#They’ve been swinging for hours

[mint-termsandconditions]

Rope MF Loses Track of Time

Day time:

Afternoon:

Nighttime:

Song credit:

[loveinhawkins]

ao3

It’s the last day of school before Christmas, and the first thing Eddie hears when he enters Family Video is Steve Harrington saying, “Fuck this,” which seems kinda unreasonable; he’s not even done anything yet.

But then Steve continues, his voice turning distant as he heads to the back of the store—“I don’t care what the goddamn handbook says, the radiator’s goin’ on full blast,”—and Eddie realises he hasn’t actually been noticed at all.

Not by Steve, at least. 

Robin Buckley is standing by the computer. She’s checking her watch; Eddie can see the thought cross her mind, that he should’ve been out of class over an hour ago, like she was.

All of a sudden, he feels uncomfortably aware of what he must look like: drenched from the rain, dripping water onto the carpet. 

“Hey, Munson. O’Donnell got you working overtime, huh?”

Eddie fakes a laugh. He doesn’t know Robin that much—but still just well enough to know she doesn’t mean anything by it.

So he nods and rolls his eyes, concocts a story about an unjust detention; he even embellishes it with a pinch of truth as he brings the video tapes out from the shelter of his jacket. Says that his last-ditch attempt at improving his grade before the holidays was offering to return the videos O’Donnell rented for her classes.

He doesn’t mention the fact that he stayed behind voluntarily. That he spent all that time staring down at a perpetually unfinished essay, gripping his pen with an all too familiar desperation. That kind of honesty somehow feels more embarrassing than lying; it always has.

Robin takes the videos from him. “Okay, tell me if that works,” she says, with a hint of sarcasm; she’s joking, Eddie reminds himself, but not in a mean way. “Because I’d be returning, like, so many library books if…”

She trails off with a frown, eyes on the computer screen. Glances to the stack of video tapes before punching in something.

Eddie doesn’t mind the wait; it’s only now that he’s really appreciating just how cold he is. He shakes some water off his jacket sleeve, fingers numb, and realises too late that he’s creating a puddle on the floor. 

“Uh, sorry for, um. Dripping,” he says awkwardly, but Robin doesn’t seem to hear him; she just keeps frantically tapping on the keyboard.

Outside, the wind picks up even more, throwing rain against the windows. 

There’s the creak of a door swinging open somewhere in the back, followed by a voice calling, “What’s up?”

Eddie startles—he almost forgot that it wasn’t just him and Robin in here. He watches Steve sidle up to the register.

“It’s this stupid—“ Robin gestures to the computer with frustration. “It keeps going all, you know, aaaah.” She draws out the sound, wiggling her fingers.

Surprisingly, Steve catches Eddie’s eye with a wry look. “Technical term,” he says, deadpan.

If Eddie didn’t know that he was the only other person in the room, he’d think that surely he’d been mistaken for someone else.

Not that he thinks Steve would ignore him outright; it’s just that they’ve not got much history—no fleeting camaraderie forged from sitting next to one another in class. Sure, they crossed paths as much as anyone did in Hawkins, Steve a recurring figure in Eddie’s peripheral; he knew of his existence, obviously, it’s Steve Harrington, but nothing more than…

A collage of all the times Steve’s picture has appeared in the school newspaper flickers through Eddie’s mind. Okay, but that was because of The Tigers, and the swimming team, and—anyone would’ve noticed that—

His justification is brought to a halt at a particularly fierce howl of wind; Robin flinches so badly that she knocks the video tapes onto the floor. 

“Just the wind,” Steve says quietly.

As he speaks, he gently nudges Robin out of the way with his hip. Picks up the fallen tapes.

And to anyone else, it might seem kind—and nothing more. 

But there’s something almost imperceptible in the way Steve does it, Eddie can’t get away from that fact: a meaning behind the words that he can’t grasp.

Then he hears Wayne’s voice in his head—son, you know fine well when something’s none of your damn business—and tells his curiosity to quit it.

“Sorry, it’s still not working,” Robin says, giving the computer one last thump. “I can, um, write you a receipt? To prove you returned them? So O’Donnell doesn’t get all…”

Eddie nods. “Sure.”

Robin gets a pen out of her shirt pocket and writes a receipt, triple-checking the movie titles as she does so.

Eddie thanks her as she hands over the paper. Catches himself hesitating. 

There it is: the familiar prickle of discomfort, not knowing what else to say. Jesus Christ, isn’t that a failure on its own? Another year at school, and you’d think he’d be somewhat closer to other students, just from the sheer amount of time they’ve spent together in the same four walls. And yet, he’s starting to feel more distant than ever.

Granted, there’s Hellfire, but on bad days even that chafes, not that he’d ever admit it. Like he’s playing a part far bigger than who he actually is.

Eddie expects to just walk out without another word being said. In fact, he’s bracing himself for the cold again, almost at the door, when Steve inexplicably speaks up.

“Are you actually leaving?”

Eddie turns around. Steve’s leaning by the desk with his arms folded, looking at him expectantly.

Eddie’s half-convinced there’s a joke he’s not getting.

“Uh, yeah?” he says. He tries to ensure that ‘what the fuck else am I supposed to do?’ goes unheard, but from the way Steve’s eyebrows rise, he doesn’t think he succeeds. 

Steve gives a pointed, dubious look outside. “Dude, you wanna drown out there?”

Eddie rocks back on his heels. There’d be a time where he would really snap back at that (the first time he flunked out, maybe), but now he’s more caught off-guard. 

So he just glances outside and says, “Ideally, no.”

Steve gives a slight huff of laughter at that, shaking his head.

“Look, I’m just saying, man, I’m not gonna be driving till it clears up. Thought I was gonna need a canoe just to get into the parking lot.” He turns to Robin as if looking for agreement, stacking the tapes Eddie returned as he adds, “I said that when I drove you in, right?”

“I dunno, I’ve had crazier journeys,” Robin says.

Steve rolls his eyes like she’s made a corny joke—but he’s grinning like he just can’t help himself.

Eddie watches with a flicker of amusement rather than irritation, which catches him unawares. If he was honest, he’d felt drained not even a few seconds ago. But seeing Steve and Robin’s back-and-forth sparks an unexpected urge to respond in kind.

“Since when were you the spokesperson for road safety, Harrington?”

Robin snorts.

Steve shrugs. “At least wait until it’s not so brutal out there.”

And what brings Eddie up short is that, despite the dry tone, Steve sounds sincere. It leaves him struggling for an acceptable reply.

Before he can work one out, Steve steps to the side and pushes a swivel chair with his foot, right into Eddie’s path.

Eddie sits down in silent bewilderment.

He braces instinctively for an unbearable awkwardness, but it’s not so bad: Steve and Robin just continue working. It gives him time to try and dry his jacket off, at least, and when that ends up a lost cause, he turns to noticing the background noise in the store.

There’s a TV overhead playing It’s a Wonderful Life; George Bailey and Mary Hatch are about to Charleston right into the swimming pool.

Steve wanders into his eye line, scanning the aisles with a clipboard. Eddie doesn’t actually know how long he’s been there. He’d kinda got caught up in watching the movie. Steve seems to notice that; it’s gone too quick for Eddie to be sure, but his lips might’ve quirked, as if in approval.

“Hey, d’you want me to take your jacket? I’ve got mine and Robin’s on the radiator in the back.”

Eddie does his best not to stare. It’s a habit he’s still not shaken off: waiting for the other shoe to drop when anyone apart from Wayne is so… so…

“Didn’t realise this place was a hotel, Harrington.”

Despite his misgivings, he shrugs off the still damp jacket; Steve’s already stuck his hand out for it.

“Not everyone gets this treatment, Munson. You just haven’t annoyed me yet.”

“Then what am I doing wrong?” Eddie returns flatly. 

This time Steve’s smile is obvious.

“Don’t move my scarf off the radiator!” Robin calls as she wheels a trolley of tapes.

“What do you take me for?” Steve says.

He disappears into the back again, returning empty-handed when the phone rings. He mutters at it before he picks it up, “Yeah, of course you still work,” and it’s not endearing, Eddie tells himself. It’s not.

And no, he isn’t listening in to the phone call. That’d be… that’d be stupid. It’s just that the movie isn’t all that loud, so he can’t help but…

“Hello, Family Video? Oh, hi, Mrs Wilcox, how are… Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.” Steve listens to whatever’s being said on the other end. His eyes find the TV, and then he’s silently mouthing along to George and Mary singing, ‘Buffalo Gals.’ “Oh, are you kidding? No, no, stay inside. It’s not a problem, I can just—yeah, of course. I’ll push it back to after the holidays. Yeah. Yeah, you too. Thanks for calling. Enjoy the movie!”

He hangs up, absentmindedly humming. Eddie quickly looks away.

He notices then that he’s sitting right on the edge of his seat like an idiot. He makes an attempt to sit back—be normal, just be fucking normal—but there’s a rigidity he can’t quite shift, that’s been stuck there probably since middle school, when the cafeteria was full of whispers, did you see the new kid? There, the one with the buzz cut.

“Steve, you off the phone?”

“Yeah. Hey, Rob, if I forget, could you make a note to extend Donna Wilcox’s rental? I’ll do it when we’re back, if the computer’s—”

“Sure, sure. Um, so—”

“Oh, God, what?”

Robin grins, a mixture of sheepish and teasing. Eddie stays put. Has she forgotten he’s here? Should he move? Leave? Yeah, he should leave, they’re not gonna notice… He’ll grab his jacket, slip away; the weather’s not that bad—

“I’ve got something for you to—”

Steve waves his hands in disagreement. “Nope, we said we weren’t doing presents!”

“It’s not really a—my grandma wouldn’t listen, Steve, it’s, like, more of a punishment, honestly, just—just wait there.”

There’s a clatter as Robin rushes off, scattering some more tapes off the trolley. The employee door slams shut behind her.

Steve tsks to himself, but picks up the tapes again. As he bends down, he glances over his shoulder with a brief ‘what can you do?’ sort of expression—which forces Eddie to consider the fact that he hasn’t been forgotten.

He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

He settles for an attempt at nonchalance: sticks a foot out to spin the chair ever so slightly, just side to side, and says, “So, uh, is this job just throwing tapes on the floor?”

“Yeah, we take turns,” Steve says without missing a beat.

He scoops up a tape, twirls it deftly before slotting it into place on the shelf. Eddie should probably find it annoying.

He doesn’t.

In the silence, he tries to lose himself in the movie again, at least a little bit, but he can’t manage it—feels too aware of himself, the creak of the seat as he moves even the tiniest amount, the restless fidgeting that he doesn’t even want to be doing, but knowing that never helps him stop—

“Ta-da!”

Eddie turns in time to see a blur of red; Robin’s just thrown something at Steve, who catches it easily—of course he does, Eddie thinks, but he can’t pretend that the thought comes from a place of resentment, not even inside his own head.

It’s a sweater. Steve unfolds it with a cackling laugh; there’s not a trace of the artificial veneer of high school in the sound.

Unlike you, whispers a nasty inner voice.

Steve’s still laughing. “Robin, this is the best—”

“Shut up, no, it’s so bad.” Robin hoists herself up to sit on the desk. “Grandma did the actual work, all the bits that are messed up are from me—”

“You knitted this?”

Steve beams. Eddie notices that there’s an endearingly crooked tilt to one of his incisors.

And then Steve’s glancing around like he’s checking no-one else has come into the store. He ducks out of view of the windows, but is still very much in Eddie’s view as he throws off his work vest, yanks his shirt up over his head, and…

Eddie suddenly feels like he’s been flung back into the claustrophobic space of the school locker rooms, the dread of changing for phys ed. The voice in his head gets louder: don’t look, don’t look; they’ll know. 

But Steve doesn’t seem to care. He just leaves his shirt in a heap on the floor, wincing overexaggeratedly at the cold, and practically dives into the sweater with a boyish glee.

He laughs again; the sleeves are far too long. “I love it.”

“You do?” Robin says, and while she’s playing up her dubiousness, Eddie can hear how she’s pleased underneath it all.

“Uh, yeah!”

The back of Steve’s hair is ruffled from how eagerly he put the sweater on—but instead of fixing it, he focuses on artfully rolling up his sleeves.

Eddie should look away. Should, at the very least, attempt to appear like he’s zoned out, in a world of his own.

And yet…

Despite everything, he watches Steve Harrington with all the silent, rapt attention he usually reserves for movies.

Moth to a fucking flame, Eddie thinks, resigned.

“Suits me, huh?” Steve says to Robin; he does a stupid little move, one hand on his hip, like he’s on the front cover of a magazine.

“And you’re modest, too.”

“You just don’t know style when you see it.”

Steve’s at the desk now, nudging one of Robin’s feet playfully, before turning round to lean against the corner again. “Hey, Munson, what do you think?”

Eddie finds himself fighting the instinct to reply with something undeservedly cutting. He’d just be trying to cover, anyway, using barbs to conceal what the question makes him feel: something akin to the franticness when confronted in class with a test he hasn’t studied for.

And he looks. Really looks—his heart slowing, the initial panic from the flash of bare skin fading away.

Steve’s right; the sweater does suit him, in all its homemade charm. The shade of red is flattering, brings out his eyes: maroon, if Eddie had to put a name to it, although he suspects that the colour’s actually got nothing to do with it, more the way Steve holds himself—a quiet, certain confidence that’s always been out of Eddie’s reach.

He inwardly gives himself a shake as Steve and Robin keep waiting on his response.

This isn’t school, idiot; they’re not trying to catch you out.

“I’m hardly an expert on high fashion, Harrington,” Eddie says—thinks he just manages to pull off the lazy, unbothered drawl.

“Well, you have a look,” Steve says faux delicately, like he’s being incredibly generous.

Eddie cracks a genuine smile; it sort of weakens the whole aloof thing he’d settled on, but he surprisingly doesn’t care all that much.

“Damned with faint praise.”

Steve scoffs as if to say touché. His gaze catches on something outside, and Eddie wonders if it’s an actual customer, if it’s time for whatever all of this is to stop.

But all Steve does is poke Robin’s foot and add, pointedly singsong, “Rain’s stopped.”

“So?” Robin asks.

“I think it’s in between storms,” Steve says sagely. “Like, we’ve got a little window before more rain hits.”

“Great, Steve, I’ll love waving that opportunity bye.”

Steve tuts. “Rob, I’m saying we should ditch. Come on, it’s been dead all day. We can be home early and warm, it’s, like, single-handedly the best plan I’ve ever had.”

Better than when you won the championship game? Eddie thinks—wisely keeps that strictly to himself, because he’ll admit following Hawkins High’s basketball results on pain of death.

Robin looks torn. “I don’t know, Steve, what if—”

“Who’s gonna tell?” Steve says, gesturing around at the empty store. He nods at Eddie, says sarcastically, “Oh yeah, Eddie Munson, known snitch.”

“You flatter me,” Eddie says. He surprises himself at how easily it slips out, like for once, there was no need to overthink it.

“See? Rob-in,” Steve wheedles, “come on, I’ll cash out. You and your grandma could knit for hours.”

“Shut up,” Robin says fondly. “Fine! Quick, quick, I’ll flip the sign.”

The whole thing resembles a military operation, with how speedily Steve and Robin manage to close the store. Eddie stands up and moves the swivel chair out of the way, but feels almost exposed without it.

Steve’s just finished at the register when he catches Eddie’s eye. He snaps his fingers, “Oh, shit, yeah,” and yells over his shoulder to Robin in the back room, “Hey, pick up Munson’s jacket, too!” Then he’s stuffing a couple of tapes into a backpack. “Want one?”

Eddie blinks, confused. “What?”

Steve wiggles one of the movies in demonstration before zipping up his bag. “I always take some home. As long as you have it back by, uh,” he waves a hand vaguely, “some time in the New Year, whatever.” He clicks his tongue. “Damn it, forgot to turn this off…”

It’s a Wonderful Life falls silent.

Through the whir of it rewinding, Eddie speaks almost without meaning to. “Can I have that one?”

Steve looks up at him in faint surprise. “Sure. Hang on, I’ll just find…”

He ejects the tape and passes it to Eddie. It’s still warm from being played.

And then the case is being handed over, too—there’s scraps of paper folded in the corners, rolls of receipt in Steve and Robin’s handwriting: games of tic-tac-toe and movie recommendations.

As Eddie puts the tape inside, a thought occurs to him. “Wait, uh. Were you gonna take this one home, too?”

Steve’s folding up his discarded shirt and vest. He smiles, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d think there was something shy in it.

“Oh, nope. I—” He laughs under his breath. “I have it already.”

The back door bursts open to reveal Robin all wrapped up in a scarf. She throws Eddie his jacket, jangles some keys and imitates Steve’s half-singing when she announces, “I’ll lock up.”

The wind’s thankfully died down so the contrast from inside to the parking lot isn’t terrible—though that’s probably helped by the fact that Eddie’s jacket is warmed right through from the radiator.

As he gets to the van, he expects that Robin and Steve will already be out of the parking lot. But when he slides into the driver’s seat, he sees Robin’s the only one actually inside Steve’s car; Steve’s half-in, half out, one hand on the roof. 

“Safe journey, Munson!”

And maybe it’s just how Steve’s voice is anyway, but it sounds like it’s more than just a platitude. Like it means something.

Eddie honks his horn in reply. He lets Steve drive out first—his car’s parked closer to the road—and absentmindedly drums his fingers on the VHS case in the passenger seat.

This was a fluke, he tells himself. Like a movie being played in last period, the curtains drawn—how it always feels kind of like a dream.

Still, he drives home warm. Thinks in a gentler voice, one that sounds like Wayne—a reminder that not everything is a trap waiting to spring shut on him.

[moonstruckme]

ur james roommate fic (amazing btw) just gave me an idea

what about pre relationship marauders and there all roommates or something or maybe just one of them a roommates with reader but they all like her and they are all watching a movie like “hey were is she” and one of them answers oh she’s just gone round her mates for a film night or something

then a few hours later she comes stumbling in drunk in a tight as hell dress and heels and they get shocked cause she’s normally so quiet and now here she is giggling and making all these jokes and she was out at a club and who is the lady???

if not that’s totally fine bae 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: intoxication

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 967 words

“Think we ought to check up on her?” James asks halfway through the film. 

Remus doesn’t need to ask who he’s talking about. “Why?”

“It’s getting late.” James frowns out the window, where darkness has well and truly settled. “She’s never out this late. Wouldn’t we be pretty shit roommates if she was dead in a ditch somewhere and we didn’t even know?”

“What the hell do you plan to do, Prongs,” Sirius drawls, “send out a search party? It’s hardly eleven.” 

James looks like he’s thinking a search party’s not such a bad idea. “She said she was going to her mate’s place, and I’m pretty sure it’s book club night. Maybe they’re just going late.” 

Sirius scoffs. “You mean to say that on a Saturday night, she got so caught up talking about books that her meeting ran long?” He shakes his head, but his smile is fond. “What a fuckin’ nerd.” 

Remus cocks an eyebrow, jutting his chin toward the television. “We’re in on a Saturday night. What does that make us?”

James laughs as Sirius huffs, crossing his arms as he leans back against the couch. “Least we’re not talking about books.” 

By the time they finish their film, each of the boys is dead tired. Still, no one argues when James proposes starting another, an unspoken current of worry keeping them in the living room as the night wears on with no sign of your return. 

A couple hours later, James and Sirius have both fallen asleep, James drooling slightly on the top of Sirius’ head, when Remus hears keys in the door. Sirius stirs as your keys twist this way and that. There’s a stream of muffled curse words before you finally get it, the lock sliding free and the door swinging open. 

“Merlin,” Sirius breathes at the sight of you, rousing James. Remus is inclined to agree. 

You’re in a tiny little dress that Remus would have never been able to picture in your closet, the bodice tight and the hem barely skimming past your buttcheeks. You teeter in the door on high heels like a newborn fawn, unphased as if that’s the way you’ve been getting around all evening. You curse quietly when your shoes make a clacking sound against the floor, reaching down to slide them off. Remus can tell from the way you flex your feet that they’ve been hurting you. You start toward your bedroom cautiously, on tiptoe, and it’s a testament to your unusual state that you don’t notice the boys until you’ve nearly passed them on the couch. 

“Oh,” you say, still quiet as though you’re afraid to disturb some unseen sleeper. “You’re up. Hi!”

A laugh bubbles up out of Sirius. “Hi, gorgeous,” he says. “How was your night?”

“Ugh.” You grin, shoulders drooping as your eyes go wistful. “It was amazing. How was yours?”

“Not bad.” Sirius can’t seem to stop smiling, and James is the next of them to find his voice. 

“Angel,” he says, blinking as though he’s not quite sure he’s actually woken up, “are you drunk?”

You go shy, and Remus’ heart warms with incandescent, aching fondness at the sweet sheepishness that touches your smile. “Just like, a tiny little bit,” you giggle, like you think you might get in trouble and are thrilled with your rebellion. 

James shakes his head at you, mystified, and Remus scoots over, patting the spot next to him on the couch. “C’mere, love, talk to us for a bit.” 

You’re happy to comply, though not quite as happy as Sirius when you stumble on your way over and he gets to put his hands on your hips, guiding you to a sitting position. You cross your legs under you, and James flushes as each of the boys try to look anywhere other than your exposed underwear. You lean your shoulder into Remus slightly; he leans back. 

“What’d you get up to tonight?” He raises his eyebrows, delighting when you blush. Your lipstick has worn down to the liner, and you’ve got some sort of dark makeup smudged beneath your eyes. It takes everything in him not to brush his finger under your lashes and fix it. “We thought it was book club night.” 

“No, we pushed that ‘til tomorrow,” you say. “Tonight was real club night.” You let out a little laugh, and Remus grins more because of that than the joke itself. 

“I didn’t know you liked going out,” James says. “You haven’t done it in all the time we’ve lived here.” 

You make an incredulous sound. “Sure I have.” 

James’ eyebrows shoot straight up to his hairline. “When?”

You shrug. “I mean, not all the time. Once a month, maybe.” Your lips curve upward in a look Remus has never seen on your face before. It’s making it difficult to breathe. “What, you just always assume I’m in my room if you don’t see me leave? S’that it?”

“Sorta,” James mumbles, and Sirius grins at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and stealing you from Remus. 

“We’ll be more careful not to underestimate you in the future, sweet thing,” he promises, eyes half-lidded in that way that always reduces you to a blushing, stuttering mess. 

You don’t seem affected this time. “Good,” you reply, batting your lashes at him. Sirius blanches. 

James laughs at him. “Alright, I’ve got to see you in action,” he declares. “If we go out next weekend, will you come with us?” 

You tilt your head consideringly. “Sure,” you say, “but I don’t think many guys are going to come up to me if I’m with you lot. You’ll scare them all away.” 

Sirius scoffs. “Yeah, I’d fucking hope so.”  

“That’s alright, love,” Remus says. “We’ll find some way to make it up to you.” 

(cont)

[kooktrash]

season of the witch | jeon jungkook

summary: he’s not a bad boy, he just gets himself in bad situations at times that lead him to bizarre happenings. for instance, he had no intentions of visiting an occult shop in the middle of the night in search for a phone… but here he is in the middle of October feeling himself fall for the self-titled witch who owned it. suddenly he’s gone from your casual heart breaker, to your sweet boy next door.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.˚ genre/au: heartbreaker!jk x witch!y/n [she/her], whimsigoth, modern witch, halloween .⊹✶ ✶ ✶☾✴

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆. 16.9k words˚.⊹✶✴

warnings: smut. fluff. very slight angst if you squint. honestly pretty cute. oc gives off whimsigoth vibes but honestly a big softie. mentions of spells and hexes. jk is a skeptic. oc has a black cat named. jk becomes a bit spiritual. honestly just a cute modern witch fic inspired by your 90s witch. no protection bc they’re idiots and didn’t plan. oc is scared to get in relationships. soft sex. oral sex [f receiving] jk is a service dom highkey. actual magic moments but they’re brushed over

HALLOWEEN SPECIAL

mentions of the occult [loosely referenced] it’s just a little Halloween thing, fiction and not at all educational or informative

“Admit that we’re lost.”

The street was as dark as night and empty. It felt like they were the only two signs of life around and yet he refused to admit he’s lost. There’s lit jack-o-lanterns on people’s yards so he knows he’s still close to civilization and that’s enough to keep him going—and he swears he’s not being dramatic.

“We’re not lost,” he said, not bothering to look back at his friend who surely rolled his eyes with annoyance, following after him nonetheless.

“Jungkook, it’s late, I’m tired, just admit we’ve been walking in circles,” his friend said, words falling on deaf ears. Jungkook just smiled, pointing ahead at the first true source of light they’ve seen for a while, “Let’s go there.”

It was almost midnight and most businesses around here were already closed and yet there was a small shop with a red lighting store front and plants hanging from the ceiling. There was a sign on the door that said, ‘OPEN’, with its business hours printed beneath and the shop’s name painted on the window. He didn’t hesitate to swing the door open, hearing the bell above the door ring as they entered the strange shop.

There was so much to look at from books to multi colored rocks separated into groups with labels on them; Tiger’s Eye, Black Onyx, Topaz, Amethyst, the list went on. Hanging above were various green plants and small jars lining the shelves on the walls of rose petals, lavender, mandrake, and plants he’s never heard of before.

“What is this place?” Hoseok asked with a small scoff in disbelief as he held up a charcoal pentagram and a bundle of sage. There were skeleton paper weights and bottles of various oils that gave the shop an herbal smell he couldn’t tell if he liked or not.

Jungkook didn’t have much to say, only shrugged his shoulders in response as he let his attention be drawn toward a hanging suncatcher that caught the red light used to warm the plants in the cold. His hand reached out to touch, watching it dangle and effortlessly swing away from him. There was no one behind the wooden counter filled with handmade jewelry made of copper and nickel twisted in various designs of trees, moons, suns and vines circling around crystals. There was an open book at the counter and he curiously walked toward it, wondering if it was a product list or maybe even the name of the person working but he could barely make out the words or even the dark sketches.

Just as he came to admit there was nobody here, a soft mewl caught his attention.

Yellow eyes stared into his brown ones as he looked up at the wall of ceramic figures behind the counter, and a black cat sat perfectly still next to a small sc of a dragon. He couldn’t look away from it, even when a soft sound of footsteps were heard from behind a tall, woven tapestry with embroidered stars that concealed a wooden spiral staircase.

“Coal, where’d you run off to?” Your voice was light and whimsical yet when you appeared behind the counter, you were dressed in black, a lot of it. A long black skirt with a thin black top that had green vines laced throughout it. Over it you had on a black shawl slipped down your shoulders.

Jungkook and Hoseok shared a strange look as they stood unnoticed while you picked up your cat to scold him for leaving while you talked. Jungkook tried to grab your attention by clearing his throat and once your eyes were on his, he smiled, “Um… hi, we saw that your shop was open and we were won—“

“Coal, I told you to flip the sign,” you whispered to the black cat as you let him jump out of your arms with an annoyed meow when you whispered, “Bad kitty.”

“Uh…” Jungkook couldn’t hide his look of confusion at the way you acted, “We’re uh, we’re lost and we were wondering if you had a phone we could use to call a tow truck.”

“Oh? Have you been in an accident?” You asked curiously, tucking some hair behind your ear creating a small jingle with all the jewelry you wore.

“Funny story actually,” Hoseok said, making you look him over with a raised brow—unable to ignore the bloody hockey jersey he wore, “We were at a party and uh, we got robbed. It was a whole shit show, honestly, we’ve been walking for over an hour and our car broke down so we’re going through it and we really just need a phone.”

“Coal, can you get my phone?” You turned to the cat that had made itself comfortable laying in a basket of dried moss. The cat didn’t make a move to leave, instead he turned his head away making you roll your eyes and add, “Please?”

Jungkook watched the cat run off behind the curtain with interest before looking at you, your eyes already on his, “So what kind of place is this?”

“It’s your local apothecary! Herbs, oils, incense—your occasional occult stuff, we specialize in the craft,” you said with a bubbly voice, “All very interesting stuff.”

“I’ll say,” Hoseok lifted a finger to tap on the mason jar filled with green liquid.

“What are you supposed to be?” You asked rather suddenly, turning your attention to Jungkook.

“Me?” Jungkook asked, looking down at himself, “I’m Dumbledore.”

He thought the long white beard, oversized robe and elder wand made that abundantly clear. You looked him up and down, “Hm.”

Hoseok couldn’t help but release a chuckle at the way you very clearly judged his friend’s choice of costume, “Yeah, I told him he would pull no bitches dressed like th—“

“Hobi,” Jungkook cut him off, motioning toward you with his head at the way your eye seemed to twitch with what he said. He tried to think of something to say but you were no longer interested when your cat came with the top of a phone case in his mouth. He set it down on the counter, letting his tail curl around your arm before leaving with a purr.

When you unlocked your phone, Jungkook thanked you and quickly tried to call a tow truck only to be told there were none open now. Hoseok couldn’t hide the fact that he was tired and found himself lying comfortably in a dark green daybed surrounded by books, leaving his friend to deal with all the hard parts. You didn’t say or rush anything when he took your phone and instead chose to watch him pace back and forth dialing every number he knew.

“This place is cozy,” Hoseok admitted, “I could nap here.”

“Coal, does it all the time,” you said with a soft smile, both tuning out Jungkook who was getting more annoyed by the second.

“Hyung, please pick us up,” Jungkook said in the background, tired of the itchy long beard so he snatched it off.

“I might get a promotion this week, what’s something I can use to wish me luck?” Hoseok asked, looking around the shop.

“I can help you make a spell jar, grab a basket,” you said cheerily as the hockey player got up to do as told. Jungkook tapped on the glass counter, starting a staring contest with the black cat while you and Hoseok began to collect herbs.

“I’ll send you my location,” Jungkook told the person on the phone, “15 minutes? We can wait here.”

“What does cinnamon do?” Hoseok asked, drawing Jungkook’s attention toward him.

“Alright, thanks Joon.” Jungkook hung up the phone, “Namjoon is coming for us. What are you guys doing?”

“Have you ever done a palm reading?” You asked Hoseok, ignoring Jungkook.

“No, but I’m down to try.”

“Sorry for keeping you up,” Jungkook said with a tired sigh as he looked at you hoping for a bit of acknowledgment on your part but you were currently helping Hoseok seal a mason jar with green candle wax.

Look…

Just listen…

Jungkook doesn’t think he has a type. He’s been with every type of girl possible since he started college but he’s never spoken to anyone like you. It’s not even just the way you’re dressed or the way you speak to your car but it’s also the store you worked at—or owned[?]. You’ve got his best friend making a good luck spell in the middle of the night and yet all Jungkook could think about is how cute you were.

Your skirt was fitted and it hugged your waist perfectly, exposing your torso and the way your shawl hung around your elbows instead of your shoulders was hot. You had these eyes that drew him in too, maybe it was your smudged dark makeup that made them stand out or the way you didn’t shy from staring into his eyes but he found it hard to look away.

“It’s a full moon tonight,” you said to him, “I was going to stay up anyway. I’ve already set up water to charge overnight.”

His brows furrowed, “Well, thanks anyway. What’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

“I’m Hoseok but you can call me Hobi,” Hoseok said with a confident smile, “This great wizard is Jungkook.”

“Dumbledore,” you said questioningly, “You took off your beard.”

“It was itchy,” Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly.

You looked behind him, “Coal doesn’t seem to think so.”

Jungkook followed your stare, finding the black cat suddenly wearing the long white beard. Hoseok laughed, “Not you putting the beard on the cat, Kook.”

“I didn’t,” Jungkook scratched the back of his head, “Did I?”

You brushed past him, a soft scent of lavender incense overwhelmed him in a pleasant way and he couldn’t help but watch you in awe. There was just something about you… or maybe he’s had a long night and is imagining it.

“Joon is here.”

He can’t explain what it is but he can’t stop looking at you. Every move you made had his attention no matter how small and for a moment he forgot who else was around.

“Jungkook,” Hoseok snapped his fingers in front of his face, pointing out the window at the car parked outside, “Namjoon is here.”

“Oh, right,” Jungkook shook his head to snap out of the small trance he had been in, “Um, thank you Y/n, for letting us in.”

“No worries, Dumbledore, it made for an interesting night,” you held your cat in your arms now, forcing it to wave its paw goodbye, “And I do hope you tell me if the spell worked, Hobi.”

The two wanderers left the small shop of wonders and got in their friend’s car without further question, ending their night on a strange note that left one of them with curiosity.

The shop was home to you. It is where you felt most comfortable and it was passed down to you from a young age. It was a responsibility to help everyone who walked in, even if they asked for questionable things, you had to be there for them.

That’s why when a woman came in with tears down her face and a bundle of cash, you couldn’t just turn her away. Today your friend was working with you and he excelled in this sort of magic better than you did so you let him take the reel. He never seemed to mind intervening in the love lives of others and the shop was a safe space for men who’ve just been robbed and women who’ve been wronged.

“He’s a cheater,” she cried, “He lied to me a-and he thinks I’m just dumb. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” your friend said with a small smile, “Men like that can’t just walk around without any repercussions.”

“Jimin,” you warned him softly, watching the way he seemed to get the woman hyped on the thought of getting back at her husband. This is where he specialized, any sort of love magic no matter how bad, he loved it. You weren’t like him, you believed too much in karma to involve yourself in bad situations but you were never able to talk him out of it and it made the customer happy.

“Hush, Y/n, a simple hex never hurt anyone,” Jimin said, practically kicking his feet with glee, “Would that make you feel better, honey?”

The woman nodded her head, completely hypnotized by your best friend he disappeared behind another curtain toward the greenhouse. You waited behind idly, unsure what to do or say when a delivery driver pulled up in front of the building. Coal had flipped the sign to ‘CLOSED’ while Jimin performed his magic and the driver got out of his car holding a bouquet of flowers and a small box.

“Trust me, after this he won’t ever be able to please another woman again,” Jimin told her as he cut into a rotten eggplant.

You left the two quietly, making your way to the front door and ignoring the instructions Jimin gave the woman as she began to repeat the small chant he said.

You opened the shop door, stepping out, “Are you looking for someone?”

“Um… is this Scarlet&Sage? I’m looking for a Y/n.”

“That’s me,” you told him with furrowed brows, eyes widening as he practically shoved the bouquet of flowers into your hands and the gift box, asking you to sign before leaving. It took you a moment to process what happened before you headed back inside, just in time to watch Jimin finish the hex by helping the woman sew up the cut eggplant with candle wax and twine.

“You’ll want to leave this somewhere he can’t find it,” Jimin told her but you left before you could hear anything else.

You carried your things to the back room which was really just an extended shed of herbs and dried plants, Coal following close behind with curiosity as you opened up the small envelope inside.

‘Thank you for helping two strangers out so late in the night :) hopefully we’ll cross paths again

— Jeon Jungkook, Dumbledore’

The letter made you smile, a small blush forming on your cheeks when you pulled the lid off the box and gasped. Inside were two things, the first being a black hair clip with a pretty design on it and the second was a cat toy—Halloween themed. There was a sticky note on the plush skeleton fish that said, ‘For Cole’ on it that had you both sighing in disbelief.

Coal scratched at the note until it fell away from his new toy and ran away with it, surely to sulk at the misspelling of his name and pretend like he didn’t like the gift.

“Who’s the admirer?”

A light yell left your lips, nearly dropping the box as Jimin appeared at the doorway, “What admirer?”

“This one,” Jimin took the bouquet, examining it quickly with pursed lips, “Do tell me, Y/n, I am dying for the smallest sign of human interaction you might receive. I feel like you’ve become a recluse.”

“I have not,” you argued, letting him cut the tips of the stems, summoning over a vase with a wave of his hand that had it sliding across the wooden countertop to where he was, “I just… I do not have the time.”

“For?” Jimin asked setting the flowers up beautifully for you, “Oh whatever, just tell me who the flowers are from.”

“Nobody important,” you said almost shyly as your friend led the way back into the shop, ducking his head under twinkly lights and waving a finger to flip the sign back to ‘OPEN’, “The other night two men came in. They needed a phone and I let them use mine, that’s all.”

“Were they attractive?” Jimin asked with a raised brow, his instincts tingling at the hint of romance. Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams played in the background filling in the silence you left behind as you stopped to think about it.

The other night you met a dead hockey player and Dumbledore. Jungkook had been covered completely by old rags until the end when he took off the beard and even then the poor night lighting didn’t do well to make him attractive.

Still, part of you knew the two men would be considered popular just based on their looks.

“I think so,” you told him honestly, “It was hard to know, they were dressed up for a costume party.”

“You should have asked for their number,” Jimin said humorously, “Maybe then this god awful dryspell of yours would end.”

You rolled your eyes at his play on words before welcoming in a group of girls headed toward the crystals, “It’s not a dryspell and we both know it.”

“Oh, right,” Jimin rolled his eyes, “The curse. You give it too much power, sure there have been accidents in the past but those were all mere coincidence!”

“I’m sorry, but my first boyfriend losing a finger just a week after he fingered me for the first time doesn’t sound coincidental,” you half whispered and half shouted.

“It was a bowling accident!” Jimin laughed loudly.

“And what about the guy next door who used to help me water my plants before his house caught on fire?” You asked with a tilt of your hand that had him shrugging.

“Maybe he should’ve worried about the dry air in his own home before coming to yours,” Jimin joked.

“I’m serious, Jimin. Anyone who shows even the slightest interest in me gets hurt, and I mean literally not figuratively,” you said.

It was not a secret and your best friend knew it. Everyone who practiced the craft around here knew of the curse bestowed upon your family.

A curse on any man that dared love any woman in your family—you’ve seen it happen before and you’re not interested in hurting someone because of a centuries old curse you were born with.

Jimin had nothing to say now as he looked at the flowers with such curiosity he could practically picture the man who sent them.

Jeon Jungkook was special and everyone around him knew it. From his looks to his personality, there was not a single person unable to be charmed by him. It was a gift, really, just one smile or one look and he could practically get whatever he wants.

Of course, that’s not always a good thing, and that’s why he takes full blame for what happened last weekend. If he had known the girl who flirted with him had a boyfriend… he would have never hooked up with her in the bathroom. If they never hooked up then his things wouldn’t have been stolen and his tire wouldn’t have been slashed.

Sometimes he forgets that his actions have consequences and that night he learned how much of an asshole he really is to kiss a taken woman. The only good thing that came from it was the strange visit to an even stranger shop with an owner who blew his mind away.

He was beginning to think there’s something wrong with him. Why can’t he stop thinking about you? At first he thought it was out of guilt for bothering you that late so he had flowers delivered as a thank you but you still haven’t left his head. He’s nearly forgotten what you look like and he doesn’t like that.

“I can’t believe I got the promotion,” Hoseok said with a smirk as he plopped down on the chair next to Jungkook’s.

“You worked hard for it,” Jungkook reminded him.

“What if that little jar really did help?” Hoseok asked curiously, making Jungkook laugh suddenly and his brows furrowed, “I’m serious, Kook. I really thought they were gonna give it to the other guy.”

“Hobi, you worked your ass off for it,” Jungkook told him honestly, “Some stupid jar of cloves and cinnamon didn’t do it.”

That made his friend roll his eyes, “Whatever, I’m still stopping by the shop to offer my thanks—“

“You’re going back?” Jungkook asked, a look of interest in his eyes, an idea running rampant in his head at the thought.

There was a sudden urge to see you again running through his veins.

The shop felt surprisingly cozier during the day and it smelled of pomegranate and basil. A few customers shopped around, unable to help themselves from watching the two attractive men look every bit out of place as they felt while a man helped behind the counter.

Jimin popped his head over a jar of worms, eyes widening as he practically ran up the spiral steps in search of you. Your eyes were closed as you imagined a white light running over your body eliminating any piece of bad energy in sight. A set of silver headphones played lulling sounds of nature and the flicker of white candles helped lighten the dark room as you attempted to do your midday meditation. You sat with your legs crossed neatly and your floral skirt touched the ground even when your body floated in the air in concentration.

“Y/n!”

You’ve become one with your surroundings, you felt the energy coursing through you with each deep inhale and exhale you let out and your body became weightless, unable to think of anything but absolute clarity.

“Y/n!”

The sudden yank on your headphones caused you to snap out of the trance, falling to the ground with a hard thud that had you hissing in pain, “Ow!”

“He’s here!” Jimin said, snapping the candles off while helping you untangle your headphones.

“Who?” You asked, wrapping your loose cardigan tighter around your torso.

“The one who delivered the flowers,” Jimin said urgently as he took your hand in his and practically rushed you downstairs. You didn’t even get a chance to put your shoes back on and you had to hold the end of your matcha green skirt up to keep from dragging across the floorboards.

“How do you kno—“

“Instincts,” Jimin said, wiggling his nose, “I can just tell.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him as you joined him downstairs, not fully believing he knew who he was talking about until you saw it with your own eyes. Hoseok was much more familiar to you than the other considering his costume still looked like him but Jungkook was the one who caught your attention. He ditched the gray robes for black jeans and a white shirt under a black and white leather jacket. His hair was sleek and he had facial piercings you didn’t remember seeing last time but he looked good…

“Y/n! I got the promotion!” Hoseok said cheerfully, taking your focus for himself. You smiled sweetly, “Really? That’s wonderful.”

Jungkook found himself speechless when he saw you appearing from behind the celestial tapestry. He can’t explain it but you looked utterly beautiful. The crystal suncatcher he had seen the other night proved its purpose today by reflecting a soft rainbow on your complexion and he found it hypnotizing.

“Did you receive my flowers?” He found himself asking, damn near stuttering. Today you wore a matcha green floral skirt and a cream colored cardigan matched with some crystals around your neck. It didn’t sneak past him the fact that you were barefoot but it seemed to fit you either way.

“I did, they smelled wonderful,” you said joyously, “But…”

His lips parted with worry, ready to ask what happened when a deep meow took his attention. Your black cat curled around your skirt practically begging to be picked up and you did just that, cuddling the feline against your chest, “Coal is a bit bothered by the gift.”

Jungkook was left confused, watching the cat who seemed to be glaring at him, “Cole is?”

“Yeah, you see, you spelled his name wrong,” you said with a sigh, “His name is coal like the carbonized rock, not a man’s name.”

“Oh?” Jungkook tilted his head, “Oh. Coal, black as coal?”

“It’s because he’s a black cat,” Hoseok said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world to name your cat after a fire starter.

“Well, maybe he could appreciate the effort?” Jungkook asked, trying not to think of how ridiculous he sounded practically begging the feeling for forgiveness.

“He’s a bit of a grudge holder but maybe he’ll come around,” you said with a distressed sigh, staring off into the distance seeming like your mind was miles away. Hoseok had lost interest in the conversation as he began to skim through a book about runes while your coworker slash best friend pretended not to eavesdrop behind the counter. Jungkook watched you curiously as you focused on a group of teenage girls nosing through the incense sticks.

“Whatever you said to Hobi seemed to work the other day, he aced the interview,” Jungkook said, feeling the need to try and talk to you still. There’s just something about you.

Your entire essence felt whimsical and he wishes he could pinpoint what has his heart beating so fast but he can’t.

“It was the spell,” you told him with a smile, letting it fade when he scoffed in disbelief.

“No, seriously.”

“I am being serious,” your eyes narrowed, “We put a lot of effort into it.”

Jungkook would love to argue about magic and spells not being real but it was very clear this was not the place to do it—especially not when he can hear the guy behind the counter offer a potion to someone. He seemed like a con artist and yet you worked with him, did that make you one too? When he looked at you, he could easily assume you were dressed up for Halloween, it was October and some people go all out for the month. That could be you…

Or you could be playing a part for the store, doing whatever you could to get the sales going even if it meant packaging herbs in mason jars and calling it a spell.

The look you were giving him made it obvious that you were beginning to question his intentions too and he felt the need to backtrack even if his instincts were telling him not to, “Well uh, whatever you um… did worked.”

You flashed him a pretty smile, already losing interest in him as you turned around to see who was in the store. He couldn’t help but try and follow after you in hopes of keeping your attention on him but when he took a step, he nearly tripped and had to grab you for support. The two of you looked down, a small laugh bubbling in your throat, “Coal! You do not play tricks on people just because you’re mad.”

The cat meowed in response as you suddenly dropped to your knees before him, his heart racing at the action until you began to untie his shoelaces which had been knotted together so he would trip when he took a step. Jungkook laughed nervously, “I don’t remember doing that.”

“It was Coal,” you said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “If anyone knows how to hold a grudge it’s that cat. Coal, say sorry.”

As if the cat understood what you said, he meowed as he ran off, making sure to hit Jungkook’s leg with his tail. He shook his head in disbelief at the way Coal responded so human-like, wondering if his dog acted this way too at times but he didn’t. Bam was always sweet and energetic, not a grudge holder or trickster like the feline. With a sigh he tried moving on, looking around for you only for you to be going behind a curtain toward a greenhouse. Jungkook didn’t hesitate to follow you, not caring about the sign that said no customers and searching for you.

“So, Y/n, I was wondering if you were busy tomorrow,” Jungkook said suddenly, “I was thinking we can get dinner as a thank you for the other night.”

“Oh,” you came to a stop, staring at a basket of molasses and shook your head, “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Jungkook was left speechless, unsure what to say as you once again seemed to disappear before his very own eyes, leaving him to look around confused and alone. He had no choice but to head back to the main store where he found you tying a string around Hoseok’s wrist. How did you move so quickly?

You mumbled something to his friend that he couldn’t quite hear and he’ll admit it made him a bit jealous. It’s not that he had strong feelings for you but here he is fighting plowing after that y only for you to wander off away from him. Was something wrong with him? Were you more interested in Hoseok? Jungkook had never struggled to keep a girl’s attention and yet it feels like your mind is everywhere else but him. Sure, you might be different from his usual type but did that mean he was different from yours? What kind of guy is your type anyway?

Someone with glasses who likes astrology?

“Jungkook,” you called for him rather softly and yet he went to you as if on command. You held up a string necklace with some sort of rock or marble on it and he didn’t hesitate to lean down so you could put it on him. It was a blue marble with a white circle and a black dot inside the circle.

“What is this?” He asked, swallowing dryly when your hands brushed against his neck.

“It has many names depending on where you’re from but, it’s an evil eye. It helps protect you from misfortune and anyone who wishes ill intent toward you,” you told him, making sure the bead sat perfectly between his collarbone, “I figured after the night you got your things stolen, it was better to stay protected.”

“Is there anything that would protect me against him, Y/n?” Hoseok joked, joining the two of you now, “If anyone brings me bad luck it’s Jungkook considering he’s the reason everyone’s always out to get us.”

He turned to Hoseok ready to tell him to shut up but his friend always struggled to read the room. Hoseok just laughed like he was telling the funniest joke, “Don’t look at me like that, it’s true. Who’s the one who made out with a girl who’s already taken?”

“I didn’t know,” Jungkook said and despite it being the truth, everyone looked at him differently now.

“So you’re one of those guys,” the man behind the counter said with a mischievous smirk that had Jungkook turning around to look at him. “One of what guys?”

“The ones I hex—“

“So!” You cut Jimin off suddenly, standing directly in front of Jungkook now, chest nearly touching his that his breath caught in his throat, “What are your plans for the night? Are we taking too much of your time? I’m sure it was a long drive out.”

“Is this a subtle way of saying it’s about time we leave?” Jungkook asked with an amused smile, a bit taken back by how flustered you seem to be. There was something charming about you, a complete stranger, and it keeps drawing him in. He finds you physically attractive in a way he’s never found anyone like before. He thinks you dress differently, you present yourself differently, you remind him of a fairy or some mythological creature—just enchanting… and it makes him feel ridiculous.

Why does he feel this way toward you?

“I—That’s not h-how I meant it,” you shook your head, blush running through your cheeks, “I just assumed you probably had more important things to do.”

“And what if I said this was the important thing for today?” He asked with a tilt of his head, not caring much for his friend who was busy looking at all the crystals or the guy behind the counter who pretended not to listen, “Talking to you.”

This time around he raised a smile from you, “It would be flattering, but I know it’s not.”

He smiled, “What if it was?”

You didn’t hesitate to look into his eyes despite the way he seemed to close the distance between you like you were the only two in the shop, “It’s not.”

“Why don’t you think so?” He asked, attempting to rest his arm on the counter only for him to hit Coal instead, awkwardly jumping back and watching you smile with amusement.

“Because it would be so sad to hold a mere occurrence with me, a complete stranger, with such high importance.” The tone you said it in sounded cute, like you were genuinely pitying him for living such a boring life even if that wasn’t the case.

It took Jungkook a second to process your response and he couldn’t go any further. It was very clear you didn’t want him around anymore and you already rejected his proposal to go out. He did not want to seem like a pushy person and he has to just accept that you’re simply not interested. Does it make sense to him? No. He’s a catch, every girl tends to want him—but he won’t push any further.

He swears.

“I guess we’ll get going then and let you get back to work,” Jungkook couldn’t help but look back down at your patterned skirt or pretty neck adorned with handmade jewelry, “Maybe next time I’ll buy something.”

“Next time?” You asked as he grabbed the back of Hoseok’s shirt, dragging him behind toward the front door. Jungkook smirked, “Yeah! I mean… this can’t possibly be the end, right?”

“Well, I didn’t think anything here would pique your interest,” you said looking around at the dangling gold stars and the hanging tapestries stuck to the ceiling.

“On the contrary,” he practically mimicked your form of speech as he shoved Hobi out the door, “My interest has been piqued. I’ll see you around?”

You wrapped your cardigan around yourself more snugly, feet finally growing cold under the flooring and appearing more flustered, “I guess so.”

He smiled, waving goodbye as he fought off Hoseok who nearly jumped over him to bid his own farewell.

“Oh, he’s smitten,” Jimin laughed the second the door shut with the chime of the bell above it. It made you roll your eyes almost instantly, “He’ll get over it. He seems like a flirt.”

“Mhm, and he’s flirting with you,” Jimin said, watching you with amusement, “Whatever shall you do?”

“What I always do,” you told him matter-of-factly, “Ignore.”

Jimin looked down at the book of moon magic before him, pretending to skim through it, “Like you always do? And how’s that working out for your love life.”

“Listen to yourself, you love witch,” you said with a groan, lifting a finger to slide the book away from him without touching it, “He’s a stranger.”

“Don’t they always start out that way?” Invincible hands opened the book for him as it slid across the counter till it was directly in front of him again and he resumed to read.

Jimin shrugged, “I’m just saying. It wouldn’t kill you to open up to someone.”

“It would probably kill them.”

“Yeah, but there are plenty of fish in the sea and way too many men in the world.”

The sky was a shade between blue and gray, and every now and then he could feel a rare drop of water fall on him as it threatened to sprinkle. The autumn leaves crunched under his thick shoes as he crossed the lawn of the courtyard on his way to his next class—running behind only a little.

You would think being in his last semester of schooling would make him have his shit together but it really only seems to make his life a bigger mess than before. It’s like it hasn’t clicked in his mind yet how close he is to the end and he still wants to spend his weekends getting drunk at parties and showing up to Monday morning lectures way too late.

“Jungkook!”

To be honest, he doesn’t ever want to admit it but his life is a hot mess. He’s all over the place—all the time. He gets into bad situations with girls and he does awful in school. He’s not that great at work and he struggles to focus on anything but he doesn’t know what to do.

The night of the party was a bit of a wake up call to him. Obviously he hadn’t changed yet but… he got his shit stolen and his car broke down in the same night. That’s enough drama to get a man thinking about his life choices. He needs to make changes but he doesn’t know how. How does he give up the parties and the drinking so he could take things more seriously?

“Jungkook!”

“Huh?” He slipped an AirPod out of his ear as he turned around in search of who called for him. About a foot or so away from him stood a girl, short blonde hair, painted red lips and Chanel jewelry on. She was the sort of attractive that anyone walking past might turn and stare but he just seemed to tilt his head with curiosity.

“We met at the club a few weeks ago, remember?” She asked, looking up at him with flirty eyes, “You bought me a drink?”

“I did?” Jungkook asked, letting his eyes trail down her head to her body and so on, “What’s up?”

“Oh, uh, I was wondering if you were busy today? I’ve seen you around campus and I still owe you for the drink so how about some coffee?” She asked running her fingers through her hair.

“I’m good but thanks,” Jungkook said, already attempting to walk away. He’s late for his lecture and he’s sure the professor won’t bother opening the door for him so he’s better off going to the library until his next class. He’s got two more lectures and then he’ll work tonight so there’s no time to go out with a girl he doesn’t even remember the name of.

“Wait! I just… yknow. I just want to say thank you for the drink,” she follows after him, “One cup won’t hurt anyone, right?”

He looked back down at her with a sigh. She really was cute and his usual type but he’s not interested. Sure he has about two hours before his next lecture but does he really want to waste that time on some girl he met while drunk [that he most likely only approached because he wanted to hook up with her?].

“Alright, can I pick the place?” Jungkook asked suddenly, watching the girls eyes widen happily as she eagerly nodded her head.

Jungkook had no idea why he agreed or where he even planned on taking her, he just knew it was a bit far but familiar—to him, at least.

He didn’t give her much room to come up with anything either before they were catching a bus to the other side of town where the buildings looked older and more fit for the fall season with the dead leaves and puddles in the dark pavement. Scarlet&Sage looked surprisingly busy today with customers going in and out without stop.

He only knew this because the coffee shop he was currently at was right across the street from it. Please do not ask him how this came about… he’s not sure. He just remembers seeing the cafè the last time he came over here and when the blonde girl asked for coffee it was the first place that came to mind. It had absolutely nothing to do with the whimsical character he’s encountered in the small shop of wonders.

“So, do you like the coffee here?” The blonde asked as they sat at a small round table near the large window that gave him the perfect view of the outside.

“It’s alright,” Jungkook mumbled, looking down at his cup wondering what you might be doing.

It’s not that he was weirdly obsessed or anything. He was just mildly interested.

Mildly.

His attention should be on the blonde but he couldn’t even remember her name and he was too embarrassed to ask. He talks to a lot of girls like her… he’s hooked up with a lot of girls like her and sometimes they all start to blend and he just can’t pick them apart. As stated, the blonde is hot, he’s not going to deny that and clearly he had approached her at some club for that reason but right now she just seems so bland.

It’s become a bit of a problem of his and he’s beginning to notice it. Jungkook did not consider himself a player by any means but he would be lying if he said he didn’t date a lot of girls. That’s why right now that he’s with some random girl who invited him to coffee, he couldn’t really think of her. He only agreed as an excuse to come to this side of town in hopes of stopping by the shop but now he’s stuck here with a stranger while you’re across the street doing who knows what.

The shop had been busy at open but once the rush had gone, things had visibly slowed down for the two witches. Jimin was bored to death, arguing with Coal over the dumbest of things and you tried busying yourself with useless flicks of your finger to turn on and off all the candles on the counter. Crystals by Stevie Nicks played from a small boombox tucked into a bookshelf and the cold autumn day dragged by too slow for your liking.

It’s not that you expect an exciting day on the regular but ever since you met those two strangers one October night, you couldn’t help but wonder if you would have more occurrences like that. When Jungkook sent the gift and flowers it was a nice surprise that brightened your day and when he and Hoseok popped in a few days later… well that also brought a sense of warmth. It couldn’t possibly be because you were interested in seeing Jungkook again despite how obviously handsome he was.

You do not allow yourself to fall in love or even gain a small crush toward anyone when you know the repercussions. Jimin could mock you for it all he wants but the curse has proven to be true time and time in your line of witches and you do not want anyone to fall victim to it because you foolishly allowed yourself to like someone.

Sure, deep down you’re a romantic but aren’t most people? Don’t most people wish to meet that one person that makes their heart race or their smile widen? Someone they find comfort in without even realizing it at first but once you do you don’t ever want to leave their arms? Isn’t that what everyone wishes even when they don’t know it? Even the most anti-romantic individual must at some point crave the intimacy that comes with finding the one they love.

It’s inevitable to feel this way but you can’t act upon any feelings you might have toward someone—you shouldn’t, and therefore you remain single despite something inside you wishing to change that. It’s for the best, honestly and maybe if you wish strong enough… you’ll never have to see Jungkook again because despite not knowing him at all… you can’t help but think about him.

“Y/n, I have a favor to ask,” Jimin said with a sigh as he joined you at the counter, “And there was nobody else I could think to ask this of aside from my most beautiful celestially whimsical best friend.”

The corners of your lips curved upward, rolling your eyes playfully as you waited for him to go on and just say it. His eyes met yours and with an adorable pout he asked, “Do you mind running to the post office for me? I’ve got a palm reading appointment in ten.”

“Oh, I suppose I could make a quick run,” you told him with a dramatic sigh, fighting back a smile when he squeezed your face in his hands. “I absolutely adore you, you beautiful witch.”

Jimin left to retrieve two white envelopes he needed you to drop off and you took them happily, heading to the door when you turned back to look at him, “Remind how amazing I am for doing the smallest of tasks for you.”

“Undeniably amazing.”

The coffee at the cafe was not memorable at all, in fact, Jungkook doesn’t know if he would ever come back again but deep down he knows he will, even if it’s just an excuse to stare at Scarlet&Sage. He’s ashamed to admit he couldn’t even pretend to act interested in what the blonde said and at some point she must’ve realized that because they sat together in silence. Her eyes wandered around the cafe while his focused on the brick storefront of your shop, wondering if he should stop by and say hello or not.

When the door seemed to open from the inside, he could physically feel his heart race and soon enough… you were there standing in a dark blue velvet slip dress with brown leather boots and golden star clips in your hair, shivering slightly with the cold and he acted before he could think.

“I’ll be right back,” Jungkook said abruptly, raising to his feet, not bothering to even look back at the blonde when she called his name and left the shop with all his things.

“Y/n!”

You read the sending addresses on the envelopes, smiling when you realized Jimin was sending this to a good friend of yours. At first, you didn’t hear the call of your name. If anything made you stop, it was the sudden howl of wind that had a stream of fallen leaves circling around you, following the sight of them until you turned back to find the one person you had been thinking about standing there before you.

“Jungkook?” You couldn’t hide the look of pleasant surprise on your face as you gave him a moment to catch up to you, “Did you trim your hair?”

That made him pause for a moment as he ran his fingers through the short black hair, shy smile on his face, “I did. Does it look bad?”

He didn’t ask where you were going when he began to walk alongside you. You shook your head, “I like it. It suits you, but I’m sure everything does, Dumbledore.”

“Will you ever let that go?” He asked slightly embarrassed by the worst night of his life and how strangely it was the reason the two of you met.

“Oh, of course,” you said, unable to catch the playful tone in his voice, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I didn—you didn—I just meant…” Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly, “Um… so what are you doing?”

“I’m running an errand for Jimin,” you told him casually, turning the corner of the block with him at your side, “And what about you?”

“I wanted to try the coffee place across the street from you. I missed a class today and had time so…” Jungkook bit his lip wondering what more to say.

“The coffee is not good,” you said and he smiled. “It isn’t.”

“So… Y/n, I know last time you said it wasn’t a good idea but… I don’t know, I was wondering if maybe we could still try and get dinner. I don’t mean to push bu—“

“Why?” You asked suddenly, big sparkly eyes staring at him that he felt his breath hitch when the two of you stopped in front of the post office. He had to blink away the shock a few times before he was able to snap back into reality. Jungkook reached for the door, hearing the sound of bells above as he let you brush past him and head inside.

Why? What did you mean why? Did you find it strange that he wanted to go out with you? Did you think he had no valid reason to seek you out? Did he?

You left his side to drop the envelopes down the shoot before returning to him with a soft hum, singing some indie song in your head, thanking him when he held the door open for you again.

“I wish I could give you a million reasons as to why but I can’t,” Jungkook told you honestly, watching the way you seemed to shiver in the cold again. You forgot a cardigan or shawl and were sincerely regretting it now. He didn’t hesitate to take off his crewneck, offering it to you despite the cold biting his skin now and he finished his thoughts, “I only have one, Y/n and I think it’s fairly simple. I want to get to know you because I find you beautiful and interesting and you make me curious.”

“A lot of people are beautiful and interesting,” you tried to brush him off despite the sudden warmth running through your veins as you became overwhelmed by the lingering scent of his cologne on the sweater.

“But not like you,” he said and he surprised himself. When has he ever called someone beautiful and mean it? Another rustle of wind carried dead leaves in the air, this time circling around the two of you and you couldn’t help but watch one get caught in his hair.

“I don’t get you,” you admitted, walking a bit faster toward the shop now, “We’re practically strangers still and I’ve said no once so… yknow… I mean… wouldn’t you have other girls to try? Probably prettier ones and more outgoing so really there’s no need to try and go out with me when I’m sure you have better options out there with people you’re much closer to.”

Jungkook scoffed, a small smirk on his face, “I didn't think there was anything to get. I… well… yes, I do know others who I could ask but I’m not interested in any of them, only you.”

Was it that obvious that he had become a bit of a player? A romantic who jumped into relationships or flings for the adrenaline they brought? Could you read that on his face? With the way you turned to look into his eyes, he wondered if that really was the case.

You shouldn’t involve yourself with him.

It’ll only complicate things.

He seems to be a flirt, he could get anyone he wants so why is he stuck on you?

You’re already a bit interested in him too and that’s dangerous but when you look at his neck and see the necklace you gave him, you felt happy—not good.

“I’m a witch.”

Jungkook chuckled suddenly, unable to tell if you were trying to change the mood or scare him off, “Good thing it’s October and it’s the Season of the Witch.”

He doesn’t believe you, obviously—or well, not to the extent that you mean. It’s not a secret you like the craft but he doesn’t expect you to have a flying broomstick lying around.

“It’s the truth, Jungkook,” you told him as you neared the shop, “And that means I’m not good for you.”

“Why? Because you have a black cat and love crystals?” Jungkook joked lightheartedly.

“No. Because I have a curse to those who like me and it could really put them in danger,” you said and for a second he seemed to falter… genuinely wondering if you were being serious or not. He doesn’t believe in magic or curses like you’ve convinced Hobi to but it was an odd thing to say… maybe.

Maybe it wasn’t odd at all considering your lifestyle choice but…

But…

No.

You can’t just suddenly tell him that and expect him to believe it. It’s one thing to be fascinated by it all and open a store about it and actually—

Magic isn’t real.

Curses aren’t real.

“So you reject me because of a curse?” He asked, studying you closely to see how he would react. You didn’t reject him because you were uninterested, but because you believe you’re cursed? He knew you were a bit odd when he first met you but to this extent? And to know it hadn’t scared him back to the blonde who was surely already visiting Jimin to hex him. “And not because you want nothing to do with me?”

You bit your lip, “It’s complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said, “Y/n, curses only have power if you believe in them and I don’t.”

Your eyes widened, unsure if you should be offended by his utter blindness to the magical or amazed by his clear mindset. What were you going on about? Did you expect him to run away when you said? Had you hoped he would? Would that have made it easier to not think about him? Maybe he just doesn’t fully believe you yet. Magic is a hard thing for everyone to accept.

People don’t want to believe what they can’t see.

“I should head inside now,” you told him quietly and you could visibly see the way he dejected, with his shoulders drooping, “And there’s something sticking out of your pocket.”

Jungkook barely had a second to process what you said before you were leaving him alone outside with his eyebrows furrowed as he felt around his black jeans with confusion.

His gaze softened with curiosity as he pulled out a piece of folded parchment paper from his pocket and opened it hurriedly.

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you but here’s my number. xxx-xxx-xxxx — Y/n ☽’

Despite the utter confusion he felt on how you managed to put this note in his pocket, he felt more happy to know you’re opening yourself to him. He could worry about the strangeness of this later when it doesn’t feel like he’s on cloud 9 from simply getting a girls number.

“Jungkook!”

He bit the insides of his cheeks to hide a growing smile as he stuffed the paper back in his pocket, looking up with surprise as the blonde came up to him, “What happened? You suddenly left with some weirdo an—“

“I’m not interested,” Jungkook rushed out, “I’m so sorry, I seriously am but I can’t even remember your name and I’ve been too embarrassed to ask. You seem very nice and I’m sure I would’ve loved to get to know you but… but I want to pursue something with someone else. She’s a witch, apparently, which I find it hard to believe but she’s given me this note and I have no idea when she managed to give it to me without me knowing but it’s all so interesting and I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before over something so sm—“

“Asshole,” the girl gave him a small shove, cutting off his rant and stormed away from him. He watched her go with a bit of pity because she was right. He was an asshole… for taking her invitation and using it to meet you. For leading other girls on and leaving them when he was bored. For wasting their time and he swears he does feel awful now.

He wants to be different and he’s wondering if his racing heart for you would be the start.

Even with the shove the blonde had given him, he couldn’t help but smile and pull out the paper again to read over the note as many times as necessary just to remember today.

And so it began despite the countless amount of times you told yourself not to fall for anyone. It was hard when he was texting you as often as he could.

jungkook: I still want to kno how u got the note in my pocket

y/n: with magic, silly

jungkook: like a magician’s?

y/n: no :/

y/n: like a witch’s.

jungkook: …

jungkook: why are u so cute

y/n: glamour magic?

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” Jungkook’s friend asked one day as they met up at the campus library. He looked up at Taehyung who sat down across from him on some comfortable lounge chairs, already getting his laptop out.

“Her name’s Y/n,” Jungkook sat up, “She’s a bit strange and unusual—but in a good way!”

Taehyung’s brows furrowed, “Cool, I guess. Anyway, are you coming this weekend?”

“Where to?” He asked, biting his lip as he thought of what to say back.

jungkook: or maybe that’s just how u are

y/n: maybe ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა but I’m dangerous

“Joon’s Halloween party,” Taehyung said, watching his friend smile before quickly typing.

jungkook: right…

jungkook: bc of the curse?

y/n: yeah

jungkook: nothing has happened to me yet

“Who?” Jungkook asked absentmindedly as he looked up for a mere second.

“Who?! Boy, don’t play with me. Namjoon. Kim Namjoon, big meaty buff Namjoon, our friend?” Taehyung scoffed with a laugh. Jungkook chuckled, “Oh right. Um… maybe.”

y/n: that’s bc we haven’t gone out

jungkook: so let’s change that and test the theory

jungkook: what r u doing tonight?

“I’ve invited some girls to meet us there, super hot, trust me you’ll like em,” Taehyung said despite how obvious Jungkook’s interest in you seemed. He had literally just brought you up and yet Taehyung didn’t seem to think that was going to stop Jungkook from wanting to meet other girls.

“Yeah…” Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly, leg bouncing anxiously as he waited for you to answer, “I’m not really interested.”

Taehyung audibly laughed, not believing his friend as he opened his laptop to do some work. Jungkook narrowed his eyes at him, “I’m serious. I’m talking to someone right now.”

“I mean… are you bringing her this weekend?” Taehyung asked, making Jungkook shrug his shoulders. “I’m not sure Y/n would want to go.”

y/n: it’s a full moon tonight

y/n: but I’m free

jungkook: want to go out for dinner?

y/n: okay ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

The smile that grew on his face from your text nearly slipped when Taehyung spoke up, “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Come on man, it’s not like you’re dating anyone and if so when has that ever stopped you from a good time?”

“I’m not saying I won’t go, but I’m saying I don’t want to talk to any other girls, man,” Jungkook said with a sigh as he checked the time on his screen, “Alright, I’ve got to get ready.”

“Why? You don’t work till later, right?” Taehyung asked while watching his friend gather his things to leave. Jungkook nodded, “Yeah but I’ve got plans after so I have to get ready now. I’ll see you this weekend?”

Taehyung gave up on his friend and waved him off with a dismissed goodbye.

“A date?!” Jimin nearly yelled into your ear as the two of you watered the plants in the greenhouse, “You have a date tonight?!”

“No,” you shook your head, “It's not like that… Jungkook and I are just getting dinner.”

“As a date,” Jimin said with a roll of his eyes, “There’s no point denying it, Y/n. I will admit he’s not the type I thought you would go for but I support it fully if it means you’ll finally let someone in.”

“Why are you being so dramatic?” You asked, “I’m… I only agreed to dinner because he asked and I didn’t want to reject him again. Once he’s gotten. What he wants I’m sure he’ll move on to the next.”

“Y/n,” Jimin’s tone was stronger than usual, “I don’t believe that. Even if Jungkook seems to be the type… he can clearly tell there’s something about you that makes things worthwhile. Stop doubting it and just allow yourself to go out with someone.”

Just as you were about to try and brush this off with an excuse that you had to leave, Coal came prancing in holding the small skeleton fish Jungkook bought for him and set it before you to play.

When Jungkook arrived in front of the shop, he’s not sure what he expected. You looked as pretty as usual in a brown floral maxi dress and a thin lace cardigan and shimmer in your hair. You always looked pretty to him, natural and whimsical, ethereal. He’s not sure why he feels this way but he does and he likes the feeling.

“Hi,” Jungkook felt breathless as he held the car door open for you, unsure why he felt nervous at all. He’s been on hundreds of dinner dates, this was nothing new for him so why were his hands growing clammy?

“You’re nervous?” You asked, finger brushing against the front of his white shirt. A smile came to his face, “Maybe.”

“Why?” You asked even as your own heart raced with nerves.

“Honestly…” Jungkook bit his lip, waiting at your door, “I don’t know, you make me nervous.”

“Is that good or bad?” You asked.

“Good, I think,” Jungkook smiled as he shut the car door and rounded to his side.

He had no reason to be nervous, really, Jungkook was into you and he had a feeling you were into him too. Why else would you have agreed? Yes, you’re a bit strange and he still doesn’t understand what you mean by curse or how you got the note in his pocket but that doesn’t scare him. Why doesn’t that scare him?

Why did he suddenly feel like dinner wasn’t enough? He always had dinner dates. It was always his go-to first date idea.

You stared out the window as he started the car, completely unaware of his growing panic at the realization. You were more focused on the glowing moon than him and yet the silence in the car didn’t bother him. Usually, whoever he was with would talk his ear off but you were quiet right now. Were you growing bored of him before you gave him a chance to open himself up to you? Would you think the dinner reservation he set for tonight would be too cliché? You don’t seem like a 5-star restaurant date. You don’t seem like the type to care and yet he blindly set the date up in the same manner he did every other girl he went out with.

The thought alone was making him antsy and it was hard to miss the way his finger tapped against the steering wheel as he drove off.

“So, what restaurant are we going to?” You asked in a gentle voice, in hopes that maybe he wouldn’t seem so quiet. The question made him bite his lip, playing with his lip ring as his brows furrowed in thought, “I—um…”

His hands were clammy.

You blinked away your confusion, eyes dropping down to your lap as you asked, “Do you not want to do this anymore?”

“No! I mean… I—I want to but uh,” Jungkook stopped at a red light, “I um…”

How does he tell you what he had planned tonight was the same thing he always did whenever he went on a date with a random girl?

How does he tell you that’s not what he wants for you?

“It’s a full moon tonight?” Jungkook asked suddenly, staring out his tinted windshield. You merely nodded your head silently.

“Change of plans then,” he mumbled to himself, turning on his blinker and when the light turned green he took a completely different route from that of the restaurant. You wanted to question him, wondering if he was taking you back home but after a while the city lights grew fewer and fewer and the hills got bigger and bigger.

Jungkook drove a short distance out of the city where large meadows began to cover fields and fields of hills. He pulled the car to the side of the road and without question he got out, opening the trunk first and you grew worried.

“Is this the plot twist? You drive me out of the city to plan my murder?” You jokingly asked as you got out of the car and joined his side. He rummaged through paper bags pulling out water bottles and small snack bags he must’ve bought a while ago. He grabbed an old blanket he tossed back there after crashing at Namjoon’s place and asked you to walk with him.

“No, it’s just,” Jungkook took a deep breath, trudging through the thick grass in the dark night with only the full moon and stars eliminating his way, “I want to do things differently with you. I wanted to get dinner, yes, but… but it’s a full moon, Y/n. Do you really want to spend your night indoors where you can’t even see it?”

He thought back to the star clips in your hair that shimmered like the sparkles in your eyes. The way you seemed to love the spirituality of life and he didn’t even have to know you well enough to know how in tune you are with nature. One look at you told him everything he needed to know and despite the cold autumn night… he knew you preferred it over wherever he planned on taking you.

“I…” you bit your lip nervously, following after him into the clear meadow surrounded by hills and a single road where the car had been parked, “I’m sorry but I don’t understand.”

“Y/n,” Jungkook stopped to look at you, “I don't know how to explain it but you feel different to me. Since the first night we met, all I could think about was you and I don’t want to ruin the first chance you’ve given me to get to know you by doing the same thing I do every time. I want to do something that would be fun, maybe, different and more to your liking. I want to know why you brought up the moon tonight or why you talk about curses and glamours and why you enjoy the smell of incense. I want to know how the note got in my pocket and how you seem to communicate with Coal like you could truly understand him. The strangeness of it all fascinates me and sitting in a stuffy restaurant eating subpar food won’t tell me anything about you besides that you let me take you on a boring date.”

“You’re a bit strange,” you confessed, a smile growing on your face as small fireflies fill the meadow, “But I like it.”

Jungkook extended the blanket on the ground, throwing the things onto it before collapsing on his side waiting for you to join him. You sat down tucking your dress under your legs and moved to lay on your back, the sound of crickets somewhere off in the distance as you stared up at the sky.

Usually, Jungkook picked the noisiest of places possible so that he wouldn’t have to have his full attention on whoever he was dining with. If the conversation got boring he could always find somewhere else to focus before he would finally just invite him to his bed. Right now he’s got nowhere else to look aside from the night sky and you.

“Do you meditate?” You asked.

“No,” Jungkook said, turning on his back with an arm tucked under his head and the other on the blanket, “But I can try.”

“Okay, take even breaths and try to clear your mind,” you told him as you let your eyes close for a moment, “The full moon is a time to let go and welcome new energy in your life by reflecting on what you need to release.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything as he tried to listen to you, tried to visualize what he would like to let go. What did he need to reflect on?

Was it his grades? His shitty part time job at the convenience store? His past mistakes in relationships?

“Listen to the sounds around you, let them help you find inner peace,” you whispered with the wind catching his breath, small sounds of nature here and there, “Visualize your dreams, your reflections. Find your release.”

It’s his last semester of school and yet he misses class when he’s late. He agrees to go out with girls he has no real intention of getting to know and he puts himself in messy situations that drag his friends along too.

He’s tired of acting the same way he did when he was younger—never took responsibility and was always careless in his actions. Even the other when he went out with the blonde but not because he wanted her, but because he could use her as an excuse to himself to come seek you out. He disregarded her feelings.

When Taehyung approached him about the girls he wanted Jungkook to meet, he expect Jungkook to lie about seeing them even when he was interested in you because that’s what Jungkook usually did.

How does he change his ways?

Tonight he wants to release his toxic patterns.

He wants to embrace change and welcome the shift of energy you brought him. He wants to form deeper connections with those around him and open himself up to new possibilities, no matter how strange.

“Y/n,” Jungkook’s voice came out raspy as his hand felt around the blanket blindly until your fingers brushed against his and he was going to hold onto them, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” You asked him, letting him hold your hand, ignoring the sudden tingle up your arm. His eyes opened, “How do you make me want to find comfort in you when you’re essentially still a stranger to me?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” you said.

“Tell me about the curse,” Jungkook couldn’t believe he was saying it. It was one thing to go along with the joke over text but now that he’s lying here with you, he’s curious.

“Really?” You asked looking at him, watching him nod his head making you sigh, “Why? You don’t believe in it anyway.”

“But you do,” he said truthfully, “And I want to see what makes you believe in i—“

His words slowed down as he watched a butterfly land on your fingertip as if you called for it yourself. He’s not sure if it meant anything or if it was just the utter fascination he had of you but he wanted to kiss you. It had nothing to do with getting you in his bed tonight and everything to do with just feeling you and when he raised his finger to touch yours, he took your hand and pulled you toward him.

You didn’t pull back like he thought you might, and before he could really process it, you were leaning into him. Jungkook placed a hand on your jaw, guiding your lips to his until finally, the softest touch made his insides melt. You kissed him gently, scared almost and his face fit perfectly between your hands as he hovered over you, eyes closed and warm to the touch.

Jungkook felt as if something burst inside him and he just wanted to chase that feeling with your kisses, unable to help himself from getting lost in the moment. He felt a bit numb to his surroundings, the only feeling he had was your lips on his and your tongue running along his with need. His breath was becoming short and the soft push of your hand on his shoulder had him pulling back reluctantly.

“You’re a good kisser,” you whispered against his lips and he couldn’t help but break into a smile, pecking your lips one last time before letting his head drop against your chest.

“It’s late,” he said with a small sigh as he looked up at you, finding your eyes stuck on the full moon.

You looked down at him and he could practically see the way you glowed underneath him.

He didn’t believe in magic or witches but, how else would he explain this feeling of being under a love spell?

And if he allowed himself to believe in love spells then did he have to believe in curses too?

“Now what do you mean you’re not coming tonight?” His friend asked, sporting Jungkook as he did a set of bench presses.

“I don’t know if I’ll make it,” Jungkook answered, counting how many he did, “I’ve got plans with Y/n.”

“And what? She won’t let you out for one night?” Namjoon asked with a slight roll of his eyes as Jungkook set the bar back in place and sat up with deep breaths, “She can’t come with us?”

“It’s not like that,” he shook his head no, “I haven’t even mentioned it to her.”

Namjoon couldn’t help but scoff as he took Jungkook’s place, “Why not? Would she be mad if you told her that you were going out with friends, for fucks sake?”

“What? No, No, Y/n’s not like that,” Jungkook was getting annoyed with his friend’s assumptions, “But I already talked about this with Taehyung. I’m not interested in partying right now or anything. I just wanna… yknow, chill?”

“You don’t even sound like yourself,” Namjoon said with a laugh, deciding to not push any further, “But whatever, I get it.”

“Get what?” Jungkook watched him move the bar to begin his set.

“You’re talking to someone,” Namjoon said with baited breath, “You've gotta be on your best behavior.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, “It’s not like I’m holding myself back. If I wanted to go out, I would.”

He’s being honest. You’re not keeping him from anything and it’s not like he was forcing himself to be someone he’s not but this wasn’t that serious. Yes, he had a tendency to go out with his friends every weekend and lately that’s declined but it’s not because of you necessarily. He’s just realized he’s way too exhausted these days to exert this much energy on a night he would regret by morning. He made terrible decisions and he’s tired of getting himself in trouble because of them.

“Just say the word and we can leave whenever you want,” Jungkook spoke into your ear as you looked around at everyone surrounding you. It was loud and packed with people in costumes, all looking to spend a fun night out celebrating Halloween. You’ll admit, it’s a bit out of your element but you’ll learn to adapt. It will just take some adjustment but the energy seems high and it might be more fun than staying at the shop to hand out candy all night.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, letting him place a hand on your lower back to lead you to the bar. Tonight was the first time you’ll be meeting Jungkook’s friend but you don’t feel nervous. If anything, he seemed more nervous than you and you weren’t sure how to feel about that. Since your first date the two of you have really leveled up whatever has been brewing between you since the night you met.

You’ve been spending more time together but it usually consists of Jungkook visiting you or texting all day. You haven’t had a chance to see more of him yet— as it feels like he’s been trying to accommodate you—so you’re curious to see how the night plays out with him and his friends.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” A loud voice boomed from the bar where you could see a familiar face smile at you. Hoseok waved happily at you as Jungkook led you to him and the others who watched you curiously. Hoseok ditched the hockey player costume for simple skull makeup and a leather jacket.

“There was a line to get in,” Jungkook admitted, slipping his hand in yours and pulling you forward, “What do you want to drink?”

“Surprise me,” you said with a smile. Jungkook ordered something on your behalf before turning to his other friends, “Everyone this is Y/n.”

“Jungkook didn’t do you any justice,” Taehyung said with a curious tilt of his head, “You’re way prettier than he said.”

“Oh no, what else has he said about me?” You asked with a soft tone that had both Taehyung and Namjoon blinking in surprise.

“Um, well…. A lot of things, neither one of them have shut up since they met you,” Namjoon confessed, looking to Hoseok who seemed to also think highly of you.

“Yes, I think Y/n put a spell on me,” Jungkook teased, handing you a bluish lavender drink and sending you a wink. He, of course, still felt nervous considering this is the first time he’s introducing you to his friends. It’s not that he’s embarrassed of you or anything but he’s definitely worried about what his friends would say to you. Not that long ago, Taehyung tried getting Jungkook to lie to you just because he didn’t care for how serious Jungkook felt about you. Now, Taehyung is here talking to you and Jungkook is worried he might say something he shouldn't.

Honestly, when the night started he didn’t expect you to want to come out. Namjoon had been bugging him all day about it and he had full intentions of not going out so he could spend the night handing out candy with you but… It’s like you have a sixth sense and when you asked him if he had any other plans, he told you what he was invited to and asked you to come along. He full heartedly thought you would say no because you don’t seem like the type to come out drinking but for some reason you agreed and he was happy with that.

Of course he was nervous to introduce you to the others but when he looked over at you and found you smiling softly, trying your hardest to be in the moment, he was grateful. His friends didn’t talk bad about him to you despite the occasional teasing and you didn’t seem uncomfortable by it. Every now and then he would run his thumb against your hip to remind you he’s there but mostly, he just listened.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” you said after a while. Taehyung had asked you question after question about the shop or the spell jar you made Hoseok and you indulged him in it all.

“Hm?” Jungkook fixed the tilt in your witch’s hat, “I’m just listening.”

“Are you having fun?” You asked letting his arm encircle your waist until you faced him. He looked at his friends who managed to grab the attention of some girls nearby and were in deep conversation with them.

His shoulders lifted in a shrug, “It’s alright.”

Your nose scrunched up in thought as you looked away from him, he kept you close trying to get you to look back at him, “I mean… yeah it’s fun but it’s loud and hot and… I don’t know, I kinda want it to just be us.”

“Just us?”

“Yeah, my friends have been talking to you all night,” he said it like it was a secret, “And Joon said he wanted me here so I came but now I’m really in the mood for us to leave—unless you want to stay.”

“Are you trying to ditch out on us?” Hoseok put an arm around his shoulders, dragging him into his side, “You barely come out anymore and now you’ve got Y/n here so there’s no reason to not want to party. It’s Halloween!”

“I know, but,” Jungkook played with his lip ring as he smiled lazily, “You’ve been taking all of my girl’s attention and I’m tired of sharing.”

The words slipped out but he didn’t regret them, even when you looked up at him curiously. He expected some sort of response from you but you merely smiled and shrugged like you weren’t apart of this exchange so when Namjoon asked what was up, Jungkook was honest.

“I think we’re calling it a night,” he had your hand in his, pulling into him as he looked at his friends and whatever girls they were with, “But you guys have fun.”

“That’s it?” Taehyung asked, looking at you, “Y/n, you don’t want to go to another bar?”

Jungkook released a small sigh as he looked down at you. He would love to leave but if you wanted to stay and maybe go to a few more places before ending the night… he’d do it but only because it’s what you want.

“I miss my cat,” you said it so casually that the others couldn’t understand it as an answer at first until you were waving goodbye, happy you met them but ready to go.

You didn’t talk much in the car and Jungkook drove carefully taking you back to the shop that was connected to your home. He’s not sure if you were tired or distracted but you stared out the window chasing the moon through the city. At one point he glanced over and found you nipping at your bottom lip with worry but he tried not to overthink it. The night had been good and you got along with his friends so there wasn’t anything he would change but the silence made him worry.

The car pulled up in front of the lantern lit shop and he looked at you with nerves waiting to see how you would Halloween. It was late but there were still a few people in costumes wandering around and too early to really call it a night. You silently pushed open the door, ready to leave when you sighed, “Jungkook.”

He didn’t have to say anything for you to know he’s listening and you turned to him, “Earlier you called me—“

My girl.

“I know,” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “I just meant… I—I don’t know. Was it corny?”

A small laugh left your lips at his sudden question and decided to tease, “Just a little.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was worried about,” Jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle, “I was trying to sound cool and…”

“Failed?”

“Whoa,” he held a hand to his chest, “I wouldn’t go that far.” The car was still on but he made no move to leave and neither did you. Instead, he just looked at you sitting half in his car with the door open, “You didn’t like it?”

“Um, it’s not that but,” you bit your lip in thought, “I’m just worried of your intentions.”

“With you?” He asked quietly, watching you nod your head shyly and he sighed, “You don’t know if it’s worth it.”

It sounded like a statement and he knew he was right. You were worried about the curse, he knew you well enough to know that but he doesn’t care. He wants to go out with you and some stupid age old curse isn’t going to change his mind. He understands that you believe it so he won’t look down on it but he wants to be with you.

“What if I said it was?” Jungkook asked with genuine curiosity, “It’d be the first time I get cursed by a witch.”

He meant the last part as a joke and it got you to smile so he was more comfortable to tease, “Maybe I’ll turn into a cat so Coal and I could be friends.”

“He doesn’t like having friends,” You said with a smile and he could practically see your walls crumble so he kept going.

“That’s a shame because I have a dog and he’s the friendliest boy you’ll ever meet,” Jungkook said with a defeated sigh.

“I’m warning you,” you said but he smiled. “I’ve been warned.”

“I won't be upset if you don’t want to see me anymore. I’m a bit weird, yknow?” You seemed to ask, already beginning to warm up to the idea and it was enough to give him hope.

“I would have never guessed,” he said as he twisted a silver star charm you had styled in your hair, leaning closer and closer till his face was only a couple centimeters away, “And if you’re trying to scare me off, it’s not working—I can wake up with a bald head of hair tomorrow and I’ll be fine with it as long as I get to talk to you again.”

“So, do you want to come up then?” You asked and you didn’t have to say it twice for him to be powering off the engine so he could follow you inside.

For the first time ever, he disappeared behind the celestial tapestry that led up to your front door, trying to look around in the darkness. You liked rich shades of purple and blue. You liked stars and sheer drapes on your ceilings. You liked stain glass lamp shades and big soft rugs. Your house was like a whimsigoth cottage in the city and your bedroom was everything he imagined it to be even in the dark.

He expected you to turn the lights or something but instead you seemed to snap a finger before a couple candles lit up the bedroom and he was lost in wonder. It felt like he was enjoying a cozy night in the woods, like he just rested his head on your lap and listen to you read his palm.

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy,” you shoved a couple books aside and looked around the bedroom, “Is there anything I can get you.”

Jungkook shook his head, deciding to go through your vinyls with curiosity, smiling whenever he saw a vinyl with the word ‘witch’ in the title. You explained to him that it was all Jimin’s doing because he found it funny to buy you every vinyl with a Halloween or witchy vibe to it.

“Jungkook,” you called to his distracted mind and he lifted his eyes to you, the reflection from the lit candles in his gaze. You were standing by the edge of your bed, looking shy as you took off the witch’s hat. His lips parted with surprise, letting his feet take him to you until you were face to face and so close that his front brushed against yours. “Is this really something you want?”

He was the guy who had every girl he wanted. He would go to parties and make out with people he should. He would make bad decisions and regret them right after but this feels far from a bad decision. It’s the first time in a while that something felt right and it had to be you. There’s a reason why he’s been cleaning his act up, going to all his classes, showing up to work on time and ditching the nights out getting drunk.

Of course this was something he wanted.

He wanted you.

He had feelings for you.

You felt warm and he wanted to brush his fingers against your hair. Your touch was gentle but sudden as you ran a hand down the front of his chest, circling around his neck taking all his attention once more and he began to lean into you.

“Of course this is something I want,” he said just above a whisper, letting his hands touch down on your waist, unable to hold himself back any longer before he was pressing his lips to yours and kissing you effortlessly.

You tilted your head back, kissing him with equal hunger as he pulled you even closer until your bodies began to mold together into one before guiding you to lay back on your bed. Jungkook was gentle but firm, his hands felt rough but he touched you with such softness when he ran them down your sides. He didn’t hesitate to try and relish in the feeling of you under him, kissing along your neck and pressing his lips to your pulse point until he could feel your breath hitch in your throat.

You’re not a virgin but you’re not entirely experienced and yet you couldn’t find it in you to be nervous. Not even when his hands began to hitch up your black dress making you raise your hips enough for him to pull it up. Jungkook never once pulled his lips away from your skin, the desire to leave love bites was too strong and you were so soft underneath him. You looked up at your dark ceiling with its silver stars plastered all over and a handing moon lantern at the center, letting him kiss down your chest and navel.

“Is this okay?” Jungkook asked with genuine concern as he laid between your parted legs. The skirt of your dress had been pulled up to your stomach exposing the black underwear you wore, feeling his gentle fingers run against your hips patiently. A smile came to your face when he rested his head against your thigh, looking up at you lovingly and you nodded your head.

Jungkook pressed a kiss to your inner thighs, nose brushing against the sensitive areas as his nimble fingers began to brush along the thin black fabric, not yet touching you directly but feeling the outline of what was underneath. He could almost feel it all, the curve of your mound down to the slit where he pushed his thumb against until he could make out your entrance and feel the way you seemed to gasp when he teased you.

You had to bite down on your lip to keep in the surprised yelp from the way he began to pull your underwear down, moving to kiss whatever he exposed, not shying away from being more intimate. He raised your leg, sliding the cloth off before placing soft kisses against your calf and thigh, leading your legs over his shoulders before he laid back down and looked at what was between them. You felt like running away from how focused he seemed on your heat, almost asked him why until he was leaning down, tongue coming out to swipe against your hooded clit teasingly.

The bed was lush with pillows, using them to sink your head into when he did it again, this time more firm and intentional. You’ll admit, it’s been a while since you last had gotten intimate with someone so you couldn’t help but squirm when his tongue became more languid in its movements, separating your folds with the tip of it and letting his lips tug on the pulled skin. You couldn’t help but gasp, feeling his fingers pinch your thighs to keep you still while he circled your hardening clit with the tip of his tongue before kissing your labia and licking up whatever slick you released.

“Oh,” you couldn’t help but let out when he pressed his tongue against your entrance, nose pushing against your clit and just letting himself be completely engulfed by your essence. You could practically feel him smile against your core when he tilted his head to the side to tug your labia softly between his lips before letting it go and repeating the action.

When your hand found his hair, he seemed to pause wondering if you wanted him to stop, but then he felt a tug and he was helplessly following after you until you kissed, neither caring if there was the taste of you on his tongue. A low groan bubbled up in his throat that slipped through your lips when your tongue licked along his like you didn’t care he had just been kissing your soaked pussy and that made him unbelievably hard.

Jungkook moved a hand down to your legs, finding its way to your wet cunt, gently pressing into the puddle of slick at your entrance before moving up to your clit and rubbing it between his fingers. Your hands were in his hair, tugging softly whenever he did something you liked and with his tongue down your throat, he didn’t hesitate to tease your entrance with his middle finger, already feeling how tight your walls are when he began to press inside. Your mouth slipped open in pleasure as he thrusted a long finger into your cunt, palm flat against your clit and rubbing it in rhythm with his finger that soon became two, “You’re so wet, Angel.”

His fingers were completely soaked and anytime he pulled out his fingers to push them back in, he could practically feel the puddle around them and it made his dick throb in his pants. Your kissing came to an end when Jungkook couldn’t help but feel the need to disappear between your legs again, a bit annoyed that the fabric of your dress was in the way but pulled away anyway.

You arched your back off the bed in pleasure when his mouth found your clit again, paying his full attention back on it instead of his fingers which never relented on pumping in and out of you with such vigor that your legs began to shake, “Jungkook.”

“Hm?” He moaned, teeth lightly tugging on your folds and watching them go back until he licked against them to do it again.

“Are you close, Angel?” Jungkook asks with an unusually hoarse voice when you start to clench around his fingers, “Go ahead, let go for me.”

Your face hot and your chest heaving at the intensity just as it hits you and you’re cumming with a whimper that you try and hide behind a closed fist when his tongue eagerly licks up your release as it flows out and around his fingers. It took him a while to stop, only when he felt your thighs tremble did he pull away, some of your release coating his lips and piercings that he hungrily licked clean. A curse left his lips breathlessly as he sat back on his knees and looked down to see the way your pussy was flooded in slick.

You sat up once you had caught your breath, moving closer as he stared at his coated fingers curiously and without thinking, you took his hand by the wrist and brought his fingers toward your mouth. He watched you lick the space between them before bringing them into your mouth and sucking your essence clean off them.

“Fuck, Y/n,” his eyes fell shut as he let himself sink into the feeling of his fingers being sucked into your warm mouth and it was so hot in this bedroom. He pressed his thumb against your cheek as he attempted to take his fingers out of your mouth so he could use two hands to undress finally and you let him do just that. You bit into your bottom lip when he took his shirt off exposing more tattoos and muscle you had never seen but knew was there.

He looked at you as he undid his jeans, kicking them off along with his briefs exposing his hard cock that pointed straight with need that had him wincing at even the slightest touch of his hand against his tip. You quickly pulled on your dress, proving Jungkook’s earlier thoughts right when he questioned if you wore a bra or not—the answer was not—and it led him straight back to you. He kissed down your collarbone, hands on your hips as laid down between your legs, cock against your core causing him to moan out when he raised a hand knead your breast.

“I don’t have a condom,” he whispered in realization as he looked down at the way his slick began to tease your clit. Of course he wanted to continue but he doesn’t have any protection and it’s up to you what you want to do.

Your hands roamed against his back, “Jungkook.”

He looked up at you, lip pulled between his teeth when he felt your hand disappear between your pressed bodies until it circled around his stiff member making him bite back a groan of pleasure. You gave him a few strokes, guiding him down until his tip slipped into your slick and he looked at you with want when you said, “Just fuck me.”

It was all he needed to let himself sink into your entrance, a low moan leaving his lips as he felt his cock open your walls to adjust to his size. He didn’t stop pushing until he was all in, waiting there and feeling your breath grow more impatient as you got used to the feel of him.

He took things nice and slow, still concerned that you might want to end things any second, hoping you began to feel easy how good it felt when he rolled his hips, pushing more of his cock into you when you tightened.

“Fuck…” Jungkook couldn’t stop from cursing as pleasure took over his instincts. His body perfectly molded against yours with no space between them as he only used his hips to fuck you, “So good.”

Although he’s ashamed, he’ll admit that he has had his fair share of sexual intercourse but he can’t remember the last time he felt this good. His body felt like it was moving on its own accord, seeking its own pleasure with yours and he was so close. He kissed along your neck when you tipped your head back, lips parted with the force of his hips pushing himself deeper in a steady, but rough thrust of his cock.

Your breasts pressed against his chest as he practically hugged you to him with each thrust and he knew you were as close as he was to release. He brought a hand up your side until he was cupping a breast in his palm, kneading the soft flesh and rubbing his fingertip against your nipple watching the way your jaw seemed to drop in warning that you were close. Despite his hair being much shorter than it used to be, it still fell forward and over his eyes looking sweaty.

“You feel so good, Angel” he grunts, talking you both through orgasm. It was true, although he was doing all of the work, every little moan he pulled out of you mixed with the feel of your body against his felt so damn good. It made all this patience he had when it came to you worth it.

When Jungkook knew you were just over the edge, he brought his hand down, barely pressing it into your clit when he felt your walls tighten, a growl leaving his lips at how you sucked his cock in until finally, the tension broke and he felt himself flood with your release. He dug his face into your neck, shaking slightly as he bit back his own orgasm until yours subdued and he carefully guided his dick back out. Once the air hit his exposed, soaked member, everything broke loose.

You had taken him in your hand, stroking him through release and costing your thigh in his cum, listening to his string of moans and groans of pleasure with a gentleness he’s not sure he’s ever felt.

It took you both a while to regain some awareness and were ashamed to admit it was Coal’s persistent meowing on the other side of the bedroom door. Jungkook couldn’t help but laugh as he let himself collapse down on your bed next to you, breathing heavily with a hand on his chest as he saw stars—literally, littered across your ceiling. His hand searched endlessly for some sign of you, taking a lock of your hair and twisting it around his finger when you moved to sit up, hands covering your exposed intimates almost shyly. He raised a curious brow, sitting up on his elbow as he looked at the mess the two of you had made.

“You okay?” He asked with concern. The candles lit around the room reflected a soft glow off your skin and you looked as ethereal and whimsical as he thought that first night.

“Yes,” you said quietly, “I think I need a shower, though.”

He smiled, “So let’s take one.”

The next morning you found him sitting at the wooden counter of the shop.

“What are you reading?” You asked Jungkook as he had a book open, studying it carefully.

“Natural contraceptives,” Jungkook mumbled as he wrote down the names of various herbs on an old napkin, “I should have been more prepared last nigh—Do you have Black Cohosh or Angelica by chance? I heard if you drink it in a tea, it should help promote menstrua—“

Your hand covers his mouth when you felt the tall tale signs of your best friend approaching. Even before Jimin opened the door to the shop, he had a shit eating grin at the sight of you two, and not caring much for secrecy as he waved a finger to turn the sign to ‘OPEN’.

“So what did the two of you get up to last night?” He asked casually, trying to peak at the book that you quickly slammed shut bringing an amused smile to Jungkook’s face.

“We went out for some drinks,” Jungkook answered, standing up with an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple, “I’m going to start boiling water.”

It was strangely comical and endearing the way he acted and Jimin watched the way your gaze followed after him.

“Wow, and I didn’t even have to cast a love spell to bring that look into your eyes.”

On the night of November 1st, outside during a crescent moon, Jungkook asked if you could be his girlfriend sounding strangely shy that you couldn’t say no.

::.

omg this took me forever but I finally got out a little Halloween fic and I’ve actually done a softer, cuter oc than usual? woahhh who am I. also my bday is this Sunday [oct 29] and I just think I’m so special I gotta let yall know

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin n @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @alwaysdreamingnotsleeping @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @uwu2rawr @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @tearyjjeon @joons-uparupa @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @knudsenheggedel @skzthinker @unnatae @aurorthi @beautywine @95ene @taekookstata @lilliankoo @shescharlie @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @babybella337 @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @Imeneghd @whoa-jo @evajeonsworld @marvelbun @sunnikthv @kochycooky @heyhowyoudoin3 @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @jeonjk25 @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @brillantdarling

[stevie-petey]

episode one: suzie, do you copy?

Steve sighs. “Those kids are manipulating your power over me to get what they want.” “You call it manipulation, I call it bonding.”  Another sigh escapes Steve. “You’re going to be the death of me.” “And yet you stay.” You tease. “And yet I stay.”

Summary: you help nancy sneak through jonathans window, the party uses you for your "in" with steve, and you sorta become the reason dustin almost blinds lucas. meanwhile, steve tries, and fails, to make you his girlfriend (this will happen all summer), but have no fear ! dustin intercepts a russian code and makes everything even harder for everyone. what a sweet brother <3

Rating: general, swearing

Warnings: allusions to violence, swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 9.6k

Before you swing in: shes here !!! season 3 of come home <333 im so excited for yall to read what i have planned, and thank you so much for being so patient as i planned the season out and started the chapters :) season 3 is pure chaos and i hope yall love what ive created, im proud of the changes i made <3333 we get some more insight into bug this season, which i also hope yall love !

-

June 27th, 1985.

A summer breeze gently creeps into Jonathan’s room, bringing the scent of dandelions and your childhood with it. It’s early evening and Jonathan hums to himself quietly, laying in his bed as he lazily skims through a comic he stole from you last week. You’re next to him as you carefully cut pieces of construction paper to glue onto the posterboard. Dustin comes home from camp in a few days and you want his welcome home banner to be perfect.

In the other room you hear the floorboards creak, followed by the sound of Joyce and Will laughing at whatever movie they’ve put on in the living room. Hearing their laughs makes you smile; it’s been so long since you’ve heard them laugh.

The tune that Jonathan hums now becomes a familiar one, and absent mindedly you begin to hum along with him. The cool summer night’s air encases the two of you, as if it senses that you want to freeze this moment forever. You’re in the Byers home, pressed against Jonathan’s side as you hum together an old song from when you were both fourteen and thought you had the world all figured out,

It’s nice, having this moment all to yourself with him. Moments alone with him have become few and far between, and it saddens you to think about.

There’s a new mall in town, Starcourt, and within a few months of it opening, Bookstrordinary has slowly been edging out of business. The entire town of Hawkins quickly fell in love with the mall, but with this love came the abandonment of downtown Hawkins.

Mrs. Waters can barely afford to have you work more than a few hours a day, so you’ve been spending your days visiting Nancy and Jonathan at their internship at the Hawkins Post or hanging at Scoops Ahoy to see Steve and Robin. While your friends have been lovely, you can’t swallow down the fear that you’ll lose your job by the end of summer.

As if somehow reading your thoughts, Jonathan puts down his comic and pokes your cheek. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask if you and Nance thought of anything else to try and save Bookstrordinary.”

You glue down a letter and try to distract yourself with the miniscule task. Nancy has been brainstorming a million ideas to try and help Mrs. Water, and while you appreciate her effort, it’s no use. Swallowing down even more dread, you shake your head at Jonathan. “No, nothing. Nancy offered to help organize a book drive to get more customers, but…”

“It wouldn’t be enough.” Jonathan finishes for you.

“Not nearly enough,” you sigh, desperately wanting to change the topic now. “But besides me possibly losing my job soon, how has yours been at the Hawkins Post?”

Now it’s Jonathan’s turn to sigh. “It’s… okay? I guess. I–I mean, definitely not what I expected it to be. The hours suck and the men are awful, but…” he shifts uncomfortably and looks away from you, embarrassed. “A job is a job.”

You rub his arm, understanding what he means. The Byers have always struggled with money, but ever since Will went missing two years ago and Jonathan lost his last job at the Hawk movie theater, it’s only gotten worse. They’ve tried hiding it, but last week you sneakily paid for Will’s ice cream at Scoops Ahoy while no one else was looking.

“I get it, bee.” You reassure him, hating that he even feels embarrassed in the first place.

Jonathan smiles and leans into your touch, appreciative of the fact that you know his family well enough by now to understand all he’s too ashamed to say. The two of you sit quietly for a few moments before he tries to lighten the mood with something else. “You excited for your birthday, bug?”

“Ugh,” you shake your head in disgust, which Jonathan laughs at. He knows you’ve never really liked your birthday. “Don’t remind me.”

“It’s in a few days, so you gotta suck it up.” Jonathan flicks your forehead and you swat your hand at him. “Besides, I bet $5 that Steve has some grand proposal planned for your birthday this year. He’s spent the entire summer drooling over you.”

His words make you blush furiously. “He has not–”

“He definitely has,” Jonathan tries to flick you again but you dodge, giggling. “I’m surprised he hasn’t publicly declared your love for you yet. I think there’s a betting pool going around the party.”

You gasp. “You’re lying!”

“Nope. Lucas and Max both lost last week, they bet mid June. Now it’s only me, Nancy, Will, and Dustin in the running.”

“What about Mike and El?”

“Mike didn’t want to encourage you dating Steve and the party agreed it felt unfair to have El gamble seeing as how she’s, ya know, still getting used to being in society.”

Despite yourself, you laugh. The idea is so bizarre and lovely, knowing how invested everyone is in your alleged love life, and it makes the worry you’ve been feeling fade away. “Can I join the pool? If I actually lose my job, I’ll need the money.”

Jonathan scoffs at you. “That goes against every gambling rule–”

“Please? I could be poor soon!”

“No, it’s not going to happen–”

“But–”

A knock on the window cuts you off. The two of you look up at the sound and find Nancy standing outside, waving and smiling. You hurry over to let her in, happy as always to see her. She’s been spending more and more nights at Jonathan’s, always sneaking in through the window.

It’s disgusting, and you couldn’t be happier for them.

Jonathan helps the girl climb through the window and greets her with a kiss to the forehead. “Hey, Nance.”

She smiles up at him with a shine in her eyes, and you know it’s time to leave. It’s getting late, anyways. You start to gather your banner supplies as you greet Nancy yourself. “Welcome back, Wheeler.”

“Hello to you too, Henderson.”

You wink at the girl and quickly ruffle Jonathan’s hair. “I’m going home, bee. My mom wants me to help prep Dustin’s room and I wanna have his banner done by tomorrow.”

“Bike home safe, please.” He says with a stern finger pointed at you.

Rolling your eyes, you give a mocking salute to Nancy and Jonathan. “Use protection, kids. I’m too young to be an aunt.”

Nancy gasps while Jonathan practically trips over his own two feet at your words, and you laugh. You leave them alone to compose themselves, closing the door to Jonathan shouting, “That wasn’t funny!”

You’re still giggling to yourself when you walk into the living room and see Joyce and Will sprawled on the couch. Their movie has just finished, the credits are rolling as you stand next to the TV and wave goodbye to them.

“You leaving so soon?” Joyce asks, surprised to even see you leave Jonathan’s room in the first place.

“Yeah, gotta finish up Dustin’s welcome home banner,” you hold up your supplies. Then, through the house’s thin walls, you all hear Nancy’s soft giggle. At the sound, you lean in close to Joyce and Will and dramatically whisper, “Plus, between the three of us, company came, so…”

Will’s eyes widen. “Yuck!”

Joyce chuckles, remembering how in love she was at Jonathan’s age back then. “Would I be a bad parent if I told Nancy she could just use the front door?”

“I don’t think so, but it’s fun watching them think they’re getting away with it.” You steal a piece of candy from the bowl Will had been eating out of, and he holds it up higher so that you can grab more. “Thanks, little bee.”

“You think it’s fun teasing Nancy and Jonathan now, Y/N, but when you’re the one sneaking in through a boy’s window one day…” Joyce shrugs, a twinkle in her eye. “You’ll understand.”

Will looks up at you with his own evil glint in his eyes, and before you can stop him, he turns to his mom and says, “I wonder how high Steve Harrington’s window is.”

You pretend to attack Will and he giggles as he flees his seat and runs to the other side of the living room. “Will Byers I will spit in your cookies–”

Joyce covers her mouth and gasps. “Y/N, are you hiding a boyfriend from me?”

Quickly you stop chasing after Will, terrified of the idea of the woman thinking you’d hide anything from her. “What? No! I’m not dating Steve–”

“Yet!” Will exclaims from across the room, but his retaliation is followed by a shriek as you chase after the kid again.

“If you keep this up, I’m telling Steve to stop letting y’all sneak into the movies!” You threaten as you chase the boy around the room.

Joyce watches in amusement, she’s never been able to take her eyes off of you when you’re with her boys. Will dodges a grab and you stumble, giving him just enough time to hide behind his mom’s armchair.

He pokes his head out at your threat, his eyes now uncertain. “You wouldn’t really tell Steve that, right?”

Catching your breath, you collapse onto the couch and shake your head at him. “No, little bee. I wouldn’t.”

You’d never do that to Will. He’s been so keen on spending as much time as possible with the party this summer, spending each and every moment planning DnD campaigns and biking all over Hawkins to spend mere seconds together. Will has spent all summer trying as hard as possible to be a kid again because so much of his childhood was stolen by Upside Down.

Will slowly gets up from behind the armchair and sits next to you, relieved. “Okay, good. We wanna see a movie tomorrow night and I already promised everyone you’d get Steve to let us in. That would’ve sucked.”

You and Joyce laugh at the boy’s response, and it feels so good to have this moment with the two of them. You allow it to wash over you for a second, the Byers home has always had such a comforting effect on you, before getting up and gathering your things once more. “I really should go, though. My mom is waiting.”

Joyce and Will say goodbye and tell you to be safe on your way home, and it warms something within you. As you bike down their driveway home, you inhale the summer night’s air and wonder, days before you turn seventeen, how much longer you have left of just this: being a little kid going home after a long day.

–

When you get home, Tews greets you with an angry meow.

The cat had been a Christmas gift for your mom from you and Dustin, seeing as how you accidentally killed Mews. Your mom had cried seeing the little kitten, and had cried even harder when your brother suggested the stupid name “Tews.”

But it stuck, and now Tews glares at you as you take your time feeding her.

In Dustin’s room you can hear your mom rustling around, frantically cleaning the place as if it currently isn’t the cleanest it’s ever been since the kid has been gone all month. After you feed Tews, you make your way over to your brother’s room to help with cleaning.

A few hours later, you’re laying in bed, exhausted from your long day. Dustin’s banner sits on your desk, right next to the phone that resides in the corner. Yawning, you glance at the clock, but when you see the time, you smile.

The phone rings.

“Right on time, honey.”

“Aren’t I always, angel?” Steve’s voice soothes your aching bones, his words like honey, the very thing you’ve come to associate with him.

Phone calls have become more and more common between you and Steve. You’re not sure when this tradition formed, but when you aren’t at Scoops and he isn’t at your house infiltrating your family, you’re on the phone with one another.

Hearing Steve’s voice puts you at ease, and it wasn’t long before you started calling each other before bed every night.

“How was your day?” You ask him, spinning the phone’s cable around your finger as you lay in bed.

Steve lets out a dramatic groan. “I swear, after you left today, Robin intentionally amped up her taunts. It’s like you’re her buffer or something. The second you leave,” you hear him snap his fingers, “she turns against me!”

“Robin would never do that.” Your voice is monotone as you say this, which only makes Steve groan dramatically once more. Robin would most definitely do that; you both know this.

“You two are the worst together.”

“Yeah, well,” you pull your blankets up to your chin and readjust into a comfier position. Your eyes feel heavy and Steve’s voice settles over your body. “Prepare for more pain tomorrow night. Will and the party have grand plans to sneak into yet another movie.”

Steve sighs. “Those kids are manipulating your power over me to get what they want.”

“You call it manipulation, I call it bonding.”

Another sigh escapes Steve. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“And yet you stay.” You tease.

“And yet I stay.”

You bite back a smile; you can almost perfectly envision Steve laying in his own bed, phone pressed to his ear with his hair messy and eyes half lidded as he talks to you. You wish, more than anything, that you could be there with him right now; instead, you fall asleep to the sound of Steve’s voice, slightly raspy from his own exhaustion.

–

The next day you wake up to an empty house. Your mom has been spending her summer at Hawkin’s pool, like all the moms in town now do, to admire Billy at his new job.

It grosses you out to no end, and when your mom comes home some days swearing that Billy winked at her, you have to swallow down the phantom pain of his fingers wrapping around your windpipe.

By the time you get to work, Downtown Hawkins, as always, is a ghost town.

It’s been this way ever since Starcourt opened, and as you park your bike and lock it up, you can’t help but be unnerved by how quiet everything is. It was only a few years ago that you had to scream at a crowd of onlookers when Jonathan and Joyce had had that fight when they had found Will’s body in the quarry.

Now, walking slowly towards the front doors of Bookstrordinary, all you hear is silence in the once lively area. There are posters scattered throughout the old town, but they’re worn from the sunlight and torn from the weather. It’s a depressing sight.

Mrs. Waters greets you kindly when you walk in. “Hello, dear.”

“Hi, Mrs. Waters.” You give her a quick peck on the cheek as you quickly swipe your card to clock in. The bookstore is empty. “Any new shipments today?”

The old woman shakes her head forelonly. “Afraid not. We still haven’t sold last month’s shipment.”

You duck your head down and curse. This is the second shipment you weren’t able to sell. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Waters.”

“Oh, don’t be!” She walks over to you, her wrist shakes as she uses her cane. She has aged so much these last few years. “I’ve owned this store for thirty years, dear. I’m just happy that I can give you and Alex a job before you kids go off to college. Besides, it’s given me something to do these last few years without my husband…”

The woman’s eyes glaze over, something that has started to happen more and more now, and you grab her arm gently and give her a little shake. “Hey, Mrs. Waters. You still with me?”

She blinks, looks around in a confused daze, before breaking into her old smile once more. “Of course I am! Now, sort some books while I ward off those debt collectors with this cane.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, you can’t help but laugh at Mrs. Waters as she waves her cane around madly and gives you a wink. She hobbles back to her office and leaves you alone with the books and the ghost of Downtown Hawkins.

Only two customers come in during your four hour shift, and by midday Mrs. Waters releases you so that she can give Alex a few hours of work as well. She’s trying her best to keep you both hired for as long as she can, so she splits your hours. What she doesn’t know is that Alex now has a job at Hawkins’ pool and only comes into work because he just can’t bear to quit, and neither can you.

You bike to the mall, sad and needing a pick me up. Jonathan’s teasing from last night echoes in your head. How could you possibly think about your birthday when your boss is slowly losing both her mind and her business?

At the mall, your feet unconsciously take you to Scoops as they always do. This has become your favorite part of your dreary days: going to Scoops after work. The smell of ice cream greets you as you walk into the shop.

Robin sees you first and waves excitedly from the register. “Y/N!”

“It’s me!” You run up to the counter and lean over it to squeeze the girl into a tight hug.

There’s a loud crash from the backroom and just as you’ve pulled away from Robin, Steve bursts through the doors and leaps over the counter to join in on the hug. “Thank God you’re here, Robin was about to make me clean the tables.”

You giggle while Robin scoffs, pulling away. “It’s your turn, dingus.”

Steve, still hugging you from behind, hums. He begins to rock you back and forth in his arms, which only makes you giggle more, while he pretends to think about what the girl has said. “Nope, don’t remember it being my turn.”

Robin gives you a pleading look to back her up, and you reluctantly slide your arms over Steve’s and release his grip. He groans in complaint at the loss of your touch, and you roll your eyes at him as you turn around to now face him. “C’mon, let’s go wipe the tables so dear Robin can man the register in peace.”

Steve groans even louder now as Robin cheers, and you snatch the rag from his pocket and begin to wipe down the tables. He follows eventually, moaning and groaning as he cleans next to you, and you hit your hip against his. “Hey, at least you’re getting paid for this.”

“I give you free ice cream!” He argues, pieces of his hair falling out of his adorably dorky sailor’s hat that he has to wear for this job. It’s incredibly endearing, and as he hunches over to scrub at a particularly dirty table, his thighs strain against his probably too short shorts and you can’t help but stare at them. As you admire this spectacular show, Steve catches you and flicks your nose. “Quit ogling me and get back to your free labor, angel.”

“I wasn’t ogling, I was simply admiring.”

Robin gags from behind the register. “I can hear you guys, you know!”

You and Steve both stick your tongues out at her before going back to work.

The hours pass by quickly after that. The midday rush of tweens and teens alike infiltrate Scoops, so Steve helps Robin fling ice cream while you get comfortable in your designated booth in the corner. You’ve hidden a supply of comics underneath one of the booth’s cushions and you spend your time catching up on the latest Spider-Man arc.

You’re so engrossed in what you’re reading that you don’t notice a body slide into the booth next to you until the person speaks.

“Spider-Man, huh? Heard he’s a pretty cool guy.”

Startled by the stranger’s voice, you almost drop your comic in alarm. When you see that it’s just Jason Carver sitting next to you, you place a hand to your chest and inhale quickly, trying to settle your rapid heartbeat. “Christ, you scared me.”

“Sorry!” He genuinely looks apologetic, so you wearily set down your comic and straighten up.

You’ve never spoken to Jason before, even though you’ve been in the same classes ever since eighth grade. He’s always ran with the popular crowd, being a jock and all, and you’ve always ran with Jonathan. However, despite being on the basketball team, Jason has never been mean to either of you, so you figure it’s safe to offer him your attention.

“Can I ask why you’re here?” You cock your head at him, feeling your hair fall over your shoulders.

Jason smiles at you, in a sort of cute and charming way. “Stopped by to get my little sister some ice cream,” he points to a little girl next to him, who waves at you, and you wave back. “Then I saw you sitting here all alone reading one of my favorite comics, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to say hi to such a pretty girl.”

You blush at his bold words. You’ve never received such attention from anyone before, at least not anyone normal thanks to Billy, and you’re not really sure why Jason seems to be paying attention to you now. He’s had years to do this.

Jason sees your sudden shyness and chuckles. He stands up and offers you his hand. “Why don’t I buy you some ice cream, maybe you could help me show my sister around the mall–” Steve’s shoulder collides roughly into the teen’s, causing him to stumble into his sister’s ice cream cone and get chocolate ice cream all over the front of his pants. Jason looks up at Steve and balls his fists in anger. “What the fuck, Harrington?”

You quickly cover the little girl’s ears, though she giggles.

Steve shrugs as he looks at Jason. “Sorry, man. Didn’t see you there.” Then, he turns to you, and offers his own hand. “Anyways, I think it’s time for your daily free ice cream, angel.”

Jason’s eyes narrow as you accept Steve’s hand and spare him an apologetic glance. Before you leave, you dig some cash out of your overalls and hand them to him. “For your sister’s new ice cream cone.”

He sighs and accepts the money. Jason knows that Steve is still holding your hand as he stands behind you, but he has nothing else to lose at this point. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I didn’t stand a chance, did I?”

Steve twirls you with your interlocked hands, causing you to giggle, and guides you to the ice cream counter. As he leaves, shouts behind him, “Not at all, buddy!”

You know you should feel bad, but Steve twirls you again and all you can do is giggle breathlessly as Jason Carver walks out of Scoops with his sister in tow.

–

Later that night the mall is busier than ever, and as you’re gossiping with Robin about Steve ruining Jason’s pants, you’re interrupted by Mike’s grubby little hand repeatedly hitting the bell.

Seems it’s time for their movie.

You flick the kid’s head, which Lucas, Max, and Will snicker at. “Enough!”

“Ow, Y/N!”

“Thanks,” Robin sends you an appreciative smile before she calls towards the backroom, “Dingus, your children are here!”

Within seconds, Steve opens the sliding windows and sighs when he sees Mike and the party. “Again? Seriously?”

“I warned you.” You say, shrugging at his annoyance. “Let the kids have some fun.”

Mike rings the bell again. “Do what Y/N says.”

Steve sighs in defeat and motions for the kids to follow him behind the counter. “Fine, but only because I’m nice, not because Y/N said so.”

“Right.” Everyone says, not at all believing him, which Steve chooses to ignore.

You all follow him through the back entrance of the mall. Checking to make sure the coast is clear, Steve waves the kids inside. “I swear, if anybody hears about this–”

“We’re dead.” The kids all respond, voices monotone with annoyance after hearing this threat a million times.

However, before they all leave, Will gently tugs at your hand to get your attention. “Are you coming with?”

You want to say yes, but then you catch Steve’s eyes and he silently pleads with you to stay, and you know you can’t tell him no. Squeezing Will’s hand, you shake your head. “Sorry, little bee. I promise I will next time, though.”

Mike scoffs in disgust, disappointed in you. Your relationship with Steve has always confused him, and you’ve only gotten closer to the teen since Dustin left for camp. He pities what the boy will think when he comes back to his sister all lovey-dovey with an idiot like Steve Harrington.

Once the kids leave, you go back into Scoops with Steve and settle into your booth once more. Grabbing your comic, you flip to where you left off before looking up at the teen and saying, “you have me for another hour. I can’t be out late tonight, Dustin comes home tomorrow and I promised Mike I’d be up at like seven to let everyone in.”

Steve salutes you and hops back behind his counter to help Robin with some customers. You smile at his antics and go back to reading. A few minutes pass, Spider-Man has just kissed MJ, before the lights above you start to flicker and then go out completely.

Everyone in the mall gasps and murmurs in a slight panic as they’re thrown into darkness. The hair on your arms stands up; you no longer trust lights that flicker. Robin catches your eye and gives you an odd look when she sees the fear on your face.

“Scared of the dark, Y/N?” She teases, not understanding what you really fear: what lies below Hawkins.

“That’s weird,” Steve mumbles to himself as he goes over to the light switch. He starts to flip the switch repeatedly, and you roll your eyes at him. He’s an idiot sometimes.

“That isn’t gonna work, dingus.” Robin says, looking over at you once more as if to silently ask, why are you attracted to him?

You shake your head at her as Steve continues to flip the switch, now only quickening his movements. He stares Robin down as if to challenge her. “Oh, really?”

Nothing happens, because contrary to what Steve may believe, he can’t fix what is likely (and what you hope) is simply a blackout from the summer heat. He flicks the lightswitch a few more times before the generators kick back on and Scoops Ahoy is once again lit up.

Steve raises his eyebrows at Robin and smirks at her, pleased. “See? Let there be light.”

You drop your head to the table, now also questioning why you’re attracted to the guy.

However, when it’s time to head home and Steve walks with you to your bike outside, he kisses your cheek and wishes you a good night; you know that this is the reason you’ve fallen for him: his kindness. With his kiss lingering on your cheek, you bike home.

–

When Steve gets back from saying goodbye to you, he’s met with a nosey Robin.

She stands against the counter with her arms crossed. There aren’t any more customers in the shop, they closed about ten minutes ago, and Steve was really looking forward to driving home and taking off his stupid uniform.

Robin, however, clearly has other plans.

“What did I do now?” He asks her, not daring to take any step closer.

“Why haven’t you asked Y/N out yet?” Steve’s eyes widen at the question and Robin knows she’s got him cornered. “I’ve spent hours with you guys, and it’s driving me insane that you haven’t manned up!”

“‘Manned up’?” Steve sputters out, completely offended.

Robin throws her arms out in front of her. “Yes! I mean, it’s so obvious that you’re in love with her and that she’s in love with you. Just… Just get it over with!”

Blushing, Steve slumps against the wall and closes his eyes. As much as it pains him to admit it, he knows that Robin is right. “It’s… complicated.”

“Well, go on.” The girl now hops on the counter and sits on it. “Explain it to me, then.”

“Y/N used to be in love with…” Steve stops, unsure if you’d want him to be telling Robin this. “Someone.”

She rolls her eyes. “Everyone knows she was in love with that Byers kid.”

“Right.” He clears his throat, uncomfortable with the reminder that at one point, everyone in Hawkins truly believed you were destined for Jonathan. “Well as I’m sure you know… He got with Nancy, who–uh, I had been with.”

“Okay, so what?”

“I–” Steve isn’t sure what Robin doesn’t understand. “I needed… time?”

Robin frowns. “After Nancy dumped you?”

“Technically I dumped her–”

“What does this have to do with Y/N?” Robin presses.

Steve groans and rubs at his eyes. He’s tired and wants to go home to call you and go to bed with your soft voice in his head. “Y/N understood that the breakup with Nancy hurt, and–well. She told me she’d wait for me. I guess. While I figured my shit out.”

Robin thinks this over for a minute. “Okay, I think I can understand that, but–wait, when did this all happen again?”

“... December.” He closes his eyes, bracing himself for the girl’s inevitable anger.

“Harrington!”

There it is.

“I know, okay?” Steve tugs at his hair in frustration. “I’m over Nancy, I’ve been over her since at least April, but… But what–what if Y/N has lost interest in me now? What if–maybe I made her wait too long, or–or what if she thinks she’s just Nancy’s replacement?”

Steve is rambling now, months of his anxious and insecure thoughts now spilling out. “I mean, it’d kill me if–if I ever made her feel second to anyone! She’s… She’s incredible and–God, I don’t even know why she likes me and I’ve spent this entire summer trying to–I don’t know… Figure out how to confess my feelings to her in a way that matters, ya know? Like, a grand proposal to show her that I’m crazy about her.”

Robin is silent for several minutes after Steve’s frantic spiel, he’s panting by the time he’s done. Then, finally, she says, “Dude… You’re way overthinking this.”

Steve winces. “I mean, her birthday is in a few days. I can… I can ask her to be my girlfriend then. That’s romantic, right?”

“You’re hopeless.”

–

“Dusty comes home today!” Your mom’s shrill voice wakes you up as she prances around the house getting ready. You roll over in bed and stretch, tired but excited to see your brother again after a month of being apart.

You get out of bed and press a kiss to your mother’s cheek before telling her to drive safe. Glancing at the clock, you see that you have just enough time to shower before the party arrives. The entire thing had been Mike’s plan and you were more than happy to help arrange everything.

After you’ve gotten ready, you hear three swift knocks on your front door and you answer it. “Right on time, Wheeler.”

Mike salutes you as he and the others walk in. El gives you a hug and Max high fives you as the boys start setting up the robots. The six of you get started on the plan: place all the robots in Dustin’s room, all hidden in various corners, and then use El’s powers to control them and guide him to the living room so that you all can surprise him.

It’s a brilliant plan, one only a Wheeler could think of.

It takes you, Lucas, Mike, and Will to successfully hang up Dustin’s banner that took you all week to make. There’s cursing, yelling, a few trips, and multiple snickers from El and Max while the four of you struggle to hang the thing, but eventually you manage to secure the banner into place in the living room.

Just as you’ve finished hanging it up, you hear your mom’s car pull into the driveway and you quickly shove the kids into a closet. “Quick! That’s my mom’s car, hide!”

Lucas yelps and Max punches his shoulder to shut him up, but thankfully you manage to close the closet door just in time before Dustin walks in. You hide behind the couch, quiet so as not to be seen by him, and carefully listen for his footsteps to retreat down the hall and into his room.

Once he’s gone, you scramble towards the closet and open the door. “Okay, he’s in his room, time for step two.”

“Did we all really have to hide in the closet?” Will asks, rubbing at his shoulder that had been shoved into a hanger.

“Yes, now shush and hide behind the wall so he doesn’t see you.” You order, and the kids all listen. Once you’re all pressed against the wall, you nod at El. “Ready?”

“Ready.” She responds, closing her eyes. Static fills the air and you hear one of the robots turn on in Dustin’s room. Then the other one turns on, then the monkey, and soon all the toys have been activated by El’s powers.

Mike pokes his head around the corner. “Okay, now start leading the robots here.”

Blood slowly begins to drip from El’s nose and you feel bad that she’s doing this, but the kids all look excited, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little giddy yourself. The noise from the robots grows louder as El draws them out from the room and towards you guys.

You hear Dustin’s uncertain voice following behind them. “It’s just a dream… You’re dreaming.”

Then Mike whispers to El, “Now!”

The robots all die in the center of your living room and slowly everyone starts to creep out from behind the wall. Lucas is holding his own poster he made and you hand everyone party noisemakers. Dustin is investigating the robots and doesn’t hear you stalk up behind him. Max silently counts to three, and on her signal, you all blow your party noisemakers and surprise him.

Dustin screams and immediately holds up his Farrah Fawcett spray, blinding Lucas as he continuously sprays it. The poor boy screams as well and the rest of the kids back away, out of the line of fire. However, as soon as your momentary shock wears off, you manage to snatch the hairspray out of your brother’s hand and save Lucas.

“Why is Farrah Fawcett your weapon of choice?” You exclaim, shoving a still screaming Lucas towards your kitchen so that you flush the spray out of his eyes. Max joins, rubbing soothing circles into the boy’s back.

“Why would you scare me like that after the hell we went through this year?” Dustin shouts back at you, clutching at his chest.

Dustin’s words make you stop for a moment and think. Huh. He has a point. “Yeah, we should’ve thought about that, honestly.”

“A little help here?” Lucas brings the attention back to him and you apologize, helping him once more to flush his eyes out. As you and Max tend to him, Dustin tells the others to follow him to his room so he can show them what he built at camp.

Max splashes some more water in Lucas’ eyes. “Better?”

The boy stands up and wipes his face, though he’s careful not to touch his eyes. “Still stings.”

“I feel like I should call someone…” You mumble, Your first aid knowledge doesn’t include Farrah Fawcett in the eyes.

Lucas blinks a few times and looks around. He leans in closer to Max’s face and for a moment you’re scared he’ll kiss her, but instead he chooses to be an idiot. “Is that a new zit?”

You wince and Max’s eyes widen in disbelief. She looks at you and you both seem to come to the same agreement: grabbing the back of Lucas’ neck, the two of you shove his face back into the water. “What is wrong with you?”

Lucas screams again and you leave Max to deal with him, laughing to yourself as you go see whatever creation your brother has brought home. You love Lucas, you do, but you have no idea how Max puts up with his boyish antics.

Inside Dustin’s room, you find him and the others hunched over a collection of wires and metal pieces. You walk in and join them.

“I would like you to meet Cerebro.” Dustin presents his creation, but you honestly have no idea what it’s supposed to be.

You squint at it. “It’s… Pretty?”

“What exactly are we looking at here?” Mike asks, unimpressed.

“An unassembled, one-of-a-kind, battery powered radio tower!” Dustin explains with a proud smile on his face.

A beat of silence passes before Will carefully asks, “So… It’s a ham radio?”

Dustin’s excitement only grows. “The Cadillac of radios.”

“Still not understanding, buddy.” You now voice, usually always lost when it comes to the more AV stuff the party likes.

“This baby carries a crystal-clear connection over vast differences.” Your brother clarifies for you, and you nod along. “I’m talking North Pole to South. I can talk to my girlfriend whenever and wherever I choose.”

You, Mike, El, and Will all look at each other in shock at the word that has just left Dustin’s mouth. “Girlfriend?”

Your brother nods, looking all smug, and you immediately berate him with a million questions. “What’s her name, where is she from, how long have you been dating. Tell me everything, now!”

“Relax, dear sister. Her name is Suzie, and I’ll explain in a second. We can even talk to her if you guys help me set Cerebro up on Weathertop hill.”

You’re the first to start grabbing all the supplies, giddy and eager to hear more about your baby brother’s girlfriend. It’s almost too good to be true. Mike, Will, and El follow along and soon you’re all holding materials for Cerebro as you follow Dustin out of the house.

As you all leave, Mike starts asking questions again. “Wait, so her name is Suzie?”

Dustin nods. “Suzie, with a ‘z’. She’s from Utah.”

“People from Utah actually exist?” You ask, which the others laugh at.

“Girls go to science camp?” Will asks.

You give him a stern look. “Anyone can go to science camp, Will.”

“What Y/N said,” Dustin continues explaining his girlfriend. “And Suzie does, she’s a genius.”

“Is she cute?” Mike can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Think Phoebe Cates, only better.”

You re-adjust one of the poles for Cerebro in your arms. “Can we focus on her being smart instead? I think she sounds lovely.”

From the kitchen, Max sees the four of you open the front door as she helps Lucas with his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going to talk to Dustin’s girlfriend.” Will informs them.

Lucas whips his head up from the sink as he and Max exclaim, “Girlfriend?”

“I know, right?” You say, motioning them to follow.

–

“Alrighty, one scoop of chocolate. That’s a buck twenty-five.” Steve hands the ice cream cone to the girl he’s currently serving. She’s pretty enough, and when he notices her Purdue shirt, he can’t help but say something about it. “Ooh, Purdue! Fancy.”

The girl smiles and hands Steve her change. “Yeah, I’m excited.”

“Yeah, you know… I–I considered it. Purdue.” He types the code into the register and places the change inside. “But then I was like, you know what? I really think I need some real life experience, you know, before I hit college. See what it’s like.”

The girl and the friend she’s with exchange weird glances, and Steve knows he’s rambling like an idiot. “Uh, what I mean is… You’re girls, right? How would the two of you like to be asked out by a guy?”

“I’m sorry?” Purdue girl asks, looking at her friend, creeped out.

The cash register begins to beep at him and Steve hits it a few times to shut it up. “Sorry, uh… Anyways, say you’ve seen this guy every day for like, months, and feelings are shared, you know, as they are. Then time passes and the guy never makes the move because he’s, well, he’s an idiot–”

“Yeah, totally.” Purdue girl interrupts him and her friend giggles.

“Exactly, so… This was, like, so fun. This little chat. Anyways, what do you think? How would you want the guy to ask you out?” Steve puts on his most charming smile, hoping that the girls will say that maybe he isn’t crazy for waiting so long to ask you out. As he hands them their change, he drops part of it. “Oh, sorry about that. Uh…”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t wanna be asked out.” Purdue girl says as her friend snorts.

“Sure, but I mean, it’s complicated, you know? And–”

Purdue girl interrupts him once more. “No, I’m sorry, but it sounds like you missed your chance and you’re like, really weird.”

“But the guy isn’t me!” Steve shouts as the two girls leave, only embarrassing himself even more. He sighs, closes his eyes, and wonders how he got here.

“And another one bites the dust.” Robin announces from behind him. He turns around and watches as she marks another tally underneath the you suck column of her whiteboard. Next to it is the column you rule, which currently has zero marks. “You are oh-for-six, Popeye.”

Steve crosses his arms. “Yeah, I can count.”

“You know that means you suck and that Y/N isn’t the problem here, you are, right?”

“Yup, I can read, too.” Steve swallows down his annoyance, he knows he’s only done this to himself.

“Since when?”

“It’s this stupid hat,” Steve complains, as if this is the only appropriate answer. “I’m telling you, it’s making everyone think I’m some pathetic guy who can’t ask a girl out.”

Robin leans against the window. “Yeah, company policy is the reason that you’re an idiot for not asking out Y/N.” She thinks for a moment and tries to offer the teen some advice. “Ya know, it’s a crazy idea, but have you considered telling the truth?”

“What? That I’m hopelessly in love with her? Sure, I’m such a catch who couldn’t even get into Tech and whose douchebag dad is trying to teach a lesson, now making three bucks an hour with no future.” Steve laughs at himself. “A catch who, by the way, could’ve been hers back in December had he not been a complete moron? What a great truth.”

Robin frowns, now feeling bad for making him feel this way. While she doesn’t understand everything, she gets that Steve has had a difficult few months. Taking pity on him, she points out some girls approaching and tries to lighten his mood. “Hey, twelve o’clock! Maybe they’ll see your side of things.”

Steve turns around and sees the girls as well. “Shit, okay. Okay, I can do this! I’m going in.” He quickly snatches the sailor hat from his head and tosses it to Robin. “Screw company policy, I’m getting advice about Y/N one way or another.”

For a second, Robin has hope for him, but then he opens his Scoops Ahoy greeting way too loud and then immediately starts to ramble about you, and she sighs in defeat and marks another tally underneath the you suck column.

–

Hiking up a giant, grassy hill in ninety degree heat while hauling heavy equipment for a giant radio that your brother built to talk to his alleged long distance girlfriend definitely wasn’t what you had in mind today. In fact, you mourn the fact that you aren’t working today.

You’re only here to hear about Dustin’s girlfriend, honestly.

“Aren’t we high enough?” Lucas pants, voicing what everyone else is thinking.

Dustin shakes his head. “Cerebro works best at a hundred meters.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure people in Utah have telephones.” Max quips.

You wipe sweat from your brow and cringe, you feel disgusting. “Max, you’ve always been so wise.”

“Suzie’s Mormon.” Says Dustin, and you almost trip over a rock.

“You’re dating a Mormon?”

Lucas talks over you. “Oh, shit. She doesn’t have electricity?”

“Oh, that’s the Amish.” Max corrects him, and you get flashbacks to when you had to correct Steve about Nazis and Germans.

Will frowns at you. “What are Mormons?”

“Scary people–”

Dustin interrupts you. “Super religious white people. They have electricity and cars and stuff, but… Since I’m not Mormon, her parents would never approve.”

“Please don’t become Mormon,” you beg, dripping even more sweat. “I need someone sane in our family.”

“I won’t,” Dustin reassures you, though he has a far off look in his eyes. “But it’s all a bit Shakespearean, don’t you think?”

“Shakespearean?” Max laughs and you also can’t help but giggle.

Dustin doesn’t let your teasing deter him from reminiscing, though. “Yeah, like Romeo and Juliet.”

“They both die, Dustin.” It’s important to you that he knows this.

“But they were also star crossed lovers.”

“Who killed themselves.”

Below, Mike shouts to the rest of you, “Hey, guys!”

You all turn and you frown when you see just how far he and El are, both of them empty handed and dry as a daisy in the summer heat. When Mike sees that he has all of your attention, he taps at his watch. “This is fun and all, but, uh…”

“I have to go home.” El announces, her arm intertwined through Mike’s.

Dustin points towards the top of the hill no less than a few yards away. “We’re almost there.”

“Sorry, man. Curfew.” Mike shrugs, he isn’t really sorry and you all know it. He then grabs El’s hand and they descend down the hill, giggling and enamored with one another.

With a gleeful laugh, El says goodbye. “Good luck!”

Dustin looks down at his watch. “Curfew at four?”

You’re startled by the time, having assumed it was at least closer to six. Hopper may be an overprotective grump of a man, but not even he is crazy enough to enact a curfew for El at four in the afternoon. “That… Doesn’t sound real.”

“They’re lying.” Lucas explains, frustrated.

“It’s been like this all summer.” Will says bitterly, something that you take note of.

Max nudges you with her shoulder. “I think it’s romantic.”

“It’s gross!” Will voices again.

You bite your lip. “I don’t know, it’s your guys’ last summer before high school and…”

“It’s bullshit.” Dustin finishes for you, hurt in his voice. “I just got home.”

You flick him. “Language! But… I agree.”

Dustin watches with annoyance as Mike and El walk down the hill hand in hand. While he’s incredibly hurt that they’ve ditched him after being gone for a month, he remembers what Steve has taught him. People can suck, but there’s nothing he can do about it. “Well, their loss, right? Onwards and upwards, Suzie awaits!”

Max and Lucas groan at the idea of continuing the hike while you admire your brother’s perseverance. You’re proud of him for not letting Mike and El ruin his plans with the others. He’s excited to be home, and you’re more than happy to go along with whatever schemes he has planned.

You’re about to follow the others up the hill when you realize that Will hasn’t joined. You turn around and see that he has his hand around the back of his neck as he stands there, frozen. Then, he turns and faces Hawkins, stumbling back a bit as he does so, and you watch with a frown on your face.

“Hey, little bee, are you okay?” You gently place a hand on his shoulder, which seems to break him of whatever spell he’d been under.

“I’m fine,” he lies, and you don’t at all believe him. Will looks uneasy, as if he’s just seen a ghost. A part of you begins to worry, but you don’t push him. For all you know, it could be about Mike and his growing distance from the others.

“Well, c’mon, then.” You grab Will’s hand and together you ascend the rest of the hill.

At the top, Dustin drops his bag and sighs. “Made it!”

“Yeah, only took five hours,” Max pants out, stumbling the final few steps up the hill.

You collapse onto the ground and fight to catch your breath. “I run almost every morning. I think I lost a lung back there.”

“Why couldn’t we just play DnD?” Will collapses next to you.

Lucas grabs the flask of water, and as you struggle to get air into your lungs, you watch as he chugs the remaining water without a care in the world. Max watches as well, annoyed, and once again you pity Lucas. He’s such a boy.

Building the radio takes longer than expected. After your short five minute break, Dusin puts you all to work. There’s a million pieces to the thing and your fingers ache from screwing bolts into slots and extending poles. The sun has begun to set when you finally push the giant radio into an upright position. It’s easily fifteen feet high, and it’s an impressive sight that you can’t deny.

“Not bad, Dustin.” You admit, walking around Cerebro in awe.

“Ready to meet my love?” He asks everyone, and you all sit down next to him and eagerly await. Dustin switches the radio on. “Suzie, this is Dustin. Do you copy? Over.”

No one answers. All you hear is radio feedback.

Dustin scratches his nose nervously. “One sec. She’s probably… She’s still there.” Again, no one answers, and he ducks his head down in embarrassment. “Suzie… This is Dustin, do you copy? Over.”

More radio static follows in the absence of Suzie’s response.

You wince, despite trying to appear supportive. You can’t help it, this is embarrassing for your brother. While you don’t doubt that he has a girlfriend, you admit that this doesn’t look good for him. A long distance girlfriend who is hot and smart and magically needs a radio to communicate with? Unlikely.

“I’m sure she’s there,” Dustin tries to explain to you guys, now even more embarrassed. “It’s dinner time, and she’s busy…”

“Yeah, sure.” Lucas tries to be supportive and play along, which you appreciate him immensely for. Max nods as well, but Will just stands there silent.

“Maybe try again?” You encourage, trying to be nice.

Dustin nods and tries once more to contact Suzie, and it goes on like this for a while. He radios, no one answers, and eventually you and everyone else lay down in the grass as you wait for nothing.

Almost an hour passes and the crickets begin to chirp as the sun goes down and the moon comes up. Dustin is still trying to reach Suzie, but Max finally has enough. “Dustin, come on! She’s not there.”

“She’s there, alright? She’ll pick up.”

“Dustin…” You sigh, unsure how to tell him that you also want to leave. You had plans with Steve tonight, he invited you over to watch a movie and you should’ve left ten minutes ago.

Will lifts his head up from the grass. “Maybe Cerebro doesn’t work.”

“Or maybe Suzie doesn’t exist.” Lucas argues.

Dustin gasps. “She exists!”

“She’s a genius and she’s hotter than Phoebe Cates? No girl is that perfect.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose at Lucas’ words and wait for Max’s inevitable offense. He truly, deeply, is such a boy. As predicted, Max sits up and looks down at him with annoyance. “Is that so?”

Lucas shuffles up in panic, now realizing too late what he’s said. “I mean–you’re perfect! I mean, like, perfect–in your own way, in your own, uh, special way!”

“Lucas,” you hit his shoulder. “Stop talking, dude.”

Max laughs, pleased with herself. “Relax, I was teasing. I’m obviously perfect and Dustin is obviously lying.”

“Okay, no,” you now sit up. “He isn’t lying, it’s just a very unfortunate circumstance.”

Max doesn’t listen and instead offers Lucas her hand to help him up so that they can leave. “Come on, Don Juan.”

“Where are you going?” Dustin follows, not understanding yet what’s happening.

“Home,” Max huffs, before remembering that you’re there, too. “Bye, Y/N!”

“Bye,” you wave at them weakly, knowing that this will only upset your brother further as she and Lucas slowly head home.

Dustin stands next to you now. “Well, guess it’s just us and Byers, Y/N,”

Will now stands up and awkwardly avoids your brother’s gaze. “Um… It’s late. Sorry. Maybe tomorrow we can play DnD, or something fun, like we used to?”

Dustin clenches his jaw. You know he’s close to tears, and it breaks your heart to watch. You stand up and rest your arm around him as he responds to Will. “Yeah, sure.”

“Welcome home,” Will says sadly before he starts to walk down the hill as well.

You anxiously watch as he leaves. “Be careful, please!”

“I will!” He reassures you, knowing that you’re still terrified of losing him again.

As you watch Will, Dustin whispers to himself, “Yeah, welcome home.”

His words break your heart even more. Forgetting about your anxiety over Will, you wrap both arms around your brother and hug him. He had been so excited earlier to be home and see all his friends after a month of being away. You understand that the kids are all growing up, but you had always hoped that they’d grow together, not apart.

“You still have all of July and August,” you try to comfort Dustin, desperately hoping that you aren’t lying to both him and yourself. “I’m sure they’ll come around.”

Suddenly the radio attached to Cerebro switches on and Dustin pushes you off of him so that he can get to the radio in time. He stumbles over his feet and trips, and you watch with amusement and curiosity.

He manages to finally untangle himself from the radio and answers. “Suzie, Suzie, is that you?”

You sit down next to Dustin and lean in close to the radio, excited to finally meet your brother’s girlfriend. Instead, you hear what sounds like a foreign language. It’s distinct, slightly muffled, but you know what it is. “Is that…”

“Russian.” Dustin whispers.

Everything changes, then.

–

You force Dustin to go home immediately. He wants to stay, see if he can find any more hidden messages, but you refuse. He’s elated, talking a mile a minute as you bike home, theorizing every possible answer as to why you heard Russian in Hawkins, Indiana.

“Dustin!” You yell at him, terrified that someone could be listening. “Not here, okay?”

He deflates, but pedals home alongside you.

You’re terrified as you bike home, a million thoughts are running through your head. You don’t at all like what any of this could mean; you’ve had enough sketchy government facilities and secret government agencies to last you a fucking lifetime.

When you get home, you order Dustin to go to bed.

“But Y/N, we’ve got to tell someone about this–”

“Tomorrow, okay? Just, please, Dustin.” You’re exhausted and confused and overwhelmed.

Your brother senses that you’re at your limit and reluctantly backs down. “Fine, but can we at least tell Steve tomorrow?”

Hearing Steve’s name puts something at ease within you. Tomorrow, you’ll go to Scoops with Dustin and ask Steve what he thinks about all of this. Comforted by the fact that you now have a plan forming, you begin to calm down. “I promise we’ll tell him tomorrow, okay?”

Dustin nods and heads to his room, wishing you a good night. When you hear his door click shut, you slowly head to your own room. You’re terrified, and there’s only one thing you want to do to lessen the fear that scratches at your throat. After crawling into bed, you call Steve.

He answers immediately. “Y/N? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” you breathe out, his voice like an exhale of a summer’s day. “I… I’m sorry I missed our movie night.”

Steve laughs softly. “Angel, I’m just happy you’re okay. I was getting worried there.”

You close your eyes. “It’s been a weird day.”

“Did something happen?” Steve senses that there’s something you aren’t telling him, which worries him.

“Dustin… He may have found something, but I just–I don’t want to talk about it just yet. I… I don’t want to jinx it,” you squeeze your eyes tight and will away the fear you feel. “I–I’m just, I’m so exhausted, you know?”

“Y/N, are you in danger–”

“No,” you dispel any fear that Steve may feel. “I promise I’m okay, I just really need to hear your voice right now, okay? Can you just talk to me, please?”

“Of course I can.” Steve agrees without any questions asked, and you love how he trusts you enough to do this.

Exhaling the remaining fear, you allow the warmth from Steve to hold you through the night. “Thank you, honey.”

“Anytime, angel. You know that.”

And you do.

Steve begins telling you a story from today, how he dropped an ice cream cone on a toddler and enraged the mom, and you fall asleep that night to the sound of his voice over the phone.

-

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[neonghostlights]

If you’re taking requests could you write something with Eddie surviving the upside down and he’s trying to get back into the swing of things. He moves in with reader so she can care for him. She gets his pills for him everyday, makes sure he takes them, changes his bandages helps him bathe and changes his clothes. I just picture everyone over sitting around a table it’s the first time they’ve seen Eddie since he’s discharged from the hospital, maybe a game night or eating pizza and Eddie is all bandaged up under a t shirt and sweatpants. No one has ever seen him without his leather jacket or jean vest. Reader is behind him guiding him to the table and he’s kind of groany as he sits down. Nobody really knows how to act around him they are just grateful he’s alive. Maybe he’s struggling to find his independence, but it’s not readers fault she has been his rock through everything. Angst, but Happy ending please please

Hi, this was my first request ever! Hope I did okay.

Warnings: Pills/Pain medication, Parental Drug Addiction, Pain, Wounds, Eddie gets a little grumpy, 18+ only

Word count: 2.5k

Even If It Hurts

Eddie sat on the side of the bed with his head in his hands. His hair sat in a bun at the nape of his neck, now loose from sleep. The sheets of the bed were pulled back on both sides. Your empty spot cold since you had been up for probably a while by now. 

The sound of you clinking around through the kitchen made Eddie want to smile but he couldn't bring himself to. Mornings were the worst for his pain. Lying in bed for hours while being unconscious and utterly still made it excruciating when it was finally time to move his muscles. Even just sitting on the side of the bed unassisted was painful. 

It was progress though. He couldn’t do this a few weeks ago. He knew you were going to be so proud of him when you came in here to collect him. He wouldn’t tell you how painful it was or how it took everything inside him not to scream or thrash just from moving his torso. He wouldn’t tell you how he had to put a piece of the blanket between his teeth so no noises would slip through. 

Your slippered feet pattered down the hall towards him. Each scuff against the wooden floor boards bringing you closer to him. 

You peeked your head into the room, eyes searching Eddie’s spot in the bed. When you saw him sitting up, using the edge of the nightstand as a crutch to hold himself in place, your eyes grew wide. 

“Look at you,” you cooed softly. Not ready to break the trance of the early morning.

Eddie made a face. Perhaps it could be qualified as a smile but it was more like a grimace. He tried to hide his pain from you sometimes but you knew. Smiles from Eddie were hard to come by these days. You tried so hard to bring back the personality of the man you knew. The doctors told you it would take a while. He went through something traumatic and that changes a person. You were told to give him some space. 

But you had some tricks up your sleeves. 

You held the pain pill in your palm out to him. He was able to do this part on his own, the placing of the pill on the tongue. You placed the glass of water to his lips when he was ready, tilting it for him to wash it down. It was too heavy for him to lift on his own before the pain medication kicked in. Only a dribble of water ran down his chin this time, an improvement from when you first started doing this for him and you would both end up soaked. 

Eddie had a hard time when he first left the hospital a few weeks ago with taking the pain medication. It reminded him of his fathers addiction too much. Eddie was always aware of the dangers of prescription pills, which was why he stuck to weed mostly. But after refusing to take them the pain became too much and he was crying and begging for them. You and him had come up with a good routine, you thought. It kept him on track without feeling like  he was taking too many. 

Eddie gulped the pill and water down, taking a deep breath of relief when he was able to breathe again. 

“Physical therapy is gonna be proud,” you hummed as you set up his walker. The buttons clicking into place loudly throughout the mostly quiet room. Eddie didn’t say anything in reply, just a little nod of his head that you barely caught out the corner of your eye. 

You put the walker in front of him, holding it down with force so he could pull himself up without it falling over or moving out of his grasp. 

He shifted and shuffled, moving to the edge of the bed. It was too soon for the pain pills to completely kick in yet, but it was a little easier to move now that his body had warmed up some this morning. 

With a quick 1,2,3 murmured under his breath he pushed himself up, latching onto the walker before his upper half could fall back onto the bed. He had to move around, even if it hurts. 

Eddie had once dreamed about being in a shower with a pretty girl.

His dreams never included wound cleaning and a cold plastic shower chair though. 

You stood behind Eddie, detachable shower head in hand as you wet his hair. The curls stretched out across the top of his back. His hair weighed down from the weight of the water. His hair always looked longer like this. It made him excited to grow it out even longer. 

There had been a time when he got out of the hospital where he thought he was going to have to cut it all out. 

Thanks to you, a whole bottle of conditioner, three combs, and a thing of detangling spray, you were able to save his hair. 

It wasn’t just his hair though. You had saved a lot of parts of him since he’d woken up in that hospital bed. It made him emotional to think about the way you were so soft with him even when he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t know how to voice his thanks enough for you to understand how deeply grateful he was for you. 

You worked the suds of the shampoo through the strands of hair. You took your time when you did this, making sure to rub his scalp in a way that sent tingles down his spine. 

The feeling was becoming too much along with his already emotional thoughts of the morning. A few tears slipped out, trailing down his cheeks. They blended in with the water that already dripped off him from the shower head, disappearing down the drain where they would remain a secret. Eddie hated how much he cried now. It was always either from the pain or the guilt of having you care for him like this. He knew you didn't mind having to do everything for him. He knew one day he would be independent again. He just didn’t think he deserved a love like this. 

After the shower, you dried his hair while he took care of drying his body. Always careful to not open any wounds. You applied the thick, strong smelling ointment to his injuries with precision before wrapping them in gauze and tape. It burnt when the smell of the medicine hit his nose. Wayne had tried to do this one time but he and Eddie couldn’t get the bandages to look as neat as you did. 

Wayne felt bad about taking the back seat and letting you do all of this for his nephew. He felt like as a parent it was his responsibility. His back was bad though from years of working at the plant. After a day of helping Eddie, Wayne could hardly walk. After that, it was agreed that you would do all of the heavy lifting. Each day it became less tough with Eddie’s growing independence. It may seem small, but it was a massive improvement from when he first came home and couldn’t get out of the bed. 

The toughest part of the day was over. Bathroom and hygiene needs were met, breakfast eaten, the rest of the morning pills down, and stretches prescribed by the physical therapist completed. Eddie sat back in the recliner, dozing off in front of the TV while you cleaned. 

Usually you would sit with him and watch the talk shows he complained about but secretly loved. He craned his neck, trying to get a glance of you as you wiped down the kitchen table. 

You must have felt his stare because you looked up at him, gracing him with a pretty smile. 

“Come sit with me,” Eddie requested. “You’re doing too much.”

You dropped the rag on the table before making your way to him. “You feeling neglected in here?” You asked, a hint of humor in your voice. 

Eddie let out a small laugh. His hand found yours as you stood beside where he sat. His rough hands rubbed against your soft ones. No matter how much lotion you slathered on him, the calluses from years of guitar playing just weren’t going to disappear. 

“Our shows on,” he said, nodding his head at the TV. 

“It is,” you said with a smile, pushing a stray strand of hair off his forehead. You would need to trim his bangs soon. That could be added onto the to do list for tomorrow. 

“Come here,” he muttered, tugging on you as much as he could to bring you down into the recliner with him. 

“Eddie,” you warned. “I can’t get in here with you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” he said as you carefully sat beside him, trying not to touch him. 

Eddie used as much of his upper body as he could to position you closer. When you noticed he wasn’t going to give up, you scooted closer. Carefully placing your head on his shoulder. 

“You’re doing better every day, Eds,” you whispered to him softly as his eyes grew heavy. 

Eddie wasn’t sure how long he dozed off for. The sound of soft talking is what pulled him out of his dream. He reflectively patted beside him, looking for you. Only to find the spot empty but still warm. 

He sighed as he stretched his limbs. The pain medicine from earlier were still in his system, helping to take the edge off. 

“Wakey, wakey,” someone said from beside him. Eddie jerked slightly, not prepared to have a stranger so close to his face. 

“Dustin,” you scolded, your voice farther away. 

Eddie’s eyes focused on the face of his friend just inches away from his own. 

“Henderson? What the hell are you doing?” Eddie questioned, leaning back slightly. 

“It’s game night! Come on!” Dustin said enthusiastically, pulling the blanket off Eddie. 

Eddie grumbled at the cold air hitting his skin. His arms automatically came up to cover his chest even though he had a tshirt on. 

“Dustin!” You yelled, coming closer to intervene. 

“What? I’m just going to help him up,” Dustin explained. 

“I got it. Why don’t you help Steve with the pizza?” You begged. 

Dustin walked away, mumbling about how Steve can’t even put some pizza on plates by himself. 

Eddie looked up at you in question. 

“Please don’t be mad,” you said softly so the visitors in the kitchen couldn’t hear you. “It was Dustin's idea. They just miss you so much.”

Eddie wasn’t mad at you. He just wasn’t ready. He hadn’t seen any one besides you or Wayne since he was discharged from the hospital. Everyone had called a few times to speak with him, and when they did he would pass the phone off to you so you could make an excuse for him. 

It wasn’t like he was avoiding them or anything. He was just embarrassed to be seen like this. 

You pulled the walker in front of the recliner so Eddie could get up. 

“Do you need to go to the bathroom before we go sit in the kitchen?” You asked. 

Eddie stared at you wide eyed, looking to make sure no one had heard you ask him that. He was used to you helping him to the toilet, but he didn’t want anyone else to know that. He shook his head quickly. 

You caught on to what his look meant and snapped your mouth shut tightly. 

Eddie pushed himself up from the recliner without warning and left the walker behind. You stuck a hand out to help him as he slowly walked to the kitchen table, wobbling without his extra support. He knew he would get an earful from you about it later but he didn’t want them to see him with the walker. 

He held onto you as you helped ease him into the kitchen chair. A low sound of pain erupted from his throat without warning. Sitting in the kitchen chairs was the worst for him. You had put a pillow in the seat and behind his back but it was still hard. 

Eddie looked up when he finally got situated to see all the eyes in the room on him. 

“What?” He asked, the word came out snappier than he intended it to. 

Steve was the first to speak up. “It’s just good to see you, man.”

Nancy nodded along. “It looks like you’re doing a lot better.”

Robin had a strange look on her face as she stared at Eddie. He raised a brow at her, telling her to go ahead and say what she wanted to say. 

“You’re not wearing black,” she blurted out. “It’s weird. But, like, totally in a good way.”

Eddie looked down at his white t-shirt and gray sweatpants combination and he couldn't hold back the laugh that came out of him. The rest of the table seemed to relax at his reaction, letting out a few chuckles of their own. You stared at him worried. 

“I got eaten by monster bats. I’m covered in bandages. I look like shit. I have to use a walker to get around. I can’t hardly do anything on my own. And you think the not wearing black is weird?” He finally asked through his laughs.

“We don’t care about that,” Mike spoke up. “We’re just happy you’re alive.”

Eddie sobered at this, looking around at all his friends sitting around the table. Some new and some old. 

He felt like he belonged here with these people that he fought to save the world with. That he almost gave up his life for. 

You reached over and squeezed his hand, noticing the emotion in his eyes. 

“Wayne brought over some of your dungeon master stuff he was able to save from the trailer. I figured we could play some DnD tonight?” You said. 

Eddie couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face. 

Eddie still had it, even after over a month without touching DnD. 

He relaxed into the bed, reminiscing on the night he had. Things were awkward at first until the ice finally broke and everyone was bickering and joking with each other again. 

He could've played for hours longer but his body was screaming at him to rest. You finally made everyone go home, with plans to do this again next week. 

You were laid beside him, eyes closing and drifting off into sleep. 

“Thank you,” Eddie whispered into the darkness, hoping you were still awake enough to hear him. 

You didn’t answer because you didn’t need to. You simply reached over and started to trace shapes across his arm. Eddie felt the words “I love you” being drawn across his skin. 

“I love you,” he said out loud before sleep overtook him. 

The next day, Eddie was able to do a little bit more and then even more the day after. Slowly but surely, he healed with you and his friends by his side.

[erwinsvow]

“I want them to like you,” you say, tugging on Rafe’s arm to drag him away from his truck and towards the beach. “I want them to love you.” He’s standing still, feet planted firmly on the pavement. 

You’ve wanted Rafe to meet your friends for the longest time, so much so that it’s the only thing you’ve been thinking about recently. It’s not exactly accurate—he has met them before, many times, actually, but they’ve never been good encounters. You recall a bruise on Pope’s back and JJ’s busted lip, back before they knew Rafe was your boyfriend and he was just public enemy number one.

But things are better now—really, they are. You try to convince yourself all of those incidents are in the past, that everyone’s over it now. You want your friends to like your boyfriend. You want your boyfriend to like your friends. You want it so bad you’re willing to drag Rafe to the beach yourself, if that’s what it takes.

“They can’t stand me,” Rafe replies, scanning the surroundings. He doesn’t like them, but he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings either, if they overhear the two of you right now. “Can’t stand them, either, y’know.”

“But you like me, don’t you?” you ask, smiling wide, all cheery and bright. Like he has to tell you again. He rolls his eyes, making you laugh.

“Not at all. What gave y’that stupid idea?” You roll your own pretty eyes in a matching response.

“C’mon, Rafe, look, they’re already here-” you whine, pointing at the giant, junky thing your Pogue friends call a car. He doesn’t let you anywhere near the thing anymore if he can help it—drops you off and picks you up because that thing is a death trap, even more so with one of the stoned idiots driving it. “I don’t wanna be late, so move-” you start pushing at his chest, but he doesn’t give you an inch. 

You huff, hot sun beating down on you, muscles tired from trying to move your entirely too strong boyfriend. 

“Fine,” you finally let out, giving up. “I’ll just go by myself.”

“Good girl. I’ll swing by to get you in a couple hours and then we can go for dinner-”

“Sounds good,” you interrupt, causing Rafe to look at you with an eyebrow raised—you never interrupt him. “I’ll just have Pope put the sunscreen on my back for me. Since you won’t be there.”

“Wait a minute-”

“And JJ’s been dying to teach me how to surf. Y’know, last time I tried though, my top fell off. But I guess it’s no big deal. I bet John B can put it back on for me.”

Rafe thinks he’s mastered the look of not caring sometimes, face blank, eyes showing nothing but mild disturbance. This is not one of those times. You smile, because you can’t help it, watching your boyfriend’s ears turn bright pink, the muscles in his jaw clench, his fist tighten around your pink beach bag.

You put your hand over his, gently, trying to take the bag so you can walk away with it. You’re not sure if your plan worked until he snatches the bag back, hand holding your wrist tightly. 

“Come on, kid,” he mutters, heading in the direction of the beach. “Pain in my ass,” you hear him say quietly, but you feel giddy that he agreed to join you after all. 

Your friends are set up by the water, towels haphazardly thrown on the sand, a case of beer resting in the shade under the umbrella. JJ is waxing his board, Pope is standing next to him, critiquing his method. John has just crushed a beer can down, and chucks it at Kie, who ducks and starts yelling about how inhumane littering is. 

“Hey!” you hear Pope beam, a smile lighting up your face. “Look who’s here-” and Kie joins in with an excited yell, tossing the empty can back at John B and hitting the back of his head. 

“Thought you’d never come back to us now that you’re a fancy Kook girl. Where’s that-” JJ goes silent, watching Rafe walking behind you, staring blankly, looking pissed. “-asshole boyfriend. Nevermind, I found him.”

“I brought Rafe,” you say, a big smile taking over again. You look expectantly at everyone, and then stare until they give you the reaction you want. They mumble hi and hey, Kook, and you turn back to Rafe, taking your bag and figuring out where to put your towels—pink, like the bag, like your bikini. Rafe’s shorts are white, with little pink stripes to match you. 

You both sit down on the sand before you finally offer him the bottle of sunscreen and lay flat on your stomach so he can put it on. He squirts some onto his hands, rubbing them together to spread it out and then first slaps your ass, leaving a sandy, white handprint on the skin. Your body jerks, whining against the towel.

“Had to. Practically asking for it. M’not apologizing,” he says, quiet enough that only the two of you can hear. His hands rub the sunscreen onto your back and arms, but then you decide everything he does is too erotic for public, so you turn back, insisting that’s enough sun protection. You just got here and you don’t want to leave because you can’t resist your boyfriend just yet.

You turn your head, noticing Kie walking towards you with a can of hard seltzer, the fruity kind she knows you prefer. The boys are by the other umbrella, tossing beers at each other. You tug on Rafe’s arm again.

“Why don’t you go get a beer with them. You can talk. It’ll be nice!” 

There’s nothing he’d rather do less. 

“Came here to hang with you, not them,” he says curtly, head resting back on the towel.

“Rafe!” The things he does for you. “Please?” He shouldn’t have looked at you—that was his mistake. Five seconds of your pout and your sincere eyes is enough to make him do whatever you want.

“Five minutes, then I’m coming back. That’s it.”

“Thank you,” you sing sweetly. Kiara comes and settles down next to you. “Is it strawberry? My favorite!” he hears you say, followed by the hiss of you opening the can, as he gets up and stalks towards your friends.

Their conversation dies when Rafe steps up—something he doesn’t like. He could care less about these idiots, but he really doesn’t want you to get caught in the middle of this shit. He can see it already—your pretty face covered in tears, crying because you care too much about him, care too much about your friends.

Rafe knows you’d pick him over them, he just doesn’t want to force you to make that choice.

“What’re you drinking?” he questions. Three pairs of eyes stare at him blankly. A retort bubbles inside him angrily—Stupid and deaf? You losers can’t catch a break, huh? He turns to look at you, hoping you’re in conversation with Kie and sipping your sugary drink. You’re not. You’re staring at the four of them with a hopeful smile.

He swallows the comment and turns with a forced, hard smile. “Beer? That’s great. Toss me one.” Pope does as he says, and then goes back to drinking his own. 

“S’like weird, to see you smile. Didn’t know you could do that,” JJ comments, crushing his own beer can up now that it was empty. Rafe wishes you were here, listening, because-

“What the hell am I supposed to say to that?” John B lets out a laugh at that, Pope joins in. Rafe cracks another smile, they’re pretty goofy, just like you had said. “Nah, I’m just saying, like, didn’t think you could be nice. Must be, if she likes you.”

Rafe turns to look back at you again, quickly. You’re talking to Kie now, head thrown back, laughing. You look prettiest like this, when you’re happy. 

“Yeah, for her.” Then he takes another long chug of the beer, looking back at them. “You idiots don’t make it easy.”

“It’s not easy for us, either,” Pope interjects. “I mean, you did hit me with a golf club.” Rafe runs a hand through his hair, unsure what to say, because he did do that. 

“Yeah, I, uh-” he trails off. “Sorry, sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” JJ says.

“All in the past,” John B tacks on. 

It must be several beers later, because you hear the boys laughing and… getting along? You decide to walk over, just to make sure your eyes and ears aren’t deceiving you. The box they had just bought earlier today was filled with the empties, the unmistakable sound of your boyfriend’s laugh filling your ears, your friends all engaged in conversations. You decide to turn back rather than interrupt, giddiness filling your heart that everything worked out. You don’t catch the end of their conversation, already back to your towel and opening another drink with Kie.

“And then I went there,” JJ starts, “-and I was like should I leave, because then her parents might wake up, because I forgot the condom-”

JJ stops to take another sip of the beer, and Rafe cuts him off.

“Wait, you guys use condoms?” 

Three pairs of eyes turn on him.

When you two walk back to his truck a little later, he swings his arm around you and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“What was that for?” you ask, happy and tired.

“Yeah, I don’t think they like me much.”

[blindmagdalena]

'Neath the Mistletoe

1k homelander x gn!reader. pure christmas fluff. 🎄inspired by anon. thank you!

When you and Homelander make the decision to go public with your relationship, Vought seizes the opportunity to capitalize on the announcement with a seasonal photoshoot.

There is nothing more quintessentially Christmas than kissing your beloved under the mistletoe. Naturally, Homelander has been anticipating it since the first whispers of the season began to carry on the air.

However, this was not at all how he’d imagined it would happen. He’s been in front of the cameras his entire life, he’s used to it, but you aren’t. You’re tense in his arms, gaze flickering out to the crew, paying more attention to how you’re presenting in front of the camera than you are to him.

It’s hardly the romantic venture he dreamt of.

“Hey,” he whispers, bringing your eyes back to him. You look like a deer in the headlights. He probably looked the same way during his first real photoshoot. Still, he tries to calm you by assuring you, “You’re doing great.”

“How many of these are we going to have to do?” You ask quietly, your tension creeping into your voice.

He frowns. He knows you’re nervous, but it really squeezes out any romance lingering in the moment to think you’re dreading how many more times you’re going to have to kiss each other. If it were just the two of you, it wouldn’t matter. He’d kiss you a dozen times for each mistletoe he saw. A hundred times. He’s got years and years spent without you to make up for.

Huh. Now there’s a thought.

“Hey, let’s take five,” he calls to the crew. Immediately, he feels you relax against him.

“Thank you,” you sigh, squeezing his forearms. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to complain–”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he soothes, already fixated on his brewing plot. He leans in to kiss your forehead and gives your hips a pat. “Lemme go get you some water, ‘kay? We’ll bang out the rest of these photos, and then we can get to bangin’ out in private,” he says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You laugh, giving him a playful little push, and he seizes the opportunity to split off and not only grab you a water bottle, but to pull Ashley aside for a quick word, whispering it in her ear.

Ashley’s eyes widen. She pulls back sharply to stare incredulously at him. “By the end of the shoot?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, smiling. “And wipe that fuckin’ look off your face before you’re seen,” he says, giving her arm an unfriendly pat that jostles her slightly. She immediately schools her expression, glancing at you. Luckily, you’re busy briefly dissociating while you recover from the flash of cameras and the bustle of the crew and makeup department.

“Right… Yes, sir,” she says, frantically pulling out her phone the second his back is turned.

Homelander returns to you with a crisp bottle of water and kisses your cheek reassuringly. “Almost done,” he promises you, rubbing your back. “And then I’ve got a treat for you back at my place.”

Your eyes narrow suspiciously as you drink. “Is it something to do with ‘bangin’ out’?”

“More like rockin’ around,” he says, breaking into a cheeky grin while the two of you move back into position.

Just shy of an hour later, the shoot has finally wrapped up–no thanks to Ashley’s thinly veiled stalling–and Homelander is eagerly guiding you back to his penthouse, your hand held firmly in his. Pausing at the door, he peers through it, ensuring everything looks right before he opens it.

Glancing down at you, he steps to the side as he swings the door open, gesturing you inside. “After you.”

That way, he has the perfect vantage to admire your shock as you’re blindsided by the sight of dozens upon dozens upon dozens of sprigs of mistletoe hanging from every doorway, light fixture and arch in his entire penthouse.

“Did you somehow not get enough kisses on set?” You ask playfully, reaching up to bat lightly at one of the hanging mistletoe. They’ve all been secured in place with some kind of clear tacky little bits of paste.

“Not familiar with this concept of ‘enough kisses,’ “ he says, miming quotation marks before dropping his hands to his hips, admiring the work he put into demanding this be done. They did a decent job, all things considered.

You turn around to face him, beaming as brightly as any shining star.

God, you look… beautiful. Backlit by the glittering Christmas lights decorating his penthouse–the cast of them warm on your skin–you give him a melancholic sense of nostalgia for something he’s yearned for his entire life, but never known. You look cut straight out of every Hallmark moment he’s ever dreamed of. You look the way Christmas does in the movies. You look like home.

He can’t stop himself from kissing you, your face cradled delicately in the warm, soft leather of his gloves. He strokes your cheek with his thumb, slipping his hand to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. He leans into you the way he wanted to throughout the entirety of that goddamn photoshoot, taking so much more now than those chaste little kisses. They had only served to whet his appetite for you.

You sigh against his lips in a way that drives him insane with hunger, pushing your hands into his perfectly styled hair, thoroughly mussing it. He pushes further into you, forces your back to bow until he’s snaking his arm around your waist and becoming the only thing holding you up as he dips you in this fervent, aching kiss.

When he does finally relent and draw back, you suck in a breath, your cheeks flushed warmly, your eyes bright and glimmering in the twinkling lights that surround you both.

“God,” you exhale, licking your lips. “Now that was a kiss under the mistletoe.”

Homelander glances up at the mistletoe dangling above you, and then back down. His smile is equal parts warm and wicked. “One of many to come.”

“I don’t think my lips are going to survive it,” you say, but your eyes betray your excitement.

“Don’t worry,” he purrs. You give a giddy little yelp as he effortlessly lifts you up into his arms, settling you against his chest. He kisses you again and again, one for each mistletoe you pass on the way to his bedroom.  “These lips aren't the only part of you getting thoroughly kissed tonight.”

He made sure there was extra mistletoe above the bed.

[wreckedandpolemic]

screwed up and brilliant - matty healy

(mdni) in which your whirlwind summer takes a turn you never could have predicted. part two of white and gold. 16185 words.

warnings (here we go): daddy kink (obvs), phone sex, authority kink, roleplay, dom/sub dynamics, mean dom!matty, spanking, semi-public sex, gagging, oral (f receiving), mentions of anal, vague allusions to parental fuckery

The singular thought circling through your head the entire way home is what the fuck. If it weren’t for the soreness in your muscles, the bruises on your thighs and your embarrassing lack of underwear, you’d believe you dreamt the whole thing. You stop the taxi a little ways down your street, trying not to draw attention to yourself returning from your unbelievable night. It’s not like your parents would know exactly where you’ve been, but you’d rather save yourself the embarrassment of getting caught coming home from a hookup.

It turns out you didn’t need to worry, though, your footsteps echoing through an empty house as you let yourself in the back. Checking your phone for the first time since you left the dinner with Matty, critically low battery and a text from your mother flash up at you. We’ve gone out for lunch at the Dove. Love you x, the text informs you, a sense of guilty relief washing over you. There’s few things you love more than your house being empty; your shoulders loose without your mother’s nervous, slightly oppressive energy and your father’s meaningful and disappointed glances. Your steps are light as you waltz up the stairs to your room, flinging open your wardrobe to start getting ready before you realise you don’t know what you should be dressing for.

You tip out your clutch onto the bed, business cards, lipgloss and a forgotten pair of earrings spilling on your sheets as you dig for Matty’s number. Tapping the keyboard idly, you try to think of a good opening message, inspiration striking as you catch sight of a discarded bra on your bedroom floor. You slip into a favourite set, black with gold detailing and leaving very little to the imagination, and pose in your bedroom mirror, texting the photo to Matty.

hi x

trying to get ready but i don’t know what to wear :( where are we going?

Fucking hell

Hi, pretty girl

You could wear that and I’d be a very happy man

yeah i bet you would

answer the question perv

I don’t want to spoil the surprise

if you don’t tell me im changing

Fine

Brat

It’s nice but relaxed

Youre not dressing for dinner its not that hard

rude

pick me up in an hour ;)

You turn back to your wardrobe with a groan — what the fuck does he mean by nice but relaxed? A skirt and a nice top? Heels or no heels? What are you supposed to do with your hair? Leafing through your clothes, you find a green sundress tucked away near the back, a vintage treasure you’d picked up at a market a few years ago and promptly forgotten about. By some stroke of luck, it fits perfectly, the skirt swirling gorgeously around your calves. Your reflection grins back at you as you dust on some makeup, finding a dangling pair of jade earrings to match.

Exactly on cue, your phone rings, flashing up Matty’s contact. “Hi, love. I’m outside — well, as close as I dare, anyway. I’m on a double yellow, actually. Risking my spotless driving record for you.”

You snort. “They’ve gone out, park in the drive. I’ll come to the door.” You pad down the stairs as Matty’s tyres crunch on the gravel outside. Smoothing down your hair nervously, you take a deep breath, the blurry outline of him visible through the stained glass of your front door. You swing the door open as Matty raises his fist to knock, giggling slightly at the way he stands, his hand hovering meaninglessly in midair.

His eyes blow wide as he takes you in, crowding you close in a split-second. “Hi, princess,” he grins, electricity tingling under your skin where he holds you by the waist, his body pressed against yours. “If nobody’s home, I can do this,” he breathes, catching your lips and kissing you deeply, licking into your mouth like a starving man.

After a long moment, you find the strength to push him away. “Matty, the neighbours!” you protest.

“Fine,” Matty says, walking you inside and kicking the door shut behind him. He pulls you back to him, catching your lips in a filthy kiss, a slide of lips and tongue, sticky with desire. Groaning into your mouth, his lips fall to your neck, pressing kisses over the concealed bruises on your neck. You can tell he wants to cover them, mark you up as his own, and you giggle as you push his head back.

“Do we have to go to lunch?” you tease. “They’re not gonna be back for hours.”

Matty pinches your ass through your skirt. “Needy girl. You’ll love the place, I promise.” Slowly, like it pains him, he lets go of you and steps back, eyes widening as he properly takes in the sight of you for the first time. “God, you look gorgeous, princess. You look like summer.” You flush, shifting on your feet and glancing at the floor. “Can’t believe I get to have you. You know everyone who sees you is gonna be fuckin’ jealous of me, gonna want my pretty girl for themselves?” He looks livid at the mere prospect, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

You giggle. “But I’ll be there with you. Why would I want anyone else?” you assure him, stretching up to kiss at the corners of his mouth until he cracks a smile. Your chest aches a little at the sight, a private moment of happiness stretching between you. You can almost see the path along with it, a brief flicker of a life with him dancing in your imagination before you swat it away.

Fuck, you’re in too deep. You’re hurtling towards a vast expanse of something, and you don’t even have the strength to look away. You can only hope the breakneck pace isn’t going to break your heart, too.

“That’s right,” Matty says, after what feels like an eternity. “All mine, yeah? Shall we?”

You nod, not yet trusting yourself to speak, and take his hand, sliding into the passenger seat of his car. The smell of clean leather envelops you, mixed with Matty’s now-familiar cigarettes and cologne smell. Matty’s hand lands on your thigh and traces absent circles as he reverses out of the drive. The streets roll by, rows of houses all merging together, your eyes glazing over while you avoid Matty’s gaze. “So pretty, baby,” he murmurs. “My pretty little passenger princess.”

“Does that mean you’ll drive me anywhere I want?” you tease, finally bringing your gaze back to Matty. The afternoon light casts him in a soft glow, his curls ruffling in the gentle breeze. He taps his fingers absently on the wheel, a sick thrill running through you as you remember feeling them on your skin, thighs clenching needily under his touch. You slide a hand between his legs, smirking at the hiss he lets out when you palm gently over his cock. “Promise I’ll make it worth your while,” you add teasingly, plying him with wide, innocent eyes.

Matty chuckles darkly and returns his other hand to the wheel, your skin impossibly cold in the absence his touch leaves behind. “You gonna get me off right here? In the car with the windows down? Such a naughty girl.” He inclines his head as if to say go on, calling your bluff, and you lower your gaze and return your hand to your lap, subdued. “That’s what I thought. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, princess.”

You shrug. “Wouldn’t want to taint your spotless driving record,” you tease, and he tips back his head and laughs, the sound filling the car and wrapping around you, your head going fuzzy with affection. A few minutes later, Matty puts the car in park, leaning over the centre console to kiss you. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, thumbing lightly over your cheek and smiling against your lips. Ever the gentleman, he comes to the passenger side to let you out, and you take his arm and let him lead you inside. 

“Afternoon,” Matty greets the maître d’ with a polite smile. “Healy for two, one thirty?”

“Ah, yes, right this way, sir,” he says, his eyes flickering curiously over you as he leads you through the restaurant.

His gaze lands judgmentally on Matty when he tugs you into him by the waist, and you bristle, deliberately planting a kiss on his cheek as you walk. “Would you like to sit inside or outside?” the maître d’ asks in a tone that suggests he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Can we sit outside, please? It’s such a nice day,” you say, and Matty grins indulgently down at you. He inclines his head at the maître d’, who leads you into the restaurant’s courtyard. Your jaw drops at the oasis you’ve suddenly found yourself in, lush green dotted through with glass tables, quiet chatter undercut with the splash of a dancing water fountain.

“This place is gorgeous,” you say as Matty pulls out your chair for you. “Do you come here a lot?”

He sees right through you, smirking over his menu. “I’ve never brought a girl here,” he tells you, answering the question you’re really asking.

“You keep saying that,” you say thoughtfully. “No bullshitting this time, what makes me so special?”

Matty meets your eyes, holding your gaze deadly serious. “I don’t date a lot, princess,” he tells you. “The girls that I… spend time with…” Your jaw clenches. “They’re not… Well, I need to feel a connection, you know? And I hadn’t felt it in a long time. I was kind of starting to give up hope,” he huffs a quiet laugh, a soft smile crossing his face when he speaks. “And then I met you, and I could just feel it.” He’s gazing adoringly at you, and you suddenly wonder if maybe it’s okay that you’re in too deep, because maybe, just maybe, he’s right there with you.

“Matty, I—”

“Good afternoon!” a bright, falsely cheery voice cuts in. “Are you both ready for drinks?”

Annoyed at the interruption, you purse your lips and address Matty. “I don’t know… What do you think I should get?” you grin, deliberately playing up the affection, leaning towards him and batting your lashes.

“I don’t know, darling. Are you feeling like wine?”

“I can come back,” the waitress says, all pretence at cheer abandoned as she taps her pencil against her notepad impatiently.

Rolling your eyes, you wave a hand at her. “No, stay. Just give me a minute to decide, ‘kay?” You scan the menu and deliberately order the most expensive rosé with a smirk in Matty’s direction. He shrugs, ordering himself a Malbec, and the waitress finally buzzes off.

It feels inappropriate to return to your conversation after the interruption, and you chuckle awkwardly. The breeze ripples in the silence between you, pulling clouds away from the sun so it shines directly into your eyes. Wincing, you shield your face, squinting in a way you’re sure is horrendously unattractive. Matty laughs softly. “Here you go, darling,” he says, pulling his sunglasses off his head and gently resting them on your face. “God, and here I thought you couldn’t get any prettier,” he adds, and you flush, picking at imaginary lint on your dress to avoid his gaze. 

“Flatterer,” you scoff, kicking softly at his shin. “Thank you,” you add, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“S’nothing, princess. Keep ‘em, if you want.” Matty shrugs as if they’re inconsequential, and not a two hundred pound accessory. “Smoke?” he offers as you’re still reeling.

You nod, tilting your head quizzically. “Thought you didn’t want me ruining my lungs?” you tease, slipping the cigarette between your lips.

Matty chuckles. “It’s a beautiful day, you’re getting fresh air, your pretty lungs will survive one,” he teases, flicking his lighter under your cigarette as you take a deep drag.

His gaze lingers meaningfully on you as the smoke curls from your mouth and you squirm. “What?” you ask, desire evident in his eyes; he just keeps fucking staring.

He blinks, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “God, you look fucking hot,” he adds with a chuckle. Just as you go to reply, the waitress returns with your drinks. You give a cursory thanks and take a long sip, full flavour swirling in your mouth. “You know, I wouldn’t have put you down as a dry wine kind of girl,” Matty remarks. “Sweet little thing like you.”

You flush the colour of your wine, but meet his gaze in challenge. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“I’d like to,” he says immediately, and you swallow thickly, his ability to disarm you frustratingly constant. He’s so fucking perfect, it’s actually disgusting. As you’re searching for a response, he perks up, tilting his head to tune into the song playing quietly over some unseen speaker. “Oh, man, I haven’t heard this song in forever,” he gasps, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “I was obsessed with this one when I was younger. Used to be on my band’s setlist and everything.”

Your jaw drops. “You were in a band?” you demand. “Were you any good?”

Matty chuckles. “I’d like to think so. S’a shame it didn’t pan out, really. I would’ve made a great rockstar, don’t you think?” he smirks, visions of Matty clad in a leather jacket, sweaty and gorgeous, crooning into a microphone swimming across your vision.

“Fuck, yeah. I’d have hated fighting your hordes of fangirls for your attention, though,” you sigh, and his grin widens as you stroke his ego. “Were you the guitarist?” you ask, memories of his calloused hands ghosting over your skin.

He scoffs, insulted. “I was the frontman, obviously.”

“Obviously,” you repeat, teasingly blowing smoke in his face as you stub out your cigarette. “But you still play?”

“Yeah,” Matty says, smiling wistfully, the expression taking years off him so clearly that you can almost see the ambitious, idealistic boy he must have been. You hope there’s a world where the band worked out for him, even if it means you’d never have met. “S’just a hobby, though,” he shrugs, interrupting your reverie. “You should hear my mate Hann, he’s fucking wicked.”

Taking a sip of your wine, you sigh meaningfully. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the guitar.” You lean purposefully on the words, and Matty grins.

“You want me to teach you?”

You smile blithely. “Oh, please. I can sight read sheet music and everything, I’d be such a good student, Professor,” you add, smirking as he stiffens slightly.

“Oh, behave,” he scolds lightly, tugging at his

collar as if he’s sweating at your words. 

“Make me,” you giggle, meeting his eyes in challenge.

“You know I will, princess,” he says seriously, your skin prickling hot as he watches you, daring you to break first. You’re saved from having to, though, by the same waitress coming to take your order. Not even having picked up the food menu, you let Matty order for you, trusting his taste. 

As it turns out, his taste is impeccable, down to the steak being cooked exactly the way you like. “God, this is fucking delicious,” you exclaim, digging in eagerly. “This place is amazing,” you add, unable to keep the beaming smile off your face. You chat back and forth for a couple of hours, asking about his family and his childhood, cooing at the stories he tells. If anyone were listening, they’d probably be nauseated by your obscene flirting, getting bolder as Matty continues plying you with wine even as he switches to water.

The same waitress returns, the false cheer bright in her tone as she offers you dessert menus. “No, thanks,” you say without taking your eyes off Matty. “We have dessert at home.” You flash your teeth in a grin so there can be no mistaking your meaning.

Matty picks up the bill, and you don’t even pretend to protest. It’s been years since you’ve been on a date you didn’t have to pay for, guys your age from your circles unusually stingy, and you feel guilty expecting broke college boys to pay for you. And it’s only feminist to split the bill with another girl, anyway. “Dessert, yeah?” he smirks as you slide into the passenger seat, and you squirm.

“I promise I’m just as sweet,” you tease. “Take me to yours and I’ll show you exactly how sweet I can be.”

Matty clicks his tongue. “I don’t think so,” he says, and your stomach sinks. “Good girl like you shouldn’t put out on the first date, or didn’t your daddy teach you any better?” he says, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

God, he’s a fucking tease. “You didn’t teach me anything like that, Daddy,” you pout. “You can’t get me all needy looking this hot and not let me have you. S’not fair.” You fold your arms, sulking.

“Oh, angel,” he tuts. “Not figured it out, yet? I don’t have to be fair.” And with that, your fate is sealed, Matty dropping you home and leaning over for a chaste kiss that he resists your attempts to deepen. “I’ll see you soon, princess. You know where to find me,” he promises, your eyes not leaving him until his car turns the corner and disappears from view.

You slope inside, disappointed and unsatisfied, plagued with the thought of where you could be right now if Matty had taken you home with him. Your father’s car is in the drive, and you groan to yourself, utterly uninterested in explaining yourself. Of course, you’re expected to anyways. “Where have you been?” your mother demands, and you fold your arms. If she’d asked out of curiosity, genuine interest, it would be different, but she only wants to know so she can approve or disapprove, sneering consternation written across her face.

“Out,” you say shortly, thick tension pulling taut between you.

“With who?” she asks, lips pursed.

“A friend,” you snap. “God, Mum, I went out for lunch, what’s it to you? I’m a grown-ass woman, I shouldn’t have to ask my mummy for permission to leave the house!”

“Language!” she exclaims, and you roll your eyes and push past her, storming up the stairs and slamming the door, finally breathing easy when the lock on your door forms a decisive barrier between you and your parents. Left alone, it doesn’t take long for your thoughts to drift back to Matty and the ache he left between your thighs. You wonder if he’s home yet, if he’ll want to hear your voice, or if it’s too soon.

You war with yourself for a few minutes, but your desire wins out, calling Matty up and laying back against your pillows. “Hello, darling.” He picks up on the second ring. “Missing me already?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, the mere sound of his voice sending a pulse of desire thrumming through you. “Thinkin’ about you. About how you got me all needy.”

He laughs darkly. “God, what am I going to do with you? Naughty girl can’t even keep her hands to herself for an hour. Are you getting wet for me, angel?”

“Yes,” you moan happily, thrilled to get what you want. “I need you.”

“You beg so pretty, baby,” he coos, grunting softly, and you can just picture him, cock half-hard in his palm as you hear the rustle of clothes dropping to the floor. “C’mon, tell Daddy what you want.”

You whimper, dipping your hand under your waistband, slick pooling against your fingertips. “Wish you were touching me,” you moan. “Could’ve brought me home with you. Could’ve bent me over anywhere you wanted, stuffed me full and fucking used me.”

“Such a slut,” Matty murmurs, faint, slick sounds echoing from the other end of the call as he grunts rhythmically. The image of him makes you dizzy, fisting his cock messily, hips thrusting into his hand. You moan quietly, rubbing slow, tight circles into your clit. “Are you touching yourself?” You murmur an affirmative. “Stop.” Your blood runs cold, like you’ve been doused in ice water.

“Wh- What?” you hiss, disbelieving.

“You heard me, darling. I told you, good girls don’t put out on the first date. Daddy’s teachin’ you manners, yeah?”

“That’s not fair, Daddy,” you whine again. “Don’t need you to tell me when I can get off. Managed just fine before you came along,” you add petulantly.

Matty just laughs. “Okay, baby. I’m sure you did. You could hang up this call right now, get yourself off all on your own. But you won’t,” he says, smugly confident. “You know why? Because Daddy knows what’s best for brats like you. And, really, you just wanna be my good, sweet, dumb little girl, don’t you, angel?”

Thick, choking lust envelops you, crushing the air from your lungs as you find yourself whimpering, “Yes, Daddy. Won’t touch anymore,” you say, your mouth moving without your brain’s say-so.

Your body hums with energy, tense with the knowledge you won’t be allowed to release it. “Good girl,” Matty croons, your chest warming at the praise. “Still gotta punish you for bein’ a brat, though,” he adds, through a soft moan. “Don’t want you touchin’ that pretty cunt without my permission, ‘kay?” Your stomach sinks, arousal flaring impossibly in your gut.

“Okay, Daddy. I’ll be good,” you promise, his appreciative moan sending heat spiralling between your legs. You stay on the call until the sound of Matty spilling into his fist fills your ears, leaving you sticky and fucking throbbing with need. It takes you what feels like forever to get your breathing under control enough that your legs will stop shaking to carry you to the shower. You gasp as you plunge into the freezing cold spray, barely enough to quench the fire rolling through your veins. Unable to resist, you text Matty a picture of yourself when you step out, the steam on the mirror teasingly blurring your wet, naked body.

And that is the last time you hear Matty’s voice for an entire fucking week. There always seems to be some obstacle, a friend’s birthday, or a dinner you’re not invited to, or both of you are up to your eyeballs in pointless, mind-numbing work. You’d almost think he was avoiding you, if not for your constant back-and-forth over text and Matty’s incessant pleas for you to visit him at the office. You resist for a while, terrified of being caught and what that would mean for this… thing… that’s blooming between you, still fragile and new.

But it’s driving you fucking crazy, and you miss him, so after a week, you find an excuse; because you’re a good, dutiful daughter, you’re bringing your father lunch to share after he cancelled your meal out yesterday. You zone out after the same five minutes of talking in circles, giving automatic, robotic responses you know he wants to hear. It would be a lie to say you didn’t breathe a sigh of relief when the lift doors ding shut, carrying you up to Matty’s office. You haven’t told him you’re coming, hoping your presence will be a welcome surprise. What you hadn’t counted on, though, was his bleach-blonde secretary, idly tapping on her keyboard and actively standing in your way.

Your heart sinks. She’s pretty, unbelievably so, and barely older than you. If Matty hasn’t already had her, which you doubt, it’s crossed his mind. What if that’s what he’s been doing, all those times he’s complained about leaving the office late? A vision of her spread out on his desk fills your mind, Matty crooning his sweet, filthy words into her ear as her chest heaves. Her boobs are fake, you decide, your gaze flickering to them. It’s not humanly possible for a pair of tits to be that big and perky at the same time. Pushing down the jealousy roiling in your gut, you step up to her desk. Her eyes sweep over you, unimpressed, and she purses her lips.

You push your shoulders back, letting the snotty, spoiled brat who’s never been told no free, a snide grin spreading across your features. It feels fucking good to exercise that facet of your personality again, having tamped down on it since you went to uni — makes it easier to play well with others. Impatiently, you click your fingers in front of the woman’s face. “I’m here to see Mr. Healy,” you say with a saccharine smile. Sure, you could just call him and tell him you’re outside, but this is so much more fun. Especially now that you get to mess with her head, too. Matty’s never fucked her, but she wants him to, you can tell by the way her face falls when she sees you. Good, you think vindictively. Maybe blondes don’t have more fun. Not with him, at least.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asks, voice nasally and grating.

You sigh, like she’s asking you a ridiculous question. “No, but he’ll want to see me, trust me. Tell him… Tell him Angel is here, yeah?” She looks at you, sceptical and detached. “My parents were hippies, what can you do?” you shrug, raising your eyebrows and flicking your fingers patronisingly at her, as if to say go on. Your gazes lock in a battle of wills for a brief moment, but you grin victoriously when she picks up her phone.

“Hello, sir. There’s a girl out here asking to see you.” The way she says girl feels like a slur dripping from her overglossed lips. “Says her name’s Angel? She doesn’t have an appointment, I can send her away, if you like. Won’t be a problem.”

“No, no, send her in. And, for future reference, she’s welcome anytime, okay? No appointment necessary. Actually, I’ll come get her.” Matty’s voice is faint from the other end of the phone, but distinct enough that you can hear his words and the click as he sets the phone down. Seconds later, he emerges from his office, breaking into a wide grin at the sight of you. “Hello, angel,” he grins, kissing your cheek politely but lingering a little longer than appropriate. “Feels like it’s been forever. Come on in, yeah?” He takes you by the waist and leads you to his office, and you throw a smirk over your shoulder at the secretary as you go, a clear message: I win, you lose. “Oh, and Ruby? Nobody in my office for the next hour, alright?” She flushes as red as her name suggests, glaring at you furiously, trying to tell you this isn’t over. You ignore her, though, because you and Matty are finally alone.

“Only an hour?” you giggle. “You’re losing your touch, sir.”

“Oh, sir, hm? That’s new,” he teases as you perch on his desk, drinking in the sight of him with something dangerously close to relief.

You lean forward. “She wants you. So fucking badly,” you remark.

“I know,” he shrugs, loosening his tie with one hand and stroking your bare thigh with the other.

This time, you let the jealousy bubble up to the surface. “Have you ever fucked her?” You know the answer, but you want to hear him say it.

Matty laughs. “Have you ever heard the expression, don’t shit where you eat?” he asks, and you wrinkle your nose and nod. “Well, that goes double for the young, hot blonde the company dangles in front of you like fucking bait, just waiting for you to cross a line.”

You’re starting to see red, his words nothing close to what you wanted to hear. “But you would. If she didn’t work for you.”

He shrugs. “Maybe.” He grips your hips, sliding you closer to him, dislodging stacks of paper and pens from his desk. “If I didn’t have you.” Then, his fingers creep higher, tantalisingly close to where you want them, and you push down the argument you were about to start. Giving up the best sex you’ve ever had isn’t worth it just because you got a little too possessive over someone who isn’t actually yours.

“She’d never be as good as me,” you say bitterly. “I don’t think a man like you would let a little red tape stop you if you actually wanted her. What’s wrong with her, really?”

Matty smirks. “Jealous girl,” he says smugly. “Don’t wanna talk about her when I could have this,” he adds, rubbing slow, teasing circles into your thigh. You whine softly, arching forward into his touch. “You’d be better than her, yeah? You wanna prove it?” You tilt your head quizzically. “Let’s say you’re my secretary, yeah, baby?”

A thrill runs up your spine. “Yes, sir,” you breathe. You slide off the desk to prop yourself in the chair opposite his, unbuttoning your blouse a little and leaning back with a smirk. “You wanted to see me, sir?” you say, playing up your wide, innocent eyes.

“Yes,” Matty says thoughtfully. “I think we need to discuss your behaviour in my office.” You bite your lip to clamp down on your grin, nodding seriously. “Always in those short little skirts, bendin’ over so you can show off those pretty, lace panties. You wear those for me, don’t you, baby?”

You smirk, popping the buttons of your blouse past decency. “You’re wrong, sir.” You spread your legs wide, and he chokes on his inhale. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

Matty groans, sweeping his desk clear, pens and paper scattering across the floor. “Bend over,” he orders sharply. “Now.”

You stand to obey, then pause. “Wait one second,” you say, darting around the desk so you’re face-to-face. “Just realised I haven’t done this yet.” You sling your arms around his neck and press your lips against his, kissing him hungrily and melting at his touch. Desperately, you try not to dissect the relief flooding your body from the point where his hands meet your skin. “Okay,” you say as you pull back, breathless. “M’ready now.”

Bracing your elbows on the desk, you bend over, baring your dripping cunt as Matty shoves your skirt up your thighs. “Spread your legs for me.” You obey, but he just growls and kicks them further apart, a shocked sound pulling free from your throat. “Wider,” he orders. “Not doin’ such a good job of convincing me you’d be so much better than her, you know,” he says, tone almost conversational if his nails weren’t digging into your hips so hard they’ll bruise. 

Angry, red-hot jealousy floods your veins, tangling cruelly with the ball of anticipation winding tight in your core. You can’t decide whether to go lax, let Matty have his good girl, or to fight against him for comparing you to her. It doesn’t take long for the brat to win out. “You want her so bad? Call her in, then,” 

You can practically hear Matty’s eyebrows raise, the realisation you won’t let him have this so easily setting in. “You want me to, baby?” He clicks his tongue. “I don’t think so. I think you’re jealous of the pretty girl who sits outside my office all day.” He reaches around to pop another button of your blouse. “And you’re scared of what I might be doing with her when you can’t see.” He pulls your shirt out of the waistband of your skirt and tugs it off your shoulders. “So you want her to know exactly what we’re doing in here, so you can lay some kind of claim on me. Am I right?” Your mind spins as you try to think of a smartass response, thoughts jolted free from your head when Matty spanks you harshly. The crack of skin on skin might have been loud enough to be heard from outside, you think with a pulse of satisfaction. “Unless the next words out of your mouth are yes, sir or yes, Daddy, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan out, your cunt throbbing needily. “You’re right. Want her to see how good you fuck me, want her to know she could never make you feel as good as I do,” you say, the admissions stumbling one after another from your lips, unbidden.

“There’s my good girl,” he coos, your stomach clenching at the sound of his belt unbuckling, his zipper falling. “Such a little brat when you’re gagging for my cock, aren’t you, princess?” You nod furiously, whining as he teases your hole with the tips of his fingers. Desperate for friction, you grind back against them, weak, helpless moans tumbling from your lips. “Beg for it.” You choke on a gasp. “Go on, angel. You want my cock so bad? Beg for it.”

You don’t even have time to pretend to have dignity before wanton pleas spill free. “Fuck, Daddy, please! Want your cock so fucking bad, always make me feel so good, s’not the same when I do it myself,” you whine, giving a shuddering gasp when he teases your clit with the tip of his cock. “Please! I’m beggin’ you, Daddy, I’ll be good, I promise.”

Matty chuckles. “Alright, baby, alright,” he murmurs soothingly, lining himself up with your soaked entrance and sliding home so fast you’re gasping. Your knees buckle as you scramble for purchase on the desk, nails scraping against the varnished wood. “Oh, princess, it’s okay, Daddy’s here now,” he soothes, your cunt pulsing desperately around him. “Look at you, bein’ all sweet for me now you’re stuffed full. Such a dumb little slut, aren’t you, baby? Bet you wish you didn’t have to think about anythin’ except my cock.”

“Mhm,” you whine, arching your back as much as you can, your tits pressing against the cool wood of the desk. “M’just your stupid little slut, Daddy, please fuck me,” you beg, grinding back against him.

Matty’s hips slam suddenly against yours, a whining scream tearing from your throat as pleasure spills over in your veins. His hand comes down to cover your mouth, your body going limp against his. “Shh, princess. I’m at work, remember?” The reminder that fucking anyone could come to his door, know exactly what he’s doing to you, sends a thrill up your spine. “Can you be quiet, hm? Or do I need to make you quiet?” Another deep thrust draws a long, low moan from your throat, and he seems to have answered his own question. The fabric of his tie covers your mouth, spit leaking out around it. “There you go, angel. Nice and quiet for me. Bang on the desk if you need me to stop, okay?”

You nod, something that might be yes, Daddy coming out garbled around the gag. Matty fucks into you brutally, your chest heaving as ecstasy burns under your skin. “Good girl,” he coos. “Good, sweet girl. Takin’ my cock so well, princess. Such a pretty toy for your Daddy.”

Matty sets a bruising pace, your tongue pushing against his tie as it holds back your pathetic little noises. Your tits press against the desk, the sharp tip of a pencil digging into your bare stomach. You barely feel it, unconscious of anything but Matty’s skin against yours. “God, you feel so fucking good, princess. Daddy’s girl, aren’t you? Why would I ever want another girl when I’ve ruined you so perfect for me? Look at you, good little girl gagged and bent over my desk like a whore.” You moan, filthy words washing over you, sliding down your throat, sticky, wet pleasure dripping out of you.

You’re dizzy with lust, dazed and drooling, ecstasy spiralling through your bones. You can’t even think, Matty fucking all coherence out of you, every thrust clouding your mind more and more. Garbled moans fall from your lips in a filthy, spit-slick string, Matty’s rhythmic grunts swirling deliciously around your head. The calloused pads of his fingers find your clit, euphoria scorching in your bloodstream at the scrape over your swollen nerves. Your legs feel like jelly, melting hot and sweet under Matty’s touch. “You’re close, aren’t you, baby? Can feel your pretty cunt squeezin’ me so tight, princess. You wanna cum for Daddy?”

A few more rough circles over your clit, one more deep, spearing thrust and you break, wailing around the gag. “Good girl,” Matty croons, fucking you through as stars shatter behind your closed lids. Liquid ecstasy melts your bones, glueing you to the desk. Matty groans your name, cock pulsing as he spills inside you, a sound that’s pure desire falling from his lips. Still inside you, he unties the gag, letting it fall onto the desk as you draw a deep breath. “How are you feeling, angel?”

“So good,” you murmur, voice scratchy from disuse, whining as he pulls out of you. “Always make me feel so good, Daddy,” you add, letting Matty flip you around and set you on the desk, his eyes falling to your glistening core. Cum drips obscenely from you, puddling sticky and wet on his desk, a filthy smirk crossing his face.

“Good girl. So pretty for me, darling.” He tucks himself away, and once his belt is buckled he’s the picture of professionalism while you sit in front of him, sex-rumpled and half-naked and panting. “First girl I’ve ever fucked in here, you know,” he adds, so offhand you’d almost miss it if it it hadn’t made your heart jump into your throat. You can’t make head or fucking tail of him, one minute taunting you with his pretty secretary, the next swearing that you’re special. “M’sorry, darling, I don’t have much in here to clean you up with,” he says with a soft laugh, wiping a tissue through your folds and crooning soothingly when you whimper.

“S’okay. Was worth it,” you say. Your limbs feel tired and heavy, your eyelids drooping as you glance at the time and realise half your allotted hour is gone.

“You tired, sweet girl?” he asks with a soft, fond chuckle.

“Yeah,” you yawn. “You wore me out. Wish we were in bed. That was the best sleep of my life,” you confess, huffing a soft laugh.

You shudder as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch careful and tender. “Soon, princess, I promise. I’m sorry we haven’t seen each other. Missed you,” he says, and the admission melts in your chest, glueing your organs together and squeezing tightly. You sigh, the question on the tip of your tongue dissolving like a sugar pill as your resolve shatters. “How’s your week been, angel? Your friend’s birthday, right?”

You swallow a grimace. Isobel is hardly your friend, in the same way your parents aren’t friends, but you run in the same circles so proximity forced you into something resembling friendship. “Oh, the usual,” you say idly, twirling a curl that’s sprung loose from the gel in his hair around your finger. “Drinks, drugs, boys,” you tease, grinning when his jaw clenches. So he can dish it out but not take it? Interesting. 

“Did you talk to any boys, princess?” he asks, eyes glittering dangerously.

Shrugging airily, you kick your legs where they dangle off the desk. “So what if I did?” you challenge. The next words wrench themselves free of your mouth, tasting bitter as they fall. “We’re only fucking, it’s not like you actually own me. If I want to fuck someone else, are you gonna stop me?”

The question hangs thick and acerbic in the air between you and Matty swallows visibly. “No,” he says after a pause. “You can fuck whoever you want, princess. Won’t be as good as me, though, and you know it,” he says, smug and acrid.

The air between you is tense, horribly charged and all wrong, and you can feel tears prickling at the back of your throat. “I should get going,” you say abruptly, getting to your feet. “I’ll see you soon,” you add, not looking back at him as you cross the room.

“Say hi to Ruby on your way out, yeah?” Matty says, something close to a sneer in his voice. As you open the door, though, you paste on a blithe smile and relax your shoulders for Ruby’s benefit. 

“Hope it’s not you who has to clean up in there,” you smirk as you pass. “Made a bit of a mess,” you giggle, savouring the way Ruby’s face shifts in colour as she swallows her grimace.

And so you leave Matty’s office more confused about what he wants than when you fucking came in. Something shifts between you after that. Your words don’t change, Matty just as syrupy-sweet as ever, but the difference is palpable, sugared words souring as you digest them. He gets even more possessive while you fuck, more degrading, insisting you’re such a little slut, baby. Whoring yourself out to every fucking boy who looks at you, but you always come runnin’ back to your Daddy, yeah?

But it’s not always angry and mean. Sometimes, it’s slow and so sweet you could swear it’s loving, Matty lavishing you with praise, murmurs of that’s right, such a good girl and Daddy’s girl, so pretty for me soaking into your skin and tying themselves in knots around your brain. Some nights, especially recently, you don’t even fuck when you go to his place. Being there is a comfort, away from catty friends and overbearing parents, somewhere you can just be. Last night, you’d suddenly realised you kind of just weren’t in the mood, apologising and making to leave, and he’d just kissed your temple, pulled you in close and asked what your favourite movie was. And you started to believe. And then you’ll go out for drinks, so much as mention a boy’s name; he’ll toss a jab about some pretty young girl he works with, and you’re right back where you started, tearing each other apart at the seams. 

You’re this close to ripping your fucking hair out, sick to death of bottling it all up when you finally decide you need to unload on someone. “I just don’t get him,” you complain, your best friend Thea making sympathetic noises at all the right moments. “One minute it’s all you’re my girl and my pretty baby, the next it’s such a whore, bet you’d let anyone fuck you.”

“But you’re still sleeping at his place?” Thea asks, judgement obvious in her tone.

You groan. “Yes, leave me alone! If you saw the state I’m in after, you’d understand.”

Thea clicks her tongue. “And you haven’t actually fucked anyone else?”

“No,” you admit, defeated. “Don’t know if I could, to be honest.”

“Does he know that? Has he?”

“No and I don’t know. I just don’t know where I fucking stand, and I can’t ask. He’ll think I’m some pathetic little girl who can’t handle it, I know it.”

“You know what you need? You, me, a pair of slutty little dresses, and those fancy cocktails with about twelve kinds of alcohol in them from 102. I’m not taking no for an answer, I’ll see you at ten.”

And, true enough, at eleven you’re clutching a gin bowl for dear life and screeching along to the song thumping through the club’s speakers. “I need a refill, c’mon!” you shout in Thea’s ear, dragging her off to the bar where you can hear slightly better.

Despite the queue, the bartender stops in front of you with a smile. “Love that dress. What can I get for you?” You scan the menu, brow scrunching in a frown, but your words die in your throat as the bartender steps into slightly better light and you take her in properly. She’s a fucking goddess, model-pretty with thick, dark hair and long-lashed brown eyes. 

Thea swats your arm and you realise your gaze has drifted down, and you pull it back up to where she’s waiting with a smirk. “You’ve— The menu’s changed. I used to get a Sucker,” you manage to get out around the lump in your throat.

“Alright,” she says cryptically. “And you?”

Thea shrugs. “I’ll have what she’s having, I’m not picky.”

She laughs. “Oh, no. You two do not pick the same poisons. I’ve got this, okay?” Slightly entranced, you watch her work, setting something golden and glittering in front of you. “Sunshine Baby,” she says with a wink. “And for you… Antichrist.”

Thea takes her swirling, dark drink with a delighted grin. “She was into you,” she teases, nudging you with her hip.

“Oh, please, she wanted a tip.” The pair of you find a table, one with a prime view of the DJ booth so you can ogle the hot, blond DJ as he whips the crowd into a frenzied mass of sweating bodies. You keep returning to the same bartender, whose name you learn is Charli, and she keeps plying you with free shots for hot girls and increasingly strong drinks, until you find yourself stumbling onto the dancefloor and losing track of Thea.

Your head feels light, your body loose in a way it hasn’t been in weeks, the alcohol dampening your coherent thoughts. A pair of hands find your waist, and you twist your head back to meet the eyes of their owner. He couldn’t be further from Matty if he tried; your age, for one, tall, willowy and blond. The kind of man you’d usually never have looked twice at. But maybe that’s exactly what you need right now, you think, grinding your hips back against his with a grin. “Can I get your number?” he asks, pulling you free of the dancefloor, sweaty and flushed and smiling freely. After a long moment of consideration, Matty’s warning gaze flashing in your mind, you smirk and give it to him. “Let me take you out. You free Thursday?”

His overconfidence is jarring, and you swallow a frown. “I don’t know,” you tease. “Maybe. Why don’t we get back out there and you can convince me?” You obviously aren’t going to fucking go. Even as drunk as you are, you know that. Whatever this thing with Matty is, it’s serious to you, and you know the pair of you need to untangle it. But, for now, you shove it to the back of your mind, distracting yourself with free shots from a pretty boy, your head spinning wildly by the time you find Thea.

She might even be drunker than you are, stumbling and slurring as you bundle her into a taxi; she lives on the other side of town to you, so it doesn’t make sense to share. “Go, I’ll be fine,” you insist. “There’ll be another one in a minute, okay? Bye! Love you!” you shout as the car pulls away, Thea’s slightly green-tinged face hanging out of the open window. Left alone, you suddenly realise just how drunk you are, your vision blurred as you slump to the curb. When ten minutes pass without a taxi appearing, panic starts to set in; it’s too close to closing time and you’re too drunk, 102 won’t let you back in, and it’ll be the same story anywhere up and down the street. You’re alone in the dark, bile rising in your throat as you do the only thing you can think of and dial Matty.

“Hello?” he says, voice gruff with sleep. “Bit late to be calling, darling. Can’t sleep? Need some help to relax?” he adds, his smirk audible.

Your voice wavers as you speak. “M’sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,” you say, choked with the effort of holding back tears. “I can’t call my parents, I don’t have any fucking friends who’d care, there’s no taxis, I—” you cut yourself off with a hysterical gasp.

Matty shushes you soothingly. “Baby. Baby, breathe. Breathe for me, okay?” You try your best to obey, drawing deep, hiccuping breaths, shuddering harshly on the exhale. “What’s wrong, love?” You stumble your way through an explanation, babbling profuse apologies, mortification creeping up your spine. “Darling, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry. Where are you?”

“102,” you sniffle. “It’s—”

“I know the place. Sit tight, okay? I’m getting in the car now, I’ll be there soon. I’ve got you, promise.” The wave of relief that floods your body when you finally spot Matty’s car pulling to a stop in front of you is near-crippling, and you’d have collapsed when he wraps his arms around you if he wasn’t supporting your weight. “Oh, baby. Sweet girl, it’s okay. I’m here now. I’ve got you,” he repeats soothingly, only pulling away when you stop swaying on your feet. “God, you smell like the floor of a dive bar,” he teases, and you chuckle weakly. “C’mon, angel. Let’s get you in bed, yeah?”

You murmur another apology as you slide into the passenger seat, and he waves it away with a smile. “Hey, my house is the left back there,” you say, the cool night air having snapped you back to yourself a little.

“I know,” Matty says quietly. “I’m not sending you back there alone, darling. Promised I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he says, his hand on your thigh gently calming instead of teasing.

“Thank you,” you mumble, looking down at your lap as Matty parks the car in his drive.

“Any time, angel. I’m serious. I’m glad you called. Don’t ever want you to think I won’t be here if you’re not okay.” And fuck if that sickening, chaotic mess of feelings doesn’t just bubble right back up to the surface. He leads you into the kitchen, your body curled into his to steady yourself. “I’ll get you something to eat, okay?”

You shake your head. “Mm-mm. You’re already doing too much. And I won’t keep it down, anyway,” you say, pressing a hand to your roiling stomach. “I just need to lie down.” You start to wander into the living room, and Matty grabs your wrist gently. 

“You need to eat something, darling. Drink some water, sleep in a bed,” he adds insistently. You let him fuss over you, plying you with a slice of toast and a glass of water, and you tuck yourself into his chest as he carries you up to bed. Dressed in one of his well-worn shirts, his familiar scent fills your lungs, comforting as he tucks himself into bed next to you.

“Thank you,” you repeat. “Can’t say it enough. Didn’t have to do all this, Matty. I would’ve been okay.”

“Don’t want you just okay,” he answers. “Want you feeling good, and safe, and happy. Get some sleep, love, m’here.” You close your eyes obligingly, but your drunken haze lifting has set your thoughts free, spinning like a coin set on its edge that just won’t fall. Your night plays back in sickening detail behind your lids, the memory of the boy’s hands on you bringing bile up your throat. Laying in Matty’s bed without having been thoroughly exhausted first always plays with your sanity, your brain wandering to places you know it shouldn’t go as he sleeps peacefully next to you.

The sun is coming up by the time you give up on sleep, hoping Matty’s rhythmic breathing means he won’t hear you trying to sneak away. No such luck, though. “Where you goin’, sweetheart?” he asks, and you feel a stab of guilt at interrupting his sleep yet again.

“Home. I’ll get out of your hair, now. Thank you again,” you say quietly.

“Baby. Princess. Come here, come back here,” Matty says, and he looks so sweet and earnest, sleep-soft and smiling, that you obey, and you can’t help the happy little sigh that escapes you as he pulls you close.

Shame burns hot through you as you remember the previous night all over again, and you can’t stop yourself from blurting out, “A boy asked me on a date last night.”

Matty’s hand tightens on your hip. “What did you say?” he asks, voice low with warning.

You sigh, steeling yourself to look into his eyes. “What do you want me to have said? you answer, and he blinks, confusion written across his features. “What is this, Matty? Because if this is casual, if you just want a shiny young girl on your arm for a few months, it’s fine by me,” you lie, pushing down the nausea that pools at your words. “But if this is just fun, we should be allowed to see other people — are you seeing other people?” you ask, tension winding between your shoulder blades as you prepare for the answer. 

“No,” Matty practically growls. “And I’m not fucking anyone else, either, before you ask. I haven’t in weeks.” He huffs a laugh. “I tried, the day I met you, tried to get you out of my head ‘cause I didn’t think I’d get to have you.” His thumb rubs gentle circles into your hip, his touch comforting as his words soak in, a soothing balm to your nerves. “Didn’t fucking work. Couldn’t stop picturing you instead,” he confesses. “You’re in my head, princess. M’sorry I let my little strop go on so long. Thinkin’ about some other man touching you was driving me crazy. I was bein’ selfish. If you want to see other people, I—”

“I don’t,” you interrupt. “Only want you.”

He breaks out in a wide grin. “Pictured this being a bit more romantic, but,” Matty pinches your hip gently, and you giggle, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. “You’re my girl, yeah? Properly mine.”

“Yeah,” you say, practically glowing as you smile back at him. “As long as you’re mine.”

He threads a hand into your hair, kisses you like breathing is a choice, licking eagerly into your mouth as you melt against him. “What are you gonna say if another boy asks you on a date, princess?”

“I have a boyfriend,” you beam, just using the word making your heart warm. The tangled knot that’s sat in your belly for weeks now blissfully untied, your body feels loose and happy and willing. “I’m gonna have a shower, okay, then I’ve gotta thank you properly, yeah?”

A filthy smirk pulls at Matty’s lips. “I like the sound of that.” You giggle, pressing a kiss to his nose before climbing off him.

“You would,” you tease, padding into the bathroom and running the shower. You luxuriate under the water for several long, glorious minutes, the water pressure melting the last lingering tension between your shoulders. The smell of the club lingers in your hair until you scrub it with Matty’s expensive shampoo, the smell familiar as you work your fingers over your scalp, lingering like you’ll be able to absorb him through your skin. You towel your hair mostly dry, despite your insistence that Matty was committing a cardinal sin by doing the same, and wander back into the bedroom still naked and dripping wet.

Matty chokes on a gasp. “Fuck. Hi, gorgeous.” The praise heats your cheeks and you kneel at the foot of his bed, clasping your hands behind your back.

“Hi, Daddy,” you say sweetly. “I said I’d thank you properly. Gonna show you what a good girl I can be. Best girl you’ll ever have.” Matty smirks, sitting up to give himself a better view. “Can do whatever you want with me. All day long.” He smirks, dirty and sleazy and delicious, and pats the sheets next to him.

“C’mere, princess. Up you get.” You scramble to obey, sighing happily when he tangles his legs with yours and kisses you slow and deep. His hardness presses against your thigh as you make out, his hands wandering to your ass and squeezing. “God, so perfect, darling,” he praises. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

“Yours,” you whimper into his mouth, almost deliriously happy. His kiss is almost ferocious, hungry and devouring, desire coiling under your skin. “Daddy, please. Want you so bad,” you murmur.

Matty laughs. “Patience, angel. Thought you were gonna be good?” he says, but it’s light and teasing, without any of the underlying meanness that might have laced his tone a week ago. You relax, tension unspooling in your belly as you put your trust in him. His hands skim over your body, somehow both gentle and working you into a frenzy. A litany of pathetic little whimpers fall from your lips as you squirm under his hands, Matty smirking into the kiss. “Sweet, needy baby,” he croons. “Missed havin’ you all sweet for me. M’sorry I was so mean, princess. Gonna make it up to you, I swear.” His fingers finally find your clit, heat welling between your thighs. It takes a Herculean effort to stay still, not react beyond your involuntary gasp, but the proud little smile on Matty’s face is worth it. “Good girl. Tell Daddy what you want, angel.”

You nod, swallowed in hazy pleasure as he rubs slow circles over your clit. “Want you to fuck me,” you choke out, your throat closing in overwhelming arousal.

Matty rolls on top of you, connecting your lips in a messy kiss. “Of course, baby. You okay like this? Wanna watch your pretty face while I fuck you.”

“Please,” you breathe. Matty doesn’t tease, just rubs gentle circles over your clit as he enters you, moaning softly into your mouth. Your hips roll, desire pooling under your skin as he fucks you slow and deep.

“God, missed havin’ you like this,” he breathes, his head falling into your shoulder. “Oh, darling, I know, I know. Daddy’s here, I’ve got you, okay?” he murmurs as you whimper softly, languid, bone-deep pleasure rolling over you. Matty’s eyes are liquid with affection, his lips curving into an unconscious smile.

His lips find yours again, your tongues sliding together as punched-out gasps fall from your lips in time with his smooth, measured thrusts. It’s immeasurably intense, Matty playing your body like a symphony, and you’re powerless to do anything but whine and writhe. “Thank you s’much, Daddy. Feels so fucking good,” you whimper, locking your legs around his waist. The change in angle is glorious, ecstasy winding through your bloodstream as Matty rubs circles into your clit.

“Good girl,” Matty murmurs, “Such a good girl for Daddy. My girl, my fucking girl. Wish I could keep you all sweet and cockdrunk for me all the fuckin’ time. Fuckin’ wish I could have you as my little kept girl, have this pussy at home waitin’ for me every fuckin’ night,” he groans, the familiar fantasy spiralling through your mind. He murmurs soft, sugary words into your ear, liquid desire melting your brain until you’re sure it must be dripping from your ears, soaking the sheets under your hair. “So, so pretty, darling. Look so gorgeous while I’m fucking you, god.”

You glow at the praise, heat thrumming under your skin as his hips meet yours over and over. You’re practically delirious, lost in thick, syrupy pleasure, the lewd sound of skin meeting filling the room. “Mmh, oh, my God, fuck—” you gasp, pleasure coiling tight in your belly as you dig your nails into his back. “M’gonna cum, Daddy, oh, my God, need it s’bad. Wanna cum, wanna make you cum, shit. Need to feel it, need you to fill me up, make me yours, God, please!”

“Fuck, such a good girl,” Matty gasps, his rhythm faltering as he gets closer. “Can hold on for me, just for a second, yeah? Wanna cum together,” he adds, and you whine, rolling your hips up against him and trembling with the effort of holding your orgasm at bay. He fucks into you with deep, sloppy thrusts, moaning into your mouth and pinching your clit. Garbled moans of fuck and yes and Daddy stumble from your lips, sticky, hot desire dripping from your cunt as you writhe under him. “Fuck, princess, you ready?” Matty gasps against your lips.

“Yeah, m’ready, Daddy, c’mon. Cum in me, fill up this slutty little pussy. M’yours, your good girl, your little cumdump. God, need it s’bad,” you moan, breaking into a whine as Matty spills inside you with a groan. Your orgasm follows a split-second later, moaning against Matty’s mouth with stardust glittering in your veins. Euphoria scorches under your skin, your head floating clear of your body as pleasure floods you, gasping and moaning. “Thank you,” you say dopily, smiling up at him as he pulls out. You widen your legs to watch his cum dripping out of you, pooling obscene and sticky on the mattress.

Matty watches you with a laugh. “Little cumslut,” he says fondly.

“Your little cumslut,” you smirk, stretching out your sore muscles. “When I said anything you want, I meant anything,” you grin. “Want me to be your little kept girl? Cook and clean for you while you look all pretty and important?”

He chuckles. “First of all, I’ve seen what you think passes for a meal, princess. Don’t know how you haven’t poisoned yourself.” You swat his shoulder, laughing. “Second of all, if you can stand right now, I haven’t worked hard enough,” he says, a smirk pulling at his lips. 

“You’re lucky I like you cocky,” you tease, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth and testing your weight on your feet as you stand. Matty catches you as you stumble slightly, I told you so written plainly on his face. “Don’t,” you warn, before it can leave his mouth.

“Y’know, I think I like the sound of having a little housewife for the day,” he grins, your stomach tying itself in a knot at the word wife from his lips. “C’mon, sweet girl, I’m sure we can find something for you to occupy yourself with while you’re waitin’ for me to fuck you dumb again, huh?” he teases, your thighs clenching at the words. You bend to reach for your clothes, and he tsks softly. “Didn’t say you could get dressed, did I, angel?”

“No, Daddy. I won’t.” You swallow thickly, following him downstairs, feeling shockingly exposed in the glare of the sunlight pooling from the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Matty’s cum trickles down your thighs as you hover beside him.

“Make us some tea, would you, darling?” he says, casual like you’re not naked and dripping cum on his pristine kitchen floor. “Shame you haven’t got a little apron, or something. Think I’d go a bit crazy, seein’ you in my kitchen dripping wet in nothing but an apron and a smile. Gotta teach you how to cook someday, if you wanna be my kept girl,” he continues, still maddeningly conversational as your cunt pulses wantonly at his words. “Tea, darling? Or have I got you too dumb for that without even touching you?” he teases.

Almost mechanically, you fill the kettle and flick it on, dropping a teabag into a mug for him and wrinkling your nose unsubtly. “Can I have a coffee? I don’t do tea.”

Matty laughs. “Course, princess. Want you to make yourself at home. Coffee’s just down there.” He points to a cupboard near your feet, stroking over the curve of your ass as you bend over. You don’t realise his game until you scan the contents of the cupboard and find nothing but pots and pans, and his fingers are tracing your messy, sensitive cunt. “Oops, did I say down?” he deadpans, reaching above your head to open another cupboard. “I meant up.”

“Perv,” you tease, retrieving the tin of coffee as the kettle whistles.

“Can’t help it,” he murmurs, dipping his head to kiss softly at your neck and jaw. “Too fucking gorgeous. Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

You giggle, breaking his hold to pour your drinks. “Can’t believe it took us this long. We’re idiots, kind of.”

“A bit,” he chuckles, accepting his tea and taking a sip. “So, what did you say? To that boy?” he asks, and you roll your eyes.

“No, obviously. Felt so guilty taking his number. Deleted it in the car,” you admit, staring into your coffee to avoid his gaze.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Knew nobody could fuck you like me, right? Nobody could treat you as good?”

You flush, setting your drink down and hopping up onto the counter, crossing your legs behind his back as he crowds into your space. “No, Daddy. Only you, I promise.”

Matty cups your jaw. “That’s right, princess. All mine. And I’m yours,” he says, cupping your jaw and connecting your lips in a searing kiss, drinking in the taste of you as you pour your emotions into his mouth. “So perfect, such a perfect girl for me,” he says, sucking a bruise into your skin and working his way down. He presses kisses over your tits, one hand coming up to play with a peaked bud as he wraps his lips around the other. You whine, arching your back and pushing against his attentions, a low buzz of pleasure growing in the back of your skull. “Love these tits so much, baby. So fucking perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, pressing a kiss in the valley of your breasts and tracing his fingers down, your muscles tensing at his touch. Desire whirls in your stomach, your head light and skin loose on your bones. He drops to his knees on the cool tile floor, kissing your knees as he spreads your legs wider, eyes blowing impossibly wider at the sight of your dripping cunt. “God, made such a mess of you, huh, princess? Want Daddy to get you cleaned up?”

“Please,” you gasp, threading a hand in his curls as he kisses the tender skin of your inner thigh. “Daddy, please. Want your mouth,” you whimper, moaning when his lips meet your slick skin. The pressure between your thighs is instant and familiar, mounting as Matty laps at your folds. He pulls off to bite at your thighs, scraping over his own fading bruises, faint pain tangling with pleasure under your overheated skin. His tongue is hungry as it fucks into you, his moans vibrating gloriously through you as you cling to the counter for dear life.

Your hips grind against his face, euphoria spiralling through you, stoking the fire low in your belly. “That’s it, princess. Gonna help Daddy get you off? My pretty little cockdrunk slut, need it all the time, right?” he murmurs, rubbing circles into your clit as he buries his tongue back into you. You can’t fucking think, everything in your brain drowned out by lips, tongue, teeth, Matty.

“Fuck, yes, Daddy, feels s’fucking good,” you whine, burying your hand in his curls and dragging him even closer, his tongue impossibly deep inside you as you clench around the muscle. Heat unspools in your belly, licking under your skin and setting your blood on fire, your hips rocking unbidden against his mouth. You cry out as Matty wraps his lips around your clit, pleasure-pain screaming from your still-sensitive nerves, all his attention focused on your swollen bud. “Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God,” you gasp, pulse jackhammering between your thighs, so fast you’re scared it’ll set off dynamite in your chest.

“Yeah?” Matty smirks up at you, his lips and chin soaked in your arousal. You’re close, embarrassingly so, his tongue sloppy and greedy as he devours your cunt. His quiet moans into your cunt are intensely gratifying, amplifying the ecstasy kicking wildly under your skin. “God, you’re so pretty fallin’ apart like this. Could live between these pretty thighs, princess.” In response, you tighten them around his head, savouring his little gasp as his tongue returns to your cunt, licking over your hole with fervour. Your eyes roll back in your head, swimming dizzily in ecstasy, your cunt throbbing with need.

Your entire body is tense, muscles clenched and expectant as Matty tongue-fucks you within an inch of your life. “M’so close, Daddy, wanna cum,” you whimper, chasing the pleasure that coils tight around your veins, your vision blurring as euphoria chokes you.

Matty circles his fingers over your clit, his callouses scraping deliciously over your tender skin. “Cum for me whenever you’re ready, princess. Wanna feel you fallin’ apart on my tongue. Sweetest fuckin’ girl in the world,” he murmurs, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking hard, a scream tearing free from your throat. Molten desire pools in your belly, your body humming with energy begging to be released. “Come on, darling, let me hear you. Give me everything you’ve got,” he moans, your cunt dripping on his tongue.

“Oh, fuck, m’cumming, Daddy, fuck! Oh, God, feels s’good, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper, pure pleasure breaking you wide open, your vision whiting out as Matty’s tongue curls deep inside of you. You throb around him, every muscle in your body suddenly jelly, his hands on your thighs the only thing anchoring you to reality. Matty gets to his feet with a smirk, wordlessly prising your jaw open and sliding his wet fingers into your mouth.

You wrap your fingers around his tongue, sucking and licking the taste of you off his skin and moaning softly. “Good girl. You look so fucking gorgeous when you cum, princess.” He catches your lips in a messy kiss, your slick on his tongue as it sweeps your mouth, his hands finding your hips and pulling you close. “You up for a little day out, angel? Wanna show off my pretty girl, make everyone jealous of me.”

You giggle. “I told you. Anything you want. If you want to bend me over and show the entire fucking world who I belong to, I’ll drop my panties right then and there, promise.”

Matty’s jaw clenches, nails digging into your hips. “Don’t want anyone else seeing you like that, ever,” he growls. “C’mon, princess, go and get dressed. Got a busy day planned,” he grins.

“When did you have time to plan a day out?” you scoff, hopping to your feet and heading back up the stairs.

“Wanted to take you out and ask you to be my girlfriend, but that part got wrecked. I still wanna spoil you, baby.” He wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss into your hair.

You melt into his touch, leaning into him with a soft, private smile. “You’re too sweet,” you say, pulling away from him to step into your discarded underwear and jeans, turning to rifle through his drawers. After a few moments, you find what you were looking for, a shirt that must be a remnant of some distant, misspent youth; so small it’s almost your size, and it must have been cropped short on him because it barely brushes the hem of your jeans. “Did you actually wear this?” you laugh, turning this way and that as you admire how surprisingly well the shirt flatters you.

Matty laughs. “Told you, I was in a band in my twenties. Made some questionable fashion choices, but I made it work.”

Your eyes light up. “You have to show me. Please, I have got to see what you looked like when you fit into this,” you plead, and he scoffs.

“Nah. Looks better on you, anyway,” he says, sliding a pair of sunglasses over your eyes and kissing your cheek, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Have you got a jacket? It’s fucking cold, for June,” he comments, a poor attempt at sounding casual.

It’s not that cold, and he knows damn well you don’t have a jacket. “Hmm, nope.” You pop the ‘p’ obnoxiously. “Guess I’ll have to borrow one of yours,” you say airily, as if that wasn’t his obvious fucking game all along. He slides a leather jacket over your shoulders, well-worn and smelling like him, and your reflection stops you dead. You look fucking hot. You look like a rich man’s scandalously young girlfriend, the graceful lines of him slotting perfectly into the picture. You snap a sweet photo of the two of you as he kisses your temple, and you giggle up at him.

“God, never gonna get over how gorgeous you look wearin’ my clothes, darling,” he murmurs, giving your ass a little smack and hurrying you into the car. His hand is familiar on your thigh as he drives, the warmth of his touch soaking into your skin and fizzing up in your chest. He presses kisses to your cheek at every red light, his gaze adoring every time it lands on you.

You share a lazy, light breakfast, trading kisses over pastries and coffee; yours heaped with cream and sugar and his bitter and black. Matty listens as you explain your friends’ petty little dramas, nodding or frowning at all the right moments but wise enough not to weigh in. He presses you against the car when you leave, digging one hand into your hair and the other into your waist and kissing the sugary-almond taste out of your mouth. “Pretty girl,” he praises, smiling as you flush. 

“Sweet boy,” you murmur, kissing his nose as he pulls back and opens the passenger-side door for you. “Such a gentleman,” you giggle, sliding into your seat. You fiddle with the radio, turning to him expectantly when the car stays in park. “Thought you had the whole day planned out?”

“I do,” he grins. “Just waitin’ for you to tell me where you like to shop, angel.” 

You smile, rattling off a list that comes as easily as breathing. “Are you gonna take me shopping?” you giggle as the engine purrs to life. “Won’t you get bored?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, reversing out of the car park. “I’ll be like the male lead in a romcom, carrying all your bags and following you like a lost puppy. It’ll be well funny,” he chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh, the image of him laden with shopping he’s paying for and wandering around a boutique looking slightly mystified frankly adorable.

“You’d make a good movie star. Just about pretty enough.” Matty gives an offended scoff and lights a cigarette, sulkily facing away from you as he takes a drag. An old favourite song crackles through the radio and you sing along, uninhibited and happy and maybe even a little in love.

Matty smiles at you indulgently as you start flipping through clothing racks, running your fingers through the fabric and musing which pieces already in your closet they’d pair well with. You pull out a pretty little summer dress, white and lacy with pink florals, and hold it up without looking at the price tag. “What do you think?” you grin, watching him picture you wearing it with a sleazy smile.

“If you want it, it’s yours,” he shrugs. “Go wild, princess.” Not one to look a gift horse, you take him at his word, draping the dress over your arm and fluttering off to flip through the skirts. A scandalously short leather mini catches your eye, and you hold it against your hips thoughtfully.

Matty’s jaw tightens unsubtly. “Oh, don’t be such a boy,” you tease. “I’ll model it for you later,” you add with a grin, and his hands fly to your waist and pull you in.

“Please don’t get me all worked up, sweetheart,” he pleads against your lips. “Don’t wanna have to cut this short because I had to bring you home and take what I need from you, do you?”

Your insides melt into liquid and you flush, heat slick under your skin. “Tempting,” you smirk. “Later tonight?”

His eyes darken, sparkling with allure. “I’m counting the minutes,” he murmurs against your lips, taking an inappropriately greedy handful of your ass and pressing his lips against yours.

Your knees go weak when Matty licks into your mouth, his tongue hedonistic and clever and sure. You indulge yourself in his kiss for a few moments, his body pressing against yours as he threads a hand into your hair. “Mmh, stop trying to distract me,” you say, voice slightly rough with desire. “I’m gonna bleed you dry, darling.”

Matty grins. “Do your worst, angel.”

And you certainly try your fucking hardest, piling his arms high with blouses and dresses and skirts; lipsticks and powders and creams; pumps and heels and sandals. When Matty starts dragging his feet, you take pity on him and pull him into the lingerie section, his jaw going slightly slack as he stares around; he looks vaguely guilty, like he’s been caught somewhere he shouldn’t.

You pluck a delicate, white corset off the rack, holding it up musingly. “How about this? Might be cute with one of those skirts?” Matty swallows thickly, clearly stuck for words that won’t get the pair of you banned from the store and maybe arrested for lewd behaviour.

“I like it.” He clears his throat. “A lot.”

You grin mischievously. “I have an idea, Daddy,” you murmur, the word a delicious taboo as it slips from your lips, scandalously inappropriate on the wide-open shop floor. “Should get yourself some presents, too. Pick some stuff out for me?”

A filthy smirk splits his face, and you shiver, a thrill running up your spine. Matty, it turns out, has extremely discerning tastes, at least when it comes to lingerie. Everything he chooses is carefully considered, holding the lace against your skin to consider the colour, the shape, the cut of the piece and how it’ll sit on your body. You end up heaped with a pile of bras and panties, corsets and teddies, babydoll dresses and chemises, slightly dizzy at the thought of dressing up in them for him.

“Think that’s more than enough to keep us both happy, don’t you, princess?” he grins, leading you to the counter. It takes aeons to get you rung up, and you feel a little faint at the sight of the total; it’s more than five thousand pounds. Matty doesn’t even look fazed, though, kissing you softly and swiping his card like it’s nothing. It’s maybe a little embarrassing, but you feel a faint tingle of arousal at him taking such a massive sum in stride.

You drape yourself across him as he loads your bags into the car, pressing grateful kisses anywhere you can reach. “Thank you, Daddy. Too good to me. Tell me how I can make it up to you.”

Matty smiles, wide and warm and so fucking sweet you can taste the honey dripping from his mouth. “Don’t need to, angel. Just let me spoil you. Like seein’ you happy after I was such a little bitch before. M’sorry, sweet girl.”

You laugh as you slide into the car beside him. “I’ve accepted worse apologies for worse things from far worse men. I think we’re more than even now.” You run your hand over his thigh, cupping his cock with a smirk. “How about I put on a little fashion show for you when we get back? Call it even when I can’t even remember my own name?”

He grins. “You are filthy,” he says delightedly, throwing on a burst of speed that pins you against the seat, suddenly desperate to get the pair of you into a bedroom. 

Matty’s mouth is ravenous on yours as soon as you’re alone, dropping the bags to grip your waist hungrily and pull you flush against him. “Mmh, hold on,” you say, breaking away regretfully. “Don’t you wanna see me all dolled up for you, Daddy?”

Groaning, Matty slides his hands down to your waist, spanking you when you bend over to retrieve your bags. A pulse of wanton arousal throbs stickily between your legs, an involuntary moan rumbling from your lips. “Pretty little slut,” he mumbles approvingly. “Wanna get that pretty ass all red for me, god.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you murmur, straightening up and leaning back against him. “Anything you want.” He follows you up the stairs, making himself comfortable on the bed as you slip into the bathroom and change. You primp and preen, experimenting with lip swatches and sparkling eyeshadow, switching out your outfit until you’re satisfied. 

Matty is waiting on the bed when you slip back into the room. The sight of him, his legs spread wide and clad only in boxers with one hand lazily palming his cock through the fabric, is almost enough to make you abandon your plans. “D’you like the skirt now, Daddy?” you ask, pulling the waistband down to reveal the scrap of deep-red satin clinging to your waist.

“Mmm, I don’t know if I’m quite convinced yet, princess,” he teases. “Think you should show me what it looks like off.”

A heavy pulse of want wells between your thighs, and you grin. “Let me put on a little show for you, first.” You cue up a carefully-curated playlist, swaying your hips in time with the beat and slowly peeling off your shirt. Matty’s breath catches at the sight of you, groaning low in his throat, the sound going straight to your cunt.

Turning and bending over right on cue, you shake your ass, flashing your panties under the skirt; Matty moans outright. “So gorgeous, princess. Gettin’ me so fucking hard, god,” he groans, and as you turn to face him, you’re treated to the sight of him freeing his cock, slowly pumping it and watching you intently. Your skirt slides to the floor as Matty fucks into his fist, delicious, gasping little moans tumbling from his lips. “Fuck, c’mere, please,” he pleads, gaze fixed on you as you stalk to the edge of the bed.

“Wanna sample the merchandise, huh?” you tease, straddling his lap and grinding down on his cock. Matty’s hands come up to your tits, palming and squeezing greedily as your head falls forward to meet his lips. You let him grope you for a few long, delicious minutes, his hands finding your hips, your waist, your ass and digging in. Then, you hop off his lap, and Matty whines. “I’ve still got more stuff to try on,” you grin, slipping away and changing into a sheer-white babydoll with a matching thong.

Matty chokes on air at the sight of you, and you smile angelically, kneeling at the foot of the bed. “God, gonna drive me crazy, darling. Need to fuck you so bad,” he groans, his cock flushed red and dripping as it disappears into his fist.

You giggle. “M’glad you picked this one, Daddy. D’you wanna know what I thought when I saw it?” He nods, dazed and practically drooling. “I thought, ‘That’s what I wanna wear around the house when I’m bein’ a good little housewife for my Daddy,’” you murmur, and Matty has a physical reaction, shuddering as his eyes go wide, the fantasy playing clear as day on his face.

“Fuck, princess,” he groans. “Angel. Darling. Sweet girl. Come here. Let me fuck you, please,” he begs, hips shifting needily as he pumps his cock.

Draping yourself over his lap, you smile blithely up at him. “You promised to spank me, Daddy,” you pout, and Matty gives a filthy smirk, tracing his fingers over your panties as you shudder and squirm.

“Such a filthy little slut, god,” he murmurs. “This sweet little ass is gonna look so pretty covered in my handprints, baby. Gonna remind you who you belong to every time you sit down, yeah?”

Arousal swirls through your body, wanton need dripping from your neglected cunt. “Belong to you, Daddy. Your girl— ah!” you gasp as Matty’s hand comes down, meeting your ass harshly. A long, low moan pulls from your throat, sweet pain tangling with the burning need under your skin. “Yes, Daddy, fuck. Please, more,” you whimper, face pressed against the sheets as you sink deeper into glorious submission. Three more smacks come in quick succession, the flesh of your ass flaming under his touch.

Matty kneads your tender skin gently, soothing before he delivers another hit, the pain washing over you and coiling into thick, palpable pleasure under your skin. “Love this pretty ass so much, princess,” he praises.

“Want you to fuck me there, one day,” you say dreamily, so lost in desire-slick fantasies that you don’t even process the admission as it falls from your lips. “Wanna be yours. Every single hole,” you murmur, eyes lidded and voice rough with lust. Matty freezes, and you tense. God, was that a weird thing to say? Too early to admit it? Is he gonna think you’re actually a slut now?

A moan of pure, unfiltered lust falls from his mouth and your thighs clench, the fabric of your panties soaked and sticky between your thighs. “Fuck, you can’t say things like that, princess. Gonna make me fuckin’ cum before I’ve even fucked you,” he murmurs, voice low and raked over gravel, thick with lust. His fingers tease over your clit through your panties, and you arch up into his touch, whimpering.

“Then fuck me,” you plead. “Please, Daddy. Want you.” Matty grins, manhandling you until you’re laying on your front, pleasure tense in your belly as he slides your panties to the side. 

Your cunt clenches around nothing, gasping and pleading softly as the sheets dig into your cheek. “This okay, angel? Wanna watch the bruises come up on your pretty little ass.”

Lifting your hips, you shake your ass at him, a smirk pulling at your lips. “Gonna think about fucking it, Daddy?” He groans, the sound going straight to your core, slick cunt dripping as you press against him. “S’okay if you do. I have been. When I’m alone, when I want you, fucking myself on my fingers and thinkin’ about you stretching me out there. Would feel so fucking— Ohh,” you break into a moan as Matty enters you with no warning, meeting no resistance from your soaked cunt.

“So fucking wet for me, princess. So fucking filthy, playing with that needy cunt and thinkin’ about me fucking your ass, god,” he groans, dipping his head to kiss between your shoulder blades. A shudder runs through you, the stretch and burn between your thighs familiar, the ache soothing.

Your cunt throbs, thick pulses of arousal hammering in time with your racing heart. “Harder, Daddy, please,” you whine, arching your back. Dizzying lust envelops you, your head hazy and light, practically floating clear of your body. A shocked moan escapes you as Matty spanks you again, pain sinking into pleasure that coils tightly through your insides. 

“Don’t be greedy, darling,” he chides. “C’mon, lift your hips a little for Daddy, okay?” Unthinkingly, you obey, letting him puppeteer you, mould you into whatever shape he likes. “Good girl,” he murmurs, sliding a pillow under your hips. You glow at the praise, nails scraping the sheets when he fucks deep into you, the change in angle sending waves of pleasure spilling over you.

“Ngh, Daddy, fuck,” you whimper, your words coming out garbled where your face presses into the sheets. Incoherent moans of please and fuck and I need and Daddy stumble from your lips, your body melting into a pleasure-soaked haze as Matty fucks deep into you.

Your hips meet obscenely, lewd sounds filling the room as your world narrows down to the four walls, aware of nothing but him. “That’s it, princess. Let it all out, let Daddy hear those pretty noises, yeah? Nobody else gets to hear you like this, right?” he coos, pinching your clit and moaning softly as your cunt clenches around him reflexively.

“N-no,” you promise shakily, struggling to pull the words to the forefront of your mind, delirious with pleasure. “Only you, Daddy. Only one who can fuck me like this. So fucking good.” You choke on a gasp, Matty’s hips meeting yours over and over, your vision swimming, your body set adrift in an ocean of sheer ecstasy. 

“Such a sweet girl,” Matty murmurs, teasing your clit as you whine powerlessly. Seemingly just for the fun of it, he slaps your ass again, the sweet sting tearing you open. Pleasure rushes through you, cradling your very organs, stoking a fire that chars your bones. “God, I love your pretty ass, darling. Can’t wait to fuck this tight little hole.” His words sink into your skin, wrapping tight around your sore muscles, ecstasy coiling in your veins. With what feels like a monumental effort, you rock your hips up towards him, Matty impossibly deep inside you.

The tip of his cock brushes that perfect spot inside you, sending a bright jolt of pure euphoria fizzing up your spine. A keening wail falls from your lips, a loud, uninhibited sound of undiluted pleasure. “Gettin’ close, angel? Wanna cum for your Daddy?” You nod wildly, indistinct, stifled pleas tumbling from your lips like prayers. “Go on, princess, cum for me. Cum all over my fuckin’ cock, make me cum.” In that same obedient, thoughtless way, you do. You choke and whimper and whine, drool pooling in your mouth and dripping out against the sheets as you moan the only word you know: Daddy. Euphoria burns white-hot under your skin, melting your organs until your body is made of liquid desire, messily strung together by flimsy ligaments. Matty’s touch is the only thing anchoring you to reality, your head still hazy as you drift back to Earth.

Matty’s pace is erratic, frenzied and wild and hot as your cunt pulses with aftershocks. “Cum on me,” you beg. “On my cunt, on my tits, on my face, I don't care. Just wanna see it, wanna feel it, want you to mark me, make me yours,” you plead, and Matty groans. He gives your ass one more swift smack for good measure and flips you over, your bruised skin screaming in protest as it presses into the sheets. Three quick passes of his fist over his cock and he’s cumming, white ropes splashing across your belly and up to your tits, painting your skin in a filthy, lurid display. “Thank you, Daddy,” you murmur as he breathes heavily above you. “Love bein’ your little cumdump.”

His head tips back, a disbelieving laugh bubbling free. “Such a good, sweet, pretty girl with such a filthy mouth, princess. So fuckin’ hot.” You smile proudly, dragging your fingers through his mess and sucking the taste of him off them. Matty’s eyes go wide, his head falling to lap at the skin between your tits, kissing and sucking ravenously at them. He makes his way up and presses his lips to yours, the taste of him smearing between your mouths, the kiss a filthy thing, alive with desire. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbles, hushed like he isn’t even aware of the words, and you flush.

“So are you,” you smile as he falls next to you, gazing adoringly into your eyes as your chests heave.

“We should get cleaned up,” he says with a weak chuckle, and you mumble an affirmative without even pretending to move. “Just a minute, princess, then I’ll get you cleaned up, cook us some dinner, yeah?” he promises, kissing you gently as your eyes flutter closed. Of course, the pair of you wake an hour or so later, dried cum on your belly and crusting into your brand-new lingerie, your thighs uncomfortably wet and sticking. Matty carries you into the bath, takes gentle care of you, the promised meal waiting when you pull yourself out of the now-lukewarm water. Pillar candles glow atop the dining table, the light sparkling off your wine glasses, and your heart melts.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall deeply, irrevocably in love with him; every passing day reveals something new to adore. The words spring to your lips at any and all moments, both opportune and not, and it starts to become a real struggle to swallow them back down. You don’t want to be too much, too soon, and truthfully you’re scared of what his answer will be, and even more so of how you’ll react.

Your private-not-secret relationship is your so-called friends’ favourite topic of discussion, so much so that you’re afraid it’ll get back to your parents before you’re ready for them to know. You try to keep them happy with minor tidbits, throw them off with misdirections (yes, he’s older; no, I won’t tell you by how much; no, my parents don’t know him), but their endless reserves of intrusion are starting to wear you down. Thea is your only confidante, the only one besides Matty himself who knows the ins and outs, and you’re fucking dying for someone new to brag and gush to. So when Matty texts you one day in mid-August, asking if you want to meet his friends, you jump at the chance.

My friends are absolutely desperate to meet you, by the way

Insist they have to meet this girl I won’t shut up about

I’ve been told to tell you Emerald Hill at 10pm on Saturday, and not to take no for an answer

If that tells you what kind of a bunch they are, fair warning

i’d love to :)

come pick me up at 8? then we’ll have time to get presentable before we have to go ;)

By the time Saturday rolls around, you’re practically fizzing with excitement, much to your parents’ suspicion — they’ve been sceptical all summer of how happy you’ve been, curious glances and pursed lips every time you so much as smile at your phone. The excitement has turned to nerves as you’re leaving Matty’s, though, roiling in your gut as you obsess over every detail that could go wrong. Matty wraps comforting arms around your waist from behind, kissing the top of your head and holding you close, the thump of his heartbeat at your back soothing. “Stop worryin’ so much, love. S’gonna be fine, okay?” He gives a boyish little grin as he opens the car for you. “Can’t wait for you to meet my boys. All my favourite people in one place,” he says, and you smile softly, that warm, fizzing affection you don’t want to give a name to creeping up your chest.

Matty lets you choose the music as you drive, shaking his head every time you queue up another glitter-gel-pen pop song. He takes your hand and leads you into the bar, a classy little place tucked into a street corner, his eyes lighting up as he catches sight of whoever you’re here to meet, swallowed into a bear hug by a tall blond when he reaches the table.

“Ah, mate, it’s been too long,” the other man says, pulling back and offering you a hand. “George.”

You look up into his face and your jaw drops. The hot DJ from that fateful night at 102 grins down at you, and your eyes widen as you try to take back your composure. Swallowing your tongue, you smile and give your name, taking a seat as Matty pulls a chair out for you. Just as you’re getting over that shock, you lock eyes with Charli and she smirks back at you.

“Sunshine Baby!” she exclaims. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You laugh, the tension in your shoulders loosening at the merest semblance of familiarity. “How do you remember that?” you laugh disbelievingly.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Matty interrupts.

Charli shrugs. “Sort of. Sunshine over here racked up a three hundred quid tab and tipped me a hundred on top. Don’t forget that in a hurry.”

You cover your face in embarrassment. “That makes me sound like an alcoholic,” you groan. “Your fault, by the way.” You poke Matty’s shoulder affectionately. “I was mad at you, practically fucking bought out the bar about it. Entire place got a free drink off me.”

“I like her,” another member of the group chimes in with a laugh. You look up to meet the eyes of the speaker, and– Jesus. One group of friends shouldn’t be allowed to have this many hot people in it. “Ross,” he says, and you smile politely. The last member of the party introduces himself as Adam, and you greet him with a smile, letting yourself get absorbed into rapid conversation and raucous laughter. “Right,” Ross interrupts. “Matty — you’re picking up the tab,” he declares. “Oh, don’t make that face,” he says as Matty scoffs. “Amount you drink, I’m not paying it on a teacher’s salary.”

You giggle. “Aw, give him a break. These days, I’m spending his money faster than he can make it,” you joke, and Charli cackles. You’re pleasantly tipsy, the alcohol loosening your lips and lifting the weight of anxiety in your chest, conversation flowing between you as easily as the wine in your glass. You cling to Matty as you leave, waving cheerful goodbyes and promising to text Charli to arrange a girls’ night.

“I’m gonna regret introducing you two, aren’t I?” Matty sighs, pulling you in close against the unseasonably cold wind, the warmth of his body soothing.

“No,” you giggle. “I love her. Wish I had friends like yours,” you say, wistful and slightly self-pitying as you slide into the car.

Matty cups your cheek, leaning in across the console to press a tender, loving kiss against your lips. “I’m sorry, baby. But you have me. Always gonna have me, yeah?”

Your heart flutters, those three little words rising in your throat once again. “I guess you’re a pretty good consolation prize,” you tease, pushing down the frightening intimacy of the moment with levity.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles. “Wanna come back with me? Or do you want me to drop you home?”

You scoff. “Is that even a question?”

The rest of your summer passes quickly, too quickly. You spend more time at Matty’s house than home, more and more of your things finding their place there as time passes. You start going to visit him at work without any other justification, every step nerve-wracking as your father’s presence looms. You have one unbelievably close call when he’s in the lobby as you’re leaving, frantically slamming the door close button in the lift before he can turn and spot you. Ruby stays just as hostile, seething at you and muttering warnings that Matty’ll be bored soon every time you pass her by. You take a petty, savage pleasure in tormenting her, just a little, deliberately pulling Matty in for long, filthy kisses as you open his office door.

By the time you can’t put off going back to uni any longer, there’s barely any point in you being home at all. Naturally, Matty offers to be the one to drive you up, and you seize the opportunity to be alone with him for the last time in however fucking long. Your father is privately relieved not to be the one to have to, you can tell, accepting your explanation that Thea’s just passed her test and she’s offered to drive me. You don’t mind, do you? without question. Shows how much he knows; Thea’s failed her practical six times and counting.

When you arrive, Matty insists that you don’t lift a finger, carrying all of your boxes upstairs and giving you something to ogle in the process. You’re the last one back, your housemates smirking at you and nudging each other at the sight of him, fourteen years your senior with grey in his hair, kissing you filthy and unashamed in plain view. Later, you mouth behind his back, their answering giggles reminding you that you do have good friends, after all.

Matty looks devastatingly gorgeous in the late-autumn sunset, leaning against his car with a cigarette dangling from his lips. You snatch it with a smirk, stretching up to peck his lips and taking a deep drag. His smile melts you into goo, your heart hammering so fast it might smash free of your ribcage. If you don’t say it now, you’ll lose your nerve.

“I love you,” you rush out, muffled against his chest as he holds you, arms cradling your body tight and warm and safe. “You don’t have to say it back, I just… I do, and I want you to know.” 

Matty pulls back to look at you, eyes soft with affection and adoration and maybe even something deeper. “Do you know how long I’ve been waitin’ to hear you say that, princess? God, I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much,” he groans, his hands at your waist the only thing keeping you upright as your knees go weak. “Think I might die, havin’ to be without you these next few weeks.” You giggle, giddy with infatuation and devotion and… God, you can just say love, now. “I’ll be back soon, don’t worry. Could never stay away from you.”

[stylesloveclub]

Pleasing (grumpy h blurb)

In which Harry's acting kinda grumpy, and y/n helps him... destress. :)

+++

Harry’s hand slams onto his phone, muting the blaring chimes of his 6 AM alarm. His head hurts and his eyes are heavy, and the thought of having to get out of bed, get dressed, and go to a business meeting when it’s still dark outside makes his feel physically ill. 

He’s tired… beyond tired. Last night had been another one of his annual “In-Chef nights.” He’d been up on his feet, cooking meal after meal from 6 PM all the way until midnight, and had then spent an additional two hours with his staff cleaning up. He’d driven home in the cold rain, and didn’t even have enough energy to change into his pajamas when he got home. He just stripped down to his briefs, and collapsed into his bed.

 Running on barely four hours of sleep, he’s feeling cranky and miserable and irritable. The sound of his alarm has been nagging at him through three snooze cycles, and he knows if he stays in bed any longer, he’s going to be running late. 

He forces himself to blink his eyes open. He feels gross and sluggish, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, and letting out a loud groan. The early morning meeting he has today isn’t even one that he’s excited for… he hates the constructors that are helping him open a new Pleasing location in New York. They’re bad communicators, and always make mistakes in the plans that they’ve made. Harry’s a very particular man, he’s picky about the way his food is cooked, a neat freak in his home, and has an organized schedule that he never strays from. So working with these incompetent people, who somehow always manage to royally fuck something up… god it really gets Harry frustrated. 

He yanks the blanket off of himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed. His feet meet the floor, and it’s ice cold. Great. 

This is just fucking great. 

+++

“Jesus fucking christ.” 

Harry takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes to calm himself. It doesn’t work. His nostrils are flaring and his eyes have turned a dark, angry shade of green. “I fuckin’ said last week that I wanted gas stoves. So why is there an order for six electric stove tops?”

Ian, the contractor, fumbles in front of Mr. Styles, cheeks turning red. “Uh-um, t-the installation of the electric stoves was cheaper.”

“What did I explicitly ask for,” Harry seethes.

“Err– t-the gas–”

“So what in your right mind made you think that I’d be okay with this?”

“I– well, sir, we just wanted to go with the option that was more affordable–”

“Do you think I give a fuck which one is cheaper?” Harry yells. “For fuck’s sake, I’m running a multi-million business!” He slams the papers he’d been holding onto the desk in front of him and stands up angrily, his chair scratching loudly against the hardwood floors. “Get this fixed, today,” he says before storming out of the conference room and slamming the door behind him. 

He locks himself into his office, and sits in his chair, rubbing his red-veined eyes. He’s too tired to have to deal with all this shit today. How hard is it for people to follow instructions? His life would be so much easier if everyone else didn’t fuck up so much. 

He sits there for a few minutes with his head in his hands, fingers still rubbing at his eyes to try and soothe away the burning feeling he feels every time he opens them. His head is starting to hurt, a pounding migraine so intense that he can feel his heartbeat in his ears, and his stomach hurts. All he had to eat today was a black coffee before he went into that horrific meeting five hours ago. 

Yes, the one hour meeting they had planned had ended up taking five hours instead. He literally had to clear his schedule to fix all the fucking mistakes that they were making. They’d chosen the wrong tiles for the floor, ordered the wrong stove tops for the kitchen, and had designed all of the countertops to be one inch too low… it literally pained him to be working with such incompetent designers. 

And now he was behind on his work. 

He lets out a tired sigh and turns on his desktop, opening his emails. The bright screen makes his eyes sting, and he has to squint to read the tiny word on the screen. He scrambles around in his drawers and finds his reading glasses, but still, the words blur together and make his head hurt. He bares with the pain, and spends an hour or so responding to emails and filling out paperwork, until there’s a knock at his door. 

“What is it?” he calls out a bit snappily, not looking up from his paperwork. 

He hears the door jiggle, trying to open but struggling against the lock. “It’s me, Mr. Styles!” 

Immediately, he puts his pen down and unlocks the door for his sweet y/n to come in. She’s holding a plate of food for him, and looks up at him with her pretty smile, cheeks warm and dimpled with kindness. 

“Hey puppy,” he murmurs, surprised. She hadn’t come in for the majority of this week because she had finals. In fact, she just had her physics final just this morning. 

“Hi!” she says enthusiastically, entering his office. “Teddy told me that you’ve been here since 8, n’that you haven’t eaten anything all day.” She looks up at him with her adorable bambi eyes, “How come you’re allowed to scold me for not eating enough at work when you’re skipping meals too?” 

He smiles lightly, “you’re right puppy, that’s hypocritical of me.” 

“Very hypocritical,” she nods resolutely. “So, I brought you some food! I had Teddy make it, ‘cos I know he’s your favorite.”

His stomach growls at the sight of the fettuccini alfredo in front of him. He’s starving but he’d been way too caught up in his work to think about getting up to get himself any food. “Thank you,” he says, taking the plate from her and picking up her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles. 

“It smells yummy, so I want some too,” she says, sitting down on the chair behind his desk. “But we gotta eat it quick, ‘cos I’m supposed to get back out there in five minutes.” 

“Thought you weren’t meant to come in today?” he says, sitting down next to her. 

“I wasn’t scheduled,” she says, shoving a forkful of the pasta into her mouth, “but then Grace texted me asking if I could cover for her. She got the flu.” 

Harry hums, grabbing a tissue from his desk, and wipes off the little bit of white sauce clinging onto y/n’s lips, her mouth full of deliciously creamy and garlicky pasta. “How were your exams?”

She rolls her eyes. “Ugh. Don’t talk about it. So hard, but everyone else said it was super hard too, so hopefully there’s a fat curve.” She claps her hands excitedly, “But at least I’m done! No more school for the rest of the month!!!” 

Despite his initial grumpy mood, he can’t help the smile that graces his face. His girlfriend is literally the cutest thing in the world, especially when she gets all giddy and excited like this. She’d been really stressed out and MIA all week because of her exams, so it’s refreshing to see his lively and happy y/n again. 

“So proud of you puppy,” he says, cupping her cheek and giving her a kiss. 

She twirls a forkful of pasta for Harry and feeds it to him. “Are we gonna hang out tonight?” she asks. 

“Of course. Need t’cuddle tonight, you’ve been so busy I feel neglected.” Just sitting with y/n for a few minutes has already calmed Harry down, the stress in his body fizzling away. 

She giggles cutely. “Okay baby. We can spend alllll night together.” 

+++

The ache in his stomach fades away after finishing the pasta that y/n brought for him, and after popping an advil, he feels his headache start to slowly go away as well. He’d gotten an email that the electric stove tops had been returned and that an order for the gas ones had been put in, so he’s feeling more relaxed about that as well.

He lounges around in his office until y/n is done with her shift, and they sneak out the back exit to head home together. He’s got a one hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on her thigh, and he’s feeling much better than he was this morning when he’d been all grumpy and stressed out. 

When they get to a stop light, his phone rings. He thinks nothing of it when he picks up, not even looking at the caller id. “Hello?” he answers casually.

“Er– Hi, Mr. Styles.” 

Harry rolls his eyes. It’s Ian on the phone. “What’s going on?” he says tersely.

“Um… so we figured out the stove issue, which is great…” 

The light turns green. “Okay…?” Harry says, slightly annoyed.

“So… well– the stove company said that the shipment is gonna take a few weeks, which is gonna put the construction schedule behind since we can’t install the countertops until we put the stoves in, which means…” Harry sighs in disappointment, already knowing what’s coming. “Well, it means that the restaurant might not be ready for the opening date that we’d set.” 

“Ian,” Harry’s knuckles are turning white around the steering wheel, and he’s using every cell in his body to keep his voice steady so that he doesn’t start yelling in front of y/n. “When I signed that contract with you, didn’t we agree it would be done in three months?”

“I– yes, it’s really unfortunate–” Ian stammers, but Harry cuts him off.

“I don’t want to hear fuckin’ excuses,” Harry bites. “We signed a contract.”

“Sir, I don’t know what to tell you,” Ian says casually.

“How about we start with the fact that this issue could’ve been completely avoided had you simply followed the plan that we had agreed upon?” Harry’s voice is steadily rising, an angry fire to his tone. “Or how much money you’ve already cost me from all the mistakes you’ve made? I signed a contract and I expect the deadline to be met. It’s far too late to push back the opening of the restaurant.” 

“It’s out of my control–” Ian tries to explain, but Harry won’t hear it.

“Jesus christ, do I need to do everything for you?” Harry bursts. “Call the company and tell them the delivery is for Harry Styles! Figure it out with the investors, pay them extra! We will not be pushing the date back, not when we’ve already invested so much into it.” Harry hangs up the phone angrily and throws it into his lap. “Fucking hell,” he breathes angrily. 

Y/n sits next to him quietly, her eyes wide. “Everything okay?” she asks timidly.

“S’fine,” he bristles tersely, pulling into his parking spot. He puts the car in park and gets out of the car, slamming the door behind him with such aggression that y/n winces for the car. 

Scrambling behind him like a little puppy, she follows him into his penthouse. There’s an angry furrow in his brow as they ride up the elevator, and his lips are pressed together in a frustrated line as he types out a message on his phone. He storms into the kitchen without even glancing at y/n, and pours himself a glass of ice cold water to maybe help himself calm down. 

Y/n stands shyly behind the kitchen counter, not saying anything but watching him quietly.

“Just a second, puppy,” he says, his tone impatient and clipped, pushing past her to head into his home office. He dials the number of one of his restaurant’s business partners on the phone, and spends nearly half an hour figuring out what they were going to do. 

“I want a new fuckin’ contractor,” Harry rants.

His partner. Niall, gives out a hearty laugh, “I know mate, but don’t worry. I’ll figure it out for ya. I know the guys over there, I’ll give ‘em a ring and see if they can get your appliances sent over any quicker.”

“Thank you,” he mutters gratefully. Finally, there was someone who knew how to get shit done. He hangs up the phone and runs his fingers through his hair frustratedly. His headache is back and his neck and shoulders hurt from being so tense.

Y/n knocks on his office door, and he sighs heavily. “Not now, puppy, v’got to send some emails.”

She steps in, despite the fact that he’s dismissed her, with sad eyes and a pout on her lips. “If this is how it’s gonna be all night then… I’m just gonna go home.” 

His eyes snap up. “What?” 

“You’re working and being all… grumpy,” she says quietly. “So I’m gonna get an uber.”

“Y/n, don’t be like that.” He looks at her with an exasperated look. “Something important came up, v’got to deal with it.” 

“I’m not trying to be like anything,” she shrugs. “You’re stressed out and you don’t wanna talk, so I feel like I’m just annoying you by being here.”

“Baby…” he sighs, rolling away from his desk and getting up to go stand in front of her. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest in a shy, almost protective manner, and she has her bag hanging off of her shoulder, fully prepared to leave. Standing in front of her, he can see the sadness in her eyes. “Don’t go, m’sorry.” 

“I know you’re upset…” she whispers, looking down at the floor, “but that doesn’t give you the right to be snappy with me. It hurts my feelings.” 

Oh, his precious girl, so sweet and sensitive. His heart breaks a little bit, knowing that he’d made her sad… he’d been so caught up in his own stress that he’d neglected her feelings. He knows that she was probably so excited to come over after having finished all her exams… and he knows that she’s sensitive. She gets teary eyed whenever someone uses a stern voice with her, cries for days if she ever gets yelled at. Of course it would hurt her when he pushes her aside and snaps at her to leave him alone.

He pulls her into his chest, “Sweetheart, you’re right, m’sorry. I shouldn’t be takin’ it out on you, you’ve done nothing but been sweet t’me all day.” She’d brought food for him when he was hungry, was cheerful and lovely on the car ride home, and had tried to talk to him when he was upset… only to get pushed away at the end of the night.

“I wanna stay, but not if you’re gonna be mean,” she says into his chest.

He presses a kiss to her hair, “no, m’done puppy. Not gonna be mean, promise. Please, stay?” 

She looks up at him and smiles softly. “Okay,” she puckers her lips and leans up for a quick kiss. “Thank you.” 

He smooths his hand over her hair, and rests his head atop her cheek, still hugging her close. She’s warm and smells sweet… holding her in his arms is all he wants to do for the rest of his life.

“How about I go take a shower while you send your emails, and then we can go to bed?” she suggests, pulling away.

He shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. No more emails tonight, I can send them in the morning.” It’s late at night anyways, it wouldn’t make a difference if he sent them now or tomorrow. 

“M’getting in that shower with you.”

+++

In the shower, y/n washes away all of Harry’s stress and worries. She lathers up the loofah with the rose scented body wash that she keeps in his shower, and rubbed it all over his chest and back and biceps. She even went so far as to lift his arms above his head and scrub his armpits for him, making Harry cackle at how silly she was.

Then, she took his yummy smelling shampoo and had him bend down so that she could wash his hair for him. She threaded her fingers through his hair and scratched at his scalp deliciously, scrubbing his hair as though he were getting spoiled at the salon. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as the foamy shampoo dripped down his forehead, but she always made sure to rinse the bubbles away before they got into his eyes. 

They got out and dried themselves together, standing in front of Harry’s heater in their towels for a few minutes while y/n brushed her hair. He changed himself into only a pair of boxers, while y/n opted to skip on undergarments (it’s very important to let ur pussy breathe!!!), putting on only a pair of thin sleep shorts and one of Harry’s huge t-shirts. 

“M’gonna give you a massage,” she tells Harry once they’re both changed, shoving him onto the bed. He chuckles to himself at her weak attempt to manhandle him, but complies easily, settling onto his stomach so that she could straddle his back. She squirts some lotion onto her hands and warms it up between her palms, then rubs it smoothly onto Harry’s broad and muscular back.

“Mm, thank you baby,” he groans. “So good t’me.” 

It’s all innocent at first – y/n knows that Harry was stressed out and probably super tense, so she thought giving him a nice massage to work out the knots in his shoulders would be nice. But, of course, with Harry shirtless underneath her, it’s hard for her thoughts to stay completely pure. 

Harry’s so strong and muscled… it’s so hot. He feels firm underneath her hands, her palms smoothing over the ridges and curves of the muscles in his toned back. His shoulders are broad and his biceps look huge, even without being flexed or anything. The skin of his back is warm and smooth… so soft and tan. Her mouth waters as she rubs her hands up and down his back.

Her fingers find his shoulders and she kneads them deeply, which makes Harry let out a loud groan. His shoulders are particularly tense, and her little fingers are rubbing the tight knots in them so nicely. “Harder baby,” he grunts, and she obliges. Her thumbs dig deep into the meat of his shoulders and rub in slow, painful circles.

She uses all her strength to massage him. He’s so built, every inch of his back covered with hard muscles, that it takes a lot of energy to really get in there. She has to put her entire weight into her hands and press deep onto his back. Luckily, the lotion made it easy for her to glide over his skin and knead his sore muscles. The groans that he lets out tell her which spots to focus on. 

His eyes are shut, eyebrows furrowed with pleasure. It hurts so good. His cock has started to plump up a bit, twitching every time her delicate fingers knead a particularly painful knot in his back. She keeps rubbing him, digging her fingers into his muscles, and the pressure in his cock grows unbearable. 

He flips himself around, unable to deal with it any longer. Y/n gasps at his sudden movement, then finds herself short of breath when she settles herself back down on his lap and feels how hard he is underneath her. Straddling his hips in nothing but her little, thin pair of sleep shorts, she can feel him… feels the curve of his cock, restrained in his boxers, and feels the ridge of his tip nudging against her clit. She’s sure that he can probably feel her pussy too, feel every fold and the tiny bud of her clit.

He smirks up at her when her little pussy flutters around nothing, twitching so delicately against his clothed cock. Her center feels hot, keeping him warm while she sits prettily atop him. “Keep going baby…” he says, voice low and dangerous. “M’arms hurt so much, can you rub ‘em for me?” 

He pouts up at her, but it’s a mocking pout. He knows exactly what she’s thinking about, and it’s much more filthy than his innocent request for an arm massage. 

Nonetheless, she squirts some more lotion on her hands and brings them down to his strong biceps. He’d been to the gym yesterday for arms, so he wasn’t lying when he said they were sore. But also, that means they’re particularly pumped today, firm and delicious… y/n just wants to bite them. 

His hands rest on her hips while she rubs her palms up and down his arms, his thumbs tracing soft circles onto the skin of thigh where her shorts have ridden up. She looks like she’s intently focused on rubbing his arms, but really, she can’t stop thinking about the way his cock feels underneath her. He subtly grips her hips and presses her down harder onto the hard bulge in his pants, and lets out a strained breath through his nose. Y/n similarly feels her breath catch in her throat, her hands pausing momentarily as she flutters her eyes shut.

“Feels so good baby,” he murmurs when her hands migrate up to massage his chest, rubbing circles over his swallows and tracing over his butterfly delicately. It’s a not-so subtle innuendo to fuel the fire of the sexual tension burning between the two of them right now. 

The hands on her hips start to slide upwards, under her shirt to rest on her warm tummy. He can see the soft peaks of her nipples poking through the shirt she’s wearing. “Baby… show me y’pretty tits, please?” he begs. He slides his hands even higher until his fingers graze the undersides of her breasts. “Had such a long day, I deserve a treat don’ I?”

“Y-yeah,” she agrees softly, taking her shirt off and throwing it onto the floor. She’s left topless, her perky nipple peaking in the cold air of Harry’s bedroom, and her wet pussy pressed firmly to his hard cock.

She continues rubbing his chest with her tits out, and Harry takes it upon himself to do the same to her. He plays with her tits, holds them in his palms and rubs his thumbs over her hard nipples. Still, it’s not enough. 

“Come closer, baby,” he murmurs lowly, guiding her forward. She inches forward slowly, back arching while holding herself up with her arms, until her boobs are hanging in front of Harry’s face. 

He sticks his tongue out and leans up, attaching himself to her nipple and sucking it into his mouth gently. His tongue licks the soft bud gently, and he hums happily. “Mmm, baby, so nice to me,” he mutters, switching to her other nipple, “Lettin’ daddy play with your pretty tits ‘cos I had a long day.” Hand engulfs the breast that he’d just hand in his mouth, palming it gently while his tongue plays with the other. His teeth skim her soft skin gently, and he starts sucking. Each purse of his lip and pass of his tongue sends a shock straight down to y/n’s center, and she’s absolutely, totally drenched. Her heart is beating erratically in her chest, and she can’t help herself before grinding herself down. 

Since she’s lifted herself up to align her tits with Harry’s face, she’s no longer sitting on his bulge, but instead now sitting on the butterfly painted on his abdomen. She presses herself onto his abs, soothing the dull ache that comes each time he hums around her breast.

Her boobs are so plump and plushy, dangling in front of his mouth and covered in his spit. His hands grope her chest sensually, pushing her breasts into his face and letting himself indulge like a teenage boy. He lets them bounce on his face, skimming his lips against them then pulling himself back, teasing himself. He nudges his nose against them, and they jiggle prettily right in front of his face. God, he’s making himself so hard, playing with her tits like this, having them all up in his face. All he can see is her skin, the roundness of her breasts, the soft bud of her nipples. No matter which way he turns his head, he makes contact with her, her nipples skimming his cheeks or his lips dancing against her sideboob. 

“Jus-” she gasps when he takes her boob back between his lips and sucks, tongue curling around her nipple, “Jus’ wanna make you happy daddy.” 

“Doing so good baby, taking caring of me so well,” he murmurs, barely moving his lips from her skin before reattaching to her areola. “You know what would make daddy so happy?” 

“W-what?” she whimpers, pushing her clit down against his hard abs.

“If you got on my cock and got yourself off. Could you do that for me, puppy?” 

She nods eagerly and shuffles herself down, shoving Harry’s briefs down. His cock bounces up and slaps against his stomach, the tip completely slick with his own precum and arousal. She doesn’t even bother warming herself or Harry up – the massage and his little play session had gotten both of them 100% ready.

She doesn’t take her sleep shorts off, genuinely too excited to stuff herself full of his cock. Grabbing him by the shaft, she hovers right over his hips and slowly guides him into her dripping cunt. The slide in is easy, absolutely no resistance from how wet she is, and she’s able to bottom out on the first go. 

Her hands rest on his chest to support herself, and she starts to lift her hips, up and down, skin meeting skin with every drop down. Her nails dig into his flesh, and it hurts just as good as her massage had. She’s riding him like she never has before – usually she’s a bit of a princess, mostly grinding her clit down and rubbing herself on his cock slowly until her thighs start to burn and she whines for Harry to take over. 

Now though, with the way he’d teased her all nice, she’s bouncing on his cock properly, using all her strength to pull herself all the way up, then drop back down. She sets a messy pace for herself, but it doesn’t matter. He’s hitting all the right spots in her, and that’s all she care about. 

Harry lies on his back in bliss, her pussy absolute heaven around his cock. Her messy pace and high bounces have her tits jiggling, and Harry pushes himself up onto his elbows to get a better view. “Fuck, puppy, you’re an angel.” 

He brings a hand down to rub her at her clit, fingers rubbing tight circles as she grinds herself on him. “Gonna cum baby,” he groans, “Are you close?”

She whines out, and nods messily, eyes shut as she keeps herself going. 

Harry throws his head back, and shuts his eyes, rubbing her clit faster and faster until she’s cumming, clenching around his cock and squeezing him so tightly. His vision goes white his ears start to ring, and he’s in absolute heaven.

Y/n collapses onto his chest, and he spurts out long streaks of cum into her warm pussy, balls clenching with every release and his hips twitching upwards, trying to get as deep into her as he possibly can. She lays on top of him heavily, breathing hard with rosy cheeks and a glistening forehead from how hard she’d worked to get them both to their end. 

He pulls her up for a kiss. What had he even been stressed about, again? 

+++

HOPE U GUYS ENJOYED!!! SUB TO MY PATREON FOR MORE EXCLUSIVE PLEASINGRRY CONCEPTS AND EARLY ACCESS TO ANY AND ALL FICS!!!!

[yoditopascal]

Dick Grayson x Reader. Something like they’ve been together for a while and share an apartment. Reader was supposed to be out with friends and didn’t tell Dick so he just casually swings into the apartment via the window and reader just kinda goes WTF cuz reader doesn’t know.

No cuz I absolutely LOVED writing this 😭

You were just settling into bed for the night, fresh out of the shower, you were nice and snug in your bed with your favorite book and the tv on low.

You were supposed to be out with your friends for the night but the promise of a good book and a night in to just relax after a stressful week of school and work was just too good to pass up, so you shot them a text to tell them you couldn’t make it and opted to stay in.

There was no telling where your boyfriend Dick was, he often kept odd hours and would disappear from time to time but that was just Dick. He liked to go with the flow and swing his own way, you didn’t mind at all as long as he always swung back to you.

Just as you were about to flip the page, a loud crash from the living room made you jump damn near out of your skin. You were home alone with no pets and you knew your boyfriend probably wouldn’t be home anytime soon. Getting to your feet, you grabbed a bat, it was right by your bed, something Dick had insisted on you keeping close by living here in Blüdhaven, and crept to the living room, your heart in your throat, racing.

“Shit.” A familiar voice swore, a figure had emerged from the window. They had knocked over a flowerpot you had set there so it could get some sunlight.

Bending down to pick in up a whooshing sound flew threw the air as you swung the bat, the figure catching it in their hands just inches away from their shadow-covered face.

“Holy shit!” The voice shouted, shoving the bat away.

“Get out!” You screamed back ready to swing again, the figure held up his hands stepping closer you you into the light of the moon

“W-wait babe it’s me!” Cried Dick as he snatched off his domino mask revealing his smooth features, thick black hair falling into his face.

“What the hell?!” You shouted back incredulously lowering the bat in your hands but not completely letting go.

“It’s me! Dick!” He said trying to approach you, you stepped back uneasily, this had to be some kind of prank.

“Dick what the fuck?!”

“Why are you swinging a bat at me?!” He cried pointing at the bat still in your hands

“Why are you coming in through the window?!” You asked, pointing at him with said bat gesturing to his outfit. He wore a skin tight back catsuit with a blue bird across his chest and shoulders. ”And why are you dressed like Nightwing?!!”

“I am Nightwing!” He said pointing at himself

“No you’re not!” You said shaking your head, this was definitely a prank.

“I am! I swear!” He cried again, not willing to get swung at again with the bat.

“What the fuck?!” You said dropping the bat and dropping, you walked over to the couch that was in the living room and dropped down on it just staring at Dick in disbelief before you put your head in your hands.

This would explain why he ‘worked’ all those late hours all the time and seemed to just disappear out of thin air, but Nightwing? Really?! You wouldn’t have guessed it was him at all!

“Babe please talk to me…” Dick said as he crept over. He slowly sat down next to you placing a gentle hand on your shoulder that he stroked with his gloved thumb

“Oh I’m gonna talk to you alright,” you said turning to look at him a fierce look in your eye that made him shiver, it was both hot and scary at the same time he thought

“We’re about to have a whole ass conversation about this!”

[therealdisneyfan2319]

Swing | Wanda Maximoff

A Stripper MILF Wanda Cinematic Universe Story

Summary: Wanting to make up for missed birthdays, you give Wanda quite the present

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut (18 + MINORS DNI), language

Word Count: 1.9K

Masterlist

You anxiously paced around the living room of your shared house with Wanda.  She was en route back after dropping the boys off at Vision’s for the weekend.  The quiet hour you had to yourself was spent setting up the latest in a long line of birthday gifts for your girlfriend.  It was your way of making up for all the ones her ex had forgotten: how anyone could ignore Wanda on her birthday was incomprehensible.  She insisted that you didn’t need to spoil her, arguing that you didn’t need to make up for Vision’s shortcomings.  You ignored her.  It was the first time in your life you had a woman to spoil and you were planning on taking full advantage of that.  

The gifts started small: cooking her favorite dinner on Monday for no reason, surprising her with her favorite flowers on Tuesday, the new end table she’d been talking about for months on Wednesday, and a long after dinner massage on Thursday.  Wanda wasn’t used to such thoughtful displays of kindness.  Yet you were determined to make sure she had the best birthday yet, which is why you saved the best for last.  This was the present you knew she wouldn’t be expecting at all.  It’s the one she mentioned in passing once not realizing how you’d cling onto it for the last few months.  It was the most expensive of the gifts.  And it was the most…scandalous…of the gifts.  

The sound of the front door unlocking snapped you back to reality.  Your heart pounded in your throat, threatening to explode out of your body entirely as seconds turned to minutes turned to hours as you waited for Wanda to walk down the hallway.  

“Virginia’s over for the weekend.  She brought the kids with her, too.  I know Billy gets along with Vin well enough, but Tommy really doesn’t care for him or Viv.  And I don’t understand why the V names.  Could they not come up with anything else?” Wanda frequently voiced her disdain for her ex-husband’s new girlfriend and her kids.  While you knew that she was happy and secure in your relationship, you also knew that the topic of her failed marriage was a sore subject.  

“The boys’ll be fine, Wands.  It’s just for the weekend.”

“I know.”

“They’ve gotta get used to being around Virginia and the kids.”

“I know.”

“That means we have the weekend to ourselves.”

“I know,” Wanda smirked.

“I have a present for you.”

“Y/N, no.  You’ve already gotten-” “It’s downstairs.”

Wanda’s mouth snapped shut abruptly as she looked at you, a curious expression painted on her face.  

“Follow me?” you asked as you offered her your hand.  You smirked knowingly as Wanda sighed, dropping her hands into your outstretched one.  

“You know, you don’t have to spoil me like this just because it’s my birthday.  Really, it’s okay.”

“I want to make up for all those ones that Vision missed or forgot or whatever…plus this one is for both of us.”

“What do you mean-oh.”  Wanda’s eyes widened as she stared at the hanging mess of nylon and leather straps hanging from the heavy bag hook on the ceiling.  “Oh my god.”

“You like it?” you chuckled, giving Wanda’s hand a slight squeeze.

“Oh my god,” she repeated.  You felt her hand slip from yours as she carefully made her way over to the middle of the room.  Wanda brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she eyed the set-up with a keen sense of curiosity.  

“Now if you really don’t want another gift, I can always take it back,” you teased, cheekily shoving your hands in your pockets, watching Wanda stare awestruck at the swing in the middle of the room.

“Don’t you dare,” Wanda warned.  “Where on earth did you find one of these?” she asked, reaching up to run her fingers through the straps.

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

She gave you a look.

“The internet.  Some website.  Google suggested it.”

Wanda’s look turned into a smirk.  The nylon straps danced through her fingers as she continued to examine her newest present.  You felt your heart slowly creeping up your throat the longer you stared at the straps twirling through your girlfriend’s fingers.

“You remembered.”

“Wanda, how could I forget?”  Your heart threatened to burst out the side of your neck as blood rushed through every part of your body.  

“And this is why you wanted the boys to stay with Vision this weekend?” “Do you want to keep asking questions or do you want to try it out?”

Her lips crashed into yours before you could get another thought out.  Instinctively your hands found their way to her waist, pulling her body flush against yours.  She sighed into your mouth, her soft hands gently tugging at your hair.  No matter how many times you did it, kissing Wanda never got old.  Each kiss was a new experience, a new sensation that you perpetually craved.  She was the most entrancing woman in the entire world and she was all yours.

“So how does this work?” Wanda asked breathlessly as you nibbled on the sensitive spot under her jaw.

“Dunno,” you mumbled between kisses, your grip on Wanda tightening as soon as you felt her swoon ever so slightly.  “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

“This won’t fall down, right?” she asked.  Her hands trailed down from your head to the buttons at the front of your shirt.  You shook your head, recoiling slightly as you felt her cold hands brush your chest as she tore at your clothes.

“Hope not.”  You undid the button on her jeans, your fingers slinking inside the waistband.

“Hope not?”

“I mean it should be good.  Don’t see why it wouldn’t be.”

Wanda chuckled as she shook her head.  She knew that you would’ve double and triple checked to make sure the swing wouldn’t fall down the second she got into it.  

“So how do I get in?  Do I just-?”

“I think you just sit back into it and put your legs in the straps,” you replied, stepping out of your jeans and boxers and kicking them behind you.  

Wanda, now in her long sleeve shirt and panties, carefully looked behind her as she grabbed the leather support straps and allowed herself to sink into the swing.  She fell back with an emphatic oomph, tentatively repositioning herself as the two of you prayed she wouldn’t immediately come crashing down.  

“How is it?” you asked, slinking over to the swing and positioning yourself between her legs.

“It’s actually pretty comfortable,” she observed.  “Can you help me get my legs up?”

“Yeah, but let’s get these off first,” you replied, teasing the palm of your hand between her legs.  Wanda whimpered at your touch, a jolt of excitement running through her body as her hips bucked into your hand.  You smirked at her as you pulled off the lace garment, tossing it over your shoulder.  “Leg.”

Wanda lifted her leg up as you grabbed the extended stirrup, guiding her foot through the loop so that her leg sat bent against the swing.  You gently grabbed her other leg unprompted, guiding it to the same position.

“I am definitely going to feel that tomorrow,” Wanda joked.  She reached one hand forward and grabbed your cock.

“Oh yeah?” you stifled a slight groan as she began to pump her hand up and down your length.  

“I’ve already got that bad hip, Y/N.  Let’s see how much more damage you can do.”  

You felt yourself twitch under her grip, hardening as you rocked into her hand.  Luckily you were able to grab the metal bar at the top of the swing to steady yourself.  

“You okay there?” she teased.  You groaned in response, leaning forward to capture her lips between yours.  She smiled into the kiss, knowing full well the intoxicating effect she had on you.

“You gonna keep distracting me or are you gonna let me-?”

“If you don’t put that inside me soon I may actually die.”

“Somebody’s dramatic.” “It’s my birthday, I can be as dramatic as I want today.”

“Is that so?” You grabbed the base of your cock, positioning yourself against her entrance.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded.  

Instead of pushing yourself inside her, you rubbed your head against her folds, coating yourself in the wetness that was pooling between her legs.  Wanda threw her head back and groaned.  She gripped the straps tightly as you teased her, dipping the tip inside briefly before pulling out and sliding around her clit.

“Is this what you wanted, Wands?”

“Y/N, please,” she pleaded in a tone that was uncharacteristically whiny.

With little warning, you pressed yourself into Wanda, her slick folds parting with ease as you buried your length inside her.  The feeling of her warm, wet walls around you elicited a groan from the deepest part of your core.

“Oh my god,” Wanda groaned, her eyes rolling back as you entered her at an entirely new angle for the first time.  “Baby, oh my god.”

“That okay?” you asked.

“Move,” she ordered as she screwed her eyes shut.

You didn’t need to be told twice.  Taking a firm grip on the straps, you rolled your hips into her.  The moan that erupted from her lips was pornographic.  Her body strained and tightened as your cock rubbed against the most sensitive part of her walls.  She squeezed against you as you thrust in and out, forcing you to work harder than normal.

“Fuck,” you gasped, biting your lip as Wanda’s wetness engulfed you over and over again.  

“Right there, Y/N, don’t stop,” Wanda begged.  Her hand came up to rest against your stomach as you picked up your pace, pounding into her slick pussy as you pulled the swing toward you.

“You feel so good, Wands.”

“I love the way your cock feels inside me, baby.  You always-fuck, that’s the spot right there-” Wanda let out a groan, unable to finish her thought as you pulled against the swing, changing the angle ever so slightly.

“You like that?” you gritted through clenched teeth, attempting to stave off your impending orgasm.  

“I’m close,” she whimpered, arching her back against the swing.  “Keep going, just like that.”

“Wanda, I’m gonna cum,” you whined.  “Should I pull-”

“Inside.  Please.  Fill me up.  I want to feel you finish inside me.”

Wanda’s words drove you over the edge.  You groaned loudly as you came inside her, painting her with your seed.  The sensation of being filled with your cum sent Wanda over the edge, too.  She moaned your name over and over as you filled her up, squeezing every last drop from you.

The two of you came down from your highs in a sweaty tangle of naked bodies and leather and nylon.  You collapsed on top of her, panting into her chest as your legs buckled under the ecstasy of your orgasm.  Wanda leaned back, rubbing her hands through her hair as she struggled to control her breathing.

“Best birthday present ever,” she panted.  “I am so sending the boys to Vision’s more often.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.  I don’t think it’s possible for us to use this quietly,” you chuckled.  “I’ve never heard you moan like that before.”

“That’s because you just gave me the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“So what I’m hearing is I need to cum inside you more often.”

“What you’re hearing is I need you to have your way with me in this swing more often.”

“Round two then?” you quipped.

“You’re on.”

[daisynik7]

Sweet Like Honey

Chapter 2: After I Love You

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.0k

cw: established relationship, fluff, smut – PIV sex (missionary, cowgirl), nipple play, cunnilingus, fingering, slight bondage, cream pie, sex without a condom, pet names (sweetheart, baby), daddy kink (very brief)

Summary: You and Nanami say I love you for the first time in your childhood bedroom, where you almost get carried away. That night, the two of you continue what you started.

Author’s Notes: Here is the second spicy side story for A Bento for Kento! This is the smutty aftermath of The Apple of His Eye Chapter 1, in case anyone wants to read that first if you haven’t already! Anyways, this is a repost (I originally posted this last year), but it’s been edited and rewritten to match my current style. I hope you enjoy! Dividers by @/cafekitsune.

Previous Chapter | Sweet Like Honey Masterlist | Next Chapter

Kento, I love you. 

I really love you, Kento.

Waves of euphoria ripple throughout Nanami when he hears her say it. For a second, he stays still, unable to move. He can only stare at her with wide eyes, speechless. Then, without thinking, he kisses her full on the lips, his composure crumbling from the weight of those words. 

She loves him. And he loves her. They love each other. 

Before he knows it, he’s on top of her, dress all the way up to her neck, lips wet from kissing, his cheeks hot and tinted pink as he explores her almost bare body. It isn’t until he hears stomping when he realizes he’s about to make love to his girlfriend in her childhood bedroom during a family party. A party where he just met her parents, who are right below them. 

They break apart promptly, Ren swinging the door open to invite them to a game of charades. Good, clean, innocent fun. Unlike what they were about to partake in if they weren’t so conveniently interrupted. It’s for the best, Nanami thinks, as he stands with his back towards the door, hiding the growing bulge in his pants from his former student/future brother-in-law. If they continued down that dangerous road, there’s no way they would have kept quiet. Not with the emotions that they have for each other now.

Show me how much you love me. Tonight. Let’s finish what we started.

That’s what she suggests. Nanami doesn’t expect them to actually have sex tonight, since they are riding back to her home with Ren. So, he dismisses it as a naughty comment made in a moment of passion. 

They spend a few more hours at the party, playing charades, mingling with her family, and eating more delicious food. He takes every chance he can to touch her, from holding her hand to stroking her back. He doesn’t take his eyes off her. How can he? This sweet angel loves him. 

Near the end of the night, Ren informs them that he’ll be staying the weekend with his parents; his sister has the house all to herself. This intrigues Nanami, excites him. He’s spent the night at her place plenty of times, but with her protective younger brother sleeping in the next room, they’ve had to set boundaries with each other when it comes to intimacy. This means no sex whatsoever when Ren is there, which they’ve miraculously managed to abide by so far. 

The thought of making love to her in her house, the one forbidden sanctuary, is titillating. Too many times has he almost given into temptation as they shared her bed, bodies snuggled together, his hands always drifting to the most sensual parts of her. They’ve held back each time they kissed goodnight, the desire to go further heavy against their lips, as her brother snores on the opposite side of the wall. And now tonight, after a perfect day spent with the woman he loves, he has no intentions of holding back, not when this rare opportunity has been presented to them. He plans to take full advantage of it. 

Show me how much you love me. Let’s finish what we started.

That’s what she suggests. So that’s what they’ll do. 

~~~

As you ride the train back home, Nanami’s hand entwined with yours, a familiar sensation pools in your stomach. The news that your brother is staying at your parent’s house changes everything. The thought of being alone in your home with Nanami sparks a flame that ignites your entire being. Will you be able to control yourself once you step through that door? Your house is quite small, but even the bedroom seems too far away. You’re tempted to let him have you on the couch, maybe the kitchen counter. Whatever is closer, really. 

Lost in your dirty thoughts, you jolt at the sudden sound of his voice in your ear. “Do you still want to finish what we started?” 

You turn to look at him, grinning. “What do you want to do?” 

There’s a heavy pause before he whispers, “I want to christen that bed of yours. Will you let me?”

You squeeze your thighs together, throbbing between your legs. “I’ll let you do whatever you want with me.” 

His nostrils flare slightly as he stares at you. The primal look in his gaze makes you think he’ll take you here on the train, in front of these other passengers. He turns his head away and takes a few deep breaths, tightening his grip on you. You can tell he’s trying to compose himself. Once the train reaches your stop, he immediately gets up and leads you past the crowds of people, speed walking all the way to your house in record time. 

You fumble through your purse to look for your keys, trembling with anticipation. He stands behind you, pawing at your waist and mouth hot on the back of your neck as you unlock the door. Once you’re inside, he pushes you gently against the wall and kisses you, tongue grazing your lips. He sheds his tan blazer as you both kick off your shoes. “Kento,” you breathe out, as he moves to your neck. Your skin is on fire under his touch. 

He says your name in return, licking a stripe behind your ear. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you repeat, tugging at his spotted tie. He takes it off and wraps it tightly around his fingers, caressing your cheek, the fabric velvety on your skin. His thumb drags your bottom lip as he drifts down to your chest. 

“Your heart is beating so fast. Are you nervous?” He rests his forehead on yours, lids shut as he breathes deeply through his nose.

You giggle. “Not nervous. Just really, really horny.”

He smirks. “Naughty girl. I’ll take care of you.” He slides underneath your dress, rubbing you through your panties. “Always so wet for me. My good girl.” It’s dangerous the way he says it. All logical thinking is erased from your mind and the only thing you desire is to feel him inside you.

“Baby, please,” you whine, clutching his collar in your fists.  

Chuckling, he teases, “No patience for foreplay?” 

“You told me you want to christen my bed, so what are you waiting for?” you challenge him, pouting. 

“We have all night. I want to take my time with you.” As he says it, his fingers slip past the fabric of your underwear, gathering the slick to rub wet circles on your clit. You let out a stifled moan as you grind on him, yearning for more. “But how can I deny you when you’re like this? So desperate and needy for my cock. Makes me so fucking hard.” He pulls out from under your dress to lead you by the wrist into your bedroom.

You lie on the bed, dress pulled up to your stomach, sliding your panties off. Spreading your legs wide, you start playing with your clit as he watches from the end of the bed. “Do you touch yourself like this when I’m not around?” He unbuckles his belt slowly, enjoying the show you’re putting on for him. As he slides out of his pants, one leg at a time, you nod and slip a finger inside your slit. Your cheeks rush with heat, embarrassed at the lewd squelch it makes. 

“Put another one in.” He kneels in front of you now, wearing only his briefs and dress shirt, slightly unbuttoned from the top. 

Obeying his command, you insert your ring finger along with your middle. It’s nowhere near how he does it, but him watching you like this turns you on beyond belief. The hunger in his eyes, the way he bites his lower lip, the way he clutches the tie around his palm. “Play with your clit again. Show me how you like it.” He rubs the bulge in his briefs, focused on your glistening cunt. With wet fingers, you massage your clit, drawing out quiet moans from your mouth. 

“Fuck, you’re incredible. You drive me crazy, you know that?” He shoves his underwear down to reveal his hard cock. No matter how many times you’ve seen him like this, the sight still amazes you. And seeing him erect with his dress shirt on is a kink you didn’t know you had until right now. He unravels the tie from his grip. A small whimper leaves your lips, anticipating his next move.

“Can I bind your wrists? Are you okay with that?” He crawls up the bed to kneel beside you, cupping your cheek tenderly as he asks for permission. 

You kiss his palm, smiling. “Yes. Let me take my clothes off first.” Your skin prickles with excitement as you pull the dress off and unhook your bra. He places your hands above you wrapping his spotted tie around your wrists, one over the other.

His lips curl into a wicked grin, his gaze ravenous as he looks you up and down. “I can’t believe you’re all mine.” He positions himself between your legs, leaning his face towards your arousal.  “Can I taste you?” 

Holy fuck. This is something you’ve fantasized about many times. You were uncomfortable asking him to do it, unsure if he was into it or not. Your ex never really offered; he tried it once, but it was barely memorable. So, you thought maybe it was too intimate of an action to ask your boyfriend of two months to do to you.

But it’s different now. You love each other. There’s no holding back.

In a trembling voice, you respond, “Yes. Please.”

He spreads you open and without hesitation, he starts with soft kisses to your puffy clit. You moan, stomach tight with pleasure as you rut against his face, his kisses getting sloppier and deeper with each passing second. He pushes himself even closer, latching around your sensitive bud, stimulating it with his plush tongue. It’s fucking amazing. You let yourself enjoy it until the rush of ecstasy sweeps through you, pulsing into his hot, slippery mouth. “Kento, I’m coming,” you gasp.

He hums into your skin as he sucks on your clit, unrelenting until you’re slack on the sheets, spent from your orgasm. His tongue licks along your plump folds, lapping up the slick from your high, drinking you up like he’s dehydrated. “You taste so fucking good,” he murmurs, as he fucks you with his mouth. You twitch at his touch, sensitive and yet, still so unbelievably horny for the man that you love.

“Fuck me, Kento. Please. Need you inside me,” you beg.

After one more flick of his tongue, he sits up on his knees. You see a pearl of precum leaking from the tip of his dick. He lets out a huff as he guides his cock to your slit, rubbing up and down your arousal. “You’re such good girl, fuck. I’m so lucky.” He continues to tease you, circling his cockhead around your clit as you squirm beneath him, bound wrists wriggling above your head. “I don’t have any lube, but we don’t need it. You came so much from just my tongue. This pretty pussy is so wet for me.” He strokes his dick as he stares wildly at your dripping cunt. 

You’re already close to your second orgasm when he slides his cock inside you, your walls surrounding his girth. Once his entire length is in, he places one hand on your inner thigh, the other at your side, clutching onto the bedsheets. You can tell you’re in for a ride. 

He starts slowly, pressing down on you gently to keep you open for him. Once you’re comfortably adjusted to his size, he speeds up. His lips tickle your ear as he whispers, “I’ve wanted this for so long. Been wanting to ruin this bed ever since I first slept in it.” 

You try to move your hips to match his rhythm, wrists still pinned above your head. All you can manage to choke out between your moans is, “Me too.” You wrap your free leg around his waist, wanting as much of your skin to be touching his. Being bound, you thought you’d be vulnerable, exposed. But with Nanami, you feel safe. You like being this open for him. He’d never do anything to hurt you. That’s one of the many reasons you love him.  

Overwhelmed with emotion and pleasure, tears well up in your eyes as he continues to make love to you. You face him, kissing him softly on the lips. He keeps still inside you, turning your body with his as he relaxes on the bed. The hand that was holding down your thigh comes up to caress your cheek as you continue to kiss. You stay like this for a while, basking in each other’s warmth. At some point, he reaches up to untie you from your bondage. At your release, you glide down his chest, cherishing his steady heartbeat.

“I love you,” he whispers between kisses. “I love you so much.”

Your voice catches in your throat. “I love you, too.”

He brushes your tears away, nuzzling his nose to yours. “Do you want to stop?”

You smile. “Not at all. These are happy tears. I’m happy.” He pulls you in closer, kissing you passionately, his cock still stiff inside you. Running your fingers through his hair, you say, “I told you earlier that I’ll let you do whatever you want with me. What do you want? Tell me, baby.” 

He thinks for a few seconds, gazing at you, full of love and lust. 

“I want you to ride me.”

~~~

Nanami lies down on the bed, watching the love of his life mount him, knees to both sides of him. They’ve never tried this before. While the sex has been nothing short of amazing these past two months, they’ve been hesitant to try new position, afraid of crossing any lines too soon. But there’s no denying that he’s been wanting this. And tonight is different. They love each other. They don’t have to hold back anymore. 

She leans down, breast in front of his face, so tempting and marvelous. He reaches for her tits, kneading at them, fondling her nipples with his thumbs. “Put them in my mouth,” he demands. She lets out a small whine as he raises his neck up to take her into his mouth, latching onto her nipple, sucking gently. 

“God, I love these tits,” he growls as he moves to the other one. He squeezes her breasts as he engulfs her sensitive teats. “All mine.”

“Fuck. Feels so good when you suck them like this.” When he starts sucking harder, she slowly pulls out, his lips making a popping sound at the release. She grinds her pussy on his lap, moaning. “I like it like this.” 

“Fuck,” he mutters, sticking out his tongue to receive her once more. “Feed it to me. Show me again how you like it.” He takes her again, his hands now on her waist, as she holds her breast for him. He sucks hard as she pulls out with another loud pop, nipple taut and plump when he releases her, shiny with his spit. His dick twitches beneath her; the need to be inside her is undeniable, unbearable if he waits any longer. 

“Ride me,” he spits out, planting his feet on the bed.

She pushes her ass back, feeling for his cock, rubbing her folds over the tip until it’s at her entrance, sinking onto him easily. Once he bottoms out, she starts thrusting back and forth. She leans over him, gripping the sheets on either side of his head, tits bouncing with every shake of her ass. He grabs her hips, reveling how expertly she rides him. “Fuck, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful. You’re incredible like this, fucking yourself on my cock.”

“Kento. So good, oh my god,” she cries out, picking up the pace. 

He tightens his hold on her hips and starts moving with her, timing his thrusts with hers. She buries her face into his neck, whimpering as she takes it. “Can you come one more time for me, baby?” he purrs. “Let me do it. Let daddy take care of you.” 

As if those are the magic words, she lets out a luscious moan, trembling around him. “Fuck, daddy. Fuck me. Make me come.”

He squeezes her ass as he dives into her, deeper than he’s ever been before, her incoherent babbling a sign that he’s hitting her sweet spot. His body buzzes with delight and pleasure, knowing he’s making her unravel on his cock. He continues to pump into her relentlessly, his muscles spasming with each deep thrust he gives her. She continues to bounce her ass on his cock in perfect sync with him until she tightens around him. She’s close, and so is he. He slips his hand between them, thumb grazing her swollen clit. 

“Kento, I’m coming!” she whines into his neck. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

He’s dizzy with ecstasy as she clenches around him, fucking her until he comes too, filling her up with his load, the excess leaking out of her fluttering hole and onto his lap. He only just remembers that he’s still in his dress shirt; he never bothered taking it off. Looking between them to inspect the damage, he finds a few spots where their cum bleeds into the hem of his shirt. 

She relaxes on top of him, breath shallow against his chest. He massages her back, cradling her in his arms. They stay like this for a moment, both exhausted from their intense love making. She rolls off him to lay at his side, eyes closed, smiling. “I love you, Kento.”

He leans in to kiss her forehead. “I love you, too.”

He’ll never get tired of hearing it. He’ll never get tired of saying it.

They love each other. All is right with the world.  

Tag List: @chiyoso @bloombb @liliorsstuff-blog

[emmyrosee]

“If I die one more time because you guys say some fuck shit, you’re getting banned.”

Kenma’s been on this boss for hours. Well, an hour and twenty three minutes, to be exact, as his recording time so graciously wouldn’t let him forget. In his chat, there’s a flurry of people who backseat him to tell him how to beat the boss (mods will take care of them later, but it’s still obnoxious), people laughing and a few encouraging comments being tacked on with some generous donations.

At this point, he just wants to end the stream and beat it in the focus of his own company.

But he won’t. Because it’s his job or whatever.

“Kenny?” A voice calls: your voice. Kenma softens and turns to the door, ignoring his character as it dies again. “I bought you some munchies since you didn’t answer my text.”

“Hey princess,” he hums, smiling and leaning his head back against the chair. “Sorry i didn’t get back to you, I’m in the fuckin’ thick of it. How was lunch?”

“It was good,” you say, smiling and bending down to kiss his nose. “The girls say hi and that they’ll watch later; whatcha doin’?”

Kenma gives you a groan of exhaustion, “I’m suffering, that’s what. This game is horrifically hard.”

“I told you it would be, Ken.” Despite your ‘I told you so’, he chuckles and puckers his lips out for a proper kiss, which you comply with happily. In your peripheral, chat spams with orange hearts- your designated emoji amongst his fans- and puke faces for the affection you two just shared.

He hums and pulls away softly, “you wanna give it a whirl? Maybe some new eyes will make this shit easier.”

“You’re the gamer in this dynamic babe,” you snort. Despite this, you scoot to the side so he can get up and switch places with you, watching with a smile as you get settled in his oversized chair.

Chat explodes with an absolute inflation of orange hearts, flowing a mile a second, and it makes you smile to be seen in such a positive light, even if this is far from the first time they’ve seen or supported you.

“Hi guys!” You say eagerly, grabbing the controller while he leans over the back of the chair. The chat quickly fills up with words of wisdom and “GOOD LUCKS!” while Kenma plants a kiss to your cheek. “What do I have to do?”

“Basically just beat the boss; I’ve found that kinda breaking the game by rolling behind the boss and then pressing ‘y’ for the super attack is best, but hey. I’ve also been stuck on this boss since you left, so I don’t really know anything.”

“Thanks for the help,” you snort, but with a roll of your shoulders to get comfortable, you take on the task.

And it goes well! For the first few seconds.

Slowly then after, it turned into you running away from the boss and blaming Kenma- in your defense, he likes his buttons to do certain things, it’s different than you are used to!- while all along, trying to roll behind the boss to swing at his back.

It’s very amusing to everyone but you.

“How are you so bad at this?” He cackles, and you quickly try to shush him.

“Shut up!” You giggle, shaking your head. Your character lays a slash of their sword, but the game doesn’t seem to register it- if anything, your character gets the hit.

“No! Fuck!” You cackle out a whine, while behind you Kenma tugs at his hair in amused disbelief.

“Please- dear god, I will buy you a ring right now if you just get one hit on this boss-“

“DONT SAY THAT!” You whine, hands immediately starting to shake as you tap mercilessly on the buttons, cheeks ablaze while the grin on your face refuses to falter.

This, to your distracted dismay, causes chat to explode, taking your already shaky focus and making it somehow less existent.

dankondits: you’re making the poor lady stressed!

notakodzukenfan: I’ll marry her no cap-

notemmyrosee: 🧡🧡🧡

slobonthyknob: Kodzuken simp, confirmed???

lasagnahypeeee: our baby streamer growing up ;-;

corner.of.internet: when she’s bad at video games but still a 10>>>>

Thank you kuroosassscheek for the 15000 bits: BUY THE WOMAN A RING BEFORE I DIE OF OLD AGE!

“Kuroo, not helping!” You whine, cheeks an absolute scorch while all Kenma does behind you is snicker. Traitor.

Between the absolute unsupportive nature of your boyfriend and all eyes of the Internet being on you as you fail over and over again, you finally cave and give up.

With a pout, you plant the controller back on the desk, letting the opponent hit you with its many attacks, all the while your character grunts in pain. You must look like a child, because the next thing you feel is Kenma’s lips against your cheek, and it causes that pout to finally break up. “You did good,” he praises. “It’s a hard boss; I’m glad you tried it.”

“Me too,” you confess. You lean in to give him a proper kiss, laughing into it as Kenma holds his large hand up, as if to shield the affection from his watchful viewers. You part with a nudge of his nose, and when his hand comes down, you lace your fingers with his. “It was fun, but I think I’ll leave the gaming to you.”

slimesloppy_: EWWWWWWWW

bosscat867: awww dad’s in love 🧡🧡🧡

razzledazzletoes: UR A COUPLE OF SLUTS!!

zedlerlover: use protection kids

anameicantpronouce: 🧡🧡🧡

blitznbawls: 🧡🧡🧡

brucespringsteendaddy: follow for more tips and tricks

tinytivvies: mrs kodzuken 🧡🧡🧡

“Fair enough,” he chuckles, standing back up to let you slip out of the gaming chair. Your eyes avoid chat, you see all the laughing stickers scrolling though, and you shake your head as your hands reach for the headset.

“Alright chat. Here’s Kodzuken. Hope you enjoyed the interlude.” You push up and out of the chair, letting Kenma slip right in and take your spot. As you turn to leave, you offer him one last call- “oh! When you do buy that engagement ring, I expect no less than 6 karats.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” he scoffs, watching you leave with a cheesy smile on his face. He turns back to the camera and slips his headset back on, “dummy. Got you one with 10, you think this is my first day?”

Chat once again explodes with excitement while Kenma merely smirks and goes back to his game, looking at the boss with new eyes and the chat focused on something else.

[xjustakay]

✺ (1/8) ✺ @jegulus-microfic prompt: converse — 1,130 words (jegulus dads ft. harry; going through harry’s baby things)

“Oh no.” There’s a dramatic level of pain in James’ voice —there has been all afternoon since they started this project— and Regulus sighs quietly, lips twitching at the corners. “Reg, look at these.”

Regulus finishes folding the quilt that Pandora made for Harry to leave the hospital in, sets it in its new box marked ‘keep,’ then turns to his husband. 

This has been a common occurrence as they’ve undertaken this task; going through Harry’s baby things to see what they truly need to hold onto and what can be donated has been an emotional journey. Admittedly, Regulus is having a progressively difficult time keeping it together the more that they find, but he’s let James be the one to express the feelings they’re both experiencing. Loudly and repetitively.

Balanced on James’ wide palm is a pair of infant-sized Converse, so tiny it’s hard to believe they ever belonged to a person, much less that that person was the five year old that’s currently coloring at a folding table in the corner of their garage. The little shoes are red, matching a pair that James has kept consistently replaced and in his wardrobe for years.

“I can’t believe he was ever this small,” James muses, stroking one finger over the laces of one.

“I know,” Regulus sighs, bottom lip jutting out in a faint pout. Okay, it’s getting to him now. They’ve been at this for hours, they’re near done. He told himself he wasn’t going to get in his feelings about this, at least not until they’d finished, but… “I think I miss it.”

“Me too.” James reaches for his hand, tows him close to his side to curl his arm around him, both their gazes remaining fixed on the baby shoes. “Should we have another one?”

Regulus lets out a surprised sounding laugh, swinging a backhanded swat gently into James’ stomach. “We have Luna in the picture, too.”

“Also no longer a baby,” James points out. “We could definitely do it.”

“You’re forgetting an important detail.”

“What’s that?”

Regulus half-turns in the curl of James’ arm to look toward their son where Harry sits. A marker clutched just a smidge too tight in one hand, tongue poking out between his teeth in concentration. There’s smudges of different marker colors on his hands, a few pens uncapped and drying out scattered on the table top. Harry doesn’t look up until Regulus calls his name.

“Yes, papa?” He nudges his glasses up and blinks wide green eyes over at him, curious.

“How do you feel about having a baby brother or sister?” Regulus asks.

Harry’s brow furrows deeply. “I already have a sister.”

Regulus gestures toward the little boy as if his point has just been made.

“Another one, then. Wouldn’t that be fun, mate?” James suggests.

Scrunching his face up further in thought, Harry tilts his head, taps the marker in his hand against his chin. Regulus huffs a quiet laugh when the pause extends for several seconds, serious thought clearly being given to this question. In the end, Harry shrugs his shoulders dramatically, keeping them held up toward his ears.

“Well, I don’t know,” He says. “Would I have to share my toys?”

“You already have to share your toys, because that’s the nice thing to do,” Regulus reminds him.

“But a baby can’t play with all of my toys. Because they’re a baby and I’m not a baby.”

“Solid logic on that, mate,” James chuckles. He moves to set the red Converse on the table between the keep and donate boxes, undecided on where they belong. “We’ll think about it, eh? Put a pin in it?”

Harry looks at them both for a long moment before nodding his head once, poking his open marker into the air like he’s physically putting a pin in the thought. Instead of returning to coloring, he drops the marker onto the table —Regulus makes a mental note to replace this pack again when it’s the fifth one left to dry out. Wiggling off his chair, Harry comes over to them, picking up the shoes James sat down.

“Were these mine?” He asks, giggling when he stuffs his fingers into one and wears it like an odd glove. “They’re so small.”

“Yeah, so were you,” Regulus hums.

“But I’m tall now. Taller than Luna and Draco, too.” Harry puts the other shoe on his opposite hand, smacking the small soles together in semblance of a clap.

“You used to match daddy when you wore those shoes as a baby, you know,” Regulus tells him, pointing at his hidden hands.

“Used to put you in them all the time when we’d go out together,” James adds, smiling fondly.

Harry looks down at the shoes, silly with his hands in them, then back up at the two of them with an unexpected frown. “How come we don’t anymore?”

Regulus turns his head, looking at James in playful accusation. “An excellent question.”

“Hey, now, don’t act like this is my fault. You were the one that encouraged him making all his own choices. He never picked the Converse himself,” James argues.

“Well, I could get some now, daddy,” Harry stresses like this is the most obvious answer. He holds up his hands, shoes on display. “‘Cause these ones are too small.”

“Should we save them for the baby, you think?” James asks him.

“So we can all match.” Harry nods at first but then cuts himself short, eyes landing on Regulus. “But papa doesn’t have any.”

“Red isn’t papa’s color,” Regulus says.

“Beg to differ.” James’ mumble earns him an elbow in the ribs, a laugh punching out of him. “We’ll get some for papa, too, just for fun.”

“And then these ones are for the baby,” Harry confirms, setting the Converse back on the table.

“Well. We’ve circled back to this very quickly,” Regulus comments, amused, shaking his head slowly.

James hums in acknowledgment, grinning triumphantly when Regulus looks at him. He leans in and leaves a kiss against his forehead, lips still pressed against the spot, breath breezing through black curls, when he tells Harry to drop the shoes into the keep box for them. Regulus watches him examine each box, fondness blooming warmth in his chest as Harry sounds out letters he recognizes to figure out which box is the right one. 

They’ve all done such a good job with this perfect little boy of theirs, doing it all over again with a new baby might just make life impossibly more wonderful.

We’ll put a pin in it, Regulus thinks again.

He’ll have to wait and see when it’s truly circled back to in seriousness. He keeps it to himself that he wouldn’t mind if it was sooner rather than later.

[uhohdad]

EXPERIMENTAL

it’s been awhile since i’ve written please mind the rust

to be continued? maybe?? let me know if you want more

Summary: Konig helps Researcher!Reader with a new technology they’ve been developing.

AO3 Link: X

PART TWO: X

Word Count: 5,4k

Warnings: Flirting, Sexual Content, NSFW, Reader x Konig, talk of standard war stuff, Reader is a bit of a pervert. Non-con Voyeurism. Reader has anxious thoughts/low-self esteem-ish? No use of y/n, reader’s gender/sex is incomprehensible, cause I do for the girls the gays and the theys.

NSFW UNDER CUT

You never thought you’d end up working for the government, but the opportunity was too good. Where else would you find a grant to experiment if not for the generous funding of the military industrial complex? You should have known. Research is research, you told yourself, and the pay is too good to pass up on.

Most of your time was spent in the lab. For the most part, you had worked alone, spending up to 14 hours a day working on your project. It had been months, but you’re sure your developments will forever change warfare.

How many deaths will your creations be responsible for? How much blood on your hands?

No. It’s just a job.

You let out a deep sigh. Usually you have background noise - music, a show, a podcast - something to help ward off the obsessive thoughts. But today you had visitors coming.

You had requested a test subject for a beta version of your project. A soldier to help work out the bugs before the final version gets sent on the battlefield.

Battlefield.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about-

A knock interrupted your internal conflict. You looked up, your eyes meeting the visitor through the circular glass pane of the swinging door. Just his eyes, as the visitor wore a black mask that draped from underneath a helmet, flowing over his shoulders and down his chest. You couldn’t help the concerned look that crossed your face as you hesitantly waved him in.

The door creaked as it opened and the man stepped in. You shoulders eased a bit when you noticed the uniform previously obscured by the door, confirming he was a soldier from the base and not an intruder in a mask. You couldn’t help but tense again once you noticed his stature. Even from across the room you could tell he was well over 6’5. You’re sure he could reach his hand up and touch the ceiling with ease. Muscles with enough mass and definition to be seen even under the uniform.

What are they feeding these boys?

“Hi! I mean- hi. Uh,” Your introduction was shaky, but it was on par for your typical social interactions. After giving him your name, you asked for his.

“Konig,” He responded, his deep voice and coarse accent catching you off guard once again.

“Ha, yes. Nice to meet you.” You took a deep breath in hopes to conceal your fluster before continuing, “You’re here to help me test the new tech, right?”

Tech. When did you start using slang? Trying to be cool, huh?

Shut up.

Konig shifts in his spot a few paces from the door, not daring to step any closer to you. You’re wonder if you were coming off as too cold. “Uh, yes.” He clears his throat, “Just let me know what you need from me.”

Okay, straight to the point. You can do that. You’re happy to move on from the unsteady introduction. “Right,” You turn your attention from him to your laptop and the project in front of you. You hold up your device for him to see. He takes this as his invitation to move closer to get a better look, his black boots making their presence known as they stepped across the tile. The device resembled an earpiece - a small black strip attached to a coiled wire that ends with a sensible black base. “It doesn’t have a name. Yet.” You find yourself struggling to make eye contact with Konig, “Uh, here, it might be easier to just show you.” You flip the laptop around so he can see the screen. He’s standing right next to you now, and it’s hard not to notice how small you feel standing next to this giant of a man.

His bicep is the width of my head.

Stop it.

You try to smother your distracted thoughts as you put the device behind your ear and turn it on. A transparent projection in the shape of a curved rectangle covers your eyes, overlaying your view of the lab.

Konig watched silently as the screen on your laptop changed, now displaying your view through the lens. “This device is powered by AI.” You felt more confident now. You weren’t great at small talk but your work was your comfort zone.

“The possibilities are endless. Without being fed blueprints or GPS - it’s able to scan & provide a map of a building before you even set foot in it, and give you the safest path trajectories.” You make some adjustments from the laptop, and the projection overlays filters on your vision. Directional arrows appear, showing the easiest exit from the lab with coordinates and distance countdown to destination.

You continue, “Target identification.” You look at Konig from behind the transparent projection. He meets your eyes before quickly shifting his gaze back to the laptop, where he could see himself outlined in a bright red overlay.

“Scanning capabilities, even through solid objects. It can identify any object you want. Not just objects, either.” You turn your gaze toward the lab wall. Konig watches carefully as the faded outlines of workers on the base from rooms away appear, their heart rates and heat map registering from beyond the cold tile walls.

Konig stares, impossible to read.

“And uhm,” you pick up an additional device from the table, a thin square chip, “This is an attachment for your, er, weapon.” You cringe a bit at this feature, “The AI has aim assist, too. You know self driving cars? Ah, well, it hasn’t been fully tested yet, but in addition to auto aim it- uhm,” You can’t help but let out a nervous laugh, trailing off.

“It shoots for you.” Konig finishes so you don’t have to.

You wonder if the guilt is obvious.

It might as well be you out there in the field, taking lives. He’s probably disgusted with you under that hood, you think.

You purse your lips for a moment, “Yes. But we’re just scratching the surface. This technology is capable of-“

“It’s brilliant,”

Konig is skilled in the art of catching you off guard. He tilts his head, curiously eyeing in your direction. You wonder if he’s looking at your features or the projection,

“You made this yourself?”

You study him back, trying to figure out if he was mocking you, but unable to decipher his expression from under his hood. The AI continued to monitor him on your vision, and you felt as if you were violating his privacy by watching his heart rate slightly spike as he looked you over.

He must be lying.

You turned the device off and set it on the table, “Yes. It’s not perfect, but I’m hoping you can help me work out all the flaws.”

His stared quietly for a moment and you felt dread pool in your stomach, wishing you could see his expression under his hood. “I’d be honored to.”

A shaky smile formed on your face. You could no longer read his heart rate, but you found yourself wanting to believe the sincerity of his voice. “Let’s get started.”

You pick up another matching set of devices, two thin c-shaped bands, before continuing, “Obviously you can’t take a laptop out in the field. These are portable remotes.” Konig watches attentively as you place one of the bracelet shaped device on your wrist, tapping on it to summon another projection. “I tried to make it as user-friendly as possible. We can make adjustments if needed before launch.” You hold out the device toward him. “For you.”

He looks hesitantly at the device. Instead of taking it from you, he places his arm out on the table in front of you.

You’re distracted by your own remote and a moment passes before you register he hasn’t taken it from you. You glance over at his outstretched arm before meeting his eyes.

He sees your confused look and explains, “I just- I don’t want to break it.” Konig knows his own strength and he knows the worth of your project. He doesn’t want to accidentally apply too much pressure and ruin your work.

A nervous laugh escapes you, but you oblige him. You made this device for the battlefield, it’s meant to withstand more than a man. Even an extra large, muscular-

Stop it.

You’re not going to push. You carefully take his forearm in your hand, adjusting the device to his wrist. You try not think about how muscular and hard his forearms are, and try even harder not to think about how hard his biceps would be. And you definitively try not to think about how hard his-

Stop it.

“That comfortable?”

His voice is low, “Yes. Thank you.”

“Of course,” leaves your mouth, a little breathier than you intended.

Your face burns and you’re sure he’s got you pinned. You wish you could ask to borrow his mask.

It’s been a long time since you’ve experienced intimacy, okay? You’ve been confined to these four walls for months now, devoid of human touch. You’d be frothing at the mouth for anything bipedal at this point, let alone the mysterious superhuman sitting across from you.

You’re at a disadvantage, to say the least.

You can’t even look at him.

Konig carefully taps on the device on his wrist, activating his remote. The projection appears and he moves his arm to get a closer look. “This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”

If he didn’t notice your blush before he was sure to now. “Oh! I don’t-“ Another nervous laugh, “It’s nothing. Let’s get you calibrated.”

You pick up the earpiece and hand it to him, still avoiding his gaze. You’re forced to meet his eyes again when he doesn’t take it. There’s no way you could handle putting this one on for him. This time you reassure him, “It’s okay. I know it’s small, but it’s durable. I promise.”

He carefully takes it from you, and you try not to notice the electricity you feel when his fingers graze yours. He reaches under his hood, the fabric warping as he places the device behind his ear and turned it on, the same way he watched you do it. He then waited patiently for your guidance.

You put your earpiece on before making a few adjustments on your bracelets projection. “Okay! We should be synced now. Go ahead and pull up your settings.”

You take him through the customizations, telling him how to switch between visual overlays, how to use multiple at once. Display adjustments, how to use the intercom. He watches intently, never interrupting.

“I hope I’m not boring you.”

“Boring me?” Konig stares at you, eyes saturated with disbelief at your doubt. “It’s incredible.”

You feel the warmth creep up on your cheeks again. All of the doubts and moral dilemmas you’ve been mulling over the past few years seem to melt away when Konig compliments you.

“Want to take it for a drive?”

“Absolutely.”

—————————————————-

It’s been awhile since you’ve been out on the field. The passed months have been spent under the florescent lights of the lab, hunched over your laptop as you fought with code. Feeling accomplished when you made a step forward in progress, followed quickly by a sinking feeling as you tried not to think of the consequences of each development.

It was nice to feel the sun for a change.

Konig followed a few steps behind you, both sets of boots crunching on the gravel beneath you. Few words had been exchanged. There was something about unreadable people made you nervous, but you tried not to let it show.

You stopped once in front of the empty shoot house, looking up to the soldier that towered over you.

“I had weapons development make us a prototype gun to pair with the AI. It’s for testing purposes only, so it doesn’t shoot real bullets.” You pointed at the faux shotgun propped up against the outer wall of the shoot house. “The auto aim chip is already attached. It’s going to be something to get used to.”

You continue, “I’ve placed the AI on test. It will simulate the conditions of a mission in a way that adjusts to your learning speed. Obviously once you get used the system we’ll have test runs with real people, but for now I just want you to get used to the overlays. If you get stumped, just let me know. I’ll be able to hear and see what you can from out here. I’m synced in to your device, too, so if you can’t figure out the adjustments, or can’t access your device, I can take care of that for you remotely.”

“Understood.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the way he spoke to you like you had seniority, with the utmost respect. It made you feel important. Really it should be the other way around - a nerdy weakling in the presence of an experienced and powerful soldier. You briefly wonder what exactly a man of his stature is capable of. He looks like he could pick up a grown man and snap him in half like a toothpick. Let alone what he could do to you…

You force yourself to stay on topic, but your smile lingers, “Any questions for me?”

You still can’t decipher what’s going on under the mask, but his voice is soft, as soft as it can be under his rigid accent, “Negative.” He walks over to the prop gun and picks it up, handling it expertly. Even though it’s a replica, he still opens the chamber and curiously peaks inside. Watching his big hands run over the realistic firearm caused an intoxicating mixture of fear and arousal to wash over you, manifesting as a tightness in your lower gut. You can’t remember the last time someone made you feel this way. Dizzy and excited and nervous.

It didn’t help that you’ve spent the last few months practically isolated and without intimacy.

He’s going to be the death of me.

Stop it. We’re just excited about testing the project. It’s a long time coming.

He would make me come a long time.

Stop. It.

After you watch him disappear into the shoot house, you turn on the intercom, “Konig? Can you hear me?”

“Affirmative.”

His gravely voice flooding your intercom is not helping your dirty thoughts. You pull up his view on your projection. “Okay, I have your video feed. Are you ready for the simulation?”

He cocks the prop gun so loud you could hear it from inside the building in addition to the comm. “Affirmative.”

Oh, fuck.

The knot in your stomach doubles and you think your knees might just buckle. You shift in your spot in the dirt to steady yourself, gravel scraping under your shoe.

You hear your name over the comm. “You still there?” Your attention is brought back to his view. You can see the world from his eye level and get taken aback at how different it looks compared to yours.

“Sorry,” you clear your throat, raising your arm equipped with the wrist remote, “Okay, in 3… 2… 1…” You press the button to start his test simulation.

You watch as Konig looks around. He’s got target scan activated, and the AI has overlaid fake targets onto his projection for him to hunt and eliminate.

You watch carefully, scanning the screen for any imperfections in your coding. The guide seems to be working smoothly, directing Konig through the maze-like hallways of the shoot house with ease. The placement of targets are generated randomly and you’ll have to crunch the numbers later to verify, but it seems to have accurately calculated the most efficient route, directing him accordingly. You try to ignore the sound of Konigs hitched breathing over your receiver and try even harder to ignore the way it’s making you feel. Instead you make sure the auto aim function is activated.

“Approaching first target.” He says over the comm and you can help but smile at how serious he is taking it. You remember your first time in the range, testing out the auto aim on the simulations. How silly you felt. Like a child playing with a toy gun. You think it’s sweet he’s indulging you.

His steps become quieter as he rounds the corner and his breathing slows. He pauses briefly before quickly jumping out at the target. You can tell the auto aim takes over and the shotgun pulls against his grip with the force of a strong magnet. It’s alarming at first, you remember, the gun taking control from you.

It’s not like that, of course. You designed it to be a teammate. Able to identify and terminate a threat before the user had even registered it was there. It was meant to protect the user, to defend their life.

That’s what you tried to tell yourself anyway. It was easier to swallow than thinking of it as the automatic killing robot it really was.

You kept the auto-fire function off for now. Partially because you wanted to slowly transition him into the AI features. Partially because you were ashamed.

You watch as Konig takes back control of the gun. He’ll learn how to work with it instead of against it soon, you remember the same struggle you had yourself in early testing. He fires at the target, a projection of an enemy soldier the AI had slowed for training purposes. Konig pulls the trigger and you hear the sound of gunshots. In real life, of course, nothing had fired. But the AI simulation was designed to immerse the player, imitating the feel of the battlefield. From Konig’s perspective he may as well just shot through a human heart. Other than the learning curve of your designs- it seems natural for him.

It was not natural for you when you had experienced the simulation. If anything it was just a fully immersible prediction of the consequences to your actions. Fuck Around and Find Out™️ now coming to an VR headset near you.

You watched his target drop & fade away in a dust of pixels, a design change you made after being unable to bear the look of replicated dead soldiers lying limp on the floor.

It’s just a job.

“Konig? How did that feel?” You wished you could see his face on the screen before remembering you wouldn’t have been able to see anything behind his hood anyway. You briefly consider a self-facing camera, but wonder if it would be for the improvement of the design or for self-serving reasons. You’d have to think of another good purpose to add it to the final product later.

“It’s a lot faster than I am.” He stuck with the facts, not wanting to cause a misunderstanding if it was strange for him to get used to.

“That’s the idea. Weird, right?” You offered, your smile lifting the tone of your voice.

“Very.” You could tell he was smiling too. “I want to try a few more - I’ll get used to it.”

He continues through the shoot house, approaching the next simulated targets. He’s slowing learning to work with the AI, letting it guide him as he controls the trigger. You watch as your program learns his skill, escalating the challenge first by increasing enemy speed and difficulty, then by adding multiple targets at a time.

You can tell this man is a trained killer, even just from watching a trial. It’s clear he’d easily be able to handle a real mission with ease - your advancements or no. Watching his gloved hands grip the gun, his quickened breathing, made the tightness in your lower half hard to ignore. It felt wrong how his rugged demeanor turned you on.

He continued without faltering, navigating the shoot house’s maze-like layout with the help of your guidance program. Despite your reservations, you decide it’s time to add an additional integration. “Konig, the gun you’re using is fully compatible with the weapon chip. As in, trigger capabilities. If you’d like, you can turn on auto fire.”

There’s a slight pause, and you’re worried he’s realized the full implications of such a technology. You’re relieved when he finally speaks over the intercom, “I think I turned it on.”

You verify on his feed before responding, “You got it. Let me know if you need anything.”

Holding your breath, you observe your AI work. He rounds another corner and approaches two more targets. Your code was capable of identifying each target’s imminent threat level, eliminating them in order of danger to the user. You hear Konig’s breath hitch when the gun operates with a mind of its own, mowing down the simulated targets without hesitation. Each shot effectively tearing through the most vulnerable areas of the targets.

“Meine güte…” He mutters, taking a moment to register what had just happened. You watch his feed pan down to his gun, his hands turning it over to examine it in disbelief.

You wonder what he’s thinking as you watch those strong hands work. If he thinks you’re a monster for creating such a brutal and mindless killing machine.

“Konig?” Your voice is dripping with uncertainty, but it’s your job to collect his feedback, “All good?”

You watch his thumb stroke the forend before his gaze shifts up, “I think I might be out of a job.”

You let out a laugh, words pouring out of your mouth before you can stop them, “Well, I don’t think we’d be able to replace you.”

Ah, shit.

You’re hoping you didn’t lay all your cards on the table, but you don’t dare let the silence hang, forging on, “Human supervision is still needed when it comes to technology like this. You know, wouldn’t want it to turn evil and try to take over the population.”

You’re hoping you saved it, but the few seconds before he responds seem like a lifetime.

“Well if it was made by you, I don’t think it would be capable of turning evil.”

Your brain short circuits and your mouth parts as you ready to respond, but find that you’re unable.

What did he mean by that? If he was implying that you weren’t evil enough to negatively influence a code, then he didn’t know you. Of course he didn’t, he just met you.

Was he implying you were too smart of a programmer to let a technology go faulty? Then he REALLY didn’t know you. You think briefly to your failed prototypes. How long it took to work out the bug of the AI mistakenly registering civilian children as threats.

Ugh.

Whatever the implications, you understand that Konig just complemented you. Something you were not still not equipped to handle, demonstrated by your slack jaw and wide eyes you’re thankful he can’t see. All accompanied by a warm feeling that spreads across your chest.

He’s just being nice.

Sexual attraction, that you could handle.

Not a crush.

This is a no-crushing zone, you decide.

The warm feeling needs to stay below the belt, thank you very much.

It’s obvious you’re joking, but your voice has a different tone when you finally gather yourself. Softer, bordering on dispirited, “Well, I don’t know about that. Y’know, I once programmed a toaster to cook my toast the perfect amount every time. I wanted it to spring out at exactly the right speed & distance to land square on my plate. Like you see in cartoons, y’know? It worked for a little… but one day it starting burning all my toast to char and shooting it max speed at my ceiling. I think it got mad it’s life purpose was making my breakfast.”

You hear Konig laugh for the first time. A raspy, hearty laugh that floods your comm and fuels that warm feeling in your chest, much to your dismay. You nose scrunches as you watch the shake of his feed slow. “There are worse purposes.”

You didn’t even give yourself the space to dissect the implications on that one. The smile is apparent in your voice, “I’ll let the toaster know.”

Konig finished out the trial after getting used to a few more overlays. You confirmed you had everything you needed for the day before letting Konig know you could wrap up.

He met you at the entrance of the shoot house, handing over the gun to you. It took you a moment to get readjusted to his size. He was tall enough to block the entire sun, casting you in his shadow.

You hold the barrel of the gun with one hand, resting the butt on the dirt. With your other hand you remove your earpiece, “Thank you for your help today. Really.” You say, forced to tilt your head back to look up at him. “If you’re interested, I’d love to continue trials with you.”

“It was my pleasure. I’d be happy to help.”

He tried to take off his wrist remote before you stopped him, “You can hang on to that. I have all your data on mine. It would be good for my research if you got used to the overlays outside of here. I don’t want to assume your time, but I think it may be helpful in assisting you with your duties.”

Konig shifts in his spot, “I don’t want anything to happen to it.”

You smile at him, pleased he’s being so respectful of your work. “Don’t worry. If you manage to damage it, then it’s not good enough for launch. Even breaking it will be valuable research.”

He considers this before hesitantly dropping his arm.

You continue, “Just promise you’ll share your thoughts with me. I don’t know what the life of a soldier is like, I don’t always know what’s best for you guys. Your feedback will be important in tailoring the design to fit your needs. It’s just a prototype, so you can be honest.”

His eyes stare down at you from under his hood and you can’t help but avoid his intimidating gaze by looking at the black paint around his eyes.

“I promise,” He says definitively and it’s obvious he means it.

You have his word.

——————————————————————

Back in the lab, you take a deep breath as you set your prototypes down. You had parted ways with Konig at the shoot house and haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.

You take the ear piece and remove the chip from the prototype gun in order to transfer the data to your laptop. You had a long night ahead of you reviewing footage and analyzing the AI results, but you knew your focus was going to be elsewhere.

You hoped your distracted thoughts would subside after eating an early dinner and watching an episode of your most recent show binge, but it doesn’t help.

You can’t stop thinking about the soldier with a laugh so wonderful you’d do about anything to hear it again.

You did your best to stay on task and turned your attention to your laptop, opening the software you designed to store its data.

It finally loads and what displays makes you gasp, your hand instinctively shooting up to cover your mouth.

Konig’s feed is still live.

Your eyes dart over to your ear piece, confirming it’s turned off. He couldn’t hear you on the comm. His overlay projection is turned off, but he must not have powered the unit completely down, and you neglected to end the feed.

You still don’t dare make a sound. You sit frozen, staring down at the screen with wide eyes.

He’s not wearing the headset, no. You can tell the camera is sitting on something at hip-height, maybe a table or a bed. Definitely not Konig-height. You can’t see much, your view is facing the wall of what you can tell is a modest-sized room.

It’s five-thirty now, you guess he’s clocked out and went back to his quarters for the evening.

This is so wrong.

You were violating his privacy. You should just disconnect the feed now, and forget about it.

You should.

But you don’t.

Instead you slowly lower your hands, lips pursed. It’s not long before Konig comes in to view.

The only thing he has on is a towel wrapped around his waist. His head was cropped out of view, but you can see his chest and his pecs are as chiseled as you had imaged them. Abs you hadn’t previously considered begging for your attention. The towel is dangerously low and goddamnit he’s got V lines, of course he does, and you can feel the warmth pool in your lower abdomen again.

This is so so wrong.

You should end it. End the feed, end the software, end the project. You’ve already crossed so many lines and if anyone found out about this you’d be discharged so fast it would make your head spin.

You’re seriously considering if it’s worth being outed as a pervert and forfeiting your grant just to ogle at the ultimate beefcake while Konig gets comfortable on his cot, face still out of frame. You’ve got a view of his side now, showcasing the middle of his chest down. You can see the definition on his abdominal muscles and you silently thank yourself for opting for choosing the higher resolution camera for your project.

He moves his arms out of frame once he gets the towel adjusted, you’re assuming to prop them behind his head.

He lays still for a few minutes, and you wish you could see his face. You were almost done talking yourself into closing the feed when his arm comes back in to view. Strong hands and forearms followed by massive biceps.

Your breath hitches again when you realize he’s reaching down for the towel. He unwraps it delicately, letting each end hang off the side of the bed.

He’s fully naked now, and it’s official-

You’re a pervert.

His cock sits at half attention and he wraps his hands around it, stroking it absentmindedly.

Oh, fuck.

Your mouth hangs slack and you can’t help but let out a squeak. You double check to make sure you’re still in your software and didn’t somehow accidentally open PornHub. But no, you were definitely watching Konig rut into his hand, teasing himself to arousal.

It doesn’t take long for his cock to reach full attention, leaking precum from the swollen tip. Even scaled next to his oversized hands you can tell it’s huge.

He reaches down to cup his balls briefly before returning to his shaft, wrapping his hand around it and stroking gently.

You can’t stop watching now- you’re locked in, eyes glued to the screen and you don’t think you’ve so much as blinked this entire time.

You watch as he picks up the pace, biceps flexing as he fucks his hand faster.

A low moan comes through the speakers of your laptop. You scramble for the volume controls, reducing it until you were sure no one passing by in the hall could hear.

It’s addicting, his moans. Deep and gravely and you can’t help but close your eyes and imagine what it would be like for him to be moaning in your ear instead of over a screen. For him to be fucking you instead of his hand. Moaning like he’s approaching a release he hasn’t felt in decades.

When you open your eyes again he’s stroking faster, his whole body tensing, a glossy shine forming on his defined muscles. You can’t help but stare at his bicep as it flexes to jerk his cock.

Even without seeing his face, you can tell he’s getting close.

His cock is a blur as he pumps vigorously. His breath quickens before suddenly hitching, muscles fully clenched as he comes, the first few drops landing on his stomach and thighs.

His whole body constricts as the waves of the pleasure wash over him. You can tell it’s intense.

His pumping slows and his seed spills over his knuckles and down his shaft as he squeezes out the last of it, quivering at the sensitivity.

His muscles relax and he sinks back into his cot, wiping his hand on the towel. He lays still for a few moments, the sound of him catching his breath and his rising and falling chest takes stage. Until he removes the towel from underneath him, wiping away his mess.

You’re staring, eyes wider than when you started. Your knuckles lighten as you grip the stool beneath you. It wasn’t the finish that shocked you, no.

Not the size of the load that spilled from his huge cock.

Not the way he had bucked his hips, desperate for the touch.

Not the way his muscles had rippled through the phases of orgasm.

You were shocked because as he finished;

Konig had moaned your name.

Part two