he takes one of the fingers and starts pumping it deep inside you, the other one still where it was before. your body jerks each time he pumps his finger into your hole, eyes starting to cross and tongue just about escaping your lips. “see how those pretty eyes roll back?” he teases. “i’m barely doing anything and she’s becoming a dripping mess.”

chris swallowed when his boner tightened in his pants, eyes not leaving your face of pleasure. nate adds the second finger, moving faster and curling them to hit one of the spots you love.

you moan loudly, closing your legs before they’re forcefully opened. “look at your little crush getting hard at the sight of ya. wishing he was the one who got to you first instead of me.”

chris pouts, frantically pulling down his pants to start jerking off at the sight. he moans at the way you’re looking at him through hooded eyes not helping with his erection.

“i’m-i’m going to cum, nate.” you mewl, squealing when you say his name.

“oh yeah? you going to cum around my fingers to show chris what he can never do?” he mocks, chris rolling his eyes. you whimper out yeses as your eyelids start to well up with tears. you cry out different curses, legs quivering from the stimulation.

the moment your orgasm drips down his hand, he puts his arms under your armpits and grips your shoulders. he leans so his bare chest is touching yours. “if you’re lucky.” he starts, hammering into you with no warning whatsoever. you gasp, the way he’s positioned making him deeper than ever. “you can pull another one out of ‘em.”

you scratch at his biceps, moaning and yelping while your body rocks so hard that the couch starts to squeak. “nathan! you feel so g-good!” you scream, the knot already coming back.

“you missed this, didn’t you?”

“mhm!” your mouth hangs open, clenching so hard on his dick it’s like you can feel every vein. it’s embarrassing how fast the coil tightens in your abdomen. “i’m cumming! ngh— oh my god.”

clamping down like a vice on his cock, you shake violently at how much you cum. he pulls out, flipping you over onto your stomach and getting up. this gives you time to breathe.

“your turn.” he tells chris, who’s leaking pre-cum out of his slit.

your eyes widen, pushing yourself up before chris grabs your hips and pins them down. nate grasps onto your hair and forces you to look at him. “eyes better not leave mine, princess. i want to see how fucked dumb you get.”

you wince at how hard he pulled. “w-wait! it’s too mu—” your eyebrows furrow and your mouth agape when chris enters you with ease because of how wet and aroused you are, completely cutting you off.

since you’re laid flat, the angle he’s hitting is deeper than nate’s. hoarsely moaning, chris’ hips pound fast, your ass slapping against his thighs.

nate’s tip lands on your tongue, fucking it to get to his high since he wasn’t able to get to it when he was fucking you.

it takes a second for your cunt to morph into chris’s dick. you’re still dazed from before, but since you’re getting filled again, you’re practically brain-dead at this point.

“y-you’re so big! ah—” you whimper, and he smirks. nate rolls his eyes. “you hear that? the slut said i’m big.”

“shut up.” nate bites back, painting your face with his sticky cum, smearing it on your mouth and chin. “so beautiful.”

you fight for your life to not have your eyes roll back, moaning uncontrollably since it feels like you can’t speak anymore.

he moves hard, grunting each time you close in around him. man, he missed doing this with girls. your nails dig into the arm of the couch, still staring into nate’s dark eyes. your mouth moves as if it’s saying words, but nothing comes out. you’re blabbing nothing. “look at that. you’ve fucked her even more stupid. well done.”

chris sighs annoyingly, looking down at the way your pussy engulfs him. “i know how to fuck girls, nate.”

whimpering, the fabric of the cushion rubs gently against your clit, squeezing tight around him so that it catches him off guard. “cum.” you sob quietly. “i-i’m going to cum.”

that alone has him going at an animalistic pace, tears staining your cheeks. “you’re on the pill right?” he asks, twitching between your walls when he hits your g-spot.

you nod, releasing for the third time tonight as he starts to get to his orgasm. “thank fuck. i’m not pulling out of this perfect pussy.”

thrusting in one last time, he stops to shoot his load nice and good into your cunt. nate let’s go of your hair, your head immediately plopping over the edge.

he’s already dressed, and chris gets up to do the same. they look at each other, smirking. “we did good.” nate says.

“yes we did.” chris replies the both of them looking at how your face is coated with cum and how your folds flutter, leaking and making a mess below you.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2

#✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!#nate doe #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nathan doe #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #nate doe fanfic #nate doe smut

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heartdiluc · 2 months

Text

❤︎₊ ⊹ men who everyone assumes has a high body count but he’s actually a virgin <3

⚠️ WARNINGS: nsfw content, sub gn afab reader, virginity loss, could be read as virgin!reader too, fingering, penetration, praise, all consensual actions

maybe its because he’s never had much time to explore himself and sleep around. maybe its because he’s never had a long term partner before you. or maybe he was just always busy with work or school. whatever it was, he never had sex before.

he’s attractive and exudes confidence so it makes sense to have thought he’d be more experienced than you.

so when it’s the first time you’re going to sleep with him, you’re getting impatient; he’s been slowly teasing you who sat straddling his lap, he’s groping your hips and thighs while letting his lips explore the expanse of your neck. you tug at his shirt that’s still on him. “come on! please hurry up—” you pout. “i just want you… please.” your boyfriend can’t help but smile against your skin. he backs off to look at you face to face.

“sorry baby, i’ve never done this before,” he laughs nervously and you look at him so confused. like what do you mean??? you almost don’t believe him when he tells you he’s a virgin. but the way he stumbles through his words and fidgets with his hands while expressing his nerves, you can tell he’s being honest.

though his fingers lacked experience or technique, they were thick and stretched your pussy perfectly. he leans down to use his tongue on your clit, testing the waters. and it only makes you squeeze your thighs against his head and let out a quiet whimper of his name.

he only stops and moves on to the next step after you beg and whine for him to hurry up. though he lacks experience, he makes up for it with determination. he’s so eager to make you feel good :( he runs his hands over your body, trying to find where you like his hands placed best. he aligns his cock to your entrance, pushing his thick tip inside you. you let out a sharp gasp.

your boyfriend shushes you. “are you okay, love?” he asks, trying to stay composed, not wanting to finish prematurely. you nod and he pushes deeper into your wet cunt. the feeling made him shiver, muttering under his breath and trying to keep himself from pushing all the way in and finish inside you.

“cutie,” he whispers at the sight of you squirming as he’s sinking himself into you more, giving you just what you needed. he thrusts his stuttering hips into yours. you open your eyes at the feeling of his hand coming up to caress your face. “is this okay— can i keep going?” he asks, voice low and alluring. more than okay, you want to say, but you couldn’t quite get the words out so you opt for a nod

“so beautiful,” he moans with a deep thrust “wanna make you feel so good my love.” feeling your hands grabbing his arms for support and your pussy squeezing around his cock, hearing you mumble out his name followed by ‘i love you’s, and seeing your flushed face; everything is overwhelming him with love and pleasure like he’s never experienced before.

gojo satoru, takuma ino, dazai osamu, jean kirschien, oikawa tooru, iwaizume hajime, matsukawa issei, hanamaki takahiro, miya atsumu, bokuto koutarou, kaeya alberich, childe/tartaglia, arataki itto, boothill, + any of ur favs <3

notes: ty for reading! likes, rbs, comments, and follows are appreciated <3 im so back

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #bsd smut #haikyuu smut #aot smut #genshin x reader #anime smut #haikyuu characters r timeskip obviously

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doomsdaybby · 2 months

Text

to end up with you. steve harrington x fem!reader. (2.6k words) just realising that I don't think I EVER posted this????!!! from wayyyyyyy back in the depths of google docs.

summary: waking up tangled in bed with steve was a new situation you never, ever, thought you’d find yourself in. cw: new relationship/honeymoon phase, inexperienced!reader, a lil bit smutty towards the end

You could safely say that your favourite thing about your newfound relationship with Steve Harrington, was waking up next to him in the morning.

As cliché and vomit-inducing as it sounds, there was no better feeling in the world. Nothing. Even though you had to admit - freshman year you would beat the absolute shit out of present you if they could gaze into the future, curled shamelessly up in bed with Steve ‘The King’ Harrington.

Of course there were the drives; Steve tapping away at the steering wheel and failing to keep his eyes on the road as you sang your heart out to his array of cassettes - from Abba, to Queen, to Duran Duran - he marvelled the way your eyes sparkled and how you would peer at him through thick lashes with unequivocal adoration.

Kisses under the stars on the hood of his BMW, picnic blankets in the blooming spring, and countless movie nights where you would steal his popcorn and he would pretend to be annoyed about it.

All of it seemed so minuscule compared to his soft breath fanning the nape of your neck, plush parted lips nestling at your collar bone, wild strands of hair tickling the tip of your nose.

You fell head over heels for Steve rather quickly, absolutely done for the first time you walked into Scoops Ahoy only to be greeted by him wearing that downright ridiculous sailor uniform. The uniform that hugged every single pretty little place just right.

He had been idly leaning over the counter, head propped lazily in one hand as he stared at the other spinning an ice-cream scoop on its head. “Pretty girl, 12 o’clock” you heard your friend Robin hiss at him from the window behind, and the boy would have surely leapt across the expanse of the counter if he straightened up any quicker.

A clear of the throat and he plastered on that signature smirk you only had the pleasure to be on the receiving end of once before. The sophomore year spring ball to be exact; your mothers sapphire blue dress clinging to your waist in every way you hated, ruched sleeves drooping over your shoulders, neckline cut scandalously low down for a high school dance.

Maybe it was because that dress gave away everything you didn’t want, having eyes that never paid attention to you before superglued to your figure, that Steve Harrington actually noticed you for the first time.

Not a word was said, not once did he try to strike up a conversation or woo you with an overused pick up line that the whole of Hawkins had heard before, but the smirk across the dance floor was enough, and your heart fizzled and sparked like fireworks on the fourth of July.

You despised it then, but the look he shot your way appeared softer this time around. Maybe it was the ridiculous uniform that made him present like a little lost puppy, or how you noticed his eyes swimming with the ‘I definitely know who you are but I'm not going to address it’ look.

“Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavour with me? I’ll be your captain. I’m Steve Harrington”, words as sweet as caramelized sugar. He flipped the scoop in his hand only to fumble when it hit his fingertips at the wrong angle, the offensive clang of metal on metal made your nose scrunch.

But little did he know, Steve had you pinned. Completely enamored in every way you wish you never would be, pinched by the collar between his fingers.

“I know who you are” you snickered through your fingers, not wanting to embarrass the poor boy anymore as he just dive-bombed his attempt to be suave. His cheeks stippled the lightest dusting of pink, growing disgruntled when Robin didn’t hold back on the overboard cackles and chastising.

Your first kiss happened exactly one month after that, parked up outside your house after a late showing of ‘Back to the Future’, third date pocketed and he had only done so much as kiss your cheek. You liked who Steve Harrington blossomed into, you liked him a lot.

The realisation came that even during those high school years, where someone like Steve would never give you the time of day, he had always been a sappy lovesick little puppy. The years of babysitting and near enough mothering had stripped the cool guy illusion, and thank every higher power that they did.

Because Steve Harrington had only ever wanted to be loved, and you were grateful to be the one he welcomed with open arms.

You would always remember that first morning waking up to him, fearing that you may never be able to wake up alone again. If your parents knew you were at Steve’s rather than Robin’s like you’d told them, they would have moved states before letting you see him again. As sleeping over at a new boyfriend's house could only mean one thing, right?

But even three months in, Steve never once touched you unless you made it clear it was okay. He never pressured, or reprimanded. Neither did he break up with you as you had expected, having the knowledge burnt into your brain that he certainly got around.

But you weren’t just a new conquest or a summer love affair. His heart had never beat quite as fast as it did when he was with you, and he made every effort to show you just how much you meant to him.

The affection trickled in at first, keeping you at arms length whilst you were still figuring each other out. But soon the outpouring of love came in tidal waves, and you quickly realised that Steve’s love language was absolutely physical touch.

Whether it be a safety net of a hand at the small of your back, fingers delicately intertwined with yours, a gentle hand roaming through your hair, or a pinky finger rooted through your belt loops - he was always there.

Right on queue, Steve shifted in his sleep beside you, pressing his face further into the crook of your neck and gripping you at the ribs just that little bit tighter. You placed a small kiss to the crown of his head, and he smiled, a lazy grin painting his charming features.

“Morning handsome,” you mumbled into his mess of hair, and Steve speckled that small sliver of collarbone with what felt like a million tiny pecks. He hummed against your warm skin, pulling the arm back that was fastened underneath your ribcage so he could snake it beneath your t-shirt.

His touch travelled over the soft plush of your belly, fingertips barely tracing your skin, settling right at the base of the valley of your bare breasts. You bit the inside of your lip, he was always so conscious of boundaries.

“You can touch them if you want,” you said quickly, before you had a chance to take it back, the back of your neck burning with embarrassment at the mere suggestion. But Steve laughed delightfully into your skin, the vibrations of his throat tickling and he lifted his head up to meet your eyes then.

That dummy beamed up at you like he’d just won the lottery. “Really?” a quick flick of his gaze to your lips, and you felt your chest ignite like a bonfire.

He always held the lit match in his hand, delicately enclosed in his fingers, your heart permanently doused in gasoline and begging words escaping your lips for him to set it alight.

An enthusiastic nod was more than a perfect green light, settling back down into the crook of your neck. So with permission, Steve floated his hand up to the swell of your breast, careful and methodical, tracing around the shape and eventually enclosing his palm over you.

Bare teeth amidst a cheerful grin brushed along your skin, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how giddy he was getting over your tits.

“Jesus, Harrington. Haven’t even said good morning to me and you’re already feeling me up?” you wanted to make light of it all, despite the growing rate of your heartbeat the more Steve pushed and pulled amiably, plus the blatant erection that was now pressing urgently into your leg.

“Good morning” a gravelly mutter cloaked beneath a poorly hidden chuckle, wild bed-head mane sweeping along your chin when he angled his head up again, this time to place attentive kisses just beneath your jaw.

Of course he had touched you like this before, but the sexual contact you had didn’t branch out further than copping a feel and a bit of dry humping. And the poor boy was in absolute bits, pitiful and whimpery however always able to understand the word no.

Having had a small amount of sexual experience - Steve’s encounters a trilogy of novels compared to your half sheet of paper - you had been put off because neither of your previous partners had been particularly good. To say the least. So you were cautious, a slow burn, not really clued up on the appeal.

But hell, did that boy make you want it. Want him. A broad hand spread along your inner thigh whilst he was driving, absentmindedly massaging the skin there, setting your cheeks aflame and kindling an ache that burned in the pit of your stomach. A suckle at the sweet spot right under your ear, blood vessels burst deep purple and rouge, sweet nothings and scandalous fantasies whispered in your ear, with a tone akin to hot dripping honey, as his fingertips played with the band of your panties.

But it would always end the same. “Only when you’re ready” he would hush, words fuelled with indisputable devotion, a torch lit ready and patiently waiting. And you loved him evermore for it. Which is why on this particular morning, you thought it was about time to put that loveable touch starved idiot out of his misery.

So you slid your fingers into the untamed mess of his hair, the golden glow of the sun creeping through the bedroom window illuminating every glittering strand. His shoulders grew limp, rotating palm circling lazily as your nails travelled further down, grazing the top of his taut back between broad shoulders.

He groaned your name into your heating skin, placing a stippling kiss right on that jutting artery that beat furiously. Spurred on by his clear enjoyment, you spread your fingers down until they couldn’t travel any further, stopping halfway along his ribcage and back up again.

Though you were already pressed impossibly close, Steve leaned further into you, rutting his hip against you either accidentally or on purpose, you weren’t too sure. And the groan that caught in the back of his throat was enough to engulf you in a raging wildfire.

“Steve,” his name came out more as a warning, pitched and a little desperate, though he definitely took it as an opportunity to do it again now that he had gauged your response. And the bastard smiled into you when your chest heaved that little harder.

“Yeah, baby?” a breathy near goddamn whimper and he knew exactly what he was doing. Paired with his thumb pad grazing over your stiffened nipple, he had you tumbling to the edge.

You couldn’t even think about preparing yourself for what he had you in for when he finally lifted his head from your chest - glossy pink parted lips, shining honeysuckle eyes and the rosiest of fucking cheeks stippled with a galaxy of freckles. Pretty pretty boy.

“You think so?” a hint of a grin pricking at the corner of his plush lips, and you breathed out a shaky exhale of a laugh in response - partly because you had said that out loud, and partly because he wouldn’t stop rolling your nipple between his forefinger and thumb.

And you’re nodding, finally framing his beautiful face in your hands and pulling him up. It was anything but chaste, noses sliding together and hot breath mingling before you finally sealed his lips to yours.

His kisses symbolised Steve; sweet, loving, fiery and nothing but enthusiastic. His hand slips from beneath your shirt, and he’s pulling you down into him and onto your side so you’re facing one another. He kisses you fervently, swallowing a sigh from his open mouth when your hands wove through his hair.

“You’re so beautiful” he admitted whilst eventually coming up for air, ragged and coarse, juxtaposed by the dotting of simple pecks at the outer curves of your lips with your head held in his hands. God, how your heart swelled.

“So are you” you replied, breathless and wholeheartedly lovestruck, and his thumbs traced along the highs of your cheekbones. Steve Harrington smiled bigger than you had ever seen, one that had the apples of his cheeks bobbing and eyes crinkling delicately at the corners. You really meant it, especially when the morning light cast him in a heavenly glow.

Then he was leaning over you, pushing you on your back again and propped up on his elbow as his other hand glided along your blazing cheek, hooking at the hinge of your jaw and planting you there. His weight bore down torso to torso, noses crushing, mouths wide and eager and searching.

Steve dragged your face forwards as if you were his life support, teeth colliding and you had never felt so desperate in all your life. He pulled you this way and that, large hands clambering along the expanse of your back to scoop you up into his tight embrace.

Then he was back to his favourite spot - kiss bruised lips discovering every dip and curve of your hot neck, urgent and intense, and all you could do was tug on those goddamn untamed locks and unsuccessfully bite back every whimper that threatened to break free.

“You know…” he mumbled at your throat, a promise of a love bite hidden behind a slow ghosting of teeth, “I’ve had so many wet dreams about you like this, in my bed…” the vibration of his lazy morning voice cascaded shock waves right down to your centre.

“And I wake up such a goddamn mess, thinking about these pretty shaking thighs wrapped around me…”

Without warning, Steve knocked your knees apart so he could slide across and into the space, looming over you now like a black raincloud promising a thunderstorm, hot breath never once leaving the shell of your ear.

His touch trailed down to roll soft circles into your inner thighs, and all you could do was cling to him as if your life depended on it, not sure what to do with yourself or even where to look.

“You got a dirty fucking mouth, Harrington” the words catching in your throat when your earlobe caught between his teeth, a gentle tug and nursing of the tip of his tongue when you sucked in a breath.

“I can’t help it with you” dipping down his pretty head to suckle at that sweet spot right under the hinge of your jaw, just where he knew you liked.

“I can say a lot more if you want?”. His hands were playing with the waistband of your panties and you felt like you could scream. Then his hands shifted, pulling back on the elastic and snapping it against your heated skin.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he grinned, shining pearly whites both a blessing and a curse. A whispered huff of his name and clench of your thighs was a good enough answer for him. How could he ignore the angelic noises leaving your lips just from his fingers alone?

He had barely even done anything yet.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington short #stranger things fanfic #my writing

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urhoneycombwitch · 3 months

Text

heated touch

foreword: “but Lulu it’s not even summer yet how come you wrote a pool fic” okay first of all global warming. it’s absolutely summer rn. hush up and eat up. 👼

cw: R wears bikini top + skirt, Eddie is Down Bad™️, and is also touchstarved, brief use of the awkward miscommunication trope, R’s baby hairs mentioned but no color or texture, weed mention (Robin is a stoner canon change my mind u can’t), R uses sunscreen (no skin color mentioned), implied plus-sized reader

wc: 3.4k

___

It’s the first real, normal, non-apocalyptic summer that anyone can remember having in a long, long time.

With the heat index at a sizzling 97 today, various members of the Party have taken over Steve’s half-shaded, half-pool extravaganza of a backyard. The kids are jumping in and out of the bright blue water, splashing and cackling, while you and Robin stretch out like house cats in a sunny patch of grass nearby.

You, mere yards away, in a swim top and sweet little pleated tennis skirt. All that lovely skin on display, glistening in the light.

And Eddie is sulking, indoors, frozen with lovesickness. There’s condensation dripping from the forgotten can of beer in his left hand; through the window above the kitchen sink, Eddie observes the scene in mournful silence.

“Christ, you really are a pussy.”

Eddie whips around with a glare that would level a normal human being, shushing Steve with a panicked fierceness that only makes the guy chuckle harder at Eddie’s expense.

“Y’know,” Steve continues with the insults, dipping into the fridge and reappearing with a Fanta and a shit-eating grin- “You might want to try leering like a creep from the garage window. That way no will hear you jack off-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Harrington.” Eddie interrupts with a grade-A scoff and eye roll combo, rivaling Steve’s own bitchiness. “Wasn’t your last successful date back in high school, like, six years ago when you had better hair?”

Steve doesn’t even flinch. With condescending sympathy, he sighs and shakes his head of (beautiful-even-when-wet, damn him) hair, snapping the soda can tab with a flourish. “Might wanna hurry up and make a move. Can’t suppress my charm forever just ‘cuz you’re too chicken to man up- it’s not natural to keep all of this hidden away.”

Steve gestures to the broad expanse of his golden chest, dark thicket of hair sitting proud, the scars that he seems to have no qualms over showing off criss-cross along the flex of muscle at his sides.

Realistically, Eddie knows Steve wouldn’t go after you, not even as a joke. It would defy the honorable and unmentioned Bro Code they’ve lived by ever since Eddie almost died in an alternate hell dimension and Steve valiantly pulled him back topside.

Teasing, though? It’s Harrington’s godgiven right- especially since Eddie’s so hopelessly in love. It’s almost too easy to get him riled up, to light a fire under his ass to maybe finally get the situation some forward movement.

Flames lick at the kindling. Steve walks backwards, shooting Eddie one last finger gun and wink before rejoining the boisterous outdoors crowd. Through the crack Steve’s left in the sliding glass door, Eddie can hear that asshole’s cheery voice ring out- “Lookin’ good, ladies!”- and your subsequent peal of laughter.

Eddie can feel the heat through the black denim at his ass, sweat rushing to prickle at his pits underneath the light layer of tanktop- the one with a high-necked collar and sides long enough to conceal most of his scars.

Not that he’s trying to hide ‘em, perse... they’re just sensitive to the sun. Plus his black jeans have holes in them, so they totally count as summer attire. He’s basically wearing shorts right now. Steve can suck it.

“Suck it, Steve,” Eddie grits out to no one for good measure, before taking a steadying gulp of beer and stepping bravely out beyond the glass doors.

It’s shockingly bright, sun bouncing off the surface of the pool and rendering Eddie momentarily blind; he shields his eyes with his free hand in time to catch the tail end of Sinclair’s mid-air somersault.

“Five,” Max calls out, lounging safely out of the splash zone, waves from Lucas’s cannonball lapping at her pink donut pool float. Thick black prescription sunglasses take up half her face, expression unmoved even as her boyfriend splutters in the deep end.

“Are you kidding?” Lucas is indignant as he huffs and treads water. “Gimme at least an eight. Did you even see the flip?”

“I saw it.” Unimpressed, Max shrugs a freckled shoulder. While Lucas devolves into swearing out his complaints (already with one elbow planted on the concrete to get out and make another attempt at a higher score), Max zeros in on Eddie, one brow arched high in searing appraisal. “You gonna swim with your boots on, too?”

“I’m- shut up, Red. Nice donut.”

Max’s triumphant smirk confirms what Eddie already knows (he totally bombed that comeback), but if there’s one thing in the world Eddie’s good at, it’s Pretending. A trait forged and perfected over the years of being reigning Dungeon Master; it’s served him well during D&D sessions, and when running from the law.

And it’s coming in handy now, too, as Eddie walks past Steve (half-snoozing in a lounger) and the table of Baby Byers and Wheeler Jr. (playing an intense game of Slapjack), pretending to be totally Normal and Chill as he approaches you and Robin, a ways off from the bustling pool.

Go with what you know, Eddie tells himself, because if he focuses for more than two seconds on the fact that you’re stretched prone, sunlight filtering through the big tree overhead and illuminating the soft curves of your thighs just visible under the Spandex hem of your skirt, he’s gonna have a pressing issue that will be anything but pretend.

Robin’s lying on her back on the beach towel next to yours, a tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice held up close, obscuring her field of vision. Using this to his advantage, Eddie crouches on his haunches, then leans in to press his cold can of beer to the tender arch of Robin’s bare foot.

She yelps, kicking out on instinct (which Eddie was expecting). He manages to take the brunt of the hit with a forearm block, but doesn’t see the paperback coming until it’s hitting the side of his face.

“Ow, christ, Buckley,” he moans, slumping to sit on Robin’s towel, hamming up the victim act for your sake and sympathy while Robin snatches up her book and gives him another solid thwack, pages fluttering.

At the commotion, you’d lifted your head from your arms, leaning into them now with the weight of your upper half. Eddie tries really, really valiantly to not stare at your swimsuit top (practically a bra), and instead distracts himself with the fact that you were giggling. At him.

Give the boy an inch and he’ll take a mile, Wayne is wont to say of his nephew. Never been truer than now, as Eddie gets drunk off your attention and humors, crowding familiarly and rudely into Robin’s space just to piss her off more and to keep your twinkling-eyed focus.

“Yech.” Robin gags. “I’m not gonna sit here and watch you two flirt up close. I just ate lunch.”

Eddie’s worried that comment will embarrass you into pulling away but apparently, you’re not shying from the accusations of his affection anymore.

A snort and a sardonic eye roll is what you dish back, and Eddie latches on, delighted to have a Shit Starter in Crime, pushing an honest hand to his chest in faux-shock- “Flirting? Me? I’d never. What an accusation. You’re getting crazier by the day, Buckley.”

The peal of laughter that ripples from you is like a song, vibrating the frequencies between Eddie’s ears, scrambling all the channels with its aching beauty.

Goddamn addictive, he thinks, as the white-out of his hearing fades back to normal. A light, warm wind rustles through the big oak overhead, leaves shushing together; allowing himself a glance at your stretched form, Eddie’s (un)luckily close enough to see the smattering of goosebumps rise on the skin of your arms.

To observe the way sweat curls the baby hairs near your temple, at the nape of your neck. To see the little creases near the corner of your eyes as you close them, turning your face into the wind, a quiet expression of summer bliss on your face.

Eddie could sit here for hours like a (happy) creep just taking in every minute detail, but Robin starts bitching at him about the weed he still owes her from ages ago, poking her cold toes into the holes of his jeans, mischievous and irritating.

Eddie smacks at her ankles until she pulls them back, matching her argument point for point; it’s not about the weed, of which he’d gladly give- it’s about keeping that smile on your face even as you sit up to start digging through your nearby tote bag.

“And plus,” Robin’s saying, sticking a finger into the dimple of Eddie’s left cheek like the obnoxious little sister he never asked for, “You scratched the everliving hell out of my bike last month when you insisted you were sober enough to ride it home.”

“What’d you want me to do, drink and drive? Not very Just Say No Club of you.” Eddie is operating on autopilot with his responses, absorbed in the way your delicate fingers move inside the canvas of the bag.

“I wanted the same thing that I currently. Want.” Two more ice-cold prods of her toes into the same spot of his exposed knee. “Three grams, pre-rolled, plus an apology.”

Eddie is about to give in with the promise of the rest of his sizable stash and a bike waxing regimine with his own spit thrown into the mix to get Robin off his case, when the sound of your voice cuts through the bickering.

In your hand, held aloft and out between the three of you, is a bottle of sun lotion. Your focus is fixed on shaking displaced items back into your bag, not looking as you make a request:

“Babe, would you do my back?”

Eddie moves on instinct before he even has time to process the ask, reaching out towards the palm tree-printed plastic- but for some reason, Robin’s hand collides with his mid-air. Goddammit, Buckley.

His annoyance at Robin quickly gives way to confusion, then roiling embarrassment as two sets of eyes whip to him, your mouth slightly parted in an o shape and Robin making a squeak of awkward alarm.

You were talking to Robin. Obviously, you were talking to your girl friend to rub you down with lotion.

Jesus christ, Munson, get a grip.

Eddie lets go at the same time Robin and you draw back, the three of you stammering half-sentences over the thunk of the bottle hitting the ground.

“I meant- sorry, god, sorry, I meant Robin-”

“Fucking- jesus, of course you meant Robin, I’m sorry-”

“Oh god! I can do it! It’s fine!”

There’s a brief pause where all of you stare down at the bottle, as if it holds some great mystery of the world. Or is perhaps concealing a time-bending device that will let Eddie go back twenty seconds to kick himself in the head.

He’s just about to make some lame excuse to fuck off forever when Robin beats him to it, jumping up with a spastic, nervous energy. “Um. Steve’s calling me. So I gotta… see what that dingus wants. You’re good?”

This last part, directed at you; with a quick, reassuring nod, you say “I’m good.”

Seemingly recouped from the whole debacle, you squint up at Robin- “Eddie’s got it,” and then fixing Eddie with a disarmingly beatific smile- “Right?”

It’s like looking into the sun. Eddie is pretty sure his neurons haven’t been firing properly ever since he caught a glimpse of your thighs earlier. By some miracle, he manages coherence- “Uh-huh. Yep. Right.”

“O-o-kay.” Robin lets the word expand, then gives a dorky two-finger salute and makes for the empty pool lounger next to a snoring Steve.

Then it’s just you and Eddie, blinking at each other from your seats on opposing towels, until you lean to pick up the bottle, this time handing it directly to him.

An invitation, paired with a smile that still pulls at the corners of your mouth.

Someone jumps noisily into the pool, a few scattered cheers accompanying the crashing water. Red’s distant “Nine-five!” echoes through the backyard and this, of all things, spurs Eddie into unfreezing.

He takes the proffered lotion, shifting to kneel in the strip of grass not covered by either of your towels, waiting and watching for your approval.

Like something out of a dream, you lower yourself face-down again, hands tucking themselves sweetly into the space between the hollows of your shoulders and the ground. Eyes half-lidded as Eddie scooches closer.

“Just on your back?” He asks, soft, like you’re a deer about to spook (although based on the way his hands are trembling, Eddie’s the more likely candidate for chickening out and running for the hills).

“Mhm. Please.”

Fumbling under your sidelong gaze, Eddie wiggles all the rings from his fingers, stuffing them into his pocket.

“Too cold,” he explains, feeling fidgety from your eye contact, rubbing his hands together briskly to bring out the warmth and give them something to do other than shake.

Eddie pines for a cigarette, a quick burst of nicotine to steel his nerves. Instead, he picks up the sunscreen, squeezes a quarter-sized puddle into his left hand, and shifts to kneel close as he can without actually bumping his knees into your side.

The sunscreen is already warmed from being out in the heat of the day, so Eddie starts on your left shoulder. Dips his fingers into the puddle, spreads a thin layer on the blade of your shoulder, and rubs it in.

At first, his touch is gentle and apprehensive, but when your eyes drift shut on the second pass of his fingers, Eddie gets a bit bolder. On your right shoulder, another layer of suncream goes on, but this time, Eddie lets his thumb slip into the grooves under your shoulder blade.

He runs his thumb along the stripe of muscle next to your scapula, still with pressure light enough to feign keeping to his task, thrilled when you make a soft noise of satisfaction.

“I would’ve asked you, y’know.”

Eddie pauses, hand resting at the top of your spine, the skin of your neck freshly glistening and tacky from his work. “Asked me what?”

“To do this.” You shrug a shoulder, pointing in a roundabout way at your back. “I just… I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“Why the hell would I say no to this?” The words are out before Eddie can bite them back and find a much more cool and normal thing to say. He can feel your chuckle, the vibrations of it, the way it causes the muscles in your upper back to move.

Eddie tries to cover his lameness by refocusing on the mission he’s been given, like a heroic knight bestowed with a great honor by a fair maiden… on second thought, he’s got to cut out the fantasy metaphors. This situation is wild and tempting enough as-is without adding a potentially very horny layer to the mix.

“You can get under my top, if you want,” you murmur, lashes dark against your cheek in profile, voice all honeyed and fair-maiden-like.

Eddie swallows hard. Distributes the rest of the lotion between two palms, rests them just below the black fabric, and then slides up. Underneath the top, your skin is the same- smooth and pliant and sweet.

“Feels nice,” you whisper, eyes still closed in reverie, sounding sleepy and relaxed.

Eddie is entranced with the way your muscles move under his touch. He applies a bit more pressure to the mid-back area of your spine, dragging his thumbs down on either side. You make another noise, this one closer to a moan, and Eddie’s really glad he’s practiced at the skill of Boner Killer On Command because he wouldn’t dare sully the atmosphere with ill-timed arousal (though his limits are certainly being tested today).

“Sorry about the callouses,” he says, a bit of self-deprecation to fill the air because he’s gotta focus on something other than the way his hand fits perfectly in the center of your low back.

“S’okay. I like them, actually. You’re good with your hands.”

Not for the first time, Eddie is relieved that you’re not looking at him- his ears are burning, on their way to bright pink. Same with his cheeks. “Cool, yeah. That’s good. Um. I play guitar, y’know so… I get around.”

After cringing at himself, Eddie watches the apple of your cheek round upwards with a smile, a sharp flash of your teeth as you say, “I can tell.”

There’s an amiable quiet that falls over the two of you; in the background, splashes and chattering from the pool group float in the air, muted by the warm winds shushing through overhead branches.

At one point, Eddie realizes he’s covered your whole back in sunscreen and is now just trailing his fingertips over the notches of your spine, starting low and ending near your neck, following the path down again in a loop. If you mind, you don’t say anything, seemingly sated by his touch.

There’s an aching behind Eddie’s ribs. It squeezes at his heart, makes his next breath pinch- he wants to touch you like this all the time. He’s already hooked.

All too soon, you’re peeling yourself from the blanket, sitting up with a sheepish smile. Eddie can’t tell if you’re getting shy on him from the touch alone, or if it’s the fact that he’s the one that’s been touching.

Either way, if Eddie could find a more chill way to say “I’d like to do that every minute for the rest of my life if you’ll let me,” he’d say it to appease any worries you may have.

Bare knees pulled to your chest, you gesture at the bottle still in Eddie’s hand. “I could… do you, if you wanted?”

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, through the heated curtain of curls. “Nah, that’s okay. My abs won’t be ready to debut until the end of summer. 1993.”

He’s expecting at least a chuckle out of you, but instead, he’s fixed with a kind, all-knowing look.

The two of you are face to face, your shin close enough to brush Eddie’s ribs as you state, “Not a fan of the heat, are you.”

“What gave it away?” Eddie gestures animatedly at the humidity-fed frizz of his hair, then shakes his head like a wet dog.

When you catch one of his curls between two fingers he freezes, heart slamming to a pause as you loop it around a knuckle.

“I have some deep conditioner at my place. Could help you out if you wanna come by some time.”

Mere inches from his cheek as you lean in, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying to memorize how you smell- coconutty from the lotion, a bit sweaty, a faint hint of deodorant and the vanilla perfume you spray in the mornings.

He’s never been this close before.

He feels electric. Or more accurately, like he’s been electrocuted, and he’s waiting for you to restart his heart.

“Does that sound good, Eddie? You, me, some hair care… maybe a movie? I can steal some from Family Video. I know a guy.”

At his ear now, your voice is low as you wrap a hand around the inside of Eddie’s arm- it’s his turn to break into goosebumps. “Oh yeah? Willing to steal for me already?”

This earns him a stellar laugh, head tipped back to show the curve of your perfect neck. You shove at him playfully, and he’s about to snap up your hand to bite as payback when your name is yelled from across the yard.

“Come on, we need another unbiased judge!” Max waves urgently from the pool as Lucas and Dustin get into an increasingly loud argument over the Olympic grading system.

“Goddamn kids.” This comes out much more growly than Eddie intended; you just chuckle and squeeze his arm before pulling away to stand.

Eddie mourns the loss of your body heat until you extend a hand towards him, saying, “Let’s go humor our goddamn kids, and we can talk about dinner afterwards.”

It’s like your hand is made to fit inside Eddie’s. He follows close on your heels, heart thudding a steady, overjoyed rhythm once more.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things fic

923 notes · View notes

loveshotzz · 1 year

Note

Hi hi babes 🖤🦇

May I pretty please request ☆ { licking } their neck to make them gasp with our Stevie?

Thank you 🥰

Hi my sweet sweet Drac 🖤 I would love nothing more than to give you what you want.

steve harrington x fem!reader

wc: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ Co workers to lovers, Mentions of drinking at a party, dry humping, hickey giving, uh-oh did you make Steve cum in his pants? :(

You weren’t supposed to give into Steve Harrington, you promised yourself you wouldn’t after your first day at Family Video when he laid it on thick with the kind of flirting that would have gotten him anything he wanted in high school but you knew better now and his own confidence had gotten knocked down a few pegs over the years. The problem was he could tell you liked it, because as much as you hated to admit it, you did. Steve caught the twist of your lips that you were always trying to hide when he’d tell you how cute you looked every time you walked into work even on the days it was just a t-shirt and jeans. You never told him to stop, even when he’d ‘jokingly’ ask you out to dinner after every close. It was always a shy smile and a roll of your eyes with a ‘shut up Steve’.

So how’d you end up straddling his lap in the basement at one of Rick’s parties that you didn’t even want to go to with his bottom lip between your teeth? You blame Robin Buckley and her incessant need to take multiple shots in a row to ‘get it over with’, and then abandoning you as soon as Nancy arrived leaving you with the boy you’ve been trying not to relent to and his reaction to your skirt all night.

Steve’s fingers dig bruising indentations into the soft dough of your hips when you let his lip go with a wet pop, watching it snap back into place even more swollen and pink than before from under your lashes. The mossy forest of his eyes is taken over black, pupils blown wide half hidden by heavy lids as he looks up at you with hair even messier than its normal disarray with your hands as the culprits. Your skirt sits rucked up just enough for him to see the blush pink lace of your panties underneath that match the dusting on his cheeks, and the wet patch that you know will leave a mark on the light wash denim of his jeans the more you grind against him. He lifts his hips up as he pulls you forward, gliding you over the inseam of his zipper with just the right amount of pressure against your clit to have you gasp. He feels even bigger than you imagined, bigger than all the stories you’d heard from other girls.

A cocky lopsided grin tugs at the corner of his mouth pushing up the cheek with the two moles that look like a vampire bit the apple of it, traces of pink from your gloss still linger on them and the glitter coating shimmers in the low light. He tilts his head back to look up at you, the thick expanse of his neck exposed along with the sharpness of his jaw. The new angle reveals a mess of freckles you’d only dared to let yourself look at from afar. Glitterless and bruisless, a blank canvas that taunts you.

Leaning forward your hands find a home on his chest, while his fingers spread wide over the curve of your ass. The tips of them daring to slide along the bottoms of your panties. His pecs twitch against your palms from under the thick fabric of his navy polo that fits snug over his broad shoulders, almost like it's a size too small just like his jeans and just like his vest at work. Steve Harrington knew what he was doing. Of course he did.

Tequila and pineapple are sweet on your breath, mixing with the peach of your gloss in a way that makes him impatient to collect them in a kiss again when the tip of your nose traces up the straight bridge of his. It leaves your lips just a chin tilt away from him if he really wanted but his dark eyes flick down to the growing wet patch between your thighs instead, grabbing handfuls of the soft fat of your ass to encourage you to grind harder.

“S’pretty you know that?” He groans bucking up when your hips oblige him, the tip of his cock fighting with the inseam of his jeans, pushing into the silk of your underwear making an even bigger mess of you. “Too damn pretty, honey. Could stare at you all day, fuck - I do.”

“Steve!” The way you giggle his name makes his teeth flash in the kind of smile that has you feeling like the flustered girls you see leave the counter at work.

“What? It’s true, can’t keep my eyes off you.” He sits up, straightening his back with big hands that pull you up with him.

The new position has your chests pressed, the length of him rubbing along your clit with enough pressure to make you whine and god does he need you to do it again. Grunting he starts his hunt for another with lips that find the hollow of your throat, smirking against your skin when your fingers tangle in his hair. You wanted to give it to him.

“I didn’t think you were gonna give me a chance,” His babbling doesn’t stop, especially when your hips start to circle, “you were playin’ so hard to get baby, but I’m patient when I really want something.”

“We work together Steve -“ You try to argue with a shaky breath, lashes fluttering closed as he nips at the sensitive spot behind your ear. The springs of the couch starting to squeak under your movements, too close to care about holding back any more. “It could get messy, you know? - Shit.”

He hums like he understands with your earlobe sucked into the heat of his mouth, letting it go with a pop before his eyes meet your heavy gaze with a mischievous glint that only stokes the flames he’s lit across your body, licking every inch of your skin.

“I don’t know,” The corners of his mouth twist up in a grin snapping the elastic band of your panties “seems pretty messy now.”

His tongue traces your top lip, while his fingers find purchase wrapped around your hips. Tan skin pulls taut over his knuckles using his strength to bring your hips down on him harder, a deep groan rumbling from his chest when you tug at the thick locks of his auburn hair from the roots.

“That’s not what I - “ Your lips connect for a moment, tongues meeting briefly before you pull away with a huff, “that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

The tip of his nose bumps with yours, his breath fanning across your face in a mixture of leftover peach gloss and the whiskey he opted for instead upstairs.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” He asks with another roll of his hips relishing in the way it makes your jaw go slack with a smirk, “We get paid to have sex? Big woop.”

“Is that how you think it’s gonna be?” Your bottom lip meets his top when the question comes out, your eyes meeting his from down the slope of your nose.

“Maybe,” He wiggles his eyebrows with a chuckle that hits hot against your throat, “If you want, after I take you out on a date of course.”

“Oh we’re going on dates now too?” Grinning with a tilt of your head, you think about stealing a kiss that he’s eager to give.

One of his hands leaves your hip, the warmth of it coming up to cup your jaw, the pad of his thumb tracing your bottom lip before tugging it down.

“Yeah, we’re going on dates”

He closes the little space between you, finally stealing what you’ve been teasing him with. His mouth moves with yours like he’s sure of himself, tongues meeting in a slow dance instead of a battle for dominance. His other arm wraps around your waist, biceps that are just as strong as they look pulling you closer, caging you in with another buck of his hips. The whine he’s been trying to get out of you starts to tease him from the back of your throat, the beginnings of it making his lips twitch against yours in a cocky way, even when he knows he’s dangerously close to needing a new pair of pants.

He’s not expecting one of your hands to come up and pinch the sharp edges of his jaw between two red painted fingers, or the way you start to control the kiss and Steve starts being the one to writhe underneath you at whatever mercy you want to give him. Truly, he doesn’t want any.

Now it’s him who whines when you pull away, your kiss swollen sticky lips finding the familiar path to his cheek. Another glittering trail of pink that leads down under his jaw where you nip just like he did to you.

“Honey,”

The pet name comes out like a warning when your tongue swipes across sweat slick skin. The tip of your nose nudging behind his ear with a smirk. Your hips circle with purpose now, not the wild abandon from before, feeling the way it makes him twitch in his jeans. He shudders when you lick the length of his neck, teeth scraping along the protruding vein as his arm tightens its hold, the palm of his hand curling around the back of your neck.You hum in approval, lips wrapping around where your teeth just were before sucking hard.

He groans your name loud enough you’re sure someone upstairs heard him, eyes rolling in the back of his head and toes curling in his sneakers as his hips buck up meeting the roll of yours. You know it’s going to be enough to leave his sun kissed skin lilac and blush when you’re done, but he doesn’t seem to care when the hard tip of him that threatens to bust through the seam of his jeans keeps hitting your bundle of nerves over and over again.

Steve’s head falls against the back of the couch, eyes pinching shut opening himself up more for you while his hips stutter. You feel the warmth of him flood between your legs. A string of curse words spilling from his lips, when your own release has your body freezing on top of him, thighs closing tight around his and an open mouth to his neck in a silent scream.

It’s quiet for a while, both of you trying to catch your breath with the bass of the music that vibrates the walls from upstairs. A content hum from your lips breaks the silence when he rubs his hand down your spine, nails scratching softly as he goes.

“Yeah, we’re going on dates.” He finally huffs out in a laugh, earning the giggle that he liked so much as his ‘yes.’

#my writing #requests #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington fic

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i2ycat · 4 months

Text

Trouble is a Band

synopsis being in a band was all you ever wanted, and so when you were able to fly across the globe to join your brother’s high school band, you jumped at the opportunity to show everyone everything that you’ve got. singing in a band? check. performing in front of a crowd? check. falling in love with your brother’s best friend, who is in a complicated relationship with one of your fellow bandmates? check?

pairing park jongseong x fem!reader genre high school!au, kind of band!au, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, brothers best friend trope, slow burn-ish? word count 7.5k warnings implied sexual relationships (there’s no smut), kind of an implied fwb situation, liking someone who is taken(??), mentions of toxic relationships, bitchy character lol, cursing, kissing, nicknames (princess, baby), semi-proofread, lmk if i missed anything else lyn speaking i’ve been writing this for like 2 months and even lost sleep over this, the real ones know ☝🏻 idk why but this was much harder to write compared to my heeseung one… and this is not my best work, wouldn’t say i’m entirely proud of this i’m ngl so i won’t be too surprised if this flops </3 also this got me thinking ab jay and guitars wayyyy too much main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

“Are the schools here always up a damn hill?” You heave out an exasperated pant, your legs burning from the early morning cardio you definitely weren’t prepared for, or even expecting for that matter.

The summer sun is so unforgiving that in under ten minutes, you’ve become such a sweaty mess that you’re furiously sweating from every possible angle; your uniform practically drenched from your back and underarm areas. A layer of perspiration sheens the expanse of your forehead and it results in you resembling something the likes of Abby from Chicken Little as individual strands of hair stuck to it like glue.

You look over at an unbothered Jake with his hair still perfectly intact and looking as if he had just walked out of Vogue magazine. You scoff at this.

The only things you and Jake had in common were having the same last names, a slight similarity in facial structures, and maybe a shared interest in band music but that was about it. You’ve had totally different upbringings up until now, with you having lived in France while he was in Australia, and soon after, in Sokor. You were apart for most of your childhood, only seeing each other for vacations and special occasions, like that one time Aunt Jung had her outdoor wedding in Barcelona and you’d met Jake and your mother at the airport out of pure coincidence.

But despite the distance, it didn’t deter the both of you from being as close as you guys are, still making the effort to talk almost every day, even if you were drained from school. You remembered nights when you would call up Jake just to rant to him about boys — yes, multiple — you were talking to while he ate lunch on the other side of the world.

However, other than just being brought up differently, you guys were total opposites. If Jake was known to be the golden retriever with his high energy, bright smiles, and friendly dispositions, then you would be considered the chihuahua — closed-off and somewhat sarcastic. You didn’t have a social circle as expansive as Jake's because you liked to be alone. People have always told you that you had this brooding aura about you, and you could never tell if they were complimenting or insulting you.

“You get used to it,” Jake simply shrugs, adjusting the straps of his bag in a manner that did not mirror yours in any capacity. It was ridiculous how not even a single drop of sweat was in sight. “Now hurry it up! If we walk any slower, we might actually be late.” He drags you by the arm, to which you inwardly groan, already regretting the fact that you transferred to a pseudo-gym of a school in the dead of summer.

—

Transferring to an entirely different school system definitely posed itself as an inevitable challenge at first, but even then, half a day passed you by uncharacteristically fast. It might have been because you were sleeping through the majority of your morning classes, unable to totally grasp or get used to your supposed mother tongue just yet, that made time pass seemingly faster.

That, coupled with the fact you never functioned properly in the morning in the first place thanks to your night owl tendencies.

You’d spent most of your life conversing in either English or French, rendering your skills in your own mother tongue to an intermediate level at best. You could, at the very least, listen and understand it to a certain degree but not speak it as well as Jake does. You were only able to communicate with simple sentences and the few swear words and phrases your father used whenever he was lecturing you.

A day before your flight back home, you’d even attempted to touch up on your language skills with the help of your father and a facetimed version of your brother and mother, but it was already too late then. You were a lost cause. You definitely don’t blame your parents for your inability to speak the language, but rather, you blame your own lack of enthusiasm to learn it on your own in the first place.

“Y/n, right?” You rub the sleepiness from your eyes away as your gaze averts to the girl standing in front of your desk. She, with her neatly braided hair and black rims, sported a welcoming smile that gave you the impression of a class president. Maybe she was; you haven’t been paying attention to anything the teacher said since this morning.

You slowly nod, “Yeah, I am.”

“I’m Mia, the class vice president.” Okay, so your guess wasn’t entirely off the mark. You were only missing a word.

“Hi.” You purse your lips into a tight-lipped smile, unknowing of what to say next and silently wishing that your brother would come get you faster. Why did his classroom have to be so far from yours? Did the administration really think you could handle all this on your own?

In the painful silence, you were sure that this Mia girl could sense the awkwardness radiating from you with the way she’s trying so hard to keep the conversation afloat, probably thinking that you’re an introvert that doesn’t like approaching people first — which if it was any other day she would’ve be right on the money on but all you wanted right now was to be left alone to your own thoughts. You were still suffering from jet lag and time differences, and those two combined ran your social battery dry.

“Where’d you transfer from?”

“France.”

“You’re french?”

“No, I just moved there really young.”

“I see,” she said, nodding her head as if she were deep in thought. “I’ve always wanted to go to France.”

“It’s nice there.”

“So, can you speak-”

Before she can even finish her question, a blaring bang coming from the front door reverberates in your almost empty homeroom, save for yourself, Mia, and a group of friends in the back with their homemade lunches. You almost dropped to your knees to thank the heavens for hearing your prayers as you watched your brother's figure stand there, taking a moment to catch his breath as if he’d just finished running a marathon.

“Hey, Jake!” You damn near winced at Mia’s drastic change of voices in your brother’s presence. You were sure she had a deeper voice just a few seconds earlier, even having the same mezzo tone as you do. It definitely raised a few brows, but you weren’t the type to judge people too quickly, and you didn’t want to think that about such a sweet-looking girl.

Maybe she just had a crush on your brother; whatever it was, your senses were telling you that they were currently not in favour of Mia’s presence.

"Oh, hey, Mi. I see you’ve met my sister.” Jake acknowledges her before turning to you and saying, “Come on, we've got to go meet the others.” He beckons you towards him with a nod of his head, to which you happily oblige, just thankful that you don’t need to go through the rest of lunch with any more of Mia’s interrogation-style questioning.

You follow your brother after handing Mia a terse goodbye, attempting to at least have an amiable smile on your face in the process.

Even if Mia had more things she wanted to ask you, she put them aside on the backburner for a later date. Instead, opting to just wave you and Jake off with the same friendly grin she always has on.

When you’re out of earshot, making quick work to slide the door close behind you, you make your way beside Jake in quick strides. “You know her?”

“Obviously. Why?”

“Nothing.” You shrug the feelings of uncertainty off, not having the energy to try and dig anything up on the first day of school. “You said we’re meeting the others?”

“Yeah, my friends, you’ve seen them. They heard you were transferring here and really wanted to meet you.”

From the number of times you’ve called Jake during his school hours, you were bound to interact with a few of his friends, mainly the three youngest of the group: Jungwon, Sunoo, and Riki. There would even be times he’d leave you alone with his friends while he went for a toilet break, and when he’d come back, you'd already be three months into the storyline with your then-current situationship.

You were obviously excited to finally meet them after only having talked to them via Jake’s phone. Throughout the four years, you’d like to think that you’ve created a connection with some of the boys, given that they already know so much about your life and you know theirs. The older ones, not so much, despite being much closer in age ranges.

Out of the four oldest, you’ve only managed to properly talk to Sunghoon. It was when you were on call crying to your brother about the fourth boy of the month, and Sunghoon just so happened to be going home with Jake that day. He’d eavesdropped on your conversation and offered you some advice, explaining that he had a sister of his own, as if that gave him the certification needed to meddle in your affairs.

You didn’t even know he was with Jake, let alone hearing you bawl your eyes out, blowing into copious amounts of tissues included, until he started going off about how boys are scary and that you shouldn’t trust them so easily. It startled you, almost making you scream, but you were grateful for his brotherly advice either way.

When the two of you finally make it towards the other end of the sixth floor, Jake slides the door to his homeroom open, and you’re immediately greeted with the view of six boys scattered around the empty classroom, a few having acoustic guitars and drumsticks in hand. This may sound cringy, but it reminded you of that one scene from Lemonade Mouth, where everyone was in the detention room and just communicating through the music. Except you weren’t in a detention room, and instead of singing, mindless chatter filled the space.

You’ve always daydreamed about being in a band, even going as far as attempting to create one of your own, but keyword: attempt. You obviously failed at doing so in your previous school because nobody likes being in bands nowadays, and your brother, knowing this, instantly jumped at the idea of adding you as their newest member.

He’d already gone through the logistics a week before you even officially transferred, coercing everyone in the band to agree to your addition, but truth be told, it didn’t even take that much toiling since everyone was just excited to finally meet you, and they'd already heard about how talented you are thanks to Jake’s endless bragging.

“She’s here!” Jake announces, prompting everyone to halt whatever it was they were doing and immediately jump at the sight of you gracing their homeroom entryway.

“Y/n!” Jungwon, Sunoo, and Riki are the first ones to capture you in a big embrace, effectively squishing you under their hold. Is this what people feel when they finally meet an online friend?

The mixture of fulfilment and excitement bubbling inside you was hard to maintain levelled, spilling out of you in the form of a grin that extended from ear to ear. You considered these three your babies at this point, wanting to spoil and shower them with as much love and affection as an actual mother would. It didn’t matter if you were only a few months older than them, that’s wasn’t the point.

When you’re released from their embrace, you can finally see the rest standing there with a cordial expression plastered over their features. You must admit, you’ve always thought that Jake’s friends were all attractive and had a relative charm to them, but it’s even more apparent now that you’ve met them in real life. With their tall stature and undeniable talent, you could only imagine the long line of girls waiting for them.

As you start to scan the boys one by one, you catch yourself gravitating towards Jay. He’s donning the school uniform, the same exact ones that the rest are, but he makes it so uniquely his by unbuttoning it to show the black shirt underneath and cuffing the sleeves until it reaches his forearms.

From the plethora of Instagram stories you’ve seen about Jay, you knew that Jay was into fashion and occasionally designed the outfits the guys wore onto stage. And as a fashion guru yourself, you applauded his impeccable style, finding yourself in constant awe of the effortless aura and innate ability for fashion that he possessed.

It also didn’t help that he was totally up your alley in terms of physical attractiveness. The others were pretty and charming in their own way, yes, but Jay had you hooked the moment Jake posted that photo of him fresh out of the beach, with tan skin and wet hair, looking like a damn Greek god.

Did you mention that you’ve also watched an unhealthy amount of videos of Jay playing the guitar? Because you have and it made getting attracted to him so much easier. Even through the screen, you could just tell that he was in his element, like he was born to perform as the passion he had for the instrument oozed out. Everything about him was just so mesmerising; you’re sure that you’re not the only one who sees that.

The timeline is blurry but from then on, you’d developed a small, insignificant crush on him, one that you didn’t bother mentioning to your brother because you were scared he would force you to act on it, even when you weren’t sure if you liked him enough to want to date him. You haven’t even properly met the guy at that point.

To you, it was simply an attraction. One that you’d get over in about a month because it’s what you always do.

“Hey, guys.” You wave.

“You’re awfully shorter than I thought you would be.” Riki says this from beside you, silently mocking you for all the times you’ve challenged him about his height.

“Of course you would say that.” You playfully roll your eyes. “You’re obsessed with your height, Riks; we get it.”

"Okay, back off, guys. That’s my little sister you guys are hogging.” Jake shoos the younger boys away with a flick of his hand, to which they dejectedly comply, making way for you to enter further into the classroom. “What was on our agenda again? Right, Y/n’s position in the band.”

“We could use another guitarist.” Sunoo muses, with Jungwon and Sunghoon silently agreeing on the side.

“Nah, we already have Jay and you for that.” Your brother shakes his head. “Wait, speaking of Jay, where’s Jiwon? You said she’d be here when I came back.” At this, all eyes shift towards Jay, who simply shrugs.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t tell me you guys are having a lover's quarrel again.” Heeseung sighs. Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of Jay, Jiwon, and a lover's quarrel in the same sentence. Confusion starts to pervade your stomach.

Huh? When did they start dating? You thought Jiwon was only a close friend.

You’ve only ever heard of Jiwon, not once seeing her face in Jake’s stories or any of the others. All the information you had on her was that she was the same age as you and played the keys for the band. Jungwon, Sunoo, and Riki mentioned her once or twice, but it was more of them complaining about her. Other than that, it was as if her existence evaded you completely.

“The third one this month, mind you.” Riki quips.

“It’s only the second week of the month, though.” Jake’s mouth gapes at the fact that his best friend is still willing to go through such a toxic relationship, or whatever it was, even when she limits the people around him until she’s the only one left in his life, when they constantly fight over the smallest things, or even when she encourages him to drop his best friends. He doesn’t understand what’s so good about Jiwon that’s got Jay under her spell, and he doesn’t want to know either.

“Can we just drop it?”

Your brother puts his hands up in defeat and says, “Whatever you say, bro.”

An awkward air of silence starts to permeate the air, and by now, you’re sure someone could cut through the tension with a knife.

You clear your throat before saying, “Is it okay if I’m just a singer?” in an attempt to divert the conversation back to its original agenda, which thankfully works because the others start talking, adding in their own thoughts here and there. And by the time lunch ends, you’re officially set as the band’s lead singer and lyricist.

Finding out about Jay and Jiwon’s relationship made you realise just how little you know about these guys, only having talked to them through FaceTime and watching them live their lives through snippets of Jake’s Instagram.

The warmth and familiarity you were initially met with made you completely forget that you only officially met these guys today. They were all, to some extent, still strangers to you.

—

A few hours of school turned into two weeks, and two weeks into a month. By now, you’ve gotten more than used to everyone’s dynamics and energy, though it was still a little too high for you at times. You were thankful that your brother was there whenever you couldn’t communicate your feelings and thoughts as well as you wanted to, and for the rest for being so understanding.

All of this was a dream come true for you, truly. Ever since your father introduced you to the world of music, you’ve dreamt of being in a band yourself, singing your own songs in front of people, and feeling the music course through you as you stand on the stage.

But no matter how much you wanted to saturate your mind with happier, less confusing thoughts, it always seemed to circle back to the same thing: Jay and Jiwon.

Over the course of a month, you’ve managed to interact with Jiwon on several occasions, each lasting around a minute. They consisted of mostly quick pleasantries, instructions, and the rare ‘how are you’s? She wasn’t cold but not entirely friendly either, which you totally get because it’s not like you were any different.

Throughout the majority of the breaks in between practice sessions, she stuck by Jay’s side, engaging in playful and flirtatious banter that the boys would secretly roll their eyes at. You’d asked your brother why everyone seemed to not like seeing Jay and Jiwon together, but he simply shrugged you off, leaving you with even more questions.

“Hey, Y/n.” You look up from your notebook to see Mia, who you’ve wrongly assumed was a pick-me at first, cheerfully greeting you.

Somewhere along the line, she’d bashfully admitted to you that she liked your brother. It definitely explained the change in personalities and voices whenever he was around, but it didn’t make you want to recoil any less. She was a good-natured girl who hated letting anyone down, so when she asked for a favour from you — one that involved you setting her up with your brother — there was just no way you could decline. If she wanted to date your brother, you would happily aid her in that.

Which brought you to a now-blooming friendship.

“Hi, Mi.” You managed to reciprocate her energy.

“You’re having band practice today, right?” She asks with a tilt of her head, to which you nod. A beat passes before she bites her lip in anticipation. “Is it okay if I come watch?”

From the way her eyes glowed with hope, you could immediately tell that she only had one mission in mind: to see Jake. “You’re not being very discreet with this,” you chuckle, endeared by her amateurish antics. “But, sure. Practice starts at 4.” Hearing this, she immediately clasps her hand into yours, thanking you as if you just saved her entire bloodline.

She leaves you to your own accord not soon after being called by the teacher, “I’ll be there!”

With twenty minutes to spare and no one to spend it with, seeing as your brother was busy with lunch detention and your three babies had a student council meeting to attend to, you decided to make your merry way towards the practice room with your notebook in hand.

Pushing the door open, the view of Jay playing the guitar by the window warmly greets you. You're awestruck by the way he strums the chords so effortlessly, filling your ears with the most beautiful progressions you’ve ever heard, like it was heaven’s sonata. You would’ve loved to just stand there all day and relish in the intimate moment he’s created in the dingy room, but it only takes a few seconds before Jay inevitably notices your figure by the door.

“Y/n?”

“Sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be here right now.” You take a step back, ready to shut the door close behind you, but before you could move even an inch, Jay refused, instead asking you if you could keep him company. “You want me to stay?”

“I mean, why not?” He pats the space beside him and scoots over.

Your steps are hesitant, somehow alarmed by the prospects of Pandora's box in your heart breaking open the moment you decide to sit next to him. But it was just a simple, friendly act, so what could possibly go wrong here? You push those thoughts away and plop yourself on the cushioned window seat, leaving just enough space between you and him.

“So, why are you here?” He asks you as he carefully sets the guitar back on the floor.

“Everyone else was busy,” You could feel Jay’s intense watch on you, and you couldn’t help but feel the burning sensation on your skin. Just being in his presence alone was already making you feel hot; your cheeks were heating up in the process. “How about you?” You just wanted him to stop looking at you, because you wouldn’t know what to do if he noticed just how he was making you feel.

“Me?” He hums. “I guess I just wanted some peace and quiet.”

“Oh, am I disturbing your peace and quiet? I could leave right now.”

“You don’t have to be so antsy. I’m not going to bite you, ya’know?” He chuckles, clearly amused by your response. “And besides, you’re giving me peace by just being here.”

“I see.” You nod slowly as you bite your lip in an attempt to get a better hold of your nerves. There was absolutely no need to be so nervous around your brother’s best friend.

“I just realised something,”

“What?” You shift in your seat to get a better look at him.

“This is the first time we’ve ever had a one-on-one talk.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.” You retort, and he raises an eyebrow at this.

“What do you mean by that?” His head tilts at an angle, looking at you with those deep-set eyes of his. You can try to deny it all you want, but the skip in your heartbeat is hard to mistake; it’s not a feeling you’re stranger to.

“I don’t know; you never seem to talk with anyone else other than Jiwon during practice, so it’s no wonder we’ve never actually talked before.”

“Wow, you’re sounding a little salty there.” Jay’s lips form a lopsided smirk after noticing the defensive expression that adorned your features. “Nah, I’m just toying with you.” The airy laugh he lets out does little to nothing to soothe the chaos that ensues in your heart and mind.

“For your information, I am not salty. It’s just a bummer that you never really tried forming a closer friendship with anyone else in the band.”

“It’s not that I haven’t tried." He mumbles.

“Sorry?”

He shakes his head and says, “It’s nothing.”

A comfortable silence engulfs the air between both of you before Jay continues, “Hey, since you’re so salty about me not giving you my attention, how about I buy you ice cream tomorrow?”

“First of all, I am not salty. And second of all, it wasn’t that-”

"So, is it a no?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “If you admit that I’m not salty, then maybe I’ll agree to it.”

“You’re not really in the position to be giving me a challenge, seeing as I’m the one offering you free food,” he bites down a simper. “But fine, your highness, I hereby declare you not salty.” He adds a curt bow for the dramatics, and you can’t help but roll your eyes in faux annoyance.

“You’re so annoying.” You huff out.

“If you’re going to be in our band, you’re going to need more tolerance and patience than that.”

You could feel yourself slowly letting your guard down in Jay’s presence. The playful and witty banter he offered you made you feel like you’ve known him longer than you actually do, and it felt nice.

It felt almost too nice to be around him. But like everything else in your life, this feeling too shall pass. He has a girlfriend, for Christ's sake. So you better make sure that it will.

—

With your head resting on your hand, you silently watched the busy street beside you. When you first came to Korea, it was summer, but now that the leaves were starting to turn orange little by little, you could tell that it was nearing your favourite season of the year — autumn. To you, everything felt just a little more romantic under the autumn leaves and the cool breeze that hangs in the air.

“Were you waiting long?” Jay’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you quickly shake your head. “Sorry, Ji wanted me to teach her this riff on the guitar.” He pulls the seat out in front of you to sit, and you take the opportunity to sneak a longing glance at him: tousled hair, swollen lips, an untucked collar. It definitely looked like he did more than just teach her chords, but you bite your tongue.

It was none of your business.

“Did you order already?” He flips through the menu of desserts.

“No, I was going to, but I realised I didn’t know what flavours you liked.”

“Sorry,” He passes you a sheepish smile. “I’m going to go on a whim here and guess that you like Rocky Road.”

You raise an impressed brow. “How’d you know?”

“I just know you like that.”

“We’ve known each other for 3 weeks, Jay.”

“Okay, damn. You really do wound me,” a hand raises to his chest, feigning hurt. “Okay, now you guess what flavour I like.”

You ponder over for a while but decide to just settle on the most basic flavour of all, “Vanilla?” His face visibly falters at your answer; you could almost make out a pout forming on his kiss-bitten lips.

“Wow, I could tell the amount of thought you put into that.” His sarcastic claps boom throughout the modest ice cream parlour, earning him dirty looks from the few customers at the neighbouring tables.

“So you don’t like vanilla?”

He crosses his arms and asks, “What do you think?”

“Ugh, this conversation is going nowhere; go order it yourself.” You groan out, rising on your feet to order on your own.

“Calm down, princess; I’ll go order it.” Before you could protest, he'd already made a beeline for the cashier.

Princess? That was new. Oh, who were you kidding? All of this was fucking new.

A feeling of internal turmoil starts to bubble violently, like a seething kettle waiting to be opened. You hated how he was so nonchalant about everything. And you hated how he unknowingly made you feel things you shouldn’t feel. It felt awfully wrong on so many levels, but this thing was just a friendly gesture, a payback, if you will. There was nothing wrong with hanging out with your brother’s best friend on a Thursday evening, even if you held an underlying attraction for said friend, right?

“Here, one Rocky Road for your highness, and one good ol’ vanilla ice cream for her loyal servant.”

“So you do like vanilla ice cream,” you scoff.

“I never said I didn’t.” He shrugged. “Woah, this might actually be the best vanilla I’ve ever tasted. Try it!” He scoops a chunk out for you to taste, which you politely decline. There was a certain line you didn’t want to cross, no matter how insignificant and innocent the gesture might’ve been. Maybe you were thinking too hard, but it would’ve been weird for you to share an indirect kiss with a taken man, even if he was your brother’s best friend. “Hm, your loss then.”

The both of you remained in silence with the dulcet melodies of Wave to Earth playing in the background, and it served as a pleasant companion to the overly complicated noise in your head, all caused by the boy sitting a few feet from you.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Jay’s voice pulls you out of your own mind, causing you to look up at him expectantly. “You have a really beautiful voice.” His warm smile shoots you in the heart, right where you know it shouldn’t. It was just a simple compliment, one that you’ve heard plenty of times before, yet it sounded so good coming from him. It almost made you want to keep proving yourself to him so you could keep hearing him praise you like that.

“Thank you,” You bite the insides of your cheek as a way to chide yourself. Just why were you so easily affected by everything he says and does?

“I really want you to sing this song I’m writing. I mean, I’m not totally done yet, but I wrote it with your voice in mind. It’s for the upcoming music festival.” He pulls out his phone and earphones from his pocket, sliding his chair closer to yours and offering an earpiece, which you cautiously take.

You straighten your back in an effort to keep yourself focused, not wanting to mind the way his shoulders are pushed up against yours, or the way you could practically make out every single feature on his face, or the fact that you would’ve felt his breath fan against your face if he turned even just a bit to the left. You needed to physically force yourself to focus solely on the music.

Don’t mind the confusion.

The sense of focusing.

The only sure thing is you.

So now, put it all behind.

I’m just going to walk according to how my heart beats.

Fatal trouble.

Jay’s voice fills your ears, alongside Jungwon and Sunghoon’s. You could appreciate their heavenly voices all day, but the striking lyrics seemed to be the main reason for taking your breath away. It sounded as if they were speaking to your troubled thoughts right in the face, slithering around you to tempt you into falling deeper. Deeper into what? You didn’t want to even think about it.

"So, what do you think?”

“It's... it’s good.”

“That’s it?”

“What did you want me to say?”

“No need to get so feisty, princess.” He ruffles your hair, and you sigh, feeling the overwhelming defeat take over you because, no matter how much you wanted to fight the feeling, you knew that all your efforts would come crashing down anyway.

You were a weak woman with many faults, and being attracted to someone who is so painfully taken is the biggest one of them all.

—

With only a few weeks left until the school’s music festival, it’s no surprise that everyone has been on edge, but particularly so with Jay and Jiwon. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell they were going through a rough patch in their relationship right now, made apparent by the abnormal amount of distance between them and the lack of flirtatious banter filling the room.

Every practice session was filled with the suffocating tension that made practicing so much more exhausting, and Jake had had enough of it.

“I know you guys are having yet another lover's quarrel, but can you guys quit it? We have a festival coming up, and we can’t afford to have both of your immature asses fucking this up for us.” Your brother’s stern voice shakes the entire room. He was usually never the one to get mad at people, so it felt unusual to see this side of Jake.

“We’re not lovers,” Jiwon retorts as her fingers mindlessly hover over the keys on the keyboard. She tilts her head at Jay and says, “He made very sure of that.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter what the fuck you guys are or not; I just need you guys to keep it civil for the sake of our performance, if not our team.”

“Oh, fuck off. As if you guys have ever even tried keeping it civil with me,” Jiwon seethes, the dark chuckle of complete disbelief she lets out hanging heavy in the air. “Yeah, I see the way you guys roll your eyes at me, and I hear the way you guys bitch about me behind my back too. I’m not fucking blind, Jake.”

You could see the way everyone shifts uncomfortably in their spots, and you can’t help but do so too.

“Quit it, Ji.” Jay’s attempts at getting Jiwon’s rampage to stop proved futile, as it only spurred her on.

“Shut up, Jay. I know the only reason you refuse to make it official is because you started liking your best friend’s little sister over me.” As soon as she dropped the bomb, all eyes darted towards Jay, who only stared at Jiwon. His jaw ticks in what you could only surmise as vexation, with the evidence of it starting to sprawl across his features. “What, baby? Cat got your tongue?” Jiwon sneers.

“Jiwon, if you’re not going to contribute anything to the band, you can just go home.” Sunghoon speaks as he points to the exit.

“I was planning to anyway,” she says, picking up her bag from the floor. “I am so fucking done with this, and you guys are all fucked.” With that, the door behind Jiwon shuts with a deafening bang.

The eight of you remain frozen in your spots with the shock of it all coursing through your veins like a hot iron. You needed a minute or two to even begin to assimilate whatever the fuck just went down.

When she said that Jay liked you over her, she meant it as a friend, right? There’s no way it meant anything more than that, right? Why does he keep confusing you? Why did he have to have your heart right in the palm of his hand? You felt your head start to pound the more you thought about it, and you just wanted to escape from it all.

—

Life since you joined your brother’s band has been everything you’ve ever imagined and more. You were finally able to meet people you called your family; you were able to sing your heart away on stages the way you always wanted to; and you were able to feel alive in a way you couldn’t when you were in France. But it didn’t stop there. You fell in love — a little too hard at that — and now you were suffering the consequences of that.

You had a track record for falling in love way too easily with people, as evident by your long list of situationships turned relationships, so when you found yourself staring at Jay for a bit too long, you weren’t entirely alarmed because you knew you’d be able to get over it in a few weeks. It was no biggie, or so you thought.

After Jiwon’s official departure from the band, the overall atmosphere had lifted and everyone was back to their normal selves; Sunoo and Sunghoon were back to bickering, and Jungwon and Riki were back to hogging you. Heeseung occasionally joined in sessions despite the senior duties that called for his presence. Jake and Jay, on the other hand, were preparing diligently for the festival, working on the song non-stop. It’s because of that that you haven’t been seeing either of them lately, which you were thankful for because it gave you time to really think. Think about whether Jay liked you as a friend or in a romantic sense.

“You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?” Mia nudges you in the arm. She knows you like the back of her hand at this point, given the amount of time she’s spent at your practices. It’s thanks to your cupid skills that your brother and her have been spending much more time together inside and out of the practice room, and despite either of them telling you that they’re just friends, you know better than that.

You sigh, knowing that it’s no use lying to her. “Is it that obvious?”

"Oh, baby, it’s written all over your face.” Her neatly manicured fingers push loose strands of hair out of your face just before squishing your cheeks in an endearing manner. “Talk to me about it.”

“Ugh, I don’t know.” She gives you a knowing look. “It’s just... that I liked him for so long, thinking that he was taken, and I felt so fucking guilty for it. Then the whole ‘Jiwon leaving’ thing happened, and now I’m all confused. Honestly, there hasn’t been a moment where Jay hasn’t confused me. Everything he says and does just makes me want to scream, ‘What the fuck are we!’ but I know he’s just doing it because we’re friends or whatever.

I mean, he literally calls me princess. How does he not expect me to not feel things? It’s so damn frustrating. I thought I would be able to get over these feelings before winter started, but here we are in the dead of winter, and I’m still helplessly pining over my brother’s best friend, like a damn loser.”

Everything you’ve been holding since you transferred here finally threatens to spill out, and by now, you just couldn’t help the tears from lining your eyes and your throat from constricting.

“Oh, my Y/n.” She embraces you in a hug and connects her forehead with yours; it only eggs you on to fully succumb to your emotions, and so tears become full-fledged sobs. “It’s okay, let it all out.” Her voice, along with her hand ministering to gently soothe your back, lulls you.

Until you’re left only as a sniffling mess, she continues to caress your back. “Thank you, Mi. I really appreciate it.”

“I’m always here for you,” She squeezes you one last time for good measure before letting go of you. “Now, we need a plan for you to get your man.”

“No, we do not.”

“You did it for me, so it’s only fair if I return the favour.”

“I don’t even know if he likes me like that,” you exhale for what seems like the nth time this month.

“Then we’ll make sure he does. Simple as that,” she claps her hand. “Boys fall for anything, so if he doesn’t already like you, he will anyway, because just look at you! You’re stunning, funny, kind, talented, and so so so much more. Believe me when I say that, Y/n.” Her features soften even further as she shares a look of sympathy with you.

Her words melt right through you, and you’d like to believe that you do hold the ability to make Jay fall for you.

—

Endless weeks of toiling had brought you all to this exact moment — d-day. You fidgeted with the microphone stand to try getting a better hold of your emotions because there was no way you would mess things up, not when you’ve all worked so hard for this.

The seats in front of you are filled to the brim, yet out of the hundreds of faces, you could only recognise a select few: your mom, Mia, and a few of the others’s family members.

Jay, who stood not too far behind you, could see the trembling in your legs. “You’ll do perfect; I know that because you were made for this.” He whispers in your ear, squeezing your hands in the process. You’ve never wanted anything more than to just kiss the boy for being so damn near perfect — everything you could’ve asked for and more — but he wasn’t yours to kiss, so you heed those thoughts away, instead simply nodding your head.

“Hello, we are ENHYPEN, and we’ll be performing an original song called ‘Fatal Trouble.’” Jake’s voice echoes throughout the school hall, with claps following shortly after, just before it falls back to a silent abyss.

Sunghoon’s keys fill the empty air before you start, “Can’t believe. You, in front of my eyes, everything is the same. But your smile is one I don’t know. Your pupils are like an abyss.” You shut your eyes, letting your emotions lace through each and every word you sing.

As soon as Sunoo and Jay’s electric guitars and Riki’s drums joined in on the melody, you could physically feel the shift in the air. It brought goosebumps to your skin watching people gape at you in awe and watching their eyes twinkle against the stage lights.

“Fatal trouble. It’s getting blurry. The memory of you is crumbling down.” Heeseung and Jungwon’s lower voice harmonises with your higher one, creating the most heavenly of harmonies to echo across the expanse of the hall. It felt so electrifying to finally be able to see the fruits of all your hard work. You’re happy you got to perform with these boys side by side.

By the time the instrumentals fade to complete silence, your heart roars against your chest like a lion so hard you can practically hear them in your ears. You all take time to thank the audience before heading backstage, where you all instantly huddle together.

“We did so well!” Sunoo beams.

“For all our hard work, I say we go drinking after this,” Heeseung suggests with a motion of his hand, to which the others instantly agree.

“Drinks are on me!” You chuckle as you watch your overly excited brother raise his arm like a puppy. You of all people know just how hard he exerted himself just for this performance, if the dark circles under his eyes were anything to go by, so you’re just happy to finally see him be himself again.

Cheers and hoots are heard throughout the backstage area until the staff politely asks you to leave. Before you could even follow the rest past the door, Jay’s call to you stopped you in your tracks.

“You did well out there,” he compliments with a sheepish smile, and it does the same thing it always does to you — make you fall even harder. You were so damn weak for him. “I knew you would kill it.”

“You did too, considering it is your song.” He steps a foot closer to you, and despite the hitch in your throat, you don’t do much to shy away. Jay takes this as a sign to be more forthright with you. He takes your hand in his, tracing circles with his thumb along the backside of your hand.

“I wrote this song for you. It wasn’t just your voice that inspired me to write this song; it was your smile, the way you made me feel, and the warmth you gave. So, technically, it’s our song.” The boyishness in his tone is obvious, almost like he was scared to admit this to you in the first place.

“I-…” You’re rendered speechless at his insinuation, feeling the familiar giddiness starting to spread across your body. “Are you confessing to me right now?” His deep eyes hold yours, staring at you with such admiration and intensity that you feel like you could cry.

“Yes, I am, princess.” His voice was nothing short of a whisper. You could see the way he eyes your lips, and so without much contemplation, or even hesitation for that matter, you take the first step in your newfound relationship by trapping him in a kiss. Further closing in the distance between you, your arms travel around his neck while his hands find purchase in your waist.

As breathless as you felt, you couldn’t let him go — not when this is all you’ve ever wanted for so long. Months of seeing him with Jiwon and hopelessly pining over him brought you to this moment, and you were going to let yourself relish the fuck out of it.

taglist @enhaslay @channiesdarling @kim2005bomi @letwiiparkjay

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lonelystarrs · 8 months

Text

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮’𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 prt 1.

Barou Shouei x FemReader (slight x Nagi Seishiro in prt 2)

it all started because he bullied your brother, it all started when 12 year old you kicked a ball into his face. Growing up with your eventual sweetheart wasn’t all smooth sailing, life was full of lessons but through the rough and smooth one thing Barou always knew; you were always his girl. Sometimes though even a king needed to lose his throne to realise his true royalties were what built it.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI + virginity loss (both 18+) + angst with eventual comfort + fluff + long fic / Tugs & Texts expansion + established relationship with Barou + smut +

Word count 11.4k

Barou was always king of the field since he started at 6 years old and discovered how good it felt to win, how natural he was at this sport and it was his domain; it was where he belonged.

This discovery meant Barou dominated the field wherever he went, crushing anyone who crossed his path for the next six years.

Until one day he happened to crush the wrong person.

He’d kicked the ball hard towards the goal aiming for it to be a score but some brave kid decided to block the strike.

He walked over, looming over the boy as he curled into himself holding his face, blood and snot gushing from his as is skin burned bright red. Barou’s hands shoved into his pockets as he half leaned over him.

“Tsk, what a donkey thinking you’d block that, learnt your lesson?”

12 year old Barou with his new lingo, new insults to throw at people, left the field and thought nothing of it, just another who got in his way and learned to stay out of it; until the next day he met his karma.

“You!”

Barou had been taking part in his strict training routine in the rain, at 12 years old he set his mindset and goals high; creating a routine that he researched and put together through PE, his favourite subject in school.

Red eyes turned to the girly voice that called out angrily in the rain but instead of meeting who was calling him, his face was met with a ball, smacking him clean in the face and actually making him take a few steps back.

“You asshole! Thinking you can treat people like you do, you hit the wrong boy yesterday Shouei! I’m gonna make your life hell!”

He never even seen you coming, a mere voice in the rain and suddenly blood gushed from his nose; his hand clamped over it to stop the bleeding.

Eyes wide he pulled his hand from his face to stare at the fresh blood, even his damn teeth were hurting.

Barou met your eyes for the first time in his life, shocked to the core a freaking girl had kicked the ball that hard.

“who the hell you supposed to be, the babies girlfriend!?”

“That was my brother and he’s only 8 you idiot!”

Barou straightened as he took you in, you looked roughly around his age definitely not as young as the kid yesterday. That fire in your eyes was burning but what Barou was more impressed with was the accuracy and strength of your strike with the ball. You stood in the rain, practically steaming as it hit you because you were so angry.

Then you spun and disappeared leaving 12 year old Barou with sore teeth, bleeding nose and pounding head.

Perhaps even his heart thumping more than it should be.

—0—

You certainly kept your promise; making Barou Shouei’s left hell for the next four years. Although at this point he was convinced it was just habit, no one could hold a grudge for this long surely?

The fact he could see that damn gleam in your eye, those lips twitching in a little smirk when you pushed his buttons, when he squared up to you pressing his forehead to yours and you only pushed back was proof you were enjoying it.

So he tried to not feed it.

He was the better person, walking away or ignoring you. He did best to avoid you, but found him you always did!

The only one really brave enough to bother him, to get in his space was you. Girls were too scared to approach him in person, deflated by love notes left in his locker; he simply threw them away never even opening them. Even the guys stayed away from him unless it was his soccer team.

He became a bit of a loner, seemingly content in his own company or focusing on his football dream. His arrogance and ego grew into something rather ugly, adopting manners of being a king, everyone being a peasant or a donkey.

You’d stood up to Barou from day one, the only reason you survived it was because his patience and morals were incredible; he didn’t believe in hitting girls. Even if you standing up to him wasn’t going to stop any time soon.

However, being sixteen and hormones arriving changed things up.

Where things remained very much the same for you towards him, Barou’s teenage boy mind was starting to mess with his exchanges with you. He’d started to really try to stay away, his gaze noticing things in you he hadn’t before and it disgusted him.

Like how you standing up to him, never backing down and being just as stubborn as he was shifted from annoying to endearing. He argued back less, unable to form insults when eyes dropping down to your shirt that was getting too tight on your chest, your skirt dancing on your thighs, how your waist dipped showing curves.

He was successful for a time, keeping distance from you and avoiding any heads butting. But this week, much to poor Shouei’s dismay, the teacher thought it was a good idea to pair you both together for a project.

even the whole class fell silent, awkwardly looking between each other. No other teacher was brave enough to pair up you both, but this one seemed to twinkle something mischievous in her eyes over it.

Barou had been unusually quiet with you for the last two weeks and he had been avoiding you like the plague.

Why? You had no idea.

You didn’t really care either.

“Get into your pairs and decide what you’re going to do for the arts project.”

Barou’s eyes darkened as you stood from your seat knowing he wouldn’t move towards you, the rest of the class moved and chatter started throughout the room making sure they had distance from you both. The occasional side glances to see if you’d killed each other yet.

You slid into the high stool next to him with a little too much sass, red eyes glancing down at your school skirt riding up, thigh high socks squeezing the tops of your thighs and he groaned, turning away to glare at the wall and fight the heat crawling up his neck.

“So Barou,” you sang, he inhaled deeply arms crossing tighter against his chest that was getting bigger every passing month, it was impressive how the guy had shot up like he had. He was so freaking tall and growing more muscle by the week.

“What’cha wanna do with your favourite subject?”

“Like hell I know. You do it, keep that shit off me.”

He hated arts and crafts because it was so damn messy, he was already glaring at the paper on the table and the different pencils, charcoals and paints lined up to use.

“Awh c’mon!” You grabbed the charcoal pencil and started to press it hard on the paper, gathering a nice little patch of black dust before placing it down and pressed your index finger into it.

Barou actually gritted his teeth at the mess, eyes tearing from the page to look else where whilst you started to draw something with the charcoal.

You were always good at portraits or forms of the anatomy, he’d seen you work with charcoal a lot and despite its mess the end results were always good.

He’d give you that.

“So, I’m surprised you haven’t kicked off being paired with me.”

“You’re good at the subject, you’ll get us a pass. I’m not foolish enough to not take the best in here, means I don’t have to touch this shitty stuff either.”

Your silence and lack of work on the paper made him turn to look at you, only to see you looking at him suspiciously.

“The fuck you starin’ at?!”

“Where’s Barou?”

He scoffed and looked away realising he’d just somewhat complimented you to your face. You laughed and scratched your cheek with your finger forgetting about the charcoal coating the pad.

“I’ll get us passes useless Barou! Don’t you worry!”

You returned your attention back to the paper and Barou’s eyes moved to you when you weren’t looking. Red gaze watching your face, your tongue sticking out a bit as you concentrated with a small smile on your lips. Eyes beaming with joy at you setting your skills on something you enjoyed.

Damn it you’d grown up so much, he wasn’t the only one who’d shot up. You started to lose that baby fat on your cheeks, your hair had got longer and you always smelled so damn good. Your shirts were always ironed and perfectly white, he’d notice the material hugging you more as your breasts had started to grow, the shape of you changing as you both hit 16.

His eyes moved to your face again, noticing a few strands of hair had fallen from your successful attempt of a messy bun to stop it getting in the way whilst drawing.

He then noticed the black smudge on your cheek and he glared at it, his hand twitching already to remove it.

How had you got that on your face so damn quickly!

“Ta-da!!!”

You held the page up, a dust of black cloud flying off causing Barou to shoot from his seat quickly.

“Watch it you slob!”

You looked over your shoulder with a dry expression,

“You’re such a princess Barou,”

“Piss off.”

You blew him a kiss and looked back at you work, your photographic memory paying off as you grinned at it.

“Hmm, just needs a title, how about….” You pondered for a second before lighting up and grabbing a pencil, scribbling down before sliding it to him.

‘The King’s Strike.’

Barou stared at the page, you slid in front of him. The perfect striking pose, shirtless with just shorts, his long socks, shin pads and soccer boots. Muscles drawn perfectly, the twist of the body and shadowed with the charcoal. The ball moving towards the goal, every detail was there.

Then his hair.

It was him. Striking a goal.

“It was you at the game last week,” you said boredly, “-s’yours if you want it.”

“You were there?” He looked at you finally and you shrugged, looking off across the class.

“Since last year,”

“Every game?”

“Uh -yeah. The girls like watching you lot, I find it boring but seeing you prance around like a show pony is midly entertaining.”

Shit why did he suddenly feel so hot? He didn’t even give a shit that you’d insulted him, he was so focused on the fact you’d been watching him and he never knew.

His hands got clammy, his heart accelerating in his chest like it did after he scored at the same time he felt fucking nervous. The bell ringing broke his gaze on the drawing, you jumped down from your stool and turned to leave.

Barou had other ideas, grabbing your wrist before you got too far you spun back and looked at his grip on you to him. Frowning you opened your mouth to say something but Barou dragged you down with him to grab his bag.

“You scrub you can’t just leave like that, you’re gonna get that shit everywhere! You’re fucking filthy!”

Pulling out a pack of cleaning wipes you stared at him like he’d grown three heads, before snorting a laugh, then it went full blown.

“You carry those in your school bag?! Hahahahaha!”

“Shut it you slob.”

Heat crawled up his neck but he battled it down, his hand lifted your wrist to clean your fingers with the wipe. What the hell was he doing?

“It’s even under your fucking nail -ugh this is disgusting.” He was grumbling to himself and you froze staring at him, he was surprisingly gentle actually, you thought he was finished until he grabbed your cheeks, pushing them together causing your lips to perk and pulled you closer to him. Your breath hitched in your throat as the closeness.

Reaching up with a new wipe to clean the smudge on your cheek.

“I gotta game Saturday,” he grumbled, voice deep and gruff, refusing to look at you longer than a glance. You were worried he could feel your heart thumping in your chest, or how hot your cheeks felt under his fingers.

“You comin?”

You nodded dumbly your eyes taking in his features being this close. Completely forgetting if you even had any plans this weekend, you felt blank at the moment, heat stirring in your chest and you actually rubbed your thighs together.

When did this guy get so damn handsome? His eyes were so… red, his hair looked so soft, he’d grown substantially and he absolutely towered over you now.

“Front row on our teams side,”

His eyes flicking to your mouth before locking with your eyes.

“-got it, girl?”

Barou released your cheeks and grabbed his bag, throwing it over his shoulder and leaving the room; you stood dumbfounded at what the hell just happened.

You looked to the table, he’d taken the drawing.

Unknown to you, the old lady art teacher was chuckling in her seat, fingers pressed together and her glasses glinting watching you both.

“I knew it.”

—0—

You’d attended his game, sitting where he told you to and you watched how each game turned him more into an asshole on the field. He was cruel, selfish and egotistical yet you couldn’t stop watching him.

You’d made a mess more often in arts because he couldn’t stop himself from cleaning you up, accidentally spilling things on your hands and making art class extra messy. Even when you weren’t paired together he’d storm across the room when everyone left.

You’d make sure your tie looked off when you seen him and he’d straighten it because it drove him mad. It amused you endlessly, weirdly liking it each time he got closer to you.

It all started from Art classes, graduating closer to you, using the excuse he knew you’d make a mess. It started simple, minor until it progressed into pairing with you for projects. Glowering down at whoever was next to you and getting them to move. They were scared whilst your eyes twinkled in amusement up at him, until he glared at you for staring at him.

Where it began it arts to spread to each class he shared with you, seating next to you or keeping you as a study partner. You didn’t find yourself questioning it, a light tease every now and then which he found himself not biting to.

The day he caught you walking home in the rain without an umbrella he let you stand under his, belittling you the entire walk home for being a dumbass and forgetting it.

Your heart racing when you seen his shoulder wet, hanging out from the umbrella to keep you dry. So you made him a bento as a thank you, he was skeptical at first, looking at it with disgust and you didn’t think he’d eat it, until he handed it back clean and empty the next day.

That one walk turned into him waiting at the gate no matter the weather, he’d listen to you ramble on about absolute bullshit wondering why he tolerated you above everyone else; perhaps your amazing bento boxes he had daily now were the reason.

The morning he caught you running on the weekend during the summer; those shorts riding fair too far up your thighs and ass leaving nothing to the imagination. He couldn’t shift the image of your sweat glistening skin, chest heaving as you sucked air back in, your sports bra pushing everything up and playing on his teenage mind.

He started running with you, leaving his headphones in whilst you had yours in. Every weekend morning he’d be waking you up at stupid times to run and you kept up with him. You’d both stop at a shop to buy a drink on the wall home to cool down.

“My feet are buzzing!”

“Get better trainers then you idiot,”

“I did! They haven’t arrived yet.”

“Then why are you fucking running if they’re hurting?”

You pouted and prodded his bicep,

“-and miss our morning dates, getting all hot, sweaty and out of breath with you? Pft!”

Barou handed you a cold bottle of water, pressing the cold bottle to your forehead whilst gulping down his. You side glanced watching his Adam’s apple bob with each swallow.

His shirt was off, tucked into his waist band of his shorts and sweat dripping down his body. The temperature was already getting unbearable this early in the morning. Ditching his empty bottle he started to walk forwards, glancing over his shoulder at your slower pace and fiddling with the bottle.

“Don’t say a damn word,” He sighed in annoyance and stopped, crouching to his knee he glared over his shoulder. “-up.”

His hands gripped your thighs tightly, wrapping them around his sides and feeling you press your body flush against his back, arms wrapping lazily around his neck and resting your head on top of his.

People started gossiping, started suggesting that Barou had his eyes on you, the mutterings and the rumour of being Barou’s girl started circulating around.

It was all talk, nothing had actually happened between you both but you’d noticed the change in him as much as you had yourself, it was slow but each week over the last year progressed into something. From enemies to practically seeing each other daily, to him eating your bento boxes and being at each game.

Then a day came after you both turned 17 and attended a certain game that changed it all, sat at the front on his teams side like you always had done for the past year since he first told you to.

This time you weren’t alone, some guy was sat next to you and you were polite enough to speak with him when he tried to talk with you. He was funny, polite and kept you company. You laughed with him, probably flirted a little bit because you were a natural flirt, what? It was fun!

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the red eyed king on the field. Anger boiled in Barou each time his focused slipped to you and by the end of his match he was seething despite winning the scores, his usual fans screamed and wailed for him but it did nothing to distract him of that image with you and that guy.

Barou ignored his team cheering, stomping over he removed his jersey from his last game, sweat and muscles grabbing eyes and girls squealed at the view.

Before you knew it a sweaty ass jersey had collided with your head, scrambling to remove it only hearing Barou’s pissed off voice.

“Oi, you fucking donkey get lost, she’s taken.”

Stunned and embarrassed by the show in front of crowds you were left gawking as Barou made his way off the field with his team behind him.

The next day had you stomping up to Barou whilst training, he was warming up by himself as usual taking up his strict daily work out routine.

Jesus even in that baggy hoody he was wearing he looked massive, his back looked huge as you stomped up to him, inwardly feeling your confidence shaken as you drew closer suddenly feeling smaller with each step.

“Oi! King douche!”

Barou grunted and looked over his shoulder at you with a bored expression, eyes giving you a once over before half turning to you; the only one he’d paused his warm up for even if it was only a few moments.

You marched to him, gripping his hoody at the front and pulling him down to your height.

“What the hell was that about yesterday huh?”

Barou glanced down at your hand gripping his hoody before meeting you again, eyes bored he cocked at eyebrow. He could have easily pulled back but he remained half bent to your height.

“Mind telling me who exactly I’m taken by? Cause I seemed to have forgotten that happening.”

“By me,”

You sputtered at his bluntness your grip loosened on him and you leaned back.

“What? You- I- what are you talking about? That’s a two way conversation Barou! You never asked me an-“

“Date me then,”

“Will you stop being so blunt! At least act like you’re actually interested!”

“Date me, I can tolerate you.”

You deadpanned at his lazy bluntness and released your grip on him, stepping back you went to leave.

Barou heard your grumbling about him, his eye twitched at you walking away from him.

“Always so fucking stubborn.” He sighed, his hand grabbing your wrist he spun you back, other hand threading through your hair into a grip and pulling you to him.

His mouth pressed to yours in a movement too smooth for someone as belligerent as Barou to pull off, but he made up for it with how roughly he kissed.

You could taste the mint on his tongue, his lips were so damn soft, he was uncoordinated and rough, teeth biting your bottom lip too hard and his tongue running over it as if it was apologising. Greedy, messy, impatient and rough yet some kind of softness under it all —exactly what you’d expect from him.

His hand at the back of your head kept you from leaving as he pulled back, his lips shining from spit and your lip gloss. He pressed his forehead against you, eyes peering into you as he towered over you.

“Got it, girl?”

“Barou, was that your first kiss?”

The heel of his hand pressed to your forehead replacing his and he pushed you backwards.

“Get lost I have training to do.”

It totally was, you snickered and turned to leave, failing to see Barou’s thumb swipe his bottom lip, tongue following savouring the taste of you and your lip balm. A smirk twitching on his mouth as he looked over his shoulder to see you walking away with a little bounce in your step.

—0—

Baron always thought the act of kissing was pretty disgusting, the germs and how unclean it was to swap spit, eighteen years of that thought it was all thrown out the window when he realise the taste of your lip balm was addicting. That subtle hint of cherry lingered more than your usual strawberry flavoured one and he groaned into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip.

The little moan that left you made his hips roll up into yours, that bulge in his shorts running painfully tight against you, his hands gripping your hips with the intent to bruise.

You’d come over to his house surprising him in his room when he returned from a shower, the little running shorts you had on were far too short, the loose fitting white sports top and red sports bra underneath left little to the imagination also. The towel thrown over his shoulder, stood in his gym shorts and listening to the giggles of his little sisters signally they were the ones who let you in.

The distance between you lasted seconds after his door slammed shut, he only half turned around to see you’d strode up behind him, throwing your arms around his neck and jumping up knowing he’d catch you.

It hadn’t taken him long to walk to his bed blindly, hands gripping your thighs and you kissing him like you hadn’t seen him only yesterday. He turned, fell to his bed and let you straddle him as he sat up, you’d been kissing since, rolling your hips against his.

“So birthday boy, you’re finally eighteen,”

Barou sneered, rolling his eyes as you lowered your lips to his jaw line, rolling your hips against the bulge in his shorts causing an airy moan to leave him.

“You’re little over a month older, stop acting so superior.”

You laughed against his neck, straightening yourself and leaning back, his hands sliding up to your lower back to aid your angle, you hands linking behind his neck.

“Speaking of which, did you know our star signs are the best match?”

“Don’t start with this shit again, its bullshit-“

You laughed, eyes gleaming and his softened watching your pure amusement above him, skin still glistening with sweat from your run here, lips plump from kissing him so hard.

And his poor heart kicked in his ribs, a sudden burst of emotion swelling up his chest and it spread like heat.

“I was thinking of what to get you for your birthday-“ you wiggled off him, his grip on you a little reluctant to let you go but your hand pressing against his hard cock made his jaw clench, “-you locked the door right?”

Fuck.

It was finally happening huh? It wasn’t often Barou felt himself caught off guard, or any confidence shaken because he was pretty grounded, but his nerves jumped not showing it in his expression and yours didn’t falter either.

You’d both decided to wait until you were eighteen, given you’d turned that age a little over a month ago he didn’t think you’d be so literal in the agreement when he turned it.

When you dropped to your knees between his, hands gliding up to the waist band of his shorts that were doing very little to hide his dick, you tugged and he didn’t move for a second, red eyes looking down at your pouting face, his hair still down from his shower as it draped over his broad shoulders.

His hand cupped your chin locking gazes with you.

“Ain’t no pressure or rush, shouldn’t be doin’ it just cause its my birthday,”

“Your dicks literally flexing under my hand-“

“That ain’t the point!” He seethed, other hand gripping your wrist pulling it from his cock and you pouted at him, actually fucking pouted and he sucked his teeth, his self restrain faltering for a second at your pouty ass face.

“You even know what you’re fucking doin?”

“Kinda, but it gets me off trying it for the first time so, think of it as a joint birthday present!”

You’d watched Barou’s jaw tightened, red eyes sliding off to look at his door in concern knowing his little sisters were running around due to his parents being out, his attention quickly brought back to you when you tugged at his waist band again.

“I put frozen on for them and bought a bag of sweets -we have two hours.”

You heard Barou click his tongue and he stood, tilting his head down to watch as you leaned back onto your ass, knees still on the floor and looked up at him all doe eyed. His black hair falling to the side he tilted and his thumbs ran under the band of his shorts, pulling it down low enough so his little trimmed snail trail appeared before the head of his dick rested over the band.

You groaned and licked your lips, reaching up to skim your fingers along his hips.

“B please,” his jaw clenched, nervous for reasons he didn’t quite understand but he hid it well, his cock flexing at your tongue licking your swollen lips, eyes glazing with something he hadn’t seen before and your whiny little beg.

“Take it easy-“ one of his thumbs pushed his shorts, releasing his cock with a heavy slap to his stomach, a sticky line of pre linking to his dick and your eyes widened, a smug smirk gracing his face and his ego soared at your shocked expression. Confidence taking over his concern at you faltering, his other hand went for your pony tail, twisting it around his hand and pushing your face to the hilt of his cock, “-I ain’t small so don’t get carried away.”

His confidence faltered when yours overtook his in strides, tongue pressing to the gap between his shaft and balls, licking a thick, slow line up to the head of his dick before swirling your tongue around it. Barou watched the pre melt on your tongue, you moaned and he fucking melted.

You laughed when he let out some choked noise at the feel of your tongue swirl around the head of his dick, before kissing the underside of it looking at him like you were in love.

“Taste good B-“ you hummed against it rising a hand to wrap around his dick not even managing to touch your fingers because of his sheer girth, you pumped up and his body jolted forward the hand tightened around your hair, “-can I suck now?”

“F-Fuck,” you took that as your go ahead and wasted no time in wrapping your lips around his cock sinking down enough so you were comfortable at your limit, his dick flexed in your warm mouth and when you moaned around his cock Barou was finished, both hands held either side of your face and you gripped him tighter refusing to budge.

“G-Get off, fuck- Hold on,-“ your name left his mouth in a such a whiny tone you looked up to check this was actually Barou, only smirking around his cock at his expression. Eyes blow and wide, mouth agap and he was damn drooling.

Your eye contact with him, his thick cock in your mouth, hand wrapped around him and that little smirk would stick with Barou until his dying day he was sure of it, he came so quickly he didn’t even have to warn you, your expression changing to shock as thick ropes of cum spilled into your mouth so hard it shot to the back of your throat.

Hips jolting, six pack flexing as he released his first orgasm with you, lasting less than five minutes in your mouth for the first time.

You didn’t stop, spit and cum creating a sloppy mess down your chin, hollowing your cheeks and tongue rubbed against the head of his dick you bobbed on his cock; his voice broke as he tried to growl out your name, hand gripping painfully now on your hair trying to pull you off.

Looking back up at him you almost laughed, his eyes borderline cross eyed, drool now spilling to his chin and his hips bucking with each stroke of your tongue. You were overstimulating him and you knew it, you were clenching around nothing and you could feel yourself soaked through your running shorts. Spit and cum dribbled down your neck into your cleavage, knowing Barou would have a fit about it when he managed to uncross his eyes.

His body recoiled and he sat back on the bed, panting like he’d just finished a soccer match and sweating as much. You rose your hand to wipe your mouth on the back of it, eyes glazed and looking at Barou like he was prey, red eyes drinking in the mess you made but unable to ignore you licking your lips.

“Maybe the film I picked was too long-“

You shouldn’t have doubted Barou’s ability to recover, you shouldn’t have been snarky. He growled and your face faltered for a second, all amusement or taunting left you, blinded with being too cocky and confident with your actions to think that you’d had ever beaten Barou Shouei.

“You’re dead-“

You stood up quickly, a little wobbly from numb knees on Barou’s bedroom carpet and turned to leave, hoping to seek safety in his little sisters downstairs, he was quicker, a thick, strong arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush against him with a half screaming leaving you.

“Shut the fuck up-“ his mouth pressed to your ear, his deep warning made bumps rise over your skin, his hand clamped over your mouth stifling your noise and holding you in place whilst the hand around your waist dipped into your shorts. Barou wasted no time in roughly sliding a finger clumsily down your clit right to your hole, your hips jolting forward and your cry was muffled under his hand. “-you’re soaking.”

He growled into your ear, deep voice making you clench around nothing but Barou felt your pussy pulse against the pad of his finger resting at your entrance, he rolled it gathering slick to glide it back to your clit and the pace he set was cruel. You didn’t know if it was lack of experience or because he was trying to be mean, but he was rough with your clit, rolling circles around it with one finger your hips stuttering and legs threatening to give out from under you as you struggled to stand.

You were begging him but his hand blocked any clarity from your words, your hands finding grip on his forearm across your chest trying to pull it from your mouth. It made you realise how strong Barou was, he was solid, unmoving and had you against him with no match on his strength. His finger suddenly dipped down to your hole and pushed in to the knuckle, your eyes widened and you screamed under his palm, his lips pressed to your temple, tears blurred your vision from the over stimulation and the need to cum.

“Not so cocky now are you?” You weren’t expecting him to roll his hips into your lower back, hard cock gliding along your spine above your ass, “You’re cryin’ from a finger, how you gonna take this?”

“Mock me again and I’ll put you in your place, nod if you understand and I’ll let you cum.”

Tears had spilled down your cheeks at this point, weaving between his fingers mixing with your drool under it and guilt hit him, his ego too large to back down resulting in him kissing your cheeks, kissing the tears away and giving you a shhh to try and sooth you. When you finally nodded he sighed and pulled his finger from your pussy, pad rolling back to your clit where he ran soothing circles around it. A relieved sigh left you under his hand, soft moans vibrating against his skin and his only sign before you came was your hips starting to roll desperately.

“Nod if you’re gonna cum,” you did and he hummed against you, picking up his pace, “-cum f’me then.”

Barou groaned against you as your body stuttered against him, your hands gripping his thighs behind you to support yourself and he caught you when you went slack in his arms, pulling his hand from your mouth he hooked it around your waist to hold you up. The other from your pussy he rose it to his mouth cleaning his fingers off.

“Shit, you taste good.”

The slamming on his door made you both jump and his grip on you tightened in response.

“Big brother! Mummy and Daddy are home, so stop smooching your girlfriend!!”

“Fuck-“

“Don’t swear big brother!”

“Get lost brat!”

You heard some kind of grumble under her breath as one of his sisters stomped off back down the stairs, seeing Barou flustered was rare and watching him grab clothes to put on, hard dick bouncing with each stride made you cackle. Earning a glare over his shoulders as he pulled a top on.

“Fuck you find so funny?”

You shrugged and adjusted your shorts before pulling your pony tail back to to tidy up.

“You’re still hard-“

“Yeah? No shit,”

Barou sneered under his breath as he sat on the bed to pull his socks on, dressing to go out on a run to match your attire because apparently that’ll hide the suspicion of both your flustered faces. You walked over and leaned down, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“I like your hair down, never seen it like this before. You’re real handsome you know that?”

He blushed, Barou Shouei fucking blushed, you didn’t mock or tease him on it, your soft eyes looking directly at his and they had a teary glaze over them. He blinked at you in surprise before rolling his eyes and returning back to his socks.

“Know its my birthday but stop with the crap. Coulda just got me some damn cleaning stuff, I don’t need all the compliments n’shit.”

His voice was low, trying to sound harsh but he just couldn’t, he just wanted to try and deflect that damn look on your face because it looked like some girl looking at the love of her life in corny romance show. His nerves kicked under his skin, his heart racing and he felt the heat in his cheeks but when he watched your eyes glisten and he hated it.

He’d known you since he was 12, he’s bullied you, called you all sorts of names. Hell he’s seen other girls get nasty to you but you’ve never cried, you’ve never had those pretty eyes glisten with tears.

He stood, rare concern suddenly fleeting over him and he cupped your face, thumbs wiping over your cheeks as the tears spilled down them, for a second he thought it was him -maybe he was too rough with you, too forceful and let his ego drive him.

“M’sorry its so fucking stupid,”

Barou Shouei was a deep thinker, his mind raced more than he let off and it started to, to the point a fleeting thought of you breaking up with him actually surfaced by his building paranoia. Even if it didn’t make fucking sense that you would, it still annoyingly crossed his mind.

“What’s stupid?”

“I think I’m in love with you, B.”

Shouei stopped breathing, he froze, eyes widening as they locked with your glassy ones and you laughed through crying.

“Happy Birthday, Barou!” You mumbled through silly tears, trying so hard to deflect it with your shitty humour but watching you laugh through tears almost made a smile form on his own mouth.

“The hell you damn cryin’bout it you idiot?”

You opened your mouth to respond but his covered yours before you could start blabbering something out to him, the kiss was slow and messy but it was his own way of responding to your confession. He could taste himself on your tongue, mixed with that cherry lip balm and he groaned into you.

“You’re my girl,” he spoke against your mouth before planting a kiss to your forehead and pushing you towards the door.

—0—

Blue lock was a shock.

It wasn’t easy to suddenly have Barou gone from your life when you were so used to having him around for the last seven years, but perhaps it was a good thing. Soccer was his priority and you knew that from day one, you never thought you were above it and quite frankly you didn’t care. Some of your girlfriends didn’t get it, perhaps they were more needy, wanting to enjoy their youths with boys and having that American dream. Driving in cars late and night, recreating the titanic scene with the steam window and hand prints.

You used the opportunity to do the same as Barou and that was focus on yourself, you concentrated on your studies you perused what you wanted and you taught yourself not to rely on him.

You sent him a text every Friday about your week, you sent him texts when you were horny, you sent photos, videos but there was never a delivered messaged, never a response. You tried to keep positive, you tried to not let his lack of existence bother you.

But it was hard, some nights you teared up and called yourself selfish, sometimes you scolded him for not even trying to contact you. What kept you going was coffee and that his future was about to take off with the dreams he had.

He simply had to do it and you knew he’d be recognised, he’d be successful.

The day he called without much to say was the day you knew something was up with him.

“Well, I’ll let you go king~ keep devouring, keep pushing yourself and keep learning Barou. You’re gonna eat them alive and when you’re back, you can eat me alive again~! Turns out that unholy mouth of yours really does show me heaven~!”

You laughed as you hung up and sure enough after he earned his phone back that day, after he asked for a photo of just you -nothing sexual, nothing crude, just a simple photo of you in a summer dress you knew he was missing you.

He never told you he loved you back but you never felt unloved by him.

He’d text you occasionally, sounding blunt and trying to come across like texting was taxing on his time, even though he was the one who often messaged first. Waking up at an ungodly hour to say good morning and texting before you even ate with a goodnight.

When the two weeks off from Blue Lock arrived and Barou appeared at your new apartment, moving out of your family home and the visit was anything but tame. You’d still not had sex before he left and he was about to change it, hearing some of the guys talking in the lockers, seeing your messages and photos, missing you in general made for a messy and truthfully painful first experience.

“Gotta let me in,” his third finger entered you, twisting before spreading them and you bucked up into him, panting as you gripped the pillows behind you, “-think I’m gonna fit if you're this tight around my fingers? Open up girl,”

His tongue pressed against your clit and your eyes rolled back, pussy spread out from his fingers exposing your hardened bundle of nerves to him.

“M’cumming Barou!”

He hummed against your clit, red eyes peering up at you from your pussy as his tongue swirled on you, watching your chest heaving, body stuttering as you came down from another high.

Barou withdrew his fingers, wrapping it around his cock and he pumped a few times, spreading slick across the head of his dick before pressing it to your entrance.

“You got the birth control, right?”

You nodded dumbly, still panting from orgasm and almost too fucked out to process that he’d pressed his thick head to your already swollen hole, until he started to push forward and you tensed at the stretch. Barou clicked his tongue, eyes focused on wanting to watch his dick sink into you for the first time, it flexed at the thought of being the one to spread you open.

But your struggle made something conflicting lurch in his chest.

“I-I know you wanna watch b, I need your help though —it’s too big.”

He groaned at your pleading tone, damn well melting for you and sourly reminding him just how easily he’d put you first compared to anyone else in his life, including himself.

Barou shifted, one arm resting above your head to hover over you, the other moved down to press a thumb to your clit and your hips bucked at the sensitivity.

“Look at me,”

You did as he asked, teary eyes meeting his and you hiked your knees higher up his sides, one leg curling around his back, sitting next to your hand gripping his ass, the other holding his wrist to tug it off your clit, lacing his fingers through yours and placing it near your head.

Pushing his hips forward until his thick head pushed through and you moaned, Barou inhaled sharply, restraining himself from just burying himself into the hilt. You were so damn warm and it was sucking him in, that moan was only spurring him to test his self control.

“S’it, let her suck me in, she wants it, so let me damn well give it and stop being a fuckin’ tease.”

He felt you relax and he took the opportunity, bullying the rest of his way in and pressing into you balls deep. Burying his face into your neck as his hips stuttered, airy moan breathed onto your skin. Your teeth met his shoulder, biting down on him muffling your pained whimper at the burn.

He stilled himself, fighting himself to not cum as you clamped around him letting you adjust before he gave a test thrust, one turning into two before he set a pace that had your cunt squelching under him in no time. Your hips rolling to meet his and he realised watching your face, your expressions and doe eyes all fucked out was a better first image to have of you like this for the first time.

Barou watched as your head tilted back, a noise he’d never heard leave you as you moaned in a way that was borderline unholy, it sent a pulse to his cock, flexing it inside you and spurred him to thrust harder.

“Make that noise again-“ he felt you tighten around him, still keeping your head tilted and your body tensed, “that’s it huh? Right here?”

You nodded and babbled at him, slurring words to encourage him not to stop, the slapping of his wet balls hitting your ass, cunt swallowing him sloppily as he hit that spot over and over until you came around him for the first time, your hands blinding reaching for him in support as you literally convulsed, eyes rolling back and toes curling.

“Atta girl,” he groaned into your neck as your body fell slack, breathing heavy under him and his pace turned feral. Chasing his own end and using you under him to catch it, the only reason he lasted this long was because you’d sucked the life from him before this.

You always got so wet with his cock in your mouth, he loved how much you loved it, wrapping your arms around his thighs, sliding his thick cock down your throat like a pro. He’d cum so hard he ended up pushing you off him because you wouldn’t stop, finding it funny he was jolting under you from overstimulation, making a noise he’d never heard leave him before; some beggy whine that made you moan on his cock.

He didn’t like mess, but hell he loved seeing his cock buried in your mouth with his cum drooling out.

“B-Barou I’m gonna cum again! Don’t stop! There, there, fuck harder please! Cum in me, fill me up!”

He groaned at your babbling, tears spilling down your cheeks, your breath hitching when he gave you a harder thrust that had you looking at him a little worried.

“Who you think you’re barking orders at huh?” He was panty, breathy as he spoke but his voice still so deep, little bite behind it as he felt himself about to cum.

“You want me to fill you up? Best hold it in, don’t fucking waste it.” You nodded dumbly, desperately at him.

“Hah- I won’t, I’m cumming, I’m gonna -I love you, fuck you’re so b-big,”

He smiled at you, heart hammering in his ribs; you were all his.

—0—

‘Rising star Barou Shouei and potential love interest sighted again!’

Barou’s career took off at 19, three years a now. Both at twenty two years old and you knew better than to be easily swayed by headliners. You ignored posts flying around the internet but this was the third time in a month a photo was posted with the same girl and this one was hard to ignore when she had her arm gripped around his bicep.

He hardly looked amused, if anything he looked annoyed but that wasn’t exactly a rare expression for him to present when dealing with anyone, even you at times you were sure of it.

You chewed the inside of your cheek between biting your nails, anxiety suddenly flooding you about how exactly you should handle this, you didn’t know his team mates to question them or ask if you should be worried, quite frankly you’d never met anyone in this new team of his.

He wouldn’t do this.. it’s just not Barou. Cheating just isn’t his thing, he values himself too highly for it.

You ignored the notification bars at the top of your phone, pinging from different girl friends who were sending different emojis to express anger, guessing they’d forwarded the recent post to you to see.

But when Barou’s caller ID came in, covering your entire screen you let out a yelp and flung the phone across to the sofa from where you were sat, holding your breath as it rang and exhaling heavily when it stopped. Placing your hand on your heart feeling it thumping against your ribs.

Shit.

Shit why did you do that?

It rang again but you had frozen in your place, your brain telling you to answer him but your body just wouldn’t move, the only relief was when it stopped ringing.

The pinging of texts began and you picked the phone back up, watching as Barou started to message.

B > Answer your damn phone,

B > Oi! Woman you wanted me to call at seven.

You thumbs clumsily flew across the screen, your bubble showing as typing and it took Barou less than five seconds to hit the call button again.

“H-Hey B, sorry I-uh,”

“The fuck you sound like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re doing summit you shouldn’t be, you not been using that damn toy again have you? Told you not to use it unless I’m-“

“N-No! I wasn’t doing that, Jesus Christ Barou what if someone heard you!?”

“Why? You with someone?”

“No. Aren’t you?”

Your hand slapped across your mouth when the words left you in a snarky tone, your annoyance getting the better of you before you could stop it, a heavy sigh left him breaking the tension, his gruff voice quieter than usual.

“Ignore that bullshit online, she’s the new physio for the team, just clingy as hell.”

“So, she just gets her hands all over you when I’m not there?”

“Well yeah, she’s does treatment and sports massage, it’s no big deal. Stop with the crybaby shit, it ain’t like you.”

Oblivious freaking idiot. Your phone tucked between your shoulder and head, because your hands wrung an invisible neck in front of you like Homer with Bart.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just me being a brat huh? M’gonna go Barou, I’m tired. speak to you in a few days when you’re not so busy with your team or new physio.”

The line going dead was far from a pleasant feeling, heart dropping to his stomach he stared at the home screen of his phone, that pretty photo of you in a sundress he’d changed back in blue lock three years ago. Barou being shocked was rare, you were both twenty two now and you’d never acted like this in ten years. It felt different, his guy was screaming at him leaving it to sit heavy in his stomach.

You’d never gone to bed without saying goodnight, you’d never got angry to the point where you’d literally shut him off and he needed more fingers to count the amount of times he had said something shitty. You usually fired back, that stubbornness you had and that he found always so endearing.

Opening up the chat of you both he stared at your name, but you never came back online.

It didn’t stop him sending a text goodnight though.

When he woke to no routine good morning text, despite you having read his goodnight text at 5am it gave a sour start to his day. He didn’t do anything wrong, you were throwing a damn tantrum over nothing so he opted to give you space.

“Heh, trouble in paradise aye?”

Barou only side glared at snuffy, ignoring his attempt of conversation as the striker sat in front of the obnoxiously large tv playing whatever film took his fancy this evening whilst stretching himself out.

“Showed in your training today,”

“If you’re just here to talk shit then fuck off, I ain’t in the mood.”

Taking a seat on the sofa behind Barou, he hummed and watched the tv.

“Didn’t wanna say back along but kinda figured this would happen, girls are a distraction y’know?”

“Didn’t see you looking troubled in the hot tub photos of ya with them girls, go preach to Aiku, my girl ain’t your concern.”

“Wrong-“ Snuffy twirled the remote to the tv around in his hand, starting to flick through the channels, “-anything that runs a risk to my team playin’ is my concern. ‘Sides whilst we’re on the topic, you not thought about other girls? Instead of being with the same one? Haven’t you been with her for like, forever?”

“Sixteen and no.”

“Or not thought about how feels with you being away more than with her? Long distance is such a drag, you’re both missing out on life.”

The statement didn’t trigger Barou to think about himself, he was living his goals in life and thriving, coming back to you was a reward, a comfort he’d always known so he wasn’t trouble by any of it. But he’d never once stopped to think about you and your life at home, waiting for him to come back whilst he was off travelling the world. You never complained, you never seemed sad and always supported him, but was it all a front? Was he stopping you from living as freely as he was? He hated the thought of someone else making you happy, someone else taking his position and being around you more than he was -someone else fucking you and seeing that dumb, love struck look you gave him.

He’d never even told you he loved you back, he never felt he needed to because you just got him in ways no one else did.. but if he couldn’t even give you that, how could he give you the type of relationship you deserved?

You deserved everything and more.

“I guess we’re all different, I know I sure as hell couldn’t do it. one of the guys overheard your conversation about the new physio, the media has been in a frenzy about it so putting two and two together isn’t difficult. But fix it, it’s affecting your play and you’re headlining at the moment, don’t let this ruin your high.”

—0—

You never called him back and he hated it.

He really fucking hated it.

But instead of biting the bullet and making the move himself Barou festered and festered. His focus on football made the days go quickly but the evenings were agonisingly slow and his red eyes drifted to his phone in hopes to see your name more than he’d like to admit.

Despite his stubbornness in making the move, because Barou Shouei would never chase anyone, he was starting to wonder if this was for the best. Perhaps you’d both been together too long it just became a habit, something he was so used to that he never thought about anything else or anyone else.

Did that mean he was holding you back? Were you being selfless and he selfish?

His move to Italy wasn’t exactly a great distance to be at when things like this happened, you were both so far apart that it was difficult to just reach out, Barou didn’t think long distance was much of an issue until something went wrong.

“Hey Barou, it’s time for your physio!”

The man sucked his teeth, not particularly in the mood to deal with this girl who’d been causing havoc in his relationship.

Oliver came out groaning, swinging his shoulders and arms like tension had been released.

“She’s so good, honestly babe those hands are magic.”

She giggled at him and waved him off trying to act modest and Barou sent a harsh glare towards both.

“I’ll skip tonight, hands ain’t going anywhere near me after touching that slime ball, fuck knows what’s over your hands.”

She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

“I bought all new hand sanitizers and wipes Shouei so get your butt in there!”

Oliver elbowed him and gave a wink, suggestive and mocking, something that made Barou’s fist curl into a ball.

“You’d be shit in a threesome,”

“Get fucked fuckboy.”

“Eh, that’s suggestive-“ Oliver recoiled with false disgust, “-you really would be shit, didn’t know you swung both ways. I ain’t into that man, only bottom I’m ever being is under a pretty girl.”

“Will you shut up? You’re disgusting.”

“You’re such grump! When was the last time you got laid or you still arguing with miss perfect? She’s wasted on you y’know, man she’s wife material, imagine the attention she gets when you ain’t there.”

Barou’s fist swung so quickly it gave zero time for Aiku to get away, just managing to miss the worst of the punch it still grazed his cheek. What he wasn’t expecting was Barou’s knee to end up in his stomach, the man urged from the impact shocked that Shouei actually managed to land a hit on him. Then slightly impressed by the fact it took more than half the team to hold him back, even then he made their feet move.

“Shouei, that’s enough!”

Perhaps Aiku had pushed a little more than he should have, but he kinda found it hard to ignore when he’d heard about trouble in paradise with you both, he hoped his taunt would spur Barou into contacting you… that it would stop his tantrum, get his head out his ass and get his head back in the game.

Cause even Aiku had seen the worth in you and Barou losing that would be foolish.

He just didn’t realise how much worse it had made it instead.

—0—

On day four in lack of communication with your boyfriend left you feeling heavy and guilty. Finding yourself sat at home staring at a letter that had arrived this morning, you graduated your degree yesterday, passing your courses and got a placement to be a paramedic.

You should be celebrating, you should be happy. Maybe out with friends, others who graduated and family. Your Mother, Father and Brother had attended the graduation and you were hoping Barou would have been there, you weren’t expecting him to be nor blamed him because he was in Italy following his own career dreams.

You never stopped him, you never expected him to detour from his focus and knew it required the majority of his time.

A small, selfish part of you was wishing he could have just paused just once to share it with you, a small part of you told yourself how amazing it would have been if him not contacting you was because he was flying back to secretly turn up at the graduation. Instead due to your stubbornness in not calling him back, you hadn’t even received a phone call or text or say congratulations.. was this your fault? Had you been a little too sensitive and dramatic about it? Were you being paranoid for no reason? You’d never been threatened by girls with him before, so why was this bothering you so?

Your gaze returned to your phone sat in your hands, silent and cold, the screen black from being untouched and you knew if you unlocked the phone it would show Barou’s contact details.

Because you’d been hovering over the call button for the last thirty minutes after opening the incredible offer letter in front of you.

It was frustrating that he didn’t seem to understand why you were annoyed and hurt, which was ridiculous because he didn’t even actually do anything wrong besides dismiss how you felt. It didn’t help either that only yesterday another photo was posted of him and the teams new physio yet again named as his potential girlfriend.

Funny how you never seen photos of her with the other boys in the team.

Nice to see that he wasn’t even trying to solve it.

You didn’t realise you were crying until little drops fell onto your black screen, your vision clouding as they filled your eyes finally springing free.

Sometimes you just needed a good cry right? Maybe it would be a good idea to get it out now before you called him, it would make it less likely you’d cry on the phone right?

The thought of letting go for a minute was enough to let the tears erupt to a sob, one of those ugly cries you needed to get out your system and you started to feel better after another thirty minutes of crying.

You wiped your tears beforing shoving your hair into a messy bun, sudden courage in you springing forth now the silliness was out of the way. A face of determination as you wiped against at your face before slapping your cheeks.

“C’mon girl, you’re being silly. It’s now or never!”

You grabbed your phone and didn’t give yourself a second of hesitation in clicking the call button.

It felt like it rang forty times, feeling ever so dramatic and like time had slowed because it only took three rings for Barou to answer.

Okay.

Good start, he answered super fast.

“Heeeeeey! Shouei’s phone!”

Your jaw dropped at the girls voice, your breath hitched in your throat and you were pretty sure your eyes almost fell out their sockets like something from Tom and Jerry.

Your voice failed you, the movement and voices turning into nothing but muffled noises because your heart was thumping so loudly in your chest your ribs were vibrating.

Fuck why were you sweating all of a sudden? Why did you feel so hot?

Christ almighty were you about to be sick?

A deeper voice calling your name eventually brought you back, you had no idea how many times Barou had said it only that by the time you registered it was him saying it you noticed concern lacing into it, because when Barou was concerned he sounded kinda pissed off like he wasn’t quite able to handle the uncertainty of something, like when his control and confidence slipped he faltered.

“Uh, I’m sorry didnt mean to- uh, I didn’t mean to bother you? I’m sorry I just, I’m sorry, we can talk later I -“

You babbled, you stumbled and you over apologised for something you didn’t even need to apologise for.

Fuck it should be him!

The fuck were you saying sorry for?!

His voice was calm, stern and trying to keep the situation from escalating he called your name in a way that brought tears to your eyes.

Fuck good was all that crying for if you were getting so easily overwhelmed like this?!

“Oi, you trust me right?”

Your hand clasped over your mouth before you could say anything, along with hiding the sob behind it but Barou heard.

You heard a door closing on his end, you heard him moving somewhere.

Did you trust him? You were overwhelmed, far too emotional at the moment and confused to even answer that, you faltered because it was all too much.

You wanted to say yes you trusted him, you wanted to speak, to talk to him about the offer letter because it would be a good thing to discuss, it was good timing.

But your sob broke through the silence again.

“Hey, don’t do that shit-“ he was quiet, his voice still carrying his usual deepness but there was something added into it you’d never heard from him, almost soothing, caring and it made you sob harder because it reminded you when you told him you loved him and silly cried over it, stupid emotions! Why couldn’t they just let you be strong for five minutes?!

“-we need to talk, huh.”

“Yeah,”

Your heart plummeted into your stomach, its fight to stay in your chest lost as the acid crept into it, churning in your stomach as your gut was telling you where this was going, your heart unable to fight or resist any longer.

“It ain’t gonna work like this, you deserve better-“

How fucking dare he.

Rage wasn’t something you felt often, it wasn’t in your personality to get angry like this, feeling it burn under your skin and desperate to act out physically. In fact the last time you remember feeling like this was when you kicked the ball into 12 year old Barou’s face for degrading your younger brother.

It suddenly became easier to hold yourself together a little better, focusing on feeling more angry than upset, them moving together in some aid to feed your fiery side.

“-if that’s what you want, Shouei.”

You were sure the lingering echo of tears and upset still clung to your tone, regardless of how strong you sounded on your side your lip was wobbling and your eyes were blurring with tears.

“I dunno what I want.”

“If it’s got to that point, then that’s the answer for us both.”

His silence was disturbing and it was only giving you room to allow another crying session to break through the very thin self restraint holding it back.

So you took control.

“Take care Shouei, all the best to you and her.”

“Oi, I ain’t with her, it ain’t like that I told you to ignore that shit in the med-“

Call ended.

Red eyes stayed down at his phone cutting off back to his background of you, hanging up on him before he was even able to finish his sentence, the regret already firing through his stomach as the heaviness of guilt made even his strong shoulders hunch.

Fuck, what the fuck did he just do?

Barou flicked to your name in his call log, thumb not even hesitating over your name as he went to call you back.

Sorry this number is not available, please call back later.

Never one for caring about social media until this moment he went to yours, still having accessing to it he scanned through going to click the message button, stopping himself when he realised why you deserved better, deserved someone who would give you the time you should have.

seeing your photos of your graduation yesterday and being so wrapped up on his own shit he hadn’t even reached out; he didn’t even remember it. Isagi commented on it, of course he fucking did but Aikueven acknowledged your achievement in the comments, he didn’t know you even knew Aiku.

He locked his phone, throwing it onto his bed and pinching the bridge of his nose to try take away the sting flaring through it, his throat running dry as his vision suddenly blurred.

He cleared his throat, fighting away any progress on that happening he never even cried as a baby!

Perhaps this was for the best, even if it felt wrong.

The feeling would pass with time.

Right?

—0—

You removed Barou on socials, blocking his number and ways to contact until you felt ready to face the music, coming off socials as well to avoid actually seeing anymore posts.

You needed to learn to be selfish now and focus on yourself, start a life without Barou and maybe learn some new things about yourself, pushing yourself out your comfort zone would be the first place to start… after devouring tubs of ice cream and sobbing over titanic on repeat.

Jack could have damn well fit on that door!

You could already hear the lyrics at the back of your mind, ready to messily sing along to Near, far, wherever you are believe that the heart does go on, once more, you open the door, and ou're here in my heart and my heart will go on and on.

Oh it was gonna happen, you were gonna be a mess.

You sat numbly looking at the letter in front of you through blurry tears looking like a blotch of white on your coffee table. You had options to be placed abroad for two year’s experience, you didn’t think your option of Italy would actually get offered, your second choice was England.

You’d got the highest marks and worked your ass off to improve your chances to get your offer, but the idiot Shouei wouldn’t ever know anything about that would he.

Now all you had to do was decide a box to tick.

You were calling Barou to tell him you could accept Italy, that for the first time in your lives you could be together longer than a few weeks at a time, maybe finally move in together.

Once again your life was moving towards him, because of him and it needed to stop.

England might be a refreshing option.

You’re pretty sure Isagi had friends there on another soccer team, Nagi was it?

#bllk barou #barou shouei #bllk fanfic #bllk smut #blue lock #blue lock nagi #bllk x reader #barou smut #barou x you #barou shouei smut #barou shouei x reader #barou shoei #blue lock barou #barou x reader #nagi seishiro x you #nagi x you #bllk nagi #nagi seishiro x reader

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rebelspykatie · 2 months

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Part 3

Part 1 - Part 2

Eddie’s pretty sure he’s never thought about kissing another guy. He rarely thinks about kissing anybody. For the longest time, he was convinced that no one would ever want to kiss him, so he never saw the point in dwelling on it.

But maybe that was unusual. He might have mistaken his apathy for normalcy when really he’s the freak. The average person probably thinks about kissing an awful lot. He’s listened to Jeff talk about asking out Lacy from his calculus class and Gareth go on and on about how unfair it is that he can’t make out with his boyfriend behind the bleachers to know that the average high schooler is pretty horny.

Yet, Eddie’s childhood wasn’t littered with school yard crushes. There aren’t fond memories of girls that he imagined sneaking off with during lunch period or recess. There’s just…nothing. A part of that was his rocky childhood and jumping from his parents, to just his dad, to Wayne. But a lot of it was pure disinterest in the hottest girl in their grade growing breasts before all the other girls, or how tenth grade Mandy would make out with anyone with the right incentive.

He’s never thought about it long enough for anything to stick. He figured, one day, when he was old enough to escape Hawkins and all the small minded bigots who think he’s a devil worshiper, that he would find a girl that appreciated his specific eccentricities. That he’d settle down somewhere quiet, a little closer to the city than Hawkins, and find some blue collar job and start a family. That’s just what everyone does, right?

He knows that’s not true, though. That everyone doesn’t follow that path. He knows people like Gareth and Robin, and apparently Steve, don’t get to just walk into happily ever after. There’s no white picket fence in their future, and Eddie’s never had to confront that reality so head on before. He knows what it’s like to be different. To have a target on your back. But, it’s nothing like the ostracization of being gay.

Thinking about kissing Steve scares him. When he closes his eyes, it’s a looping replay of that day. Steve’s soft lips on his unmoving ones. Big hands cradling his face. He can perfectly recall the terror and confusion. It’s seeped into his bones now, because he’s realized something about himself and he doesn’t know what to do with the information.

He can do nothing. He can move forward and pretend that he doesn’t wake up panting, picturing Steve on top of him pressing him into the mattress with their faces attached. He doesn’t ever have to acknowledge that for the first time in twenty years of living, he’s having honest to god wet dreams that involve another person. And that person he’s envisioning is a guy. Everything can just be swept under the rug.

But he’s pretty sure it scares him more to know that he can’t. It’s eating away at him. Eddie feels trapped in his own skin. The truth is clawing its way to the surface, wanting to break free, even if Eddie’s shutting down as it tries to spill out. He knows it’s inevitable, that overflow. The dam breaking.

It takes an intervention to set everything in motion. Wayne’s been fussing over him for weeks. He’s been doing that worried parent thing that he thinks Eddie doesn’t know about, where he stands outside Eddie’s closed bedroom door like he wants to knock and say something, but doesn’t. He’s studying Eddie over their morning cereal like the little floating letters are going to spell out why Eddie’s been holed up in his room almost mute.

But the final straw is when Wayne comes home from work to Eddie painting figurines on the stairs of their new trailer while pretending that he’s not watching Steve help Max fold laundry next door. There’s this polite distance between them and Eddie that didn’t exist before, this wide expanse where before Eddie would’ve been sitting on the picnic table in front of Max’s trailer teasing both of them, or maybe helping if it was a low pain day.

Instead, he’s sat like a toddler in timeout, taking furtive peaks over the little paint brushes and praying that Max’s sharp intuition about situations like this is dulled by her literal lack of being able to see Eddie from over there. Steve can see him, though, and Eddie’s feigning that it doesn’t bother him. What a grave he’s dug for himself here.

“Boy, don’t you think this has gone on long enough?” Wayne sighs as he climbs out of his truck, this world-weary, too knowledgeable sigh that makes Eddie squirm.

“I don’t know what you mean, old man.” Better to just play ignorant. Even though Eddie’s pretty sure he can’t escape Wayne’s withering gaze. He hasn’t in over ten years, so he likely won’t be starting now.

Wayne just stares at him. A raised eyebrow and crossed arms that tell Eddie he means business. He’s not getting out of this.

Eddie’s jaw shifts and he looks down at the figure in his hands. “I don’t really know what to do, Wayne.”

“Move over,” Wayne says, settling down beside Eddie until they’re shoulder to shoulder, barely waiting for the little shuffle Eddie does to make room. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just stares across the yard in the same direction Eddie was moments before, a contemplative look on his face. “This about that boy?”

Eddie follows his gaze over to Steve. His silence goes on a little too long before he softly says, “yeah.”

Wayne hums, still looking at Steve. “You know, you always were a late bloomer.”

That grabs Eddie’s attention. He turns towards Wayne, who takes that as his cue to continue, and sets down the figure behind them.

“Nothing ever happened when I thought it would when you were a boy. Lizzy said you took forever to walk and talk. I kept waiting for you to come to me about the birds and the bees, but you didn’t. Not sure if that was a good thing to let go, but I knew you weren’t getting yourself into trouble. Probably wasn’t much I could offer you that public school wasn’t already teaching you.”

Eddie wonders briefly if he should’ve hidden the condoms in his room better, but maybe that’s what gave Wayne the confidence to leave Eddie to his business. Even if they were collecting dust before they became dust that day the trailer cracked open.

“You never brought anyone around.” He nods in the direction of Steve. “Not until him.”

The conversation with Steve is distantly replaying in his head. How he went over their every interaction with Robin and they came to this same conclusion. Maybe Eddie really is an idiot.

“It wasn’t intentional,” Eddie adds. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“I don’t think anyone knows what they’re doing, son. That’s part of life.” He pats Eddie on the back. “It’s ‘specially a part of being in love.”

Eddie’s not sure he’s willing to start that train of thought, yet. He’s grateful for the quiet, unspoken acceptance, but he’s not ready to think about labeling it something as profound as love. He flounders for a second before saying, “I think I’ve missed my chance there,” as he looks back over at Steve.

“Are you dead and I don’t know it?” He squeezes Eddie’s shoulder. “Seem pretty real to me.” He whacks Eddie’s head gently. “Ain’t nothing missed if you’re still alive to make things right.”

“Hey!” Eddie laughs, mock offended at the attack, rubbing the back of his head and leaning away from Wayne. “Isn’t it socially unacceptable to joke about someone that was legally dead for almost three minutes?”

“I think I get leeway as the one that kept you alive for ten years by myself.” Wayne wrangles him into a side hug, pulling him to his chest with an arm around his neck. “Just cause things are broken, doesn’t mean you can’t fix ‘em, son.”

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #katie writes #look i'm trying to fix this and give everyone the happy ending i promised #i swear

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mishacollins · 1 year

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Time.

I’m at home alone with COVID, which is giving me time to naval-gaze and empty my inbox. In that inbox, I discovered that my friend Alex Gorosh (director of my series RoadFood) sent me this little documentary short on the topic of time.

For some reason, the unfathomable magnitude of space and time has always been a great source of comfort to me. I remember feeling miserable as a teenager and looking up at the stars of the night sky and taking great comfort in the fact that I was just a speck on this tiny blue planet in an ever-expanding universe of quintillions of planets. Looking up at the night sky on a clear night in New England as a kid I could see faint glow of the milky way—hundreds of billions of stars so distant they ceased to be points of light, but together they added up to a dusty smudge of luminosity across the sky—and all of the stars the Milky Way are in our own galaxy! And there are hundreds of billions of stars in hundreds of billions of other galaxies in this universe. To my high school mind all of this comforted me, because how could my little problems ever feel big when held up to the enormity of everything.

I always remember being soothed by the vastness of the universe, but when I was 40, I read “Annals of the Former World,” a tome on geology by John McPhee. The book beautifully illustrated the great expanse of geologic time, which so often exceeds the limits of our comprehension with this simple quote, “Consider the Earth’s history as the old measure of the English yard, the distance from the king’s nose to the tip of his outstretched hand. One stroke of a nail file on his middle finger erases human history.”

When I remember to remember, this too comforts me. The infinitesimally-small-smallness of my troubles helps them fade into nothing. Watching these few minutes on Youtube this morning, it was comforting to see that I am not alone in this perspective on our blink of time in this world.

https://youtu.be/nOVvEbH2GC0

#Misha #Alex Gorosh #Time #Navel-Gazing

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armed-with-a-waffle-iron · 5 months

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Bat Timeline vs Bat Publication Timeline

I kept my receipts and citations here. I felt canon ages are the best tool to track time. Also, I used cover dates.

Neat things I noticed:

Nothing much happened in Gotham until Robin arrived both in continuity and in print history. Sorry but your lone wolf Batman doesn't exist :P

Dick permanently becomes Batman at the same age Bruce was when he became Batman; 25. Kinda poetic if you ask me.

Babs was Oracle longer than she was Batgirl in both continuity and publication history!!

Completely forgot that Dinah was literally her own mother once upon a time. Weird stuff.

There's not enough Jason!Robin stories to fit the 3 years some fans claim he was Robin for. Also the 3 years idea doesn't work if you track Dick's age. My guess is he was originally younger than 15 when he died but DC aged him up so he could be an adult when he returned as Red Hood.

It's pretty clear that Helena's integration into the group began the expansion of this complicated "family unit". She set the precedent for those noirish vigilante work relations.

Tim has to be a vampire if he's meant to be 17 three whole very explicit in-continuity years after he had his 16th birthday.

Stephanie has basically been in this gig as long as Tim! And almost as long as Helena too. Proper seasoned ass-kicker who Damian should look to for pointers.

Also remembered that Cassandra's Batgirl run is the best thing to come out of Gotham in the early 2000s.

I dunno I think the One Year Later timeskip was just unnecessary.

Kate and Renee are almost as new to the vigilante gig as Damian!

Bat-adjacent Rose Wilson was said to be 14 during her first appearance around Year 15 so she's the same age Tim.

Not Bat related but Lian Harper's age works with my timeline so yay! Born early Year 14, she's 5 during Cry for Justice in Year 19.

I have a theory, based off of Batman #416, that Dick graduated high school at 17. He says he was Bruce's partner for 6 years and that after he was fired; he left college after the 1st semester, then moved around the country, had his own adventures, and "eventually" ended up with the Titans. Also, he was 21 during the Titans' 3rd anniversary (New Titans v2 #71) and 19 when he became Nightwing (Tales of the Titans #44) so the Titans (re-)formed when he was 18. This means he probably only turned 18 in the academic year he began college (or has a summer birthday). So he was Bruce's partner from ages 11-17, did his own thing for a while as he did in the 70s, eventually joined the Titans at 18, and became Nightwing at 19. Jason comes into the picture soon after Dick retires the Robin identity.

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mysticmunson · 1 year

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date night: alpha!steve harrington x omega!reader

summary: finally scoring a date, things go smoothly until you present, and only one alpha knows.

word count: 2.8k

authors note: hii so i wrote this like two months ago and tried wrapping it up to have it posted, but i enjoy this au so please request some expansion requests :)

warnings: a/b/o dynamics, smut 18+

The pungent smell of fryer grease sifted through the air of Benny’s, a mountain of food divided into a few plates as you sat with Robin, who was in the midst of discussing her most recent ‘study date’ with Vickie.

“Get this! We’re sitting there, talking about chemistry, and bam!” Robin exaggerates, voice lowering in fear of someone overhearing, “She looked at me and kissed me!”

You gasp, smacking her shoulder with the back of your hand, a french fry between your thumb and index finger.

The couple had kissed a few times now, but the excitement remained as you knew how badly your friend pined over the redhead.

“We just need to find you someone now.” She teased, taking a bite of her grilled cheese as a string of orange came from between the bread.

“I’m determined to get laid by the end of this month,” You proclaimed, giving yourself around 30 days, “I want to experience it because when or if I present, I want to be somewhat prepared.”

Presenting was a concern for your age group, freshly out of high school, as everyone awaited to discover if they would become an alpha or omega. There had been a few start to show, including your best friend, Steve.

His presentation was expected, his father a well-known alpha in town, and the traits of one showed early. He was fiercely protective of those he cared about, known to be more than good in the sheets, and strong. Having grown up with him, you saw it happen in real time, making it even stranger when you realized how attractive he became.

Still, Robin supported you on your journey, but worried for your safety. Over analyzing any recollection you shared of a man flirting with you, deciding he was a murderer or ugly, or both.

In her bedroom, you stood in a loose blouse, tucked into a jean skirt and a matching jacket. Applying another layer of lipstick, you fretted over your appearance as you waited for the clock to strike 6:30, and for your date to pick you up here.

“Steve is coming over.” Robin mentioned, sipping on her water bottle, sitting cross-legged on her bed.

“Okay,” You reply, “We just need him gone by the time Devin comes.”

Steve was a great best friend, but he could be a real pain in the ass. He had been scaring any potential boyfriend away since middle school, deeming them not good enough or them being too intimidated by him as he faked a macho persona.

For the plan to work, he couldn’t know. He would go on a tangent about how you didn’t have to have sex just to do it. That was true, but it was hard to listen to a guy who had numerous sexual partners preach it.

The front door swung open as if on cue as you and Robin went to the living room, Steve kicking off his shoes. He began his rant about work, Family Video making him lose hair from stress and children yanking on his hair.

You paid attention, but kept an extra eye on the clock, noticing the hands nearing 6:30. Cursing Steve’s tangent for not letting him leave sooner, you swallowed your anxieties, peaking to make sure a car wasn’t outside. As inconspicuously as possible, you stood and went to grab your heels from Robin’s room.

Toeing quietly, you were hoping to go unnoticed, but Steve decided to be aware for one of the first times tonight. “Where are you going? You’re dressed up.”

Shrugging, you leaned against the wooden door, “Just out for the night, a friend is picking me up.”

A terrible liar, you thought of something that wasn’t completely fictional, however, they both could tell. The sight of headlights caught your attention, standing straighter, “Okay, bye!”

Robin rushed to the front door to stick her head out as you walked away, “Wrap it before you tap it!”

Embarrassment crawling up your neck, you flicked her off behind your back, opened the car door, and stepped in.

“What!” Steve gasped, startling Robin as she shut the door and who hadn’t expected him to follow her or hear him. Thankfully, the car had pulled away, leaving a confused man with a bit too much heat in his cheeks at his best friend to get some.

“I’m just kidding, Harrington. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Robin snarled, shoulder-bumping him as she went back to her couch.

The date was fine, Devin was a kid you’d gone to school with since diapers. He had boyish features, cheeks a bit chubby with dimples, and was always polite. He had asked you to hang out a few days prior, agreeing on tonight.

Curls in your stomach that you attributed to nerves hadn’t vanished, even as you both mutually realized midway through your walk in the park that things were platonic.

Heat simmered within you, discarding your jacket and feeling beads of sweat trickle down the back of your neck. It wasn’t hot outside, even as you walked around and chatted.

“Are you okay? I don’t mean to sound rude, you don’t look well.” Devin questioned, a hand on your shoulder as your legs began to wobble.

Nausea flooded you before dissipating, wavering emotions as you tried to make sense of what was wrong.

Through the nerves, you kept thinking of Steve. How he would let his fingers trail against your lower back in hugs, kiss your head when leaving, and put his hand in front of your body when he hit the brakes too hard while driving.

“I don’t know.” You mumbled, feeling tears threaten through. As you made that statement, you felt the surge between your legs, knowing you had presented.

It couldn’t be happening now. Not with someone you didn’t know well. Not when you hadn’t been able to score a boyfriend first. Not now.

“I think I need to go home, I’m so sorry-” You began, huffing as streaks of mascara fell down your warm cheeks.

Assuring you it was okay, Devin drove you home, even stopping to get you a snack to make your stomach feel at ease. While it didn’t help, you appreciated the thoughtful gesture and thanked him as he waited for you to get securely in your apartment.

The space went from chilly to scorching, removing any amount of clothes you could besides a pair of boyshorts. Your mind raced with confusion as your nipples became hard, feeling a chill, but like a fire on ice.

Anxieties without category hit you, curling in a ball as you cried, sitting on your floor. It felt pathetic, but no stream of thought was strong enough to withstand the hormones.

Time slipped by as you tried regulating your breathing, applying slight pressure on your clothed core. A shrill ring came from your black phone, lifting the handle and pressing it to your ear.

“You were not supposed to answer!” Robin grumbled, already giving the heads up that she’d call to see if you were getting some, that no answer would be her answer. You had forgotten this rule, her tone making you bring in a fresh set of tears.

On the other end, Robin sat in her room with Steve walking in, not staying in the living room as she had asked. Her priorities were averted to the cry on the other side of the phone.

“Wait, what happened? Why are you crying? What happened with Devin?” Robin frantically questioned, Steve glancing over with furrowed brows as Robin had never stated who she was speaking with.

“Devin? From junior year math class? That was the friend?” Steve grimaced, toying with nicknacks in his friend’s bedroom, earning a finger on the lips to quiet him down.

“I presented,” You whispered, “I’m so scared and uncomfortable and overwhelmed! What alpha do you know, I don’t care who it is anymore.”

Though you would probably care later, the clouded judgment had you aching for any form of reprieve from the pain.

“Fuck, I don’t know!” Robin squeaked, not wanting to reveal your status to Steve for fear of your embarrassment, but she contemplated. The gears of her brain turned as she questioned his overprotectiveness, the way he was quick to frustration when discovering you were on a date.

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out, Y/N. I promise.” She concluded, hanging up and grabbing her yearbook.

The faces of former students made her ill, but word got around about presentations, and she hoped that seeing their faces would make her recollect.

“What the hell’s going on? Do I need to go fight Devin?” Steve eyed his friend, an unnerving worry in his stomach.

Biting her lip, she debated internally, “She needs help.”

“What is looking at that going to do?” Steve gawked, used to his friend’s antics, but still astounded when they acted erratically.

“I’m trying to remember who’s an alpha.”

“Why would you need to know who became an alpha-”

As the words left, his mouth ran dry, and he gulped while looking at Robin. She slowly looked up, watching the dark iris’ before her enlargen.

“Steve-” Robin began, the corner of a page between her two fingers.

The stern look on his face was withholding a multitude of emotions, ones she couldn’t quite make out. She made the judgment call that maybe Steve was your best bet.

“She’s at her place.”

That was all that needed to be said before Steve ran out her front door and into his car. He had driven your route a million times, but never this fast.

His blood pumped with nerves and excitement. He had spent his ruts alone, a fist full of himself with the occasional tears of frustration as he tried to alleviate his knot. But now you had presented as an omega.

Refraining from palming his crotch, he watched your streetlights come into view, throwing his car into park. The dark hallways were typically concerning, but your door was practically glowing within his mind.

He growled at the smell in the air, catching his attention more the closer he got. Gripping the door handle, it was unlocked, thankful no one else had noticed the compromising position.

Choking on his own breath, he fumbled with the lock behind him and trekked down the dim hallway. The protectiveness he already felt was consuming, his palms sweating as he made his way closer.

The door swung open too quickly as the handle slipped from his grasp, seeing you flinch from your curled position on the floor.

As if you were nothing, he lifted you from your armpits, making you stand in front of him. Eyes blazing, he looked pointedly as he undid his belt.

“Your door.” He stated, voice wavering with stability.

Furrowing your brows, you looked up at him, “What?”

His shirt was shrugged off, tossing it to the ground as your eyes drifted to his broad chest, whimpering at the sight to his delight.

“It was unlocked, don’t you ever fucking do that again.” He gritted pushing his jeans off, cupping your cheek with one hand and leaning forward so the back of your knees touched your bed.

His nose had skimmed against yours, breath fanning against your cheeks as you drank in every pheromone he perpetrated. Breath quickening, every thought coming to your head was vulgar, eyes softening in need.

“I won’t.” You whimpered, yelping as your back hit the wrinkled sheets, and his chest soon pressed against your bare one.

“I mean it, don’t ever do that again, you could’ve gotten hurt.” He gripped your chin in his grasp, looking down at you as your clothed centers touched.

The brief touch made you wail, your body suddenly aware of what was to come. Equally as impatient, he grabbed one side of your underwear and ripped it. Repeating the act on the opposing side, the shreds of fabric were now a relic of the you before this moment.

Palming himself, looking down at your frame as a predator and prey, he growled.

“How bad do you want it?” He egged on, ripping his own boxers off and onto the floor.

“Please, Steve, please.” You whined, watching as his cock bobbed. Blushing profusely pink, your mouth watered at it and your chest began to burn with greed.

He seemed far too composed, the performance of himself he was forced to obtain through most of his teen years floating to the top. However, his soft spot was you. It always had been and both of your fresh senses were sensing the discomfort in both of you.

“Alpha, please.”

That was all it took for his body to be pressed to yours and his lips to meet yours for the first time.

Grunts and gasps came from you both as the underside of his cock rubbed against your folds, too consumed with how he tasted and how you smelled.

“Keep that door locked, do you understand?” He gritted, fisting himself in his own grasp, his first thrust in synchronizing with your nod.

A pained cry rose from your lungs, tears already streaming down your cheeks, his lips kissing where the beads were.

Desperation reeked from you both as you grabbed at one another, needing any form of solidification that the other was there.

Steve found comfort in your warmth, trying his best to soothe your discomfort with affection. Kissing on your neck or rubbing your clit, the latter making you shriek from sensitivity.

“My omega now,” He sighed, balls reaching the curve of your ass as he settled against you, “my girl. Always have been.”

“Always yours, alpha, always Steve.” You trembled, the veins of his length stimulating every ridge within yourself. His brown hair crowned around his face, only able to see him in your state of need.

Though you were the one presenting, Steve felt the same wave of emotions he felt during his first rut, but now even more with another person. His person. The one who knew him since he had gaps in his front teeth, since he had graduated, and every minute moment before and after.

“Fuck, I love you.” He blurted out, feeling his own bashfulness creep up his neck.

To his relief, you began to be more overcome with emotion, agreeing. Each thrust hit your spongy spot inside you, convincing you more and more he was the only one who could make you feel this way.

“I love you too,” You revealed, locking his lips between yours briefly, “M’sorry I didn’t ask for you first, I was nervous.”

Your words were sweeter than honey, but the implication that someone else almost came to your aid burned him deeply. His hands pushed up your thighs, your knees coming up as he fucked you deeper than you could comprehend.

“Devin asked me out and I just wanted a boyfriend, but I didn’t want him, I swear-” You cried, unknowingly provoking more possessiveness.

“Honey, please, it’s okay.” He gritted, clenching sheets in his shaking hands, suppressing the urge to flick his hips quicker.

“I wanted you, alpha, please.” You sighed, stroking his cheek and hair, anywhere you could touch, “I’m so happy, I’m sorry, thank you-”

“Don’t worry, I would’ve found you anyway. You’re my girl, my omega.” He assured, gulping down the emotions he felt when you looked into his eyes.

His words appeared to have a larger effect than any physical reimbursement could do for you as your fingers clenched within his hair.

Your cry as you came made his hormones go into a flurry. He could feel your uneasiness being thrown into release. It was as if your chests opened in tandem, reaching out and moving in sync as he finished inside you.

White noise filled both of your ears as Steve’s body hovered over yours with much of his weight on top of you. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his chest, shoving your face against the crook of his neck.

Pumping himself within you until sensitivity took over, he gasped at how you clenched around him. His stature shook as he knotted, a hand going to your hip to keep in place, chest heaving to regain a steady tempo.

“Thank you.” You whimpered, hugging his chest closer to your front, an embrace he matched. Pressing a kiss on the side of your forehead, he trailed down to your ear with pecks and bites.

Rolling to his back, he pulled you to his chest, rubbing your back after you tried sitting up.

“Just relax, honey.” He cooed, the exhaustion already hitting you both, stilling your hips from causing you both more frustration in the compromising position.

“I want to make you knot again.” You whine beneath your breath, trying to sit up again, ignoring the pain shooting through your body at his swelling.

“Easy tiger,” He chuckles, biting his lip to stop his own need, “we’ve got time.”

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