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pretentious-blonde · 4 months ago

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never second best

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: after a run-in with his ex, steve reassures you that you'll never be second best, proving it in a way he knows will stick

warnings: 18+ this is smut, graphic depictions of sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), tears, insecurity

a/n: part 5 but can be read as a standalone. half of this is super long, pure filth, AND my first time writing smut so pls feedback is welcome. thank you @andvys so so much, hopefully, i didn't let you down <3

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Steve perched on the edge of his neatly-made bed, hair painstakingly combed into that signature swoop, the red knit jumper hugging his broad shoulders just so. The sleeves are pushed up to reveal his forearms—a look he recently realised drives you a little wild, and one he now makes an effort to wear often.

He liked to catch you staring.

He’s wearing his go-to faded jeans, and every time he glances your way, his eyes take on a softer appearance. You’ve already spent some time in his room before, but every time he sees you there, he still can’t believe you’re in his space.

He’s trying—really trying—not to grin too widely. If he breaks into the excited smile he’s been fighting all morning, he worries he might come off too eager. But truth be told, he is too eager. Hosting Dustin’s birthday party is one thing, but now he has the honour of introducing you to everyone. Officially.

He’s practically bursting at the chance to show you off, the very thought turned his mind all giddy. Knowing that you would be the one with his arm around your waist for everyone to witness.

The idea distracted him from the real drama occurring not four feet away from him.

From your spot by the mirror, you can see him watching you, and it sets your stomach off again. You’re not sure why today feels so monumental. You’ve met Dustin in passing, shared a few laughs with Robin over coffee after she basically saved your relationship a few weeks back.

But tonight is the full show. Everyone. All at once. And for some reason, your carefully chosen outfit no longer feels quite right. You tug the hem of your top self-consciously, tilt your head, and scrunch your nose at your reflection.

“I look awful,” you say, voice laced with the sort of frustration that’s all nerves. “This looked so much better in my head.”

His brow furrows, and he pushes off the bed in a single fluid motion. “That’s nonsense,” he replies, crossing the room to you in three quick strides. He rests his hands lightly on your shoulders, gaze flicking to meet yours in the mirror. "You look beautiful, sweetheart. Always do. You know that."

You huff out a breath, trying not to get lost in the warmth of his praise—easier said than done.

“No, I don’t,” you insist, staring critically at your clothes. “I should’ve brought something else.”

“Well…do you have anything else here?” He asks gently.

There were little traces of you scattered around—a few forgotten items here and there, most notably, the new toothbrush sitting beside his. Still, nine times out of ten, you took your clothes home, leaving behind only your pajamas.

“A set of pajamas.” You sigh dramatically, cursing yourself for not packing more than one option. “That’s about it.”

“Hey, that could work,” he teases, eyes crinkling with amusement. “That’s one of my favourite looks on you.” His hands slide down your arms, his grin growing as he watches your reaction.

Under normal circumstances you would lean into his teasing, but this was not the time. You turn to give him a shove, but he catches your wrist before it can make an impact.

“Steve,” you whine, trying to see the humour in this the way he is.

“What? I’m just being honest,” he says, eyes dancing. “Would you rather I lie?”

Truth is, he does love you in those pajamas—almost as much as he loves you wearing his old shirts. Honestly, you could throw on a trash bag, and he’d still think you’re stunning.

“Please stop,” you groan.

You’re not smiling the way you usually do at his jokes—no little giggle, no playful roll of the eyes.

The shift clicks for him: you’re actually stressed.

Concern crosses his features, and the jovial edge in his voice softens. He lowers his tone, warmth flowing through each word, and slides his hands down to cradle your waist.

“Alright,” he murmurs, thumbs drawing gentle circles against your hips. “Talk to me. What’s not working here?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, exhaling as you sink into him. “I just feel… unprepared. I mean, I’m meeting everyone. Should I have brought something? I should’ve baked. Everyone likes baked goods.”

A breathy chuckle escapes him, and he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Like you’re not already sweet enough.

“Angel, Robin is bringing the cake. And you”—he squeezes your waist a little firmer—“are a guest here. Your only job is to relax and look pretty. Can you do that for me? Please?”

The earnestness in his voice steals the protest right out of your throat. You look up at him, heart thumping in that heady way it does whenever he turns on the charm full-blast.

Damn those big, stupid brown eyes.

You turn back to the mirror, pulling at your shirt once again. There’s a crease here, a wrinkle there—things no one else would ever notice, but to you, it’s just off. You can feel his eyes on you, his concern and affection practically radiating from behind.

He’s been so excited, so patient, and yet you can’t shake the last bit of anxiety churning in your stomach about today.

In the reflection, you watch him hover, trying to be casual even though you can see every thought flit across his expressive face. He wants you to be happy and comfortable. He wants to show you off and make sure you feel like a million bucks doing it.

“Can I wear something of yours?” you ask softly, turning to meet those wide, hopeful eyes. “I want something more comfortable.”

Comfortable.

His heart practically leaps at your request. He’s not sure why that single sentence sends a jolt of excitement through him, but it does—and it’s powerful. He tries to school his expression into something normal, but the eager beam that spreads across his face betrays him.

“Absolutely,” he says far too quickly, glad to be of use. “Knock yourself out. Have at it—any one you want.”

He opens the wardrobe, stepping aside like he’s unveiling some prized collection. You slip past him, still self-conscious, but the warm brush of his hand on your lower back comforts you.

Leafing through the soft fabrics, you finally find one that matches the rest of your outfit—a cosy, oversized number that’s equally stylish and undeniably Steve’s. You hold it up, glancing back at him for approval.

He grins—big, unabashed. “Fantastic choice,” he declares, in an exaggeratedly formal tone meant to make you laugh.

It works—you giggle. The sound washes over him like a balm, chasing away the worry in his eyes.

He lives for that sound.

Then, your focus shifts back to the mirror. You pull off your shirt in one smooth motion, baring your bra and the long, graceful stretch of your spine.

The air feels cooler against your newly exposed skin, and you instantly sense the spark of awareness coming from the boy behind you.

He goes still. A part of him wants to look away, to be respectful, yet he can’t stop his eyes from drifting along the curve of your waist and the softness just above your navel.

He’s had the privilege of touching your bare skin before—tentative, lingering caresses that never ventured too far. He’s wanted more, of course he has. He’s human—he’s got a pulse.

But you deserve slow. You deserve a careful pace, no pressure. He’d beat himself up about it for weeks if he even thought he made you uncomfortable.

But that didn’t stop his mind from running.

He wanted to trail his fingertips down every inch of your body, to feel you melt under his touch. Imagining the way you’d arch into his palms, voice breathless as it tickled his ear, egging him on. Images of pressing you up against the mirror, sliding his hands across your hips, your ribs, your chest, discovering every inch he’s been dying to explore.

He tears his eyes away, cheeks heating at his own explicit thoughts.

You slide his jumper over your head, letting the fabric fall into place. Instantly, you’re enveloped in the faint smell of him: cologne, fabric softener, a hint of hairspray.

You turn, a playful, knowing smirk on your face, you catch the flush on his cheeks—his pupils slightly dilated, his posture taut with the effort of keeping his hands to himself.

“More comfortable?” he asks, managing a wobbly smile.

“Yeah,” you smooth the jumper over your sides, nodding. “Much better.”

A smile spreads slowly across his face, relief flooding his features. He steps closer, gently adjusting the jumper on your shoulders, as if making sure you’re perfectly bundled in his warmth. His knuckles skim your collarbone, the gesture sends a pleasant shiver through you.

“Good,” he murmurs. In the silence that follows, you can almost hear the unspoken thoughts swirling behind his eyes. He drops his hands, brushes a quick kiss to your temple, and lets out a breath. “Come on, let’s get downstairs before the others barge in. The peace isn’t gonna last once the party kicks off.”

The house was buzzing with the kind of kinetic energy that made the walls hum. You can feel it reverberating through the soles of your feet the moment you step back into the living room. The cosy space was adorned with colourful streamers and a Happy Birthday! banner—Dustin’s own insistence, of course.

Steve had nearly suffered a heart attack watching you put it up single-handedly earlier, bursting into the room just in time to steady the wobbling chair beneath you.

I mean, Jesus, were you trying to take years off his life?

You had been blissfully unaware of the impending disaster, balancing precariously as if gravity was a suggestion.

He had been right there. You could have asked for help. But no—apparently, terrifying him was just part of the fun.

None of that mattered now the party was in full swing, chatter overlapping, laughter weaving in and out of a sweetly melancholic track Max had just dropped onto the record player.

He had introduced you with obvious pride, making sure to state—loud and clear—that you were his girlfriend. Watching you greet everyone with a tender smile. His attention lingered on each reaction, quietly noting how they took in the girl he was lucky enough to call his.

It felt like unveiling a winning hand in a game he never expected to play so well—like holding onto something rare and knowing, deep down, that he’d beaten the odds.

You quickly spot your host—your boyfriend—hovering near the stereo console, running a hand through his hair, trying to appear unruffled while Max and Lucas sift through his precious vinyls. And in typical Steve fashion, failing at appearing calm, because he can’t quite hide his grin when he sees you looking.

From across the room, he gives you a gentle wave, checking that you’re still alright. His eyes stay on you as you maneuver around the coffee table and dodge a crumb-strewn plate that might have once held cake but now looks suspiciously empty.

“Hey,” he greets, sliding an arm around your waist the second you’re within reach. His hand settles warm and comforting at your side, fingertips lightly pressing into the soft fabric of the borrowed sweater.

“Hey yourself,” you reply, leaning into the contact without a second thought.

He seems to shine in a way you haven’t seen before. Surrounded by the people he calls family, he’s the best version of himself, brimming with confidence and a natural leadership that emerges when he’s trying to make sure everyone else is okay.

You see it in the way he’s just handed Max the next record she was eyeing (despite complaining it’s not appropriate music for a birthday party), the way he’s offered Dustin a refill on his drink twice in the last ten minutes, and the way his entire face softens whenever he looks at you.

You hear Will’s loud gasp behind you—apparently, Jonathan just teased him about some underground album you had never heard of. The brown-haired boy claps a hand on his brother’s shoulder, spinning him into an ongoing argument about what to play next.

Meanwhile, Robin’s perched on the arm of the couch, describing some comedic fiasco at work with her trademark flair for dramatics. You catch only snippets—something about a misfiled horror movie in the kids’ section, a frantic parent demanding a refund, and Steve heroically stepping in to salvage the day.

He rolls his eyes at that particular story, mouth curving in a half-smile. “She’s gonna exaggerate it,” he mutters to you, “just watch.”

You grin, nudging him gently. “Hey, maybe it’ll make you look good.”

“What, me saving the day?” He shakes his head. “Sweetheart, I already look great,” he says in a faux-arrogant tone, then immediately flushes when he realises how that might’ve sounded. But you know him well enough to catch the joking glint in his eye, so you laugh.

“C’mon, Steve,” comes a voice from the left—Nancy, stepping forward with a cautious smile. Her hair is pinned back, a few strands framing her face, and she looks surprisingly at ease despite the chaos around her. “Give yourself some credit. You’re basically running a daycare every shift the amount of times the kids are there,” she teases, though her tone is warm, not biting.

“Yeah, well, if it keeps me from being bored outta my mind, guess it’s worth it.” He snorts.

You shift, letting Nancy into the conversation fully. She meets your gaze with an inviting smile, and it strikes you how nice she is.

Steve had mentioned her coming, and at first, it rubbed you the wrong way. Not in a dramatic, soap-opera kind of way, but in that small discomfort that settled in your stomach before you could talk yourself out of it.

You didn’t want to be that person—the one who couldn’t handle a little shared history, who needed their partner to rewrite the past just to make the present more comfortable. But still, the thought sat with you longer than you liked.

Steve had noticed, of course. He was too perceptive when it came to you, reading the tension in your jaw before you even had the words to explain it. So he reassured you—gently, patiently, with that soft-eyed sincerity he always had when something really mattered.

Without hesitation, he’d offered to uninvite her. But you shook your head because that wasn’t fair. If they were all part of the same friend group, who were you to come in and break it apart? Nancy was part of his history, but that didn’t mean she had to be an issue in his future.

And if he could move forward without looking over his shoulder, then so could you.

She was not the intimidating figure you’d somewhat imagined— the girl he had cared about so deeply in the past. Instead, she’s approachable, her eyes bright with curiosity as she acknowledges you.

“Hi,” she says, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t think we’ve had a real chance to talk yet. I’m Nancy.” She offers her hand, and you take it, noticing the gentle, firm shake.

“It’s really nice to finally meet you properly.” You tell her, giving your name in return. “Steve’s told me a bit about you.”

She arches a brow at him, a playful glint there. “All good things, I hope?”

“Nothing but the best.” He raises both hands, half-defensive.

She laughs quietly, then turns that inquisitive gaze back to you.

“So, I heard you’re, um… you work in—”

“Journalism,” you supply with a small nod. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds, but I really like it. Kinda took your place at the Hawkins Post.” You joke. “They treat me a lot better now though. It’s not anything huge, but I get to read new articles, help shape them a bit, get the occasional coffee run… it’s fun and sometimes totally insane.”

Steve leans in, beaming with pride.

It had gotten easier—less and less often did you show up at his house on the verge of tears after a shift. Turns out, grown men get pretty uncomfortable when you call them out on their bullshit directly. And damn, was he proud when they finally started taking you seriously.

He always knew they would. You’re a smart girl, after all.

“She’s underselling it.” He says, without the slightest bit of shame, gently nudging your shoulder. “She’s great at what she does.”

“That sounds so much better than when I was there.” She shakes her head, reminiscing about her experiences. “I still do a lot of writing myself. I’m working at a local paper in Massachusetts right now.”

Something about her tone clicks into place for you, like a puzzle piece sliding in.

“Right, Steve mentioned. You like it?”

“Yeah. It’s… challenging, to say the least.” She nods, crossing her arms loosely. “Still a small paper, still small stories. But I’m building my portfolio, hoping to maybe do bigger pieces eventually.”

A warm sense of camaraderie blooms in your chest. You completely understand that hustle, that feeling of needing to push through the drudge work to get to the fulfilling stuff.

“Oh, absolutely,” you say. “I used to think I’d be working on these huge headlines right off the bat, but it was mostly basic editing work. Still,” you add, “I’m kind of a sucker for persevering.”

Her eyes crinkle with a real smile, and for a moment, it’s just you two, connecting over the rollercoaster that is words.

“I know exactly what you mean. It’s exciting to be at the start of something, you know?”

“Makes the early mornings and late evenings worth it,” you tease, and she laughs.

This was easier than you thought.

The conversation flows so smoothly that you almost forget the context—that this is Steve’s ex you’re talking to, that the only reason you even worried about her presence was because of that shared history. But here she is: easy to talk to, friendly, and—if you’re honest—reminding you a bit of yourself in how she lights up when discussing her work. You could understand how Steve fell for her in the first place.

And that’s when it happens: Dustin bounces by with a half-eaten cake slice, eyes going wide as he sees you and Nancy chatting. He glances between you, leans in—crumbs falling from his mouth as he finishes eavesdropping.

“Whoa, you guys are so alike.”

“Took you long enough to notice.” Erica chuckles, passing behind him.

Steve nearly chokes on air. “Excuse me?”

“I told you—” Dustin smirks at Steve, “both super nice, pushy in a good way, and way too into all that reportage stuff.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Patterns, man. I see them.”

Nancy, amused, shakes her head but doesn’t deny it. Meanwhile, you feel a curious prickle in your stomach.

Even though you haven’t felt threatened by Nancy at all, it’s… interesting, hearing Dustin phrase it that way, noting how similar the two of you are.

Before you can dwell on it, Steve is in full damage control mode, waving Dustin away.

“All right, all right, that’s enough outta you, birthday boy.”

Dustin, unbothered, snickers, then scampers off to deposit his napkin onto Jonathan’s pile of party rubbish. You catch Nancy’s eye, and she looks like she wants to say something, but a flush of colour creeps across her cheeks instead. You wonder if she’s embarrassed at the topic or if she’s also noting how the conversation just positioned you and her in the same category.

“Anyway,” Nancy says softly, clearing her throat, “it was really nice talking to you. And I do want to chat more about writing. Would be great if our paths were to cross again.”

“Sure. ” You nod, smiling. “Anytime.”

She dips her head in a polite goodbye, departing to rescue Mike from an argument with Lucas. That leaves you and Steve standing there in the aftermath of Dustin’s remarks.

“Uh… sorry about that,” he mumbles, glancing down at you. “Dustin’s always been, like, embarrassingly direct.”

A wry smile tugs at your lips. “It’s okay. I’m not offended.”

The evening drifts into its final hours with a soft sun lingering in the corners of Steve’s living room windows. Most of the balloons have deflated a little, and the noise has died down into pockets of lingering conversation.

Dustin’s boisterous laugh echoes one last time as he heads out the door, hauling an armful of presents. Max trails behind him with the rest of the kids, carrying a few he couldn’t manage. She pauses to give you a small nod and a grin—her quiet way of saying, I like you.

You thought at first she was a tad standoffish, but her actions made you feel accepted into the small group. And if they approve of you, that's a sign that maybe you do belong here, in this makeshift family.

Not that you’re getting ahead of yourself or anything…

Robin departs next, hooking her arm through Erica’s at the last second to drag her into some half-joking conversation about finally getting a break from babysitting Steve. Which she wholeheartedly agreed with, even if she was multiple years his junior.

Nancy laughs, glancing your way as if to share the humour, and you wave goodbye with a soft smile. Jonathan, her hand in his, offers you a polite nod. They looked so in sync, bodies unconsciously angled toward each other, moving as a unit. There’s no tension, no leftover drama—just two people who found their other half.

The thought made you more anxious than relieved.

When the door finally shuts, the hush that falls over the house is unsettling. You can still hear the faint crackle of the record player, the needle resting in a quiet groove before you switched it off. Now, there’s just the quiet clink of dishes in the kitchen and the soft hum of Steve’s voice—he’s singing along to the old radio as he stacks up the glasses. He told you he had it under control, and knowing you didn’t like the feeling of leftover food in the sink, he took this job for the team.

You’re left gathering discarded wrappers and balled-up napkins, your mind spiraling in circles you really don’t want to follow but couldn’t help yourself.

Nancy is lovely. Infuriatingly so.

In fact, she was so kind, so pleasant, that it almost stings more than if she’d been cold. Because it means you can’t hate her. Not that it was your goal to do so, but you couldn’t just dismiss her as some memory in Steve’s past.

She was right for him once, and the knowledge of how closely her life aligns with yours—similar ambitions, the same drive for success, the spark of curiosity—makes your throat feel tight.

What if Steve also sees her in you? What if every moment you thought was unique and special was just him trying to relive something he used to have with her?

You can’t stand the idea, but the rational side of your brain doesn’t seem to be cooperating.

Steve isn’t cruel. You know that.

He’s never been anything but considerate, thoughtful, patient with you. Hell, the amount of times he was there for you—without hesitation, without needing to be asked. Holding your hand when you were nervous, pressing a kiss to your temple when you overthought, making you laugh when you wanted to cry.

He had never once made you feel like an afterthought. He was all in. And yet, the thought gnawed at you—was he here because he chose you, or because he was still reaching for a shadow of the past? Was he even aware he was chasing her ghost?

Your fingers tighten around a crumpled paper plate, and you swallow against the lump forming in your throat. You wonder if you really are just a Nancy 2.0 as you step into the kitchen, tossing the rubbish in the bin and retreating back to the now clean living room. Not wanting to talk to him just yet.

The water stops running, the tap squeaking as Steve turns it off. You hear him dry his hands on a dish towel, then he appears in the doorway, face lighting up for a moment—until he sees your expression.

“Finished in the kitchen,” he starts, voice warm and a little proud, then pauses. “...What’s wrong?”

He settles beside you on the couch, the cushions dipping under his weight. Your shoulders tense a little—his proximity normally soothes you, but tonight, your mind won’t quiet down, and every small gesture feels magnified. He notices immediately.

“Nothing,” you say, forcing a small, tight smile. “I really liked your friends. They’re all super sweet. I can see why you get along so well.”

“Oh yeah?” There’s a warmth in his tone, a hopeful rise.

You nod, dropping your eyes to your hands. He slides closer, until his knee brushes against yours.

“You even got Erica to like you,” he points out, sounding genuinely impressed. “It took me weeks to win her over, and you waltz in and manage it in a few hours? So not fair.”

You can’t help the soft laugh that escapes. “I’m sure she’s just being polite.”

A quick scoff breaks from Steve’s throat. “Erica doesn’t do polite unless she means it.” He places his hand lightly on your arm, and despite the tension coiled in your chest, you feel a rush of affection at the contact. “No, seriously—I loved having you here, angel. Made the whole day so much better.”

“Really?” you ask, voice wavering just enough that he picks up on your uncertainty.

“Well, yeah,” he answers, brow creasing. “I’m just glad they didn’t scare you off.”

Your lips form a weak smile. “Oh, they didn’t.”

But there’s something about your tone—some waver you can’t quite hide—and his eyes sharpen.

“Okay, spill,” he says, leaning in. “What’s going on?”

“Huh?” You try to keep your expression neutral, but his gaze pins you.

“I know you,” he insists, a furrow carving between his brows. “You’re stressed about something.”

“I’m so not,” you counter, folding your arms tight against your chest.

“Yeah, you are,” he replies, undeterred. “You have tells.”

“Tells?” you echoed.

“Yes, tells.” He shifts forward, voice low. “So tell me—what’s on your mind? Did someone say something? Because I swear to god—”

“Steve,” you cut him off, irritation sparking. “Nobody said anything.”

“Then what is it? Was I too much? I swear I just wanted people to know how much I—”

“Steve,” you say again, louder this time, frustration rolling through you in a hot wave. “I’m fine. Drop it.”

His expression crumples the instant your sharp tone slices through the air. It’s like someone yanked the rug out from under him, and he sits there, quiet and unsure, those warm eyes losing some of their usual shine. It kills you to see him look so hurt, and you can practically feel the guilt creeping up your spine.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs at last, voice soft and almost hesitant. “You… you don’t have to come to the next one. If it wasn’t fun, or if it was too much—”

“That’s not it,” you say, cutting him off. You watch the confusion linger on his face, and it only makes the ache in your chest worse.

He just wanted to have a good time, to share his world with you.

And now here you are, turning what seemed like a perfect day into something heavy and complicated.

“Then—what?” His shoulders sag. “I don’t know what else could’ve gone wrong.” His gaze flits over your features, looking for answers you haven’t yet spoken.

You swallow, steeling yourself.

“It was just… Nancy.”

“Nancy?” Steve’s eyes widen in surprise. “I thought you two got along really well tonight.”

“Yeah,” you admit, speaking around the lump in your throat. “We did.”

He pushes a breath through his nose, like he’s sifting through every possible explanation and coming up empty.

“I thought you’d, I don’t know, bond over books or something. I mean, I know you were anxious before, but you’re both so… nice. She’s already with Jonathan, you’ve got me—”

“Steve.” You cut him off again, trying not to let your voice waver. “We’re similar. That’s the problem.”

He blinks. “What d’you mean?” His tone is gentle, even though you see the concern in his eyes.

You rake a hand through your hair, fighting for the right words. He shifts forward, bracing himself.

“Steve, we’re really similar,” you say at last, voice low.

“Okay?” He nods, urging you to continue. “So you have some shared interests. Where are we going with this, sweetheart?”

A shaky breath escapes you, and you force yourself to look him in the eye.

“Are you sure you’re not still… looking for her?”

He frowns, confused. “Looking for her? I don’t—”

“Yes, Steve. Searching for someone like Nancy because you couldn’t have her. Like I’m just the next best thing. Even the kids picked up on how alike we are.” Your voice cracks, and you hate how vulnerable you sound. “I don’t want to be some bullshit replacement, filling up the space she left behind.”

All it takes is that one word—bullshit—and the floor drops out beneath him.

You’re looking at him, voice trembling with hurt, and the realisation that you think you’re not enough guts him. Because he knows that feeling too well. He’s been there, on the other end, wondering if he was any good for anyone. But this? This is a thousand times worse. Because it’s you—and if there’s one thing in this world he’s certain of, it’s you.

He can’t stand the heartbreak in your eyes. Can’t stand the idea that he might be the one making you feel that way. His mind scrambles for something, anything, that might put your mind at ease—words to counteract that awful notion of being not enough.

Then, suddenly, clarity strikes. He can’t think of anything else but to go full-force, stern, direct, because you’re far too precious for soft reassurances that could be mistaken or ignored.

“Hey,” he says, voice firm enough to startle even himself, “listen to me and listen to me good, all right?”

He can see how shocked you are at the tone he’s using; you go still, your gaze locking on him in a way that assures him every word will sink in. It has to.

“Never—and I mean never—are you some kind of half-ass replacement. You hear me? So get that thought out of your head right now.”

He’s never spoken to you quite like this before, but desperation thrums under every syllable.

I can’t lose you. Please believe me.

“I don’t care how long it takes or how many times I have to say it—you are not second place. You are not a replacement. I didn’t settle for you, I chose you. You think I’d waste my time with someone I didn’t want wholeheartedly?”

He asks the question as though there’s no logical answer except the truth: Of course he wouldn’t. And he can’t stop now; your silence pushes him to continue. He needs you to know.

“God, if you could see yourself the way I do, you’d never think this again. You would never doubt how much I love you. How stupidly lucky I feel every day just to have you. You are not some ghost of my past. You are my future. And nothing—no one—could ever change that.”

There’s a ringing in his ears from the intensity of his own words, and he breathes hard, every muscle coiled with tension. Your eyes are wide, shining with an emotion he can’t decipher—shock, relief, maybe both. He hopes to God his message got through.

And then—amid the silence—your voice comes out soft, almost a whisper.

“You love me?”

The question slices through him like lightning. He falters, suddenly off-balance.

Fuck.

Because he’s just laid bare his entire heart, more than he’s ever dared to before. But there’s no taking it back. No gentle way to hedge now.

“Yes.” He swallows. His voice is steadier than he feels inside. “I do... Simple as that.”

That was all it took.

The words barely leave his mouth before you surge forward, meeting him in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, messy and urgent, the taste of each other a heady mix of relief and need.

He gasps when you grip the collar of his sweater, tugging him closer, refusing to let a single breath of space linger between you. In response, his hands slide down your waist, pulling you tight against him until he can feel every curve, every line of your body against his.

“God,” he rasps against your mouth, already sounding relieved. “You—fuck.”

You hum a soft, breathy laugh escapes as he hauls you closer, helping you out as you sit and straddle his lap. His mouth is trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat as you sink your fingers into his hair, tugging, making him hiss against your lips.

He’s so desperate he doesn’t know where to touch first—fingers skimming over the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist, sliding boldly beneath the hem of your—his—jumper to feel the heat of your skin.

Everything about you feels like an invitation, a promise he’s craved for far too long. And each gasp, each little whimper you give him, only fuels that growing ache inside of him.

“Steve,” you whisper, voice cracking with urgency. He glances up, eyes dark, pupils blown. There’s something unbridled there—devotion, longing, raw determination to make sure you never doubt him again.

He pulls you closer, one hand curling around your waist, the other sliding around to grip your ass, pulling you flush against the growing hardness in his jeans.

Then, as though a last spark of caution flickers through his brain, he stills, pulling back just enough to look at you—really look, eyes darting between yours. There’s a flush high on his cheeks, lips reddened from your kisses. But behind that is a tenderness, a protective streak that roars beneath his surface need.

“Tell me you want this,” he says, voice so low it practically reverberates through your chest. He needs to hear you say it. Needs to hear you tell him it’s alright. “I want to make sure you’re positive, because I—I want this more than anything—to show you, to make you feel so fucking good, but…”

You let out a noise that’s both a laugh and a moan.

“Steve,” you repeat, more breathless this time. “I want this. I want you. Please.”

He groans, eyes squeezing shut. Thank God.

“Shit, you have no idea how long I’ve—” He takes a breath as he shudders against you, every nerve ending on fire. “Angel—fuck—wait, just a sec.”

You blink, momentarily dazed. “What—did I do something?”

He just about melts at the concerned look you’re giving him, hands immediately cupping your face as he presses his mouth against yours as he mutters reassurances.

“No, sweetheart. You didn’t—you’re perfect.” He wills his brain to formulate a coherent sentence. Easier said than done when he has you sitting on his lap. “But, if I’m going to make love to you, I’m not going to do it on the living room couch.”

A glint sparks in his eyes, but there’s nothing playful about the way he suddenly gathers you up into his arms, hands cupping beneath your thighs, hoisting you effortlessly against his chest as he stands. Your squeal of surprise echoes in the now-quiet house as you cling to his shoulders, heart pounding.

You laugh out his name and his only response is to tighten his hold on you, a grin tugging at his kiss-swollen lips, before he turns and starts up the stairs, carrying you like you weigh nothing.

Your arms wrap around his neck, your lips brushing the line of his jaw, and his low groan vibrates in your ear, spurring him to climb faster.

He kicks the bedroom door open with his foot, all too eager to finally have you in his arms, in his bed. He sets you down on the edge of the mattress, his hands lingering at your hips as though he can’t bear to lose contact.

You’re about to tease him for being so careful, but the sight of him—flushed cheeks, hair a disheveled mess from your fingers, lips reddened—steals the quip from your tongue.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. As urgent as he feels, there’s that undercurrent of protectiveness, that need to check you’re here with him for all the right reasons.

Your smile is a little breathless. “I’m more than okay.”

He exhales slowly, like your reassurance is the only permission he needed to keep going. Then he nudges your knees apart so he can step in closer, pressing your bodies flush. The warmth of him is addictive—solid arms, broad chest, that steady heartbeat thrumming beneath your palms.

A shiver runs down your spine when he bends to brush a slow kiss along the side of your throat, teeth just barely grazing your skin. Your head falls back, and he uses the moment to trail more kisses along your jaw, your collarbone, mapping the curve of your shoulder as if memorising every inch.

“Lie down for me,” he whispers, voice trembling with the effort it takes to keep it gentle.

You slide back onto the bed, propping yourself on your elbows, and he kneels near the edge, guiding your legs up so you’re fully on the bed. His hand glides beneath your clothes, pushing it slowly upward, knuckles skimming the bare skin of your waist. His gaze locks with yours as he slips it off over your head, making sure you’re still okay with each inch of exposed skin. You can’t help the small, playful grin that tugs at your lips.

“Careful, Harrington,” you tease, breath hitching when he plants a soft kiss at the center of your sternum. “At this rate, it’ll be sunrise before you get these clothes off.”

He huffs a little laugh against your skin, the warm puff of air sending a tingle racing across your flesh.

“You deserve careful,” he says, words muffled by the increasingly desperate kisses he’s leaving along the tops of your breasts, your clavicle. “But don’t think for a second I’m not dying to tear everything off you, angel.”

His fingers drift to the waistband of your jeans, undoing the button and zipper with a focus that makes your stomach flip. He eases them down your hips, helping you lift so he can slide them all the way off. Then, with a featherlight touch, he glides his hands up your thighs, sending sparks of electricity racing through you.

“Steve,” you breathe, voice catching when he leans down to kiss your newly bared skin. He starts at your calf, working his way leisurely up, each press of his lips driving you a little bit more insane. By the time he reaches your inner thigh, you’re trembling—desperate for him.

“Look at you,” he coos, voice shaking with something close to awe. His fingers slide along the band of your underwear, and he gently pulls them down, letting them join your jeans on the floor. With each inch, he leaves more of you uncovered, and the intensity in his gaze leaves you feeling bare in more ways than one.

You try to close your legs, feeling slightly exposed with the way he is gazing at you, but his hand is firm as it grips your thigh, holding you open. You hold your breath as his fingers skim over your folds, head falling back as his thumb circles your clit slowly.

“Shit,” he breathes out, second hand joining to gather some of your wetness on his fingers. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, angel.”

“Steve,” you murmur, voice quivering with need. Your fingers thread into his hair, urging him closer, your body already winding tight from the warmth of his breath against you.

“God,” he mutters, words muffled by another kiss to your thigh. “I’ve wanted this—wanted to do this—for so damn long.”

He shifts, situating himself more comfortably. Then, with a half-lidded glance in your direction, he leans in and presses his mouth against your clit in a way that shatters every remaining thought in your head.

A soft cry tumbles from your lips, and he groans at the sound, pulling you in deeper, his grip on your thighs tightening.

He moves carefully, learning your reactions, letting your gasps and moans guide him. Each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, is a question: Is this good? More? Show me. And every time you arch your back or let out a ragged whisper of his name, he answers with another fervent, deliciously slow pass of his mouth.

"Fuck, angel, I could do this all night.” He dives back in. “Keep you here, keep you shaking over and over on my tongue."

He’s so tender in his insistence, balancing the sharp edge of hunger with a profound concern for your pleasure. One of his hands slides up to lace your fingers together, and he squeezes—almost like he’s grounding himself in the moment, sharing each pulse of sensation so you know he’s right there with you. The other hand strokes up your thigh and curls around your hip, keeping you anchored against him.

“Oh, God,” you gasp, voice pitching higher when he drags his tongue across your pussy with a pointed languidness. Your thighs tighten around his shoulders, and he shudders, his fingers reflexively pressing into your skin.

He pauses just long enough to rest his forehead against your thigh, breathing hard. His voice comes out in a low rasp, intense in its sincerity.

“You taste so fucking good,” he mumbles dazed as he returns to his ministrations. Lapping against you like he couldn’t possibly get enough.

A wave of warmth crashes over you at his words—any lingering insecurities vanish beneath the heat of his devotion. You tug lightly at his hair, guiding him back, and he happily obliges. His tongue moves in slow, deliberate strokes at first, building you up in a dizzying ascent, then quickens when your moans become urgent.

Your heels dig into his back, and you choke out something unintelligible—his name, a plea, a broken sob of bliss. He groans in response, the sound reverberating through your entire body, heightening the sensation until you think you might shatter from it.

There’s something almost reverent in how thorough he is, like he wants to memorise every reaction, every hitch of your breath.

“You’re making the sweetest fucking noises, baby.” He murmurs. “Driving me insane.”

Tension coils in your stomach, winding tighter with each measured flick of his tongue. Your grip on his hand is borderline crushing, but he just grins against you, absolutely thrilled by the desperation in your touch.

That’s all the encouragement he needs to push you closer and closer to the edge. His name tumbles from your lips again, a breathless entreaty, and he groans, the vibration sending sparks skittering across your skin.

He can tell you’re close—he can feel it in the way your hips jerk, the way your pussy clenches, the way your voice climbs. And he wants it for you, wants to be the reason you come apart so completely that you’ll never doubt his devotion again.

“Come on, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” before diving back in with a perfect, rhythmic swirl that makes your entire body tense.

The tension snaps. A rush of pleasure bursts inside you, and you let out a cry that would embarrass you if you could think about anything but the ecstasy roaring through your veins.

Your hands grip his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, and he moans like the taste of your release is exactly what he’s been dying for. He works you through every pulse, every aftershock, with gentle flicks of his tongue until you’re quivering in oversensitivity, pushing lightly at his head to let him know you can’t take another second.

When he finally straightens up to see you—lying back against his pillows, clad in just your bra—you spot a flicker of pure hunger crossing his face. He swallows hard and you see your release glistening against his chin as he does. He’s trying to keep himself tethered to sanity, but it’s a losing battle.

“Not fair that I’m the only one so… exposed,” you breathe out, hooking a finger into the hem of his jumper.

“Impatient, huh?” He lets out a shaky chuckle as he licks his lips.

You roll your eyes in faux annoyance, tugging firmly at the fabric. He gets the hint. In one smooth motion, he yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere behind him. You catch a glimpse of toned arms and the lean planes of his chest, and it steals your breath all over again.

But he’s not done—he pops open the button of his jeans, sliding them down until they pool at his ankles, stepping out with a sense of urgency that has you biting your lip. For a moment, he just stands there, letting you take in the sight of him, hair messy, eyes blown wide with desire, wearing only his boxers.

“Better?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.

You drag your gaze up and down, unrepentant in your ogling. “Much.”

Steve’s eyes glitter with raw need as he hovers over you, his body pressed so tight you can hardly breathe. Every breath you take is steeped in the mix of his cologne and the sweet, desperate scent of your own arousal.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mutters under his breath, his gaze roaming over your curves with a barely restrained hunger. One of his hands grips your thigh, dragging it higher around his waist. “Don’t know how the hell I got so lucky.”

You can’t manage a reply—your breath stutters as he runs his other hand up your side, fingers skimming your ribs, his thumb grazing the underside of your breast in a fleeting touch. The contrast between how tender he’s being and the way his voice drips with a filthy promise makes you whimper, arching into his touch.

He leans in, teeth nipping at your lower lip before he kisses you slow and deep. It's messy and you can taste yourself on his tongue.

“Fuck,” he whines, “I need you, sweetheart. Need you right now—can I?” His voice cracks with urgency, and you feel every syllable reverberate through your body.

“Yes,” you whisper, voice trembling with anticipation. “Please, Steve. I—”

He cuts you off with another kiss, sliding his hand between your thighs, which have only got stickier. He groans at the way you shiver, so worked up that you feel like you might combust if he doesn’t fuck you this instant.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “So wet for me.” Then, in a lower tone. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby—gonna make you forget anything else exists except how good my cock feels inside you.”

His words took you by surprise. Your usual sweet boyfriend was downright obscene with his words.

You knew he had a sharp tongue, but you had no idea how damn filthy he could make it.

He reaches into the bedside table and tears the condom wrapper off with his teeth, making quick work of sliding it over his length.

The moment he lines his cock up at your entrance, you can feel the tension in his body—like he’s holding back a tidal wave of desire, absolutely determined not to hurt you, to make sure you’re comfortable.

“You good?” he rasps, voice tight.

“Yes,” you pant. “Steve… please.”

He exhales a ragged breath and pushes into you, inch by inch, until the stretch of him draws a moan so raw from your lips that he answers with a guttural “Fuck.”

Your head falls back, the sensation an exquisite combination of pleasure and the ache of being so completely stuffed. He stays there a moment, trembling arms caging you in, nose brushing yours as you grip him like a vice.

“Angel,” he chokes out, voice thick, “You—you feel so fucking perfect. Look at me.”

You force your eyes open, meeting his gaze, and the ferocity of his desire sends another wave of arousal flooding through your veins, clenching around his length.

“You feel that, sweetheart? Feel how deep I am?”

All you can do is nod dumbly as his hand presses on your lower stomach. He knows you can feel him there.

He starts a slow rhythm, hips rolling, each thrust calculated to bring you higher. And for all his filthy talk, there’s a sweetness in the way he cups your cheek, kisses your jaw, your collarbone, like he can’t decide which part of you he loves most.

“God, yes,” he groans, each thrust picking up in intensity. “You like that? Tell me you like it.”

“I love it,” you gasp, fingers clawing at his back. “Steve, you feel—God, you feel amazing.”

He lets out a breathless laugh that ends in another throaty moan as he angles his hips just so, making you keen against his lips. His pace quickens, every stroke hitting deeper, sending sparks of pleasure through every nerve.

“Fuck—baby, you’re so tight,” he hisses, his mouth at your ear. “So damn tight for me. Never want this to end—wanna keep you like this, under me, always on my cock—cumming so hard you forget your own name.”

Jesus, if you knew this was how he was going to talk, you would have given him the green light weeks ago.

He punctuates the filthy promise with a particularly deep thrust, and your toes curl, a cry spilling from your throat as you cling to him. You’re quickly losing yourself in the haze of his words, his body, his everything.

You utter his name in a choked sob, and it’s like a starter’s pistol. He shifts his angle just enough that the strokes perfectly grind against that sensitive spot inside your walls. The pleasure mounts in a dizzying spiral, your body tensing as you hover on the brink of release.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, voice gone ragged, snapping his hips more insistently. “God, cum for me, sweetheart. I need to feel it—want to feel it so bad.”

And with one more roll of his hips, you do—crying out, body arching as the orgasm shatters through you. Every nerve in your body lights up as you clamp down, and his guttural moan tells you he’s right there with you, grinding through your climax until he’s spilling himself into the rubber, breathing your name over and over like a prayer.

For a moment, you’re both lost in the aftershocks, hearts pounding, bodies tangled in the sheets. Then he sags against you, pressing lazy, tender kisses to your shoulder and murmuring small, breathless praises that make your cheeks burn with warmth.

The afterglow is still pulsing between you—soft, warm, and intimate. He leans down to press feathery kisses to your shoulder, your chest, up the side of your neck, murmuring words of reassurance and awe.

“You did so good,” he breathes, voice low and reverent. “So perfect.”

Heat flutters in your chest at the praise, and you can’t help but giggle, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair and guide his face to yours. Your lips meet in a searing kiss, slow and sweet. When you finally pull back, you find him watching you with those big, earnest eyes.

“Was I… okay?” he asks, cheeks turning pink in a bashful sort of way. “Like, everything good for you?”

“More than okay.” You let out a satisfied sigh, your body still humming with pleasure. “That was perfect.”

“Yeah?” he echoes, a shy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah.” You brush a thumb across his lower lip, feeling a spark of amusement as you remember the filth he whispered moments ago. “When were you gonna tell me you had such a dirty mouth?”

Instantly, his face flames. He cannot be blamed for what he said in the heat of the moment. It was hard to have a filter when he had you mewling underneath him.

“Hey, well, uh… I don’t… I mean, I—”

“Shh.” You chuckle, placing a finger over his lips “I loved it.”

“Oh yeah?” He exhales, relief and pride mingling. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind—my girl likes it a little dirty.”

“C’mon, lover boy.” A fresh wave of laughter bubbles out of you. You let him help you up, your legs still a bit shaky. He steadies you with a strong arm around your waist and guides you to the bathroom so you can rinse off the sheen of sweat and bliss.

The shower is warm and comforting, the water sluicing away every last trace of tension as you help each other soap up and rinse off. When you emerge, toweling your hair and feeling the pleasant ache of satisfaction in your muscles, you notice Steve holding out one of his old T-shirts for you to slip on. You beam, tugging it over your head before crawling into bed next to him, the soft cotton drowning you in his familiar scent.

He pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. The hush of the room, the warmth of the covers, and the steady sound of his heartbeat lull you into a sweet, sleepy contentment.

“Hey,” he murmurs, turning so his nose brushes yours.

“Mmm?” you reply, lashes fluttering.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

Your heart clenches at the simple sincerity in his tone. “I love you too, Steve.”

And with that, his arms tighten around you, and you drift into a peaceful sleep, knowing that in the morning, you’ll both wake up in the same bed, same sappy looks on your faces, same lovesick smiles as you bask in the golden morning light. Steve will probably be watching you already, grinning like a fool, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your back, because he’s just that smitten.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader angst

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chiscaralight · 10 months ago

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me and my roomie!

your roommate is obsessed with you! but you're hiding your own dirty little secret.

includes: nsfw! scara, tartaglia and bonus character separately, weird roommate behavior, use of their real names, weird reader behavior, tartaglia's is pretty long, fingering, begging, somno(?), pillow humping, missed tags. the bonus isn't as long as the other ones!

a/n: this was so much fun to write ! suzu helped me decide who to write for.

scaramouche!

"hey, i can't find one of my shirts can I go check your room for it?"

you give him a thumbs up as he makes his way to your door. now, he wasn't entirely lying, he was actually missing a couple of shirts! but, he knows you do all your laundry over the weekend, so your basket should be overflowing with dirty clothes by now. he does a quick check of the hall once more before shutting the door to your room. he's beelining straight for your pile of laundry. he starts rummaging through the trash like a raccoon but finally finds what he's searching for.

the cute panties you wear! the pair he'd stolen a week prior had lost your scent a while ago and it was starting to drive him crazy. he raises the newly acquired pair to his nose and he's twitching in his pants. but this isn't the place for that! it would be kinda hard to explain what was going on if you saw him bent over your laundry with a raging hard-on. so he quickly throws the old pair in and covers it up with the rest of your clothes. he shoves the new pair deep in his pocket before walking back to the living room, loosely announcing he didn't find it and heading for the kitchen.

the house is quiet when scara comes back. too quiet. his last class had been canceled, but you were free the entire day. so where were you? the house is usually filled with sounds of you doing something to keep yourself occupied.

it's the sounds that catch him first. they're..moans? they sound hushed, but they're definitely coming from his room. he peers through the crack in the door and the sight is truly one to behold.

there you are, small fingers tugging at your nipples as you roll your hips against the pillow, his pillow. that shirt he went to "search for" in your room? bunched up between your pretty lips as you try to stifle your whines. he's drinking up the scene, trying to etch this beautiful moment into his mind as hard as possible before clearing his throat.

his arms are folded and he's leaning against the doorpost. the corner of his lips twitch up as your eyes meet his. you're like a deer caught in headlights and his smile only gets bigger as you open your mouth to speak and nothing comes out.

"well, i see where my shirt went."

"open," he commands as his hand grips your jaw. the heavy drop of saliva hits your lolled-out tongue before you swallow. he hums as he's sliding his leaking cock back into your warmth. eye rolling back into your head, you're gripping onto the sheets tightly as he starts ramming into you.

"you slut, fuck, riding my pillow like that, hm?"

the only response he gets is the soft cry of his name. every whine, every cry, and every moan just fuels him further as his hips connect with yours. his hands are pressing your knees to your chest so he can have the best view of your cunt.

"the minute my head hit the pillow, i would've known. you know why?"

you weakly motion toward his bedside table. specifically the drawer where he keeps his... mementos of you. it should've set him off how quickly you knew what he was talking about, but all you could feel was the way he twitched against your most sensitive spots. you're even going through his stuff now? it's just so fun to think about. how you'd peek over your shoulder at the door to make sure he wasn't coming; how your eyes widened when you spotted the contents of the drawer. did you run away right then? or did you press your thighs together because you finally know what he really is.

but you've done such a good job so far of keeping it quiet! so good. that he's going to breed you as a reward for how nasty you are! you're drooling so much at the thought! your hands are dragging one of his towards your throat as you beg him to fill you up.

"kuni, please-, wanna feel you so bad. wanna feel all of you!"

and it's those words that send him over the edge, spilling deep into you as he groans deep into your skin. that action sends you over, as you cum around his still sheathed cock. both of you are panting and burnt out, but he still finds the energy to trap you in a heavy kiss. you whine into his lips in pure contentment.

tartaglia!

ajax is the best roommate! he's funny, caring, and knows how to take care of the house really well. hell, he's paying for all the groceries and at some point he even started paying your portion of the rent!

to top it all off, hes so so sweet! he's planning movie nights, finding games for you two to play and helping you out in the kitchen as you make dinner. his big arms wrap around you as you doze off against his body while you favorite sitcom is playing in the background.

it's too bad it's all just a front though, because in all reality he's waiting for the perfect time to pin you down and fuck you so hard like he's been dreaming of all these months! he can't count how many times he's pressed his ear to the thin wall that divides your room as he pumps his cock to the sound of your voice as you talk to your friend over the phone. the actual conversation is none of his concern; just the way you speak, the way your voice drips out is tugging his orgasm out of him at full speed.

or the way you tempt him without even knowing it. those shorts you wear around the house that just barely cover the curve of your ass? he has to physically restrain himself from pressing you onto his crotch. with your nipples poking through the lightly colored tank top on your body. he's practically gawking at you shamelessly until you turn your attention back to him and he's giving you that almost genuine smile one more time.

he's scrolling through all the pictures he'd taken of you sleeping when the knock at the door whips him out of his trance. the sound had scared him so hard he squeezed his eyes shut! of course it was you. who else would be at his door at this hour? he refuses to answer as you call out his name through the wood. the door slowly opens anyways. he's asleep, you think to yourself as you pad across the floor towards the bed.

it's not new for you to crawl between his sheets like this. on the nights when you're feeling not the best, he always opens his arms (and blankets) to you! so it should be no different now that he's 'asleep'. he can feel your back press against his chest as you try your best not to wake him. he pretends to groan and does his own shifting around until his nose is nestled in your neck and one of his hands is around your waist while the other is laid on your hip.

everything is still for a bit. he savors the warmth emitting from your body and the scent of the shampoo you use overcomes his senses. until you start shifting around. you're probably just trying to get comfortable, but it's been going on for minutes and he's starting to get a little riled up. it seems almost calculated as you push back against him. he's not sure what to make of the sigh that leaves you.

your hand lightly clasps his and you guide it downwards. this can't be real. his body is so stiff right now, but he doesn't want to move in case you stop! with just a little bit of struggling, you managed to get his hand into your underwear. your hand finds the top of his as you move his fingers slightly further down. you're soaking wet, using the pads of his fingers to brush against your clit a few times.

your fingers are moving down softly once again as you push them into your hole. your breath hitches and you feel so good, so soft around his fingers. you're moving them in and out now, teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip. but you can only get them in so far before your own fingers are getting in the way.

this is short-lived as tartaglia harshly curls his fingers into you. you're gasping out an airy "ajax!" as he draws you farther into his body with his other arm.

"if you wanted my help, you could've just asked, cutie."

the way his voice is low in your ear makes you clamp around his digits as he finger fucks you. his lips are on your neck now, dutifully marking you up as you squirm against his body. he's grinding into you from the back as he finds that spot that has you arching and moaning out even louder. he's prodding at that spot now and your body starts to shake. the sensation of feeling you cum all over his hand has him spiraling and cumming into his own shorts. you're starting to relax against his chest once more, but he's turning you onto your front with his hard cock pressing against your ass. you gasp at how hard he is, and he takes the opportunity to slip the fingers the fingers that were in you into your mouth. he smiles as you start to suck on them. he's going to have so much fun with you tonight.

BONUS: aventurine!

another nightmare has him sitting up in his bed. he's reaching over to grab his water bottle because of how dry his throat is, but it's empty. he groans as he throws the covers off of him. his eyes widen as he hits the bottom of the staircase. there you are, fingers rubbing messy circles on your clit as your legs are spread across the back of the living room couch. you purr his name, his real name out so beautifully as your eyes are squeezed shut, lost in your chase for pleasure.

"enjoying yourself, doll?"

the voice has you shooting up from the chair. there aventurine stood, one hand on his hip, bottle in the other as he smiled slyly at you. his messy hair signified that he'd just woken up, but he still looked as beautiful as ever. he raises his hands up.

"don't let me stop your fun! keep going."

is all he says as he starts to make his way towards the kitchen. you meekly call out his name and he stops in his tracks, craning his head to the side to peer at you once more.

"help, please?"

his mouth may have been dry, but yours definitely wasn't. you're slobbering all over his length, the nasty sounds coming from you causing him to moan. as much as he loves the warmth of your mouth, he'd much rather experience your cunt. so he's pulling you off of him and signaling you to straddle him.

the stretch is ungodly as you slide fully down onto him. you're bending over to catch his lips in a wet kiss as his hands find the fat of your hips. you're rolling them now, nails raking over the exposed expanse of his chest as he fucks up into you slowly.

he's always hated his nightmares with a fiery passion, but he's willing to let this one go just for tonight.

#childe smut #ajax smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #scaramouche smut #scara smut #hsr smut #aventurine smut #childe x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #aventurine x reader smut #aventurine x reader

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svetamillss · 4 months ago

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Headcanons: Your life together with them🩵

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Park Gyeong Seok x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

Summary: various joint situations when you live with them.

A/N: I apologize for writing a little less often!

🩵🩵🩵

Cho Hyun Ju

Since the girl served in the army and got used to discipline, she will follow it while living with you. She always wakes up much earlier than you, about three hours, where you can sleep until 9-10 a.m., in some cases even before lunch if you get very tired. While you are sleeping, Hyun Ju will do a lot of things around the house (quietly so as not to wake you up), cook you a delicious breakfast and go to wake you up.

She will do it gently and carefully, stroking and kissing you wherever she wants. You sometimes grumble and tell her to lie down and sleep with you in a hug, but it doesn't affect her, so she continues to wake you up with kisses.

- Baby, it's time to get up, your favorite breakfast is already getting cold. And we have a lot to do. - she says gently, kissing your sweet lips.

After a couple of minutes, you still wake up and sleepily go to eat what your Hyunnie has prepared for you with love.

Kang Dae Ho

The guy has a lot of fun living with you. After all, you have new ideas almost every day. Again, recently you wanted to lose weight by the summer, you decided to run every morning. But it wasn't very good alone, so you forced your boyfriend to join you.

- So you want us to wake up at 7 a.m. on our weekend and run down the street when normal people will sleep? - he didn't understand at all why you need it, because you were beautiful.

- And you will run with me for the company! - Dae Ho only had to agree, he didn't want to offend you.

And he knew that soon you would get tired of it and you would throw away this idea, so he decided to be patient.

Thanos (Su Bong)

You and the guy were complete opposites to each other. It was especially seen with household items. Su Bong was dirty. He constantly left his clothes all over the apartment: socks in the corners, clothes were lying on the backs of chairs. You were very unhappy with it, okay, unwashed dishes, but these are extremes.

- Can you stop scattering your clothes? Can't you put the clean ones in the closet, and throw the dirty ones in the laundry. I'm tired of cleaning up after you like a little child. - you mumbled when you removed his clothes from the chair again, while he was sitting on the phone.

- Yes, yes, good. - he said without much attention.

- If this happens again, all your things will fly to the trash!

- I got it, just don't be angry, my baby. - he put down the phone and started cleaning everything, then you rewarded him with a kiss.

But he won't be able to get used to it, so he'll still leave his things, but he's ready to clean up for your extra kisses.

Park Gyeong Seok

The three of you lived in a small apartment: you, your future husband and his daughter Na Yeon. Since the girl was undergoing treatment, she often stayed at home. But you and the man didn't want her to be alone, so you decided to take a housework and sit with Na Yeon.

You and the girl played a lot of her favorite games. She is very attached to you and even calls you mom.

When a man comes home from work, the girl asks him to join you and he, though tired, agrees, because he can't refuse his beloved girls.

Sometimes you and the girl like to mock him, so you can make up him with different makeup.

- Dad now a real princess! - said Na Yeon when she painted Gyeong Seok with children's cosmetics, you just laughed at this whole situation and at the face of a man who was both grumpy and smiling.

Nam Gyu

The guy loves cats very much, but since you both work a lot, you can't get a pet yet, but Gyu really wants to, so he started feeding street cats.

He thinks there's nothing wrong with that, but he was wrong. The cats are used to the fact that the guy began to feed them and they began to come to your house en masse, meowing and asking for food.

When you saw this, you were furious, you immediately called the guy and he had a shy face, he knew what was going on.

- Gyu, do you want to explain to me what's going on with cats here?

- Well... I fed them a little, it looks like they got used to it.. - you looked at him with an evil face, although you understood that he not on purpose.

- Now you will clean up after them, so that there is not a single shit from them! - you said and entered the house, he only agreed with you.

After this situation, the guy began to feed these pets less often, and you began to think that maybe you would give Nam Gyu a kitten.

🩵🩵🩵

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thatgenericwriter · 1 year ago

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I'm Eepy || Gregory House

Paring: Dr. Gregory House x fem! reader

Summary: House and the reader have a 4 year old child that definitely takes after her father

Warnings: Children, House, Swearing

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You took your eyes away from your kid for 10 seconds. 10 fucking seconds! And when you turned around she was no longer playing with her monster trucks by the nurse's station. You immediately start to panic, frantically searching the entire floor you're on.

Normally you wouldn't be this panic, she runs off all the time, except the last time she wandered off in the hospital she got into the drawers of a patient's room and almost took an entire bottle of pills thinking they were candy.

You collect House's fellows and make them split into teams, sending them to scour the different floors in search of your daughter. By this point, you're on the verge of a panic attack. Your daughter is missing in a giant hospital with so many ways of hurting herself, or getting kidnapped, or just leaving on her own, or---

Your hysterical train of thought is interrupted when you hear your name called out from behind you. Whipping around you find that the source of voice is none other than House. You practically sprint towards him throwing yourself into his arms.

"She's missing and I can't find her and I have everyone looking for her and she's gone and I'm an awful mother and I should have never let her out of my site and how could I---."

"Calm down!" House pushes you back slightly and leans down to be face-to-face with you. "I know where she is."

You look into his eyes before punching him in the shoulder. "Why the FUCK did you not tell me that in the first place!"

"Well I was going to but then someone got all weepy and pathetic so I didn't get the chance."

You roll your eyes at him and scoff, but then you lean back in for another hug. You feel him run his hand along your back soothingly before pulling away and turning towards the elevator.

"Come on I have Thirteen and Kutner watching her right now, but I'm not sure how long they can last around her before their feeling are hurt so bad they cast her out of my office."

You grab his hand and walk to the elevator while picturing your daughter making fun of Thirteen and Kutner. She definitely took after her father in the 'making others feel like trash for fun' category. Something you were trying to teach out of her, but someone keeps teaching her more and more curse words.

As the elevator doors open you let go of House's hand and run to his office. You throw the door open and look around for your daughter. All of the fellows have gathered at the table and give you sushing gestures before pointing behind you.

You turn around to find your daughter lounged in House's yellow chair, her eyes fighting to stay open. You quietly walk through the connecting door and crouch by your daughter's head.

"Hey pretty girl," you stroke her hair lovingly, "you know you can't run off like that. Mommy was so scared. You don't want to scare me do you?"

She groggily shakes her head no before letting out a yawn. "I'm sorry Mommy, but I'm soooooo eepy."

You shake your head with a small smile before kissing your daughter's head lightly and watch as her eyes finally close. Standing up you turn and look through the glass to see House standing there looking at you and your daughter with the most content look you've ever seen on his face.

Turning off the lights and closing the blinds you give one last look at your daughter before walking through the conjoing door and into House's awaiting arms.

"Get a room you two!" Everyone whips their head around to Chase with a furious look on their face.

"Shhhhhhhhh!"

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Author's note: i did not prof read this so if it sucks don't tell me... also I'm going to write more I swear! plz be patient with me as I get through requests!!

#x reader #greg house x reader #gregory house #gregory house x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #gregory house x fem! reader #hate crimes md

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adonisbeloveds · 29 days ago

Note

Hi!! I wanted to ask if i could put in a request, but if ur not comfortable with it, it's okay! You dont have to do it. I was thinking yandere mains angst cuz the reader died and they feel like they failed to protect them. Again, if you're not comfortable with it or just dont want to do it, feel free to decline! there's no pressure on my end. I love ur writing style btw!

Yandere Main Toons with a reader who died.

Okay okay! I hope you mean't the main toons when they weren't twisted, and I LIVE for yandere and angst stuff omg so don't you worry and I'm glad you love my writing style! Also can you guys COUGH guess my fav toon ahahahhaha Reader is GN and uses they/them pronouns, and Vee, Shelly and pebble are all meant to be seen as platonic. Warnings: Yandere behavour ofc, Dandy keeps the readers body (he doesn't do ANYTHING weird with it, he just keeps it), self hatred, mentions of suicide, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

ASTRO

".....you're lying. Sprout please...you're lying.."

.He was in denial for a long while, even though he knew you weren't coming back a small part of him was still hoping, wondering if you were out there -- if you were just hiding and waiting for him to come to you and save you. .He blames himself so much, he knew he shouldn't of stayed back, that he should of convinced you hearder to let him come with others..what if you were nearly at the exit, what if you didn't have enough stamina to make it, if he was there he could of helped you. .What if you were hiding, cornered, crying quietly while you muttered his name -- hoping and praying he would come get you, come help you and make sure you wouldn't die or get hurt, if so why didn't the others help you? why didn't goob pull you close to him why didn't anyone help you. .Maybe you died to get away from him .He still blames himself, he blames himself so badly -- but some of that blame now goes to other toons, more specifically the toons who had the ability to help you.

"Astro, they aren't here anymore! THEY'RE DEAD!" "YOU WERE MEAN'T TO PROTECT THEM! AREN'T YOU THE OVERPROTECTIVE ONE!" .Everything that was in your room he put into his room, even to the smallest piece of paper that had nothing written on it -- and when I say everything I mean everything, even your trash that he never threw out. .He know's it isn't healthy and he knows the other toons are judging his coping ways, he just can't bare the thought of anything you had in your room being taken away. This is what was left of you and he wasn't going to throw it away, no matter how bad or unhealthy it was. .He has started dreaming about you, he use to share dreams with you -- but now he just dreams of you, and he uses these moments to play pretend, even if its for a minute or so. Seeing your smiling and alive face is enough to start fueling his delusions .At first he knew these delusions and dreams were simply that, but over time he started to wonder if this was actually you, that you survived and are still waiting for him out there, waiting for him to save you. .So then on he started his mission, he know's he couldn't protect you in that moment but this time, this time he's going out there and he will bring you home- "No." "What...what do you mean no." "Astro, you aren't in the right mindset to go out on runs. We don't want you to see a twisted version of them and willingly run into the arms of a twisted." "They....they aren't a twisted, they are still alone out there! I know it!"

VEE

"No...no wait WAIT-"

.She witnessed first hand your death, she tried running to you the moment she saw the twisted coming close -- but it got to you before she could, and the worst part is that you smiled. You saw her and you smiled. .Shelly grabbed her arm before dragging her back to the elevator, but all she could think of was the way you smiled at her, not even noticing the thing behind you -- or maybe you did and knew your time was up, and you smiled at her as a way of saying "It wasn't your fault, please don't blame yourself" .You two talked about this, about what would happen if one of you were to die -- and she promised, she promised you that she would always have your back, that you would always be protected and she failed. .Cause that's what she is, a failure. .Who cares if she can sing or host programs or show twisteds by their frequencies, cause what is all that tallent for when she couldn't even keep her promise and protect the closest person to her. .She handled her greif better than the others, she knew that you weren't coming back, no matter what she or the others tried to do. But just because she handled her greif better doesn't mean her coping mechanisms were the same. .She made dolls of you, and used the recordings of your voice to play pretend, even when she was sleeping she would play your voice and pretend you were there -- she would even tweak your voice to say certain things, and she would even listen to breathing to just pretend you were breathing and well. .Unlike the others, she went out on runs still -- but she was silent, only ever tapping her mic before going back to the corner. She couldn't bring herself to leave the foot of the elevator when it closes, especially when she see's your twisted form. .She likes to think she's strong enough to not run to your twisted form, but at this point she doesn't know anymore -- so she doesn't risk it, she just looks down at the ground the two of you use to walk together on and waits, what is she waiting for? .The elevator to open up again, or for a twisted to take her away like it did with you? "soon....soon we will walk the same path like we use to, my show star."

SHELLY

"They....what?"

.She's absolutely devistated when she found out, one of the only people to actually see her and not forget about her was gone. .She loses all her spark that she use to have, and just stays in her room. She can't bear the thought of looking at your room anymore, it only fuels her with fake hope and sadness. .Vee and the others tried to get her to open up about her feelings so she doesn't lock them away but it's already to late -- the only thing she allows herself was one of your plushies that use to be sold in the gift store. .She's cried herself to sleep every night, and usually doesn't talk to anyone, not even pebble or Astro. Astro has tried talking to her about her dreams of you -- and she's tried to tell him but she can never get past a few sobs, and the one time she did she almost threw up. .She blames herself for not being able to help you, but even if she wanted to she wasn't as great as the others -- nor did she have any special abilitys to help you. Leading to a deeper and darker pit of self hatred and pain. .She hasn't even bothered to go out on runs anymore, if she wasn't there to save you, and she can't save anyone with how weak and useless she is, than whats the point of going anywhere any more?

SPROUT

"COSMO, COSMO LET ME GO THEY- THEY ARE STILL OUT THERE! please..."

.He could see you out there, you were running as fast as you could -- but than one of the twisteds rounded the corner and go you -- and he saw it all happen. .When the elevator closed all he could do was go limp as cosmo brought him down to the ground and talked to him? He couldn't hear -- he couldn't see through the tears that he couldn't feel, he couldn't do anything...he didn't feel...there. .Once they arrived at the safe space he just let cosmo bring him to the medic -- he couldn't hear what anyone was saying, all he could do was remember you running, you turning the corner and you dying. .If only he fought cosmo harder, if only he was able to run out there to you, he wouldn't even care if he died because he would of died with you -- you wouldn't of been alone while dying. But that wasn't the case. .Were you calling out to him? Where you calling out to anyone? Did you try to fight or did you accept your death? Oh god he hopes you didn't do either...accepting your death and accepting that no one, not even him could save you -- or fighting until your last moment and hoping someone could come save you, hoping that he would come save you. .He doesn't know what's worse. .His personality took a whole 180 after your death, he usually stayed in your room rather than his own, hugging your pillow and pretending it was you, and that you were still alive with him -- even though he knows the truth .He doesn't have dreams, he's only haunted by nightmares of you dying over and over again -- he has seen the concerned looks Astro gives him whenever he leaves your room, but neither has talked about it .He has a grudge to everyone that was in that run, he not only blames himself but he blames the people that didn't try helping you, he blames cosmo for holding him back, he blames goob for not pulling you in even though you were behind a wall, and most importantly he blames himself for every reason and above. .The others usually hear Sprout talking to himself, crying to himself and so on -- they have noticed sprout not talking to anyone anymore, not even cosmo, and how he usually keeps himself locked away in your room. "I'm going on this run" "No you are not." "Why not." "Cause I don't trust you in this state to take care of yourself."

PEBBLE

"Pebble...they...they aren't coming back"

.Poor thing didn't know how to react, hearing that his favourite caretaker had died, that they weren't coming back to play fetch him with anymore, to sneak treats to him, to cuddle with him after a long day of playing, and how those moments were never going to happen again was heart breaking. .Every toon tried to help Pebble, trying to play with him, giving him treats and everything you use to do with him -- but nothing worked, he always had his tail low and never went on runs anymore, all he did was stay in his caretakers room with tears in his eyes. .Late at night the toons would either hear happy barking, or small whines -- this indicated whether pebble was having a nice dream about his caretaker, or a nightmare. .Even thought he can't talk to any of the toons, it's clear as day the poor thing blames himself for your death. He's usually the distracter yet he wasn't allowed on that run due to hurting his leg previously. "It's okay buddy! When I get back we can sneak some of cosmo and sprouts treats okay?" .Oh how he was waiting so patiently at the elevator door, tail wagging as he watched it ascend only to let out a confuse whine when he didn't see you there -- only to be told that you weren't coming back.. .Pebble has developed a habit of snarling at the toons, even going as far as full on aggressively barking whenever one of them went close to your room .The worst incident was when one of the toons tried to take your stuff out of your room -- it was almost like pebble went full guard dog mode as he harshly bit the poor toons arm, only getting off when their screams alerted the other toons who took him off their arm. When that happened everyone knew not to touch your stuff .Your death must of hurt him so much, enough to cause him to go feral at the even mention of your stuff being taken out of your room.

DANDY

"No...no no no no!"

.This wasn't mean't to happen, you were just talking to him when he came up with his shop -- he sold you med kits and everything....he wanted to deny it so bad but he can't. He watched it happen on his cameras, he watched you die and he couldn't do anything about it. .The moment the elevator left he ran, he ran as fast as he could towards you...maybe just maybe if he made it there in time you would be okay, right? .When he got there he tried to find a pulse or something, from your neck to your wrists to your heart -- he even tried to convince himself that you were breathing still, that your chest was going up and down -- even with how blurry his vision was and how hard his crys were, he wasn't going to leave you. "My flower, shh it's okay my flower, you will be okay I promise -- this is just...just a hiccup okay? I will make everything alright...come on, let's, let's go back home okay?" .You were so limp, he could feel the ichor where the wound was, but he didn't think about it, no. It's because you were....going to be fine, everything will turn out okay in the end and you will wake up and it will be fine. .He bandaged your wound and placed you in his bed, well 'our' bed as he likes to call it, he spoke to you while looking around for papers, papers to help you come back to him -- to help you out of this small hiccup. .And every night he would go back to the bed, get under the covers and fall asleep up against your chest, pretending he could hear your breathing as he smiled and said goodnight even if he cried himself to sleep, knowing deep down that you will never respond again. .If you were human you would of started rotting at this point, but you weren't and you wouldn't -- meaning he can play this game of pretend for the rest of his life, until he finds a way to bring you back to life. .At first Dandy still went in the elevator, still sold things to the others until he just, stopped. He stopping coming up, he stopped giving cards -- and the only reason is because he just couldn't care anymore, he had more important stuff to do -- like finding a 'cure' for you and spending time with you! And if you aren't out there anymore whats the reason to be handing out stuff anymore? "My flower! I'm back!" ...... "I missed you too! Don't worry I'll be there shortly, just need to put these papers somewhere safe" ...... "I will bring you back...I promise my flower."

#☾★ adonis beloveds ★☽#☾★ adonis ★☽#male reader #gender neutral reader #x male reader #x reader #dandy's world x male reader #dandy's world x reader #yandere dandys world #dandy x reader #vee x reader #astro x reader #shelly x reader #sprout x reader

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saekkas · 2 years ago

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𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔

summary: michael kaiser is a coward who needs a little incentive to finally confess his feelings towards you.

tags: f!reader, roommates to lovers, fluff, falling in love, kissing (more like, making out), jealousy, mutual pinning, possessive kaiser.

wc: 1.7k

notes: i do not know what possessed me into writing this, but man, it needs to do it again.

something you've realized early on in your friendship with kaiser is that he's a coward.

he hates spiders, makes you throw the trash out at night, and screams whenever something falls out of its place because he thinks the apartment is haunted.

in the year that you've spent as his roommate, you've come to terms with it. he's nice, cleans his dishes, and helps with the laundry. he keeps the noise down to a minimum and cooks you breakfast when he isn't preoccupied with practice.

another perk of living with him is the fact that he buys you things, expensive things. perfume. flowers. the dress you were eyeing online. your favorite snacks. a limited edition plushy you've been wanting since forever.

anything.

you realized early on that michael kaiser is rude to other people, scoffing and smirking as if he's above everyone else. he mutters comments about them under his breath, thinking you can't hear. he bosses people around, looking at them like they're ants. a waste of his time.

he isn't like that with you.

for one, he's sweet. if the gift giving isn't enough, he goes out of his way to seek you out after his matches. he asks for massages, for small pecks and fleeting touches. he video calls you when he's away, never forgetting to wish you a good morning and sweet dreams through voice notes. all with a grin on his lips.

you aren't blind. you know those are his ways of expressing affection. you just wish he'd finally man up and admit his feelings.

"so, how was the date?"

kaiser's sitting on the couch of your living room, remote control in hand as he stares at the tv, some random soccer match showing across the screen. his hair is wet, and he's got his glasses on. his posture is relaxed, seemingly nonchalant as he asks the question.

you know him enough to see him gritting his teeth even through his bored expression.

"good evening to you too," you laugh, airy as you take off your heels. putting them next to the door, you drop your keys in the sage bowl, letting them clink against his. "have dinner yet?"

leaning against the door, you can see the fine lines of his shoulder tense. the kaiser you're used to is a show pony, the person sitting on your couch isn't. he almost looks like a stranger with his neutral expression and bored eyes. such a difference to the guy who usually comes running whenever you walk through the entrance.

"i ordered takeout." he motions to the plates littered around him, pointing at the fridge. "i saved you some of your favorites."

internally, you flutter. happy to know that the kaiser you know, and love, isn't completely gone.

"thank you, that's very sweet of you."

he's adamant on keeping his eyes off you and on the screen, his shoulders becoming even more tense as you open your arms wide.

"no hug for today?" there's a hopeful smile on your lips as you say the words. happy to finally have everything the way they should be.

only to be shut down with a single side eye from him.

"what?" he asks lowly, almost conceding in his words. almost like your presence bothers him, like all those other people do. like you aren't special to him anymore. "did your date dump you? and now you're looking to me for comfort?"

the words are icy, and he gives no room for rebuttals. not when he looks at you with a quirked eyebrow and a cocky smirk.

it's the first time he's used his persona on you. one he uses to hide away from the world. you decide that you hate it.

"no. actually, he was sweet," you bite back, glaring when you decide that enough is enough. "asked to hold my hand and carry me on his back."

you watch as his face darkens, his eyes clouding over until you can't recognize the pretty blue color they usually spark in. you're riling him up, making him angry. and it's working.

"why? jealous?"

it's the question you've been dying to ask for months now. he flirts like you're more than friends, buys you gifts like you're something special to him, shuts down every time you go on a date with someone that isn't him.

but when it comes down to it, you not his to have. not when he's too much of a coward to do anything about it.

"and if i am?" his words surprise you. it's the first time he's come close to revealing his true feelings in months. they're said with an underlying tone of anger, jealousy, and possessiveness. like you're already his and no one else's. "what's it to you?"

"oh, you know, just happy you're finally being a man and talking about your feelings."

you shouldn't have said that. with the way his eyes are practically glaring, you don't know what else to say. you look up when he stands, practically looming as he stalks to you.

"you're so-"

his words are interrupted by his cursing. he glares down at you, pushing his hand next to your head, pining you against the door. you gulp, watching as he practically shakes in anger.

"du machst mich wahnsinnig, liebling. ich glaube nicht, dass ich mich zurückhalten kann, wenn du weiterhin so eine göre bist."

translation: you're driving me mad, darling. i don't think i can hold back if you continue to be such a brat.

"he even asked to kiss me too," you say, your voice trembling under his dark gaze. your sweet and funny roommate is gone, replaced by the man you see in front of you. your heart is pounding against your chest, in both fear and excitement for what he'll do when you finally push him off the edge. "he-"

kaiser surges down, cutting your sentence off with a kiss.

your eyes widen when your head hits the door from his force. a shiver running down your spine when he lifts a hand, placing it on the back of your head, gently caressing the area. closing your eyes, you wrap your arms around his shoulder, kissing him back with just as much fervor.

he relaxes at that, pulling back slightly only to swoop back in, keeping you in his arms for as long as he wants. by the time he finally breaks the kiss, you're both leaning against each other.

you've never seen his eyes as happy as they are now.

"ich bin mir sicher, dass ich besser küsse als er," he says, smug as he takes in the way you're panting. he chuckles, placing his hands on the side of your neck to pull you into another kiss. "richtig, liebling?"

translation: i'm sure i kiss better than he does. right, darling?

"i don't know what you're saying but yes. okay. sure." you nod, head still hazy as his hands start to stroke your cheek. "if it's something bad, then no."

he chuckles, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips. he keeps you rooted in your spot, his eyes darting back between your eyes and your lips. "you're mine now, yeah? no one else gets to kiss you the way i did."

"about time," you say with a roll of your eyes when your breathing finally settles. you play with the hair around his shoulder, slightly tugging at the strands. "it went awful, by the way. he made me walk 3 kilometers because his car broke down."

his hands stop, freezing as he looks at you incredulously. "but you said-"

"i lied," you say with a cheeky grin. you lift yourself onto your tiptoes, placing a kiss on his cheek as an apology. "just wanted to see how you'd react."

you giggle when he groans, letting him settle in the crook of your neck. "you little minx. next time, call me. i'll pick you up and drop you off."

there's the kaiser you know and love.

"mihya." the nickname is odd on your lips, new and completely unrefined. you watch as he perks up, his eyes practically shining as he looks down at you. guess you'll just have to use the nickname on him more often from now on. "you're a terrible driver. you'd be picking me up at the mall and dropping us off at the gates of heaven."

"well, at least that means an angel will finally return home."

you smack his shoulder for that.

bonus:

you're walking down the stairs of your university a few weeks later, laughing at something your friend said when the sound of squealing fills your ears.

a sleek black lamborghini sits right in front of you.

you blink, taking in the over-the-top showcase before your eyes land on the figure right beside it. you snort as kaiser winks at you from his spot, still taking his time to soak up the limelight.

"did you have to come all the way here to be a showoff?" you greet him with a kiss to his cheek that kaiser visibly grins at.

ever since getting together, he's been hogging you all to himself. he insists on driving you to and from wherever you need because your time together is worth everything to him. "you are so petty. making sure no one even thinks of asking me out on another date?"

"you like it." the way he says it is breathless, like it's a secret he's been keeping to himself for a long time. "you like me."

who knew michael kaiser turned out to be such a corny romantic?

you snort, tugging him into the car before he makes any more of a scene. "i do."

he grins at that, revving the engine as loud as he can, smirking when a group of freshmen cheer and wave to him from behind the car.

"good." he takes your hand, placing a kiss on the knuckles. he holds it as he backs out of the university and into the open street. "be prepared because i'm about to spoil you even more."

#blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser imagines #kaiser x reader #kaiser imagines #michael kaiser fluff #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x y/n #bllk x female reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x y/n #kaiser fluff

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lvlyghost · 2 years ago

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The Things I Never Said

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: Simon had told you he never wanted to be a dad, so when the inevitable happens you run.

Word Count: 2.2k

Tw: angst, fluff, ooc simon(? descriptions of pregnancy and panic attacks, medical inaccuracies, slightly suggestive but nothing too explicit, this isn't proofread; i think that's it?✨

A/N: omg i couldn't stop thinking about this so i had to write it! I'm just feral for dad!simon loosely connected to this bc this is where the idea came from. Hope y'all enjoy it🫰🏻💛🦄

Masterlist✨| Part 2

You're shaking by the time you're out of the bathrooms. There's no doubt. You think with slight tremble on your lower lip. It almost feels aa of the world around you is closing in. Suffocating your lungs. Your vision blurs, when you toss the pregnancy test in the trash can.

This can't be happening. Not to you.

It's not that you didn't want to have kids.

But Simon didn't.

At this point you're sobbing uncontrollably, gasping for air. It's a good thing no one comes to this part late at night. The only moment you could find peace and solace. Sliding down the wall, hiding your face in your hands. How could you let this happen? You should've been more careful.

Your mind goes back to that day when neither of you cared about the consequences. Caught up in the moment, tearing each other's clothes; eager to be together. You hadn't seen Simon in two months when he was deployed to Serbia and you had to stay behind. Being both in the military meant knowing the risks. Every time could be the last time. You heard things about that specific mission. He got injured. You remember the gnawing fear clawing at your chest. And then there he was, knocking on your door as soon as they landed. His shoulder wrapped around bandages. He kissed you hard, desperately.

Hitting the mattress with you on top of him, not wanting to hurt him anymore. The sweet things he murmured in your ears, hands intertwined as you fall apart together.

You love him.

He cares for you.

But even if he felt slightly the same way about you, it wouldn't be enough.

Simon had... traumas. A tragic story of his own. You heard him talk about it late at night when he couldn't sleep. Those demons that plagued his mind, his dreams... and you listened. That's all you could do.

Offer a hand to the man that had saved you over and over again. And somewhere along the lines you fell.

And you fell hard.

Somewhere between dark nights and shared kisses at dawn.

You didn't get any sleep last night.

Your mind is still spinning with the anxiety. The morning sickness that started to disrupt as soon as you woke up. Red, puffy eyes that you try to dissimulate by washing your face hoping it goes away.

You get dressed feeling devastated, knowing that you'll have to face him as soon as you enter the training room. He's in charge. The mere thought makes you want to throw up. But you leave the bedroom nonetheless. Walking down the hallway feeling your hands sweating and your ragged breathing.

When you finally open the doors you're fifteen minutes late. That alone will earn you a punishment.

It's almost as if he feels your presence, immediately finding your form when you enter, his jaw tightens. Simon doesn't like this. But as long as you're under his command you get equal treatment or else, he'd be in problems. Both, would be in problems.

"Bit late Sergeant." He grumbles, emphasizing the last word staring directly in your eyes. Ghost is perceptive and is aware that something is wrong, but doesn't comment on it... yet. "Fifty push-ups. Start sparring when you're done."

You swallow down saliva, feeling your throat constrict.

Fuck, fuck. Don't cry. Not right now.

This whole situation has you sensitive.

You start, concentrating on doing the push-ups. Hearing the distant voice of him echoing around the room, sometimes you think he's closer to where you are then he's gone, but his gaze never leaves you. It's almost sinful how good he looks in that tight green army t-shirt and cargo pants

Your arms are sore and wobbly by the time you finish. Standing up you fight a wave o nausea, closing your eyes so hard you see white dots behind your eyelids.

"You alright?" It's Kyle's hand on your shoulder what brings you back, your eyes fluttering open and find him looking at you, eyebrows slightly raised.

You give him a small smile and a nod.

"Just tired that's all. Didn't get much sleep last night." You divert your gaze where the rest are beginning to spar. "How mad is Ghost?"

Gaz chuckles.

"I wouldn't call that mad. I think he's worried. You look like shite, dear."

"Oh." You say.

Gaz prompts you to the other side to join the training. Everyone's gathered around the training mat. Soap is kicking a soldier's ass. What was his name again? You forgot.

A gentle brush on your skin and then delicate fingers wrap your arm. You freeze, Simon's feather touch sends goosebumps all over your body. You turn your face upward to acknowledge him. His deep blue eyes soften when you look at him.

"Is everything okay Sergeant?" He asks. No. He demands.

You open your mouth and then close it. That's a question you don't know yourself.

I wish. You want to say.

But nothing will ever be okay after last night.

"I... I- didn't get much sleep, Sir. That's all."

Simon sighs but doesn't insist. He just nods, accepting your answer for now, once the training is done he'd talk to you. "You're up." He instructs.

Hand to hand to combat has never been your strongest suit but you do it nonetheless. Informatics on the other hand... you're the best of the best. That's why you're here, why you're a part of the task force.

Ghost stands within your range of vision in a way that you can see that he's there even when you're fighting.

You start although you're not in your best shape. Your heart is racing but not for the adrenaline. Your mind is fuzzy and your stomach churns. The panic is starting to break loose on you. You recognize the signs. You barely dodge the man's punch, this can't be called sparring. You're merely deflecting his hits, defending yourself.

Get a fucking grip!

Soap and Gaz look at each other. Then at Ghost who's clenching his fists, looking like he's about to jump between the two and kill the man. They get ready just in case something goes sideways.

You see his fist coming to your face, you take a step back but it grazes your left cheek. Someone in the distance swears and it's enough to distract you, the next blow goes to your gut. He doesn't even hit you with full force, noticing your lack of response he refrains as much as he can but it connects with your abdomen nevertheless.

It suffocates you. Brings you to your knees spitting saliva and gasping for air. You hear the soldier's frantic apologies. You cough trying to breathe but you just can't. It hurts you.

In a quick move Ghost is kneeling beside you, eyes scanning your body for external injuries. Anything.

"Hey... hey, kid! Look at me!" He orders. You can't, mostly because you're gasping for air, coughing, and the pain in your stomach. Ghost grabs your face seeing the tears collecting in the corner of your eyes. Another wave of nausea hits you and you spit out whatever comes out of your mouth. Simon takes you in his arms lifting you and runs to the infirmary, gritting his teeth. His steps echoing in the empty hallway as he bursts the doors of the med wing open.

"Captain..." you greet him as soon as you walk into his office, closing the door behind you with a soft click. Price looks at you, arms crossed. The bucket hat resting on his head. He's dead serious.

"Does he know?" He interrogates with that deep voice of his. It's only been an hour since the incident. Price had to do all in his power to keep Ghost busy. It nearly costs him a limb and a punch to his face. There's only so much he can do.

"No." You murmur, looking down to your feet.

"Jesus, kid." He pinches the bridge of his nose. His head was pounding already. This wasn't good. For any of them. John had decided to turn a blind eye on the situation. As long as it didn't interfere with their duties. Now? He shakes his head. Price walks towards you, the youngest of his team and a valuable asset. You were important to him, to everyone in the 141; to Simon in a very different way. "I'm putting you on medical leave. You must take care of your health, your body. I'll see what I can do, yeah? And for the love of God, talk to Simon."

You don't.

And that's because you're terrified. As soon as you left Price's office you ran to your room throwing your belongings in a duffel bag. You needed time to think. Of course you'd tell Simon.

Just not right now.

The disapproving stare of the doctor was enough to make you feel bad about hiding your pregnancy from him and then your Captain. You bite your lip and head out, the taxi driver is waiting already so you hop in, wishing to get some time alone. Clear your head and then find the best way to tell Simon about this.

It's raining outside by the time you're in your apartment. You've had time to get a quick shower and take the ibuprofen for your sore body. Your hands run absentmindedly to your stomach, soothing the skin but flinching when you press too hard. You should've stayed at base and talk to him after what happened.

But you're scared of the outcome.

By this time Simon must've found out you're gone. You won't blame him if he hates you. After all you ran away from him, like a coward.

Pouring some tea on a mug you hear the sound of keys jingle, and the footsteps followed by a large shadow that towers above you. Blond hair and hard eyes contemplating you, the mask is gone...

Holy shit. You think.

The only thing that Simon finds comfort in is gone. There's something about him not hiding behind the balaclava that sets deep in your heart. As if he were baring himself to you. Not that you hadn't seen his face before; that's exactly why this is more meaningful. It's serious. He chose to show you how vulnerable you can make him.

"Why?" His stern voice sends shivers down your spine. "I went to check on you and the first thing they say is that you're gone." His lips are pressed in a thin line.

"Simon, it's not what you're thinking..."

"Then bloody tell me what is it." He seethes, taking a step closer. "Was already losing my fucking mind over that bastard hitting you and suddenly you're gone?" He shakes his head. "Had I known you weren't going to fight back..."

"I'm pregnant." You blurt out, interrupting his talk. Simon's jaw clenched, halting and freezing on his spot. "And I'm sorry I didn't come to you as soon as I found out but I was scared." Your lips quiver and you hold back a sob, but unable to do much about the tears. "I was scared to tell you because I know you never wanted any of this, I failed to you. I couldn't sleep, I was panicking and the thought of losing you... I needed time to figure out how to tell you." Simon is silent, he doesn't move nor blinks. He just stares. Memories of his time with his father flooding his mind. He never wanted kids. That's true.

Seeing you there, in front of him. Choking on your words, crying because you thought he'd abandon you like you were nothing? Bloody fucking Christ it breaks his heart. Very few things had that effect on Simon. He had made you fearful of facing this on your own. Did you think you were just his friend with benefits? Someone he'd come to whenever he wanted to get laid? Hadn't you seen the way his eyes roamed over you whenever you were around? Never fucking heard the despair in his voice when you got shot during that black ops in Afghanistan? How he seemed to loom over your presence if some pathetic muppet tried flirting with you? The nights spent in his bedroom, limbs tangled hearing you speak about your day? The mission when he finally realized he was completely and utterly fucking enamored with you?

That time he wouldn't leave your bedside because you were severely wounded and comatose?

"I am not my old man, kid." He states after a few minutes of silence. "And if it wasn't clear already, I'd do anything for you. I don't know shite about being a parent but I'll try, yeah? For you..." he clears his throat. This was as complicated for him as it was for you. "For both of you, I'll try." The words sound strange coming out of his mouth. You close the space between you and hug him, inhaling his scent. He kisses your temple while rubbing soft circles on your back. Relief washes over your body and the tears stop gradually, until it's just the two holding one another during a raging storm of feelings and nature outside.

Soon the tension, the doubts and the anxiety are replaced with reassurance and loving words.

Promises.

Things you never thought you'd hear.

5K notes · View notes

dovveri · 10 months ago

Text

twisted torturous love

synopsis: nayeon and your relationship has been on the rocks for some time now. when something finally breaks you apart, you find yourself lured back into her cycle of temptation. you could never get enough of her.

warnings: dom!nayeon who’s mean, manipulative, degrading, toxic! cheating, swearing, semi-public sex, fingering, cunnilingus, mirror sex, mommy kink, reader is reduced to nayeon’s dumb little baby aaaand edged once

w/c: 6.0k

a/n: requested! was in shock when i first got this like girl i could never write this and then i had an angsty weekend and i was like yk what! maybe i can! and i did! enjoy the filth if this is what ur into

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖

"where are you going?"

"out."

"where?"

"out."

you sigh in frustration, moving to stand in front of your door, blocking her exit and asking her again, "where are you going nayeon?"

she tuts, shoving her arms inside her leather jacket, picking out a cigarette, "move y/n."

"not until you tell me where you're going."

"why does it matter to you?"

"i'm your girlfriend. i want to know what you're getting up to without me."

"god y/n you're so fucking clingy. you don't have to know what i'm doing all the time. i have a life that exists outside of you too y'know?" she doesn't bother looking at you, trying to push past you to get out, but you resist.

"you used to like that i was clingy."

that makes her pause, finally looking at you. her eyes hurt you. she used to look at you with so much love, like you put the stars in the sky, rode the sun across the horizon each morning, now they're hollow and empty.

she turns away, forcing past you, "go to bed y/n."

you don't stop her this time when she slips her shoes on and slams the door closed behind her. you sigh, running a hand through your hair. things between the two of you haven't been good for a long time now. you don't know when it started, maybe it was when she started getting busier, preparing for her solo comeback, having to travel a lot more for her job leaving her with a lot less time to spend with you. or maybe it was when you started paying less attention to her when she was available to you, you wouldn't notice the way she smelt slightly different, didn't even realise she started smoking again despite caring so much about keeping her voice in top condition when she was younger. the slow deterioration of your relationship was certainly noticeable overtime, nayeon's members and your friends asking if the two of you were still together. you moved out and slept in your own bed a lot more than you slept in hers now, of course people were confused when the two of you were out with mutual friends but barely talked to each other, and then went home seperately.

you knew your relationship was hanging on by a thread, but a part of you still held hope that you could get back to what you once were. and nayeon must have felt something similar if she hasn't ended things with you yet. still, it wouldn't take much for that hope to break into a million little pieces.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖

the next morning you decide to try and make amends again. you were always the one to apologise first whenever you fought.

you punch in nayeon's apartment code, entering quietly and making sure the door doesn't make a sound when closing. but when you turn, you're faced with nayeon's apartment in a state you can only describe as filthy.

there are bottles lying everywhere, the smell of cigarettes making it hard for you to breathe. you immediately go to her kitchen window, opening it to let some fresh air in, her sink full of dirty dishes and takeaway boxes yet to be disposed of.

you habitually start cleaning. throwing out her trash and wiping down her countertop, not all that surprised that she hasn't woken up with the noise you're making. she was probably completely passed out judging by the state of alcohol bottles strewn across the apartment.

but then when you get to her living room and start picking up dirty laundry, you notice a skirt that was either new or definitely not nayeon's.

and then across the room there's a top that you've also never seen in nayeon's closet. you follow the trail to nayeon's bedroom door, shut tight, but you don't hesitate to open it gingerly, she was your girlfriend, you've seen her in all states of undress.

as you squint into the darkness of her room, you take a step forward, stepping on a bra that was not in nayeon's size and definitely not nayeon's.

your heart drops. you knew your relationship was on the rocks but you had never thought nayeon would be one to cheat. you always had complete and utter trust in her, even when she was overseas, she would always call or facetime you, making sure you didn't feel lonely without her despite her busy schedule and late nights.

just to confirm, because you still can't quite believe this is happening, you step closer towards the bed, eyes adjusting to the darkness better.

you peel back the blanket, and sure enough, the face you're looking at does not belong to the person you fell in love with. you're frozen for a second, staring down at the unfamiliar features, sharp lines, soft breaths.

and then all of a sudden the reality of it all hits you. you're stomping towards nayeon's blackout curtains, ripping them open and letting the midday rays flash into the room.

you turn on your heel, crossing your arms and wait for nayeon to realise you were there. the two people on the bed groan, trying to find where the source of sudden light was coming from. the girl you don't know sees you first while nayeon is still rolling around trying to crawl back under the sheets. she yelps at the unknown presence, pulling the sheets up to cover herself while nayeon groans, trying to pull the sheets back to cover her eyes.

now that there's more light, you can see the array of marks left across the girl's neck and collarbones. there's a pang of jealousy, remembering how nayeon used to mark you up like that, when you were still intimate that was.

"w-who are you?" the girl speaks up.

you scoff, "i should be asking you that."

you can see when nayeon's eyes open at the recognition of your voice, quickly scrambling up and reaching for her glasses on the nightstand, not bothering with modesty unlike her bedmate.

"y/n."

"so this is why you wouldn't tell me where you were going last night. you were going to fuck some other girl? how long has this been going on?"

nayeon stands, trying to calm you. you keep your eyes strictly on her face, not letting anything distract you from what she had done. "y/n wait i can explain. this was- i was drunk-"

"when are you not?"

she frowns, "that's not fair."

"isn't it? you were already tipsy when you came over to mine last night. and once that buzz wore off you just had to go out again and get drunk didn't you?"

"that's not- no-"

you tap your foot impatiently, "so who is she?"

nayeon looks back to the woman that's still in her bed, giving her a death glare that obviously meant get the fuck out of my house, the woman thankfully getting the message and scrambling upwards, pulling on her panties and then holding her chest while looking around for her bra.

you clear your throat, holding it up.

she blushes bright red, stepping forward and taking it from you, muttering a small thanks before dashing outside. you wait to hear the front door close before looking back at nayeon who's started to move around, cleaning her room up a little and putting on some clothes.

"she's no-one y/n. we just- i was drunk and she helped me home."

"i'm sure she helped you with some other stuff too." you glare daggers into her back, tracing the red scratch marks that are raked across the skin.

"don't be like that y/n."

"be like what?"

"look i made a mistake. okay? can we just move past this now?"

you scoff, "are you fucking serious nayeon? you didn't just make a mistake. you made the mistake."

nayeon turns now, fully dressed, her temper also flaring, "okay! and i admit it! i'm sorry! what more do you want?!"

"for you to actually fucking mean it! she's not even the first person you've cheated on me with is she?"

"what? what are you trying to say?"

"don't gimme that. i didn't want to believe it. when you'd come home smelling like someone else. when things would be better for short periods of time after you come back from your trips or from overseas, it was because you went and fucked out all your frustration right? frustration with this relationship? i'm sick of tiptoeing around this nayeon, let's sort our shit out right now because this has got to end somewhere."

"end?" nayeon laughs cruelly, "where do you want this to end y/n? if you've known i've been cheating on you for so long why haven't you ended things? are you so fucking pathetic you'd stay with someone who's actively sleeping with someone new every night?"

you're taken aback by her tone, but you steel yourself, spitting right back, "well if you think i'm so pathetic why haven't you broken things off?"

"too much work, too much drama. and i felt bad. what do you have if you don't have me? i was being considerate."

"considerate? you're fucking joking. you think cheating on me for however long is being considerate?"

nayeon throws her hand up in the air in frustration, "so what!? it's not like you've been trying to make this relationship work recently!"

"oh don't you try and shift the blame onto me nayeon! you're not the same person i fell in love with. you started drinking uncontrollably, you started smoking, sleeping around, lying to me, i don't even recognise you anymore. you know what? you're right. i've been pathetic. pathetic for holding on to the hope that you still loved me. that you still even fucking cared about me. so this is me ending things now. thanks for helping me realise that i guess." you start to go around her room, collecting a few of your things that are still in her space, moving out to the rest of the apartment to do the same.

nayeon's left in her room, fuming and lighting up a cigarette.

when you're almost done, she comes out again, seeming to have calmed down and recollected herself.

"y/n wait. don't go. why are we doing this? we don't have to break up. we've been together for so long, i won't cheat on you anymore. i promise, we can get back to what we were y/n."

your heart strings tug at the sight, wanting to cling onto her words, the only thing you've been wanting to hear from her since the start of the deterioration of your relationship.

she senses your hesitance, stepping forward slowly, and then engulfing you in a hug.

you almost burst then, sighing against her and breathing in. but what hits you isn't her usual lemon scent, it's the stink of cigarettes and another woman's perfume. that brings you back to reality very quickly.

you shove her off, "bullshit. we're done nayeon."

it takes everything in you to turn away from the confused, hurt look on her face, stalking out her apartment and not looking back.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖

the next few weeks are hell. nayeon keeps trying to contact you and talk about the breakup, all while you're slowly trying to let go of the pieces of her you've clung onto. throwing out her things, memoirs of your relationship back when it was good, trying to healthily move on as best you could.

but it's hard when nayeon storms into your office space, employees turning over to look on in curiosity at why im nayeon, face of TWICE, saver of JYP and the reason they all have jobs right now, was coming down to talk to lowly office workers.

she stops at your desk, "y/n."

"don't do this here nayeon. i'm at work. you should be too."

"i make the work. they can't do anything without me. stop avoiding me. let's talk."

you sigh frustratedly, looking around at the prying eyes, "fine but not here." you really didn't want to talk to her but this was better than causing a scene in front of the entire staff.

you lead her towards the staff bathrooms, locking the door behind you and gesturing for her to talk.

"look, i messed up. i admit it. these last few weeks have been hell without you. i realised how much you meant to me when i lost you. i promise to do everything i can to make up for all the shit i've pulled. i want us to be together again. i want what we used to have."

you sigh, "don't do this nayeon."

"what?"

"don't lie to me again. i can't take it."

"i'm not lying!"

"how can i trust that after you cheated on me?! after you lied about it to me for months?!"

"i'm sorry! i said i'm sorry! i want to earn your trust back again! i'm trying here y/n!"

"i tried for us for months. you didn't even acknowledge that. do you know how many times i've had to apologise to you? because i thought we were fighting because of me? how many times you've made me feel like i was just an insecure girlfriend? while you were out fucking half of seoul?"

"i'm sorry baby please! i'll never make you feel like that again. i promise to be honest and- and- i love you y/n please don't leave me."

"i can't believe you nayeon. and i don't want you to talk to me anymore. it's hard enough getting over you without you blowing up my phone every 2 minutes."

you turn around again, unlocking the door and intending to leave, but then nayeon rushes to hug you, squeezing herself against you, burrowing her face in your neck. you can feel her tears dripping down your skin.

"p-please y/n. i messed up. i don't want to lose you. i don't know what i'll do with myself. i was wrong the other day. i'm the pathetic one. i can't live without you y/n please."

everything in you is screaming to take her back. but she'd made a fool of you enough times. you shrug her off, opening the door and leaving her behind for a second time.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖

it seems your message got through to nayeon this time. the next few days are a little quieter. she doesn't try to contact you, nor does she try and come by your house or catch you outside on one of your routines.

your coworkers had tried to ask you how you knew the im nayeon, but you brushed them off, saying she was just asking you some things about her next promotion. you were thankful you didn't have to see nayeon too much at work, and she didn't try and confront you again either, so things returned to as relative normal as it could get working for a major entertainment company.

that is until, you're suddenly called up into the top brass' office on a random tuesday morning as soon as you clock in.

"y/n. please sit."

you hesitate, tentatively sitting down on one of expensive leather chairs, back straight and feeling sweat collect in your palms.

the directors in the room gesture towards the massive screen at the end of the board table, flicking it on.

your eyes widen as the audio starts to play. it was a shoddily recorded video from inside a bathroom cubicle, but you could clearly hear the argument you and nayeon had just a few days prior. your cheeks flare up as the video continues to play, you feel extremely small in the boardroom, your privacy completely invaded, your breakup argument aired out for everyone in the room to hear.

"now y/n, of course we knew about your relationship with nayeon, if we didn't, nayeon would quite literally be in deep shit right now."

you shuffle in your seat, deeply uncomfortable with the various men staring at you, "this was a personal conversation between nayeon and i. how did you get this video?"

"someone recorded the two of you in the bathroom and then leaked it to all the major news and gossip sites. this video is currently being viewed by everyone across seoul and has even gained some traction overseas."

your heart sinks, this is the worst possible outcome, worse than just losing nayeon, worse than finding out she was cheating on you, it's finding out all of that with all her fans, all her haters, who didn't even know nayeon was dating you of all people, find out it was actually you who broke up with her and not the other way around.

"you work in publicity. i'm sure you understand how this is not a good look for nayeon's public image right now yes?"

you nod dumbly.

"great. so we're gonna need you to fix this. we have press outside waiting for a statement from you already."

you stutter, "r-right now?!"

"yes. so you better come up with something quick if you want to keep your job." they're getting more impatient.

you gulp, nodding again, mind scrambling, ideas flying through your head while they lead you up, and then outside to a room with various journalists and photographers. you don't even realise you're standing in front of everyone on the podium until one of the directors nudges you, indicating for you to speak.

"u-um h-hi everyone. i'm sure you're all here because of the recent news about nayeon and i's... altercation."

cameras start flashing as everyone looks at you with bated breath.

you can tell the directors behind you get a little antsy under the attention, wanting you to hurry things up.

you clear your throat, "nayeon is involved with a new filming project that has not yet been revealed. as part of her publicity team she asked me to run a few lines with her in what we thought would be the privacy of one of the staff bathrooms. i have had a little experience in the film industry which is why she specifically asked for me. there is nothing else going on between us and there has been nothing going on between us. this is all simply a big misunderstanding and we hope that you will respect nayeon's privacy in the months coming forward as she prepares this new project for you all. thank you."

as soon as you're done the reporters all clamour forwards, yelling out questions but you're pushed to the side, being led away quickly, distantly hearing someone take over the podium stating a curt, "there will be no questions at this time."

you're still processing everything that's happening when they sit you down in a room you haven't seen before, terrified you're about to lose your job, but also concerned for nayeon. you wonder if she's seen the news yet? you shouldn't care about her anymore but you couldn't help it. it was still too soon to be completely over her. this was all happening so quickly. you knew falling for a celebrity was going to be difficult, and in the beginning nayeon had promised that as long as you had her, everything would be okay, neither of you expected this to be the outcome.

your head's in your hands when you hear the door open, the hushed whispers of people and footsteps doing very little to pull you out of your thoughts. you wait for them to quiet down, the door shutting quietly behind them. you take a breath, prepared for any outcome, looking up to face your consequences.

only to find it was nayeon standing in front of you. you finally take in your surroundings, it seems you were in one of the dance practice rooms. you didn't even realise you had been taken to the idol levels of the building, no recollection of even going into the elevator.

you stand apprehensively, "n-nayeon."

she stares you down, eyes fierce. she's silent for a moment, before speaking up, "are you fucking stupid y/n?"

you flinch at her tone "w-what?"

she stalks forward slowly, backing you against the floor to ceiling mirrors behind you. you can see your own face in the mirror on the other side of the wall, terrified and bloodshot.

"i said, are you fucking stupid?"

"n-no?"

"i thought you were meant to be on my publicity team." she spits out the words.

"i- well- they didn't give me any time. i had to come up with something on the spot."

"i told you when we first started dating didn't i? that as long as you were with me everything would be okay? that meant for you to leave things to me to deal with."

you gulp, your hands flat on the mirror behind you, trying to make yourself as small as possible, the coolness of the glass doing little to ground you.

she scoffs, "pathetic little baby. you really are useless without me aren't you? a film project? are you serious? now the company has to go find a screenwriter to write our private discussion into some shitty film that i have to work even more for. and they're gonna rush me too since you said we've had this in the works for a while already. not to mention it means we'll have to spend more time together. after i had just started letting you go too."

she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes shut, bringing her hands up to mess through her hair in frustration. you nervously take her in, she must have just come from dance practice. her skin still has the sheen of sweat, clothes sticking to her body, you always had a thing for her after her workout sessions. you're not sure if it's because you hadn't been intimate in so long, or if you just missed her, but there's a twinge of arousal in your core at the sight of her so close to you, being able to smell the distinct scent of her sweat, clean of any cigarettes or perfumes you didn't recognise, it was just nayeon.

your eyes flick back up to her's when you realise they were open the whole time, watching you check her out. she knew the effect she had on you, her lips turn upward in a little smirk.

she takes a step forward, cocking her head. you don't have any more steps back to take.

"i thought you wanted us to be over y/n."

"i d-do." you're eyes are flicking everywhere, avoiding her dangerous gaze, but the mirrors only make you grow more aroused, able to see the two of you from all angles.

"really?" she's close enough you can feel her breath fan over your face, her voice husking out in a drawl she's reserved for the bedroom. "so you don't want me at all right now?"

"n-not at all m-" you slip, almost calling her by her title in bed, something you haven't used in months.

she raises an eyebrow, "what was that baby?"

"n-nothing."

she tuts, "so if you don't want me... you're not gonna be wet if i check right?"

your eyes widen, thighs clenching together uncontrollably, "n-no."

"hmm, and if you're lying?"

"i'm not."

"prove it."

you flush, the proximity making you feel dizzy, it was like your first time with her all over again.

"how am i gonna prove it?"

she walks back then, completely nonchalant, sitting on the couch on the other end of the room, legs spread, arms thrown over the back of the couch carelessly, eyes never leaving your body.

"strip."

"w-what?! we're not together anymore i'm not gonna-"

"strip."

"nayeon this isn't- we're both at work-"

"it hasn't stopped us before. i clearly remember fucking you on the rooftop of this building while everyone was at that special lunch event for JYP's birthday."

you're so flustered, mind torn between your brain and your throbbing cunt, she already had such an effect on you after not having touched you for months.

"i'm not doing this with you nayeon. this is completely unprofessional not to mention anyone could walk in and-"

"fine. leave."

you're completely stumped. her hot and cold attitude was sending you into a confusion you couldn’t make sense of. you walk towards the door, bring your hand up to the doorknob, but before you know it, instead of listening to your brain and leaving then and there, you lock the door, turning back to your ex-girlfriend who looks smugly sat and comfortable, expecting you to have chosen her.

"you can never be good can you baby? i have to tell you the opposite for you to do what i want you to do hmm?"

you mutter a small shut up, slipping out of your clothes quickly and moving in towards her. but the second you try climbing into her lap, she's pushing you up, standing, one hand on your chest, the other cupping your face.

"nuh uh. you don't just get to use me and leave me. i'm the one that's mad with you right now. dumb little thing couldn't even come up with a good enough excuse for that publicity stunt back there. you know you come to mommy first when something about my job comes up don't you?"

"i-i-! i didn't have a choice! they had the press outside waiting as soon as i got the news and-"

"there's always a choice. poor little thing's just too innocent, letting herself get taken advantage of. you know what the media are saying right now? that it's all a lie. that we do have history and you're the one that made the statement because the company wanted you to take the fall. that doesn't sound good does it?"

you shake your head, feeling terribly exposed in just your underwear and bra.

"no it doesn't. and now i’m gonna have to fix the mess you made."

you can't do anything else except bow your head in submission, mumbling out a small, "i'm sorry."

she tilts your head back up to look at her, and even though you had a few inches on her, her presence filled the room, you were tiny standing before her.

"at least you know how to apologise. now are you going to let me check if you're wet?"

you nod, afraid of speaking up.

she smirks, trailing her fingers down your chest, skimming over your nipples and your stomach, leaving goosebumps in her wake. you try your hardest not to shiver or squirm underneath her touch, anticipating what nayeon was to find at your core.

her fingers finally dip down past your hips, pulling down your panties slowly, watching you like a hawk. and then her long, long fingers are teasing down the line of your cunt, she tuts, collecting your arousal and pulling her hand back up.

"looks like you were lying after all. what are we gonna do about this hmm?"

your eyes clenched shut at the feeling of her fingers running down your pussy, you're unable to open them again when she questions you. "d-don't know mommy."

nayeon grins at the title, "so polite. so dumb. it's okay. mommy's gonna take care of you now yeah?"

and then before you can formulate your next thought she's turning you around, pushing you down into the couch. you land with an oomph, eyes opening at the shock of force, but nayeon simply gets on her knees and rips your panties off, pulling you to the edge of the couch and throwing your legs over her shoulders, diving in without another word.

your hand immediately comes to her head, gripping her hair and pulling slightly in the way you know she likes, moaning as you feel her clean all the slick that's leaked down to your inner thighs and outer lips.

she's absolutely insatiable. starved for pussy like she hasn't eaten anything in three days. she doesn't care when you whine and tell her to slow down or be softer, she knew better, you dripped at her rough treatment. it was like riding a bike to nayeon. despite not having tasted you in so long she still remembers each sliver of skin that makes your toes curl, every spot that makes your heels dig into her back and beg for more.

all of your senses are focused only on the feeling of her tongue inside of you. you can feel the vibrations of her moaning and speaking up, but your ears don't pick up on the words, strained only to hear the sloppy sounds of nayeon slurping up every drop of arousal that spills out of you.

"m-mommy- i- oh fuck-"

you don't hear her response, only a messy suck on your clit as she hums around it.

"g-gonna- fuck mommy please- make me cum please-"

she never stops her assault, her hands gripping your thighs, keeping them forced open while you wriggle and strain against her. one of your hands leaves her head, coming up to palm at your breast over your bra, easily finding your hard nipple through the fabric and pinching. you can feel yourself clench at the feeling, more arousal leaking out of you, all of which nayeon eagerly drinks up.

one more thrust of her tongue, another suck to your clit, another pinch of your nipple, and you're crying out her name, throwing your head back, hand clutching onto her head for dear life, but then everything stops.

you feel the orgasm that had near electrified you pull inwards and back up to your stomach, like the waves on a beach right before the tsunami hits. you're panting, looking back down and clumsily trying to bring your hand to your clit to bring back the orgasm she ripped away from you so violently.

she smacks your hand away, pulling you up onto shaky legs and then turning you around, pushing you back down so you're ass up, grabbing onto the back of the couch to support what your legs couldn't. she kicks open your legs wider, delirious at the way her spit mixed with your slick dribbles down your thighs, hands coming in immediately to scoop it back up, teasing the sensitive skin on your inner thighs.

she leans over you, pulling your hair back so you're forced to look into the mirror right in front of you. the scene is pornographic. your eyes are lidded, mouth open, drool slipping out, skin blotchy and red, while nayeon is behind you nosing at your neck, her mouth covered in you, hair a mess from the way you had pulled her out of her updo.

"look at you-" she coos, "so fucking pathetic for me. spread out like this with me between your legs, where anyone could walk in and see you come undone because of me. that would give the press a field day wouldn't it?" she laughs cruelly, tugging your hair back more to expose your throat, "what would you say then? would this be practice for another film again?" she bites down at the side of your neck, sucking a newly formed mark into your skin.

“mmf- mommy please- more please- i d-don’t know i-“

"god you don't know how hard these last few days have been for me. i don't know what more you want from me. i apologised and i told you i'd never do it again, that only you would get to see how these fingers feel inside of you." she punctuates her sentence by sliding two fingers inside, no further preparation needed with how soaked you were after she ate you out. you immediately clench around her, your body needing to keep her inside of you as long as possible, terrified she would leave you on the precipice of cumming again. "but that just wasn't enough for you was it? greedy little baby. i bet you missed me too. actually, i know you missed me too with how fucking wet you are right now. no one can fuck you like i can right? no one can make you feel as good as i do."

every filthy word that comes out of her mouth is accompanied with a thrust into your pussy. the squelch of her fingers entering and exiting you leave your thighs shaking, almost all your body weight held up by your arms on the back of the couch. it’s pathetic the way she has you wrapped around her finger, literally. you bite your lip, shame washing over you as you remember where you were and what she did to you. you’d expect that feeling to anger you, push her off of you, but you only clench down tighter against her, impervious to your more sane thoughts.

“what if you were the one who leaked that video to the press? did you want my attention on you that badly baby? want the whole world’s attention on us? was that your sick way of revenge against me, let the whole world know you were mine first instead of all those other randoms i fucked? you’d love if someone came in right now and filmed us wouldn’t you? release that to the media too? that way you’d be immortalised, everyone would see you’re just a fucktoy for im nayeon.”

you whine, needing to come so bad the overstimulation forces tears out of your eyes, the sight of her pressed up against you, your breasts bouncing with each thrust of her fingers, still contained within your bra.

nayeon notices your line of sight, hand snaking up around your waist to pull your cup down roughly, your left tit bouncing out, nipple already perked up and pretty. nayeon wastes no time, still whispering filth into your ear while she watches herself take your exposed tit into her large hands, squeezing as you moan at her touch, pushing out your chest submissively for her. she moulds and plays around with it, fingers coming in to pinch at the nipple, smirking when she feels your cunt clench around her fingers at the movement, rolling your nipple around between your fingers and pulling it roughly.

“you gonna cum baby? you’re squeezing me so fucking tight right now.”

you babble in response, a string of yes and please slurred together.

“mm you’re mine. if anyone ever fucks you in the future all you’re gonna remember is me. how i feel inside you right now. reaching parts of you no one else will be able to reach. you’re ruined for me baby. now cum.”

you shudder as you cum on command, legs completely giving out while nayeon holds you up, still thrusting into you to help you ride out your orgasm.

it takes you a while to come down and back into your senses, nayeon doesn’t seem to leave your body, her fingers still fit snugly inside you while you flutter around the feeling of being full.

finally, when she’s had her fun, she props you back down onto the couch, you’re sprawled open, cum leaking out of you, one tit falling out of your bra, arms uselessly laid against your side.

she smirks at the sight, fixing herself in the mirror before looking back to you.

“i’ll talk to the directors about the film. you don’t have to worry your dumb little brain about that anymore. but it is a little weird for one of my publicity officers to be running lines with me, so i’m also gonna talk to them about bringing you on as one of my managers. that means you’re gonna move your pretty ass back into my apartment, bring all your things and whatever else you need, non-negotiable. i own you y/n. and i know deep down you still want me too.”

she takes her leave at that, leaving you exposed and sweaty, head empty except for the fact that she was right. you’d never be able to get enough of nayeon, you’d always be in this twisted, torturous cycle of misguided love and lust with her, and you brought it upon yourself.

#nayeon #im nayeon #twice nayeon #nayeon x reader #twice nayeon x reader #im nayeon x reader #nayeon smut #nayeon imagines #twice smut #twice imagines #twice x reader #dovveri

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snowysosturn · 4 months ago

Text

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 11

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: angst, tension, arguements, mentions of alcohol, being intoxicated

Matt’s gaze locks onto the envelope in my hand, his jaw tightening. “Oh, this again” he mutters, dropping his phone onto the bed. He leans back against the headboard, crossing his arms over his chest like he’s gearing up for a fight.

“I didn’t realize this was your jumper” I say quickly, gesturing to the yellow Ralph Lauren sweater I’m wearing. “Nick gave it to me yesterday. I didn’t know-”

“Convenient” he says, his lips curving into a bitter smirk. “Nick’s just handing out my stuff now, huh? Real generous of him. Not that it matters. Keep it.”

“Are you done?” I snap, holding up the envelope in my hand. “Because this is what I’m here to talk about.”

Matt’s smirk fades. He shifted himself up, his arms still crossed. “What about it? You’re upset I didn’t send it with chocolates or something?”

I glare at him. “You sent me flowers. Then threw them in the trash. And this-” I wave the card slightly. “This apology? I don’t get it, Matt. Why would you even do that? What’s the point if you’re not going to own it?”

He looks away, jaw tight, as though he’s trying to figure out how to answer. After a long pause, he finally speaks. “I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have” I say sharply, before I can stop myself. “Because now I’m here, and you clearly don’t want to explain yourself.”

“You’re right” he says, his voice colder now. “I shouldn’t have sent them. It was a mistake. I should’ve just let Nate get you flowers instead. That’s his job anyway.”

I freeze, staring at him. “What?”

“You heard me” he says, his tone bitter now. “If anyone should be sending you flowers, it’s Nate. Not me. But let me save you some trouble, he runs through girls like it’s a sport. You’re just a number to him, Y/n. That’s all you’d ever be.”

The words made no sense to me, knowing that there was nothing going on between me and Nate. But I know he’s trying to get under my skin, and that just makes me angrier.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about first of all” I say, my voice shaking slightly. “And even if that was true, why do you care? You’re acting like this is about Nate, but it’s not, is it?”

Matt doesn’t respond immediately. He just looks at me, his eyes flickering with something I can’t quite place, frustration, maybe. Or something deeper.

“I don’t care” he says finally, but the way he says it is unconvincing, like he’s trying to convince himself more than me.

“Right” I mutter, taking a step back. “Well, if you don’t care, then stop acting like this. Stop sending flowers and writing cards and then throwing them away. And stop dragging Nate into it like this is about him, because it’s not.”

The room remained silent as I let out a frustrated sigh, “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Matt, or what I ever did to make you hate me so much, but I don’t want it to ruin Hawaii. Nick and Chris did something really thoughtful by inviting me, and I don’t want it to be awkward between us while we’re there.”

He exhales sharply, looking away. “Yeah, well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before busting in here and accusing me of playing games.”

I clench my jaw, trying to keep calm. “I didn’t accuse you of anything. I’m asking you to stop.. whatever this is. If you don’t care, fine. But don’t drag Nate into it, and don’t make me feel like some kind of idiot for trying to understand.”

His gaze softens slightly, and for a moment, I think he might actually say something that makes sense. But instead, he shrugs, his expression hardening again. “Fine. I’ll back off. Happy?”

I study him for a moment, trying to figure out what’s really going on behind that mask he always wears. But I don’t have the energy to keep pushing, so I just shake my head and turn to leave. I step out of his room, closing the door behind me, shutting it with more force than I intended.

I head straight to my room, practically flying up the stairs. My chest feels tight, my thoughts racing in every direction. That conversation with Matt was supposed to give me clarity, but instead, it’s only made everything worse. Why does he have to be so infuriating? Why does he have to say things that don’t make sense, like some cryptic puzzle he’s tempting me to solve?

I throw myself on top of my bed, burying my face in my pillow as all of my feelings boil to the surface, and before I know it, tears start falling. I don’t even try to stop them. I let them flow, hoping they’ll wash away some of the tension clawing at my chest. The tears aren’t just for Matt and his mixed signals, they’re for everything. For how lost I feel, for the way nothing goes right or feels straightforward anymore.

My mind replays the conversation over and over, dissecting every word, every glance, every pause. Why did he say it should’ve been Nate who gave me the flowers? Why did he warn me about Nate like that? And why did he throw the flowers away in the first place? None of it makes sense, and it’s driving me insane. I wipe at my cheeks, but the tears keep coming, hot and relentless.

Part of me wishes I could just forget the whole thing, shove it into a mental box, lock it away, and never think about it again. But another part of me knows I won’t. Not when Matt has this way of getting under my skin, and especially when we're going to spend every waking minute with each other for the next few weeks. Hawaii was supposed to be a break, an escape. But now, I can’t help but feel like it’s going to be anything but relaxing if things with Matt keep going like this.

The next morning, I wake up feeling groggy and emotionally drained. My eyes are puffy from crying, and the frustration of yesterday’s conversation still lingers throughout my body. I take a deep breath and remind myself to focus on the day ahead, before starting to get ready. There’s no time to dwell on Matt or his cryptic actions.

Nick is already up and at it when I make my way downstairs. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, typing furiously on his laptop, a cup of coffee in one hand. He looks up when he hears me enter, flashing his usual enthusiastic grin.

“There she issss!” he says, closing the laptop dramatically. “You ready for a day of last minute prep?”

I give him a half smile and nod. “Yeah what do you need to do?”

Nick looks at me for a moment, his eyes narrowing like he’s trying to figure out if something’s wrong. But to my relief, he doesn’t press.

“Okay, so first things first, we’re getting your nails done. Non negotiable. If we’re going to Hawaii, you need to have vacation ready nails.”

“Nick, my nails are fine” I protest, holding up my hands.

He raises an eyebrow. “No offense, but ‘fine’ isn’t good enough. You’re coming with me, and we’re going all out.”

I rolled my eyes but let him drag me out the door. Honestly, a little pampering doesn’t sound so bad right now.

The day flew by as we rushed through last minute preparations. Nick and I spent the morning at the nail salon, where I settled with a classic french tip. Afterward, we hit a few shops to grab more shorts for Nick. Back at home, I double checked my suitcase, making sure I had everything I’d need for the trip, though my mind wandered more than I’d like to admit.

By the evening, I felt physically tired but mentally restless. I tried to focus on the excitement of Hawaii and the break I desperately needed, but thoughts of yesterday’s conversation with Matt kept creeping in. I forced myself to push it to the side and take myself to bed. We had an early flight the next day, so I set my alarm before climbing in. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I made a silent promise to myself. This trip would be about relaxing, having fun, and leaving all the confusion and tension back at home, even if it wasn’t exactly easy to do.

My alarm went off at 5 am, dragging me out of a light, restless sleep. I groaned, hitting snooze once before forcing myself to get up. I could hear quiet movement around the house already, doors creaking, the sound of someone wheeling suitcases, and the bang of cups in the kitchen. I quickly got dressed, grabbed my suitcase, and made my way to the living area.

Nick was already there, suitcase next to him. “Ready for paradise?” he asked with a sleepy grin.

I nodded. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

Chris and Nate came up a moment later, both looking slightly disheveled but ready to help. Chris grabbed Nick’s suitcase while Nate reached for mine. I thanked him quietly, and he just nodded.

The silence was heavy, but oddly enough, it was comforting. The silence just wasn’t between Matt and I now, it seemed like everyone was too tired to make conversation this early, which made it less obvious that Matt and I hadn’t said a word to each other.

I glanced over and saw Matt standing near the door, his phone in his hand as he scrolled through it. He looked up briefly when Nate passed by him with my suitcase, but he didn’t say anything before following them down.The three of them loaded everything into the car while Nick and I lingered inside, waiting for the signal to head out.

Matt took responsibility of driving all of us to the airport. The drive was quiet, not that there would be much conversation out of five people in the early hours of the morning. We arrived at LAX just as the sky began to lighten. After paying for long stay parking, we unloaded the suitcases from the trunk. Everyone grabbed their bags, and we walked toward the departures section, the chill of the early morning air still lingering.

The airport was busy, but not chaotic, the flow of people moving fast. We made our way to the American Airlines desk, where a sign displayed our flight to Kahului. “There it is” Nick said, pointing ahead as he led the way.

We joined the line to check in and offload our bags. Nate and Chris joked quietly ahead of us, their energy picking up as we got closer to the counter. I couldn’t help but take a glimpse at Matt, who was standing slightly apart, looking at his phone. The awkwardness between us lingered, but thankfully, the chaos of the airport didn’t make it obvious.

When it was finally our turn, we handed over our passports and tickets. The airline agent smiled and tagged our bags before sending them down the conveyor belt. “Enjoy your trip!” she said cheerfully, handing us back our boarding passes and passports.

“Thanks!” Nick replied, grinning. “We plan to.”

With our bags checked in and our hands free, we regrouped in a free area away from the check in desks. The trip was officially underway, and for the first time since waking up, I felt a small buzz of excitement. Hawaii was actually happening.

After getting through the long security line, we gathered our belongings and headed toward the food court. It was close to 6.30am now, and my stomach was screaming at me. I needed food and I needed it quick. We ended up at a cafe, where everyone ordered breakfast before finding a table to sit at while we ate.

Nick sipped his iced coffee, clearly wide awake now, and leaned back in his chair. “Alright” he said, “So what seats is everyone in on the plane? I wanna know who I have to sit next to for six hours.”

Chris pulled out his boarding pass first, looking over it. “I’m in 27A” he said.

“I’m 27B” Nate chimed in, smirking.

“27C” Nick added with a grin. “Perfect, we’re all together.”

I took a sip of my coffee, nearly choking on it as I glanced down at my boarding pass. “I’m in 22E. I’m not even in the same row as yous.”

Matt pulled out his pass, frowning slightly before reading it aloud. “22D.”

I froze for a second, my stomach flipping. Of course. Of course, out of everyone, I’d end up sitting next to Matt.

Nate burst out laughing. “Oh man, you two are gonna have such a fun time crammed next to each other for the whole flight.”

I glared at him, but he just smirked and took an obnoxiously loud sip of his drink.

“It’s fine” I said, more to convince myself than anyone else. “It’s just a flight. We’ll survive.”

Matt shrugged, slipping his boarding pass back into his passport. “Whatever. As long as you don’t steal the armrest.”

The tension was obvious, but no one said anything else about it. We finished eating, the mood shifting back to excitement about the trip. But I couldn’t shake the swirling feeling in my stomach. Six hours next to Matt sounded like the longest flight of my life.

It was nearly time to board so we made our way toward the terminal, following the signs for our gate. Our flight was due to take off at 9am, so we had time to get there. When they called our group to board, we lined up, handed over our boarding passes, and shuffled down the bridge toward the plane. I could feel my nerves creeping in as we got closer to our seats. I was a nervous flier anyway, but now the seating situation made the nerves feel worse. Matt walked ahead of me, casually scanning the seat numbers as if he wasn’t dreading this as much as I was.

Finally, we reached our row, 22D and 22E. Matt slid into the aisle seat without a word, and I plopped down next to him, setting my bag under the seat in front of me. I hated the middle seat.

I took a deep breath, glancing around as people continued boarding. The guys were a few rows behind us, already joking loudly about something. God how I wish I was one of them.

I leaned back into the seat, already planning to just sleep this entire flight. If Matt and I weren’t going to talk, and let’s be honest, we weren’t, then maybe I’d at least get some rest. The flight attendants made their announcements, and soon we were in the air.

Once the seatbelt sign turned off, curiosity got the better of me and I leaned forward to sift through the entertainment options on the little screen in front of me. Scrolling through the endless movie titles, I couldn’t find anything that caught my attention.

Beside me, Matt sighed, his screen already on.

I glanced over just in time to see him click on 10 Things I Hate About You. For a second, I was surprised, out of all the movies, this was the one he picked?

“You like that movie?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Who doesn’t? It’s a classic.”

I smiled, unable to help it. “Fair point.”

He settled back into his seat, his arms crossing loosely over his chest as the opening credits started rolling. I found myself sneaking glances at the screen, my own selection forgotten.

“You’re just gonna watch mine, aren’t you?” he teased, catching me mid glance.

“Maybe..” I shot back, smirking. “It’s a good movie.”

For the first time, Matt giggled, a real, genuine laugh at something I said. “Fine, but don’t hog my screen.”

We ended up sharing the movie in a way I hadn’t expected, making quiet comments about our favorite scenes and quoting the lines we both knew by heart. I felt weird.. it felt... easy, like the tension between us didn’t exist.

When the scene with the marching band playing on the bleachers came up, I felt my lips moving before I even realized it.

"You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of youuuu"

To my surprise, Matt’s voice joined mine, quietly singing the line in unison. We both stopped, catching each other mid verse, and immediately burst into laughter.

"Seriously?" I said, grinning.

“What?” Matt replied, smirking. “You’re the one who started it.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to sing along” I shot back, shaking my head.

As the movie went on, it only got worse.. or better, depending on how you looked at it. It felt strange, but in a good way, like we were finally on the same wavelength, even if it was just over a movie. By the time the poem scene rolled around, Matt tilted his head toward me.

“Bet you’re one of those people who cries during this part” he teased.

I raised an eyebrow. “Bet you are too.”

He didn’t deny it, just smirked and went back to watching.

By the end of the movie, we were both smiling, the tension replaced by a shared sense of ease. It was probably the first time we’d genuinely laughed together without any sarcasm or snark.

Soon after, the flight attendants started coming down the aisle with the food cart, Matt stirred slightly, rubbing his eyes and sitting up straighter.

"You getting something?" I asked, glancing over at him.

"Yeah" he muttered, squinting as if even the dim cabin lights were too bright. "But I swear, I can't even keep my eyes open right now."

"Then why are you bothering?" I teased, but when he shot me a half hearted glare, I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Just give it here when it comes. I'll keep it on my tray until you're ready for it."

His expression softened into something that almost resembled gratitude. "Thanks" he mumbled.

When the food finally arrived, he lazily reached for his tray table but paused, blinking sluggishly.

"Don't bother" I said, pulling his tray of food over to mine. "I got it."

"Yeah, yeah, you're a saint" he grumbled, but there was the faintest smirk tugging at his lips before he leaned back in his seat.

Matt tilted his head against the small headrest attached to his seat and shut his eyes, clearly giving in to his exhaustion. I felt more awake than anything now so I decided to sift through the in flight entertainment menu again, settling on another rom com to pass the time.

Not long after, I felt a shift in the weight beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Matt's head drop forward before it slowly tilted to the side, right onto my shoulder.

I froze for a second, unsure of what to do. His face was relaxed, his breathing slow, completely unaware of the situation.

I thought about waking him, but.. he looked peaceful. And, honestly, I didn’t mind.

With a small sigh, I adjusted slightly to make it more comfortable for both of us and went back to watching my movie.

By the time I finished my second movie, his head was still resting on my shoulder, and I couldn’t help but smile a little. For someone who could be so infuriating, moments like these reminded me that maybe there was more to Matt than he let on.

The captain's voice crackled through the intercom, announcing our descent into Kahului, Matt woke beside me. He blinked slowly, rubbing his face with one hand, and then turned to look at me.

His gaze dropped to where my shoulder was, and his brows furrowed slightly. “Wait.. was I.. was I asleep on you the whole time?”

I tried to keep my expression neutral, but the corner of my mouth twitched in amusement. “Yep. Dead to the world. Snoring and everything.”

His eyes widened slightly, and I could see a faint hint of color rise to his cheeks. “I don’t snore.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night. Literally.”

He let out a soft groan, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back in his seat. “Well.. uh, thanks for not shoving me off, I guess.”

I shrugged casually. “Figured you needed the sleep. Plus, you didn’t drool all over me, so I let it slide.”

That comment earned me a small laugh, though he still looked a bit awkward. He glanced out the window on our side, clearly trying to play it cool, but the way he kept fidgeting with his seatbelt betrayed him.

Not too long after, we landed and began to disembark the plane, into the warm Maui air, the energy buzzing between all of us even though we were still shaking off the stiffness from the flight. After collecting our bags, we stood near the exit where our transfer driver was holding a sign with Nick’s name on it.

The drive to the villa was surreal, with palm trees lining the roads and the scent of salt water from ocean wafting through the open windows. Nate and Chris were hyper, pointing out every little thing as if they’d never been here before. Nick was quieter, scrolling through his phone, and Matt sat silently in the back, his sunglasses shielding his expression.

It was 2pm Hawaii time when we finally arrived at the villa, and the place looked like it was something out of a movie, white walls, large windows, and a gorgeous pool overlooking the ocean. Five bedrooms, one for each of us.

“All right” Nick declared, dropping his suitcase in the entryway. “First come, first serve. Claim your rooms!”

Chris bolted upstairs with Nate right behind him, their voices echoing through the house as they bickered over who got the room with the best view. Nick wandered off down the hall, humming to himself as he inspected the options. That left me and Matt still standing near the doorway.

“You’re not gonna fight for the best room?” he asked, glancing at me with a smirk.

I shrugged, rolling my suitcase forward. “Nah, I’ll just take whatever’s left. As long as there’s a bed, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself” he said, grabbing his own bag and heading upstairs.

Once everyone had claimed their spots, I found myself left with a room on the far end of the villa, tucked away from everyone else. It was smaller than the others, but it had an ensuite and a private balcony with a view of the ocean, so I wasn’t complaining. Honestly, the distance from the chaos of being with boys was kind of a bonus. I knew I’d want some peace and quiet at some point. I let the reality of being here sink in. It felt like a fresh start, and the dynamics between everyone were already proving to be.. interesting.

By the time I had unpacked, showered, and finally settled into my room, the exhaustion from the early morning and long flight floored me. I decided to lie down for just a moment, but the comfort of the bed dragged me into a deep nap.

When I woke up, the time on my phone read 5pm, and the sounds of loud, off key singing drifted through the villa. Disorientated but curious, I got up and made my way downstairs into the main foyer.

The sight that greeted me was something straight out of a comedy. Chris, Nate, and Matt were standing in a loose huddle, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, belting out some song at the top of their lungs. Their words were slurred, their movements uncoordinated, and the sight in front of me was nothing short of chaotic.

Nick stood off to the side, arms crossed and wearing an expression of sheer disbelief. His eyes flicked to me as I entered, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

“What the hell happened while I was asleep?” I asked, pointing toward the impromptu concert happening in the middle of the villa.

Nick sighed, rubbing a hand over his face like he couldn’t believe it either. “Well, they decided to go for a walk to ‘explore the area’” he said, air quoting the last part. “Somehow, that walk turned into them stumbling into a few bars. Fast forward a couple of hours, and this is what we’ve got. They’re completely pissed.”

I glanced back at the trio, who were now attempting to harmonize but failing miserably. Chris had climbed onto one of the couches, using a long decorative pillow as a makeshift microphone, while Matt leaned against the back of a chair, swaying slightly. Nate, the ringleader of this circus, was conducting them like an offbeat orchestra.

“And dinner’s in, what, two hours?” I asked Nick, already knowing the answer.

“Yep” he said flatly. “No way they’re sobering up in time.”

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Great. So now what? Do we just let them embarrass us in public, or do we try to get them somewhat presentable?”

Nick shrugged. “Honestly, at this point, I’m tempted to just let them crash and burn. They brought this on themselves.”

I glanced back at the drunken trio, my frustration tainted with the faintest hint of amusement. As ridiculous as they were, it was hard not to laugh at the scene. Still, this wasn’t exactly the way I envisioned the first night of the trip going.

“More importantly, what are you planning on wearing tonight?” he asked, trying to ignore the drunken escapade happening in front of us.

“I was thinking my green crochet two piece, you know the halter top and shorts” I said.

Nick nodded approvingly. “That's a nice first night outfit. I still need to figure mine out, so I’m going to do that now.”

Just as we were about to separate and retreat to our rooms, Matt, swaying but still coordinated enough to grab my arm, pulled me toward the three of them.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he slurred, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “You’re part of this now.”

Before I could protest, he dragged me into their little circle. Nate and Chris immediately followed his lead, throwing their arms around both of us to complete the huddle.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” they all started chanting in unison, their voices loud and slurred but surprisingly synchronized.

I couldn’t help it, the absurdity of it all made me laugh, the kind of genuine laugh that comes out before you can even think about holding it back. They all looked so ridiculous, swaying and cheering like they were at some sporting event instead of just drunk in the middle of a villa.

“Okay, okay!” I said between laughs, holding up my hands in mock surrender. “You win! But if you’re not at least halfway sober by the time we leave for dinner, don’t expect me to sit anywhere near you!”

They all laughed too, Nate patting my shoulder like I’d just joined some exclusive club.

I stepped back from the chaotic huddle, still smiling as I shook my head. “Alright, that’s enough bonding for now. I’m going to head up and start getting ready” I said, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

As I turned to leave, Matt called after me. “Wait!” He stumbled forward a step, catching his balance against the wall before straightening up. “I’ll bring you a drink to your room. You can’t start getting ready without a little buzz. It’s, like.. a vacation rule or something.”

I gave him a skeptical look, though I couldn’t help the smirk creeping onto my lips. “Matt, I don’t need you enabling my alcohol consumption. I can manage that all on my own, thanks.”

He smirked back, raising a finger in the air as if he’d just come up with a brilliant idea. “Nope. You’re part of the group now. And the group drinks together. I’ll bring you something good.. you won’t even taste the alcohol.”

“Somehow, that makes me even more nervous” I shot back, but I didn’t fight him on it. “But fine. Just don’t spill it on the way up, alright?”

Matt chuckled, placing a hand on his chest in mock seriousness. “I would never dishonor a drink like that.”

Shaking my head, I turned and made my way up the stairs, already mentally planning out how I’d do my makeup. If Matt was serious about bringing me a drink, maybe a little buzz wouldn’t be the worst thing while I got ready. After all, if I was going to spend the evening immersed in this group of chaos, I might as well have a head start.

a/n: things are.. changing...???

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