#Why Would Someone Choose A Serviced Apartment | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rowarn · 2 months

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SURPRISE, SURPRISE !

john "soap" mactavish / reader – 9.3k sale of a lifetime mini series !

tags: smut, developing relationship, virginity for sale trope, protective!soap, virgin!reader, afab!reader, no prns for reader, mean!soap? or maybe just intense!soap, soap is NOT beginner-friendly

cw: loss of virginity, soap's filthy mouth, fingering, multiple orgasms, wet&messy, sloppy blowjob, cum facial, squirting, crying during sex?/dacryphilia, consent check bc johnny is a GOOD MAN, intense heated sex to sex with feelings, cunnilingus, corruption kink if u squint, multiple rounds, sloppy sex tbh

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It’s not like it’s hard to find someone to sell your virginity to, men come out of the woodwork offering you the money. It’s no problem at all to set up a little meeting and get to know them before you’re whisked away to a bedroom.

At least, that’s how it should be.

The problem was there seemingly was always something that got in the way. Or rather…someone.

Soap, in fact.

or.

After continuously getting in the way of your attempts to sell your virginity, you finally let yourself fall into bed with him instead.

You couldn’t believe you wound up here. You always thought it would happen in some sweet way. A long-time boyfriend or girlfriend, happy and in love. You’d snuggle up afterwards and be told how good you were.

But no, instead you became swamped in debt and ended up on the verge of eviction even though you were living in the cheapest apartment you could find that wasn’t in an area that would get you stabbed for stepping outside. You needed money fast and you had one thing that plenty of perverts would pay for; your virginity. It’s not your most crowning moment in life but as they say, you gotta do what you gotta do.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself so you don’t crumble under the shame of it all.

When the chair across from you suddenly gets yanked out, feet scraping obnoxiously across the floor, making you nearly jump out of your skin. The man who sits down looks nothing like the picture he sent and you internally groan. He looks much older than you, no doubt in his mid 40’s, balding, and graying hair. You wouldn’t mind an older man if he were a little more…attractive. Sure, maybe that’s a bit shallow of you but fuck, it’s your virginity you’re giving away. You should be allowed to be picky with the man you choose! Under normal circumstances you would be so why not now?

Then again, this isn’t exactly normal circumstances was it?

You pick up the glass of the strongest drink you could handle that you ordered at the bar while waiting and downed it in one deep gulp. You gave the man a very fake smile and he grinned back, the sleazy sight making your stomach turn.

You were going to need a lot more alcohol.

The evening turned into night and you’re feeling the effects of the alcohol. Your ‘date’ doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest as you drink, if anything he seems elated. That thought makes you curl your lip in disgust.

“So,” he starts when you finally lean back in your chair, having had your fill of alcohol for the night, “Shall we move this along? My place or yours?”

“You got the money you promised?” you ask, raising a brow, unsure if you sounded as drunk to him as you did to yourself.

“In my car,” he responds, grin sitting irritatingly lopsided on his ugly face, “Got it all ready for you. After services are rendered, of course.”

Anxiety coils in your stomach at the mention of what you have to do to get the money. It’s a lot of money and that makes your palms sweaty – you need it. You feel like there’s eyes on you from behind, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. When you turn to look around, there’s no one paying any attention to you. Everyone in the bar was having a nice time. You wish you were one of them.

“Let’s get out here,” the man grins, “I am just achin’ to get my hands on you.”

He stands up but you find yourself rooted to your seat. Your entire body feels tense, you can’t find it in yourself to stand up. You don’t want to go with the guy, you decide. Your fight or flight activates with terrifying speed, alerting you of the danger you’re in. Though you’re not exactly sure what danger that is just yet.

“I think…” you start and the guy heaves a big sigh.

“Don’t tell me you’re backin’ out?” he grumbles, not bothering to mask his irritation, “After I came all this way? That’s awfully rude of you.”

“I just don’t think I want to–” he groans, embarrassingly loud.

You feel the eyes of nearby patrons on you and your cheeks burn under the scrutiny. Shame bubbles up inside you at the thought of them finding out what exactly was going on between the two of you.

“Let’s go,” he snaps, his anger bubbling to the surface as he rounds the table and grabs hold of your arm.

You don’t bother fighting back as he yanks you to your feet, instead leveling him with a fierce glare. You don’t want to make a scene in front of all these people so you plan to let him drag out outside where you can really give him a piece of your mind before hopefully coming back inside and peacefully getting drunk alone.

But a sudden, growling voice has both of you freezing in place, “I don’t think you’re goin’ anywhere.”

Your eyes fall upon a man, standing tall and confidently. He has a mohawk, brilliant blue eyes and handsome features. Upon first glance, you could immediately tell he was in the military based on his posture alone. He was intimidating, broad and well-built.

“Hey, dude, why don't you mind your own fuckin’ business,” your ‘date’ snarled, yanking you harshly towards him.

You felt your eye twitch in irritation but your drunken brain was too slow to react properly. You were still hung up on the appearance of this rather good looking man.

“This is my business,” the stranger said, Scottish accent thick as he took two big strides over to the both of you, “Why don't you just leave quietly so things don't have to get ugly?”

Your ‘date’ stares the strange man down for a few seconds, taking a glance at you before kissing his teeth and ripping his hand off of you.

“You ain't worth this shit,” he huffed, stomping off into the crowd. You could hear the bell over the door ring, announcing his final departure from the scene.

“Well, he was just a dandy fellow,” your rescuer jokes, a crooked grin settling on his face. His shoulders relaxed and he held his hand out, “Name’s Soap. How about I walk you home?”

“That'd be great,” you responded, feeling your stomach starting to roll as the alcohol settled. You knew you were going to be stuck with your head over the toilet bowl soon and you'd rather be in the comfort of your apartment for that.

“Let’s get a move on then,” he waved forward for you to lead the way.

The crisp outside air had you sighing happily. You hadn't realized how hot you were in there but now that the light breeze brushed against your skin, you noticed how you had begun to sweat.

“So you’re military, huh?” you ask, leading him in the direction of your apartments “Soap.”

He chuckles, “You caught me.”

You smile, “It's kind of hard to miss, no offense.”

“None taken,” he assures, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, “What were you doin’ with a piece of shite like that? Was he your boyfriend?”

You sputter, “No! Nothing like that. I just…had a deal with him, that's all. I called it off and he got pissed. I'm sorta pissed at myself. Just missed out on a fuck ton of money.”

Soap’s brows raise, “What kind of deal?”

Your drunken brain forgets all about the fact such a deal should be kept quiet. Your mouth opens before you can stop yourself, “My virginity for his money. But I’m not like a prostitute or anything!”

He holds his hands up as surrender when you get defensive at the shocked look on his face, “You need money that bad?”

“You have no idea,” you sign, pinching the bridge of your nose at the mere thought of your money troubles, “I never do this. You know? I-I mean obviously…with the virginity and all. But-!”

“I’m not judgin’ you,” he assures, “Hard times. But you should be careful. Lot’s of dangerous characters out there.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders as you come to a stop, “This is my place.”

“Right,” he mutters, “Let me give you my number.”

“For what?” you sputter, watching him pull out his wallet.

“Just in case,” he smiles, “I doubt anyone really knows what you’re dealin’ with right? I do. So if you’re ever in any trouble,” he hands you a business card, “Give me a call.”

You take the card and look it over. It’s got his name and military rank but not much else. You raise a brow, “Why do you have a business card on you?”

He chuckles, waving his hand flippantly, “Just ‘cause. I’ll see you around, darlin’.”

“Yeah,” you smile, stowing the card away in your pocket, “Thanks for walking me home, Soap.”

He stands outside of your place, waiting until you’re safely inside and shutting the door. When you peek out the window, you see him walking off in the direction that you had come from. You smile and go about getting ready for bed, grateful that you’re not feeling that awful nauseous pit in your stomach you had earlier.

When you wake up in the morning, you’re still dressed in your clothes and you have no recollection of having laid down the night before. You groan, your head throbbing in your skull as you sit up.

You stumble your way to the bathroom, grimacing at the sight of yourself in the mirror. You take the time to start the shower and strip yourself, determined to scrub the grime from last night off of your body.

By the time you step out, you’re feeling like a brand new person. You stretch your arms over your head and work on drying yourself off. Wrapping your towel around your body, gather your clothes in your arms, and trudge back into your bedroom.

You look through the pockets of your jeans from yesterday, pulling out various coins and candy wrappers that you remember snacking on in the car to ease your nerves. You finally pull out the last thing – the business card Soap had given you last night.

It all floods back to you, and you find yourself pulling your phone out, opening it to make a new contact under the name Soap.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, still wrapped in your towel, you shoot him a text.

“Hi Soap, remember me? You walked me home last night! I was just wondering if I could take this as a business inquiry?”

You aren’t sure where the burst of confidence came from. Last night, you would have never even thought to ask him such a thing. But the fact your plans fell through last night with that pig of a man, you kind of had no other choice at this point.

And luckily for you, Soap texted back almost immediately.

“Sure, darlin’. We can consider it a business inquiry.”

Jackpot, you think. Not only is he very good looking and nice – if he has the money, then you can’t think of anyone better to sell your ‘goods’ to.

He’s perfect.

Turns out, Soap is more than ready to meet up. Not at a bar, you’re thrilled, but at an actual restaurant. It almost feels like a real date!

You have the opportunity to dress yourself up and feel pretty. It feels so much better than meeting up with that guy at the dingy bar. Your nerves are almost non-existent.

You still have that jittery feeling everyone gets when they’re going to be going out with someone new.

But this isn’t actually a date, you have to tell yourself, as you get into your car to drive to the restaurant. It’s a meeting.

When you walk in, you’re greeted with the heavenly smell of food and what you can only deduce as something akin to mint. It’s a lovely restaurant, tablecloths and wine glasses everywhere.

You look around the room before you spot him, sitting at a table in the far back nursing a glass of water. You make your way there, coming to a slow stop in front of the table. He looks up, blue eyes widening at the sight of you before he jumps to his feet.

“You made it,” he says, a smile growing on his lips.

He rounds the table and pulls your chair out, gesturing for you to take a seat.

“Thank you,” you say as he pushes you in a bit before returning to his own seat.

Soap situates his elbows on the table, chin resting on his hands as he gazes across at you. You feel your cheeks burn underneath his intense gaze, not able to gain the courage to look directly at him.

A waiter comes by, depositing a basket of fresh, buttered bread on your table, letting you know he’ll be around in a moment to collect your orders. You offer him a polite smile as he vanishes, acutely aware that Soap is still staring right at you.

“Why are you…” you clear your throat, finally looking at him.

“You look lovely,” he says, a smile growing on his face when you become more bashful, “You’re truly breathtaking, has anyone ever told you that before?”

You can feel how hot your cheeks are and you resist the urge to reach up and pat them in an attempt to cool them down. You’re at a loss for words, no clue what to say in response to that. You hadn’t been told anything like that before, actually. Nor has anyone ever looked at you with such infatuated intensity like he is right now.

Thankfully, the waiter arrives to relieve you of this immense pressure. Pulled from his devoted admiration, Soap orders first before you put your own order in.

Left alone once again, you and Soap fall into an easy conversation. You’re surprised by how nice it is to talk to him, he’s open and funny. He tells you about his buddies in the military and about how he goes out to drink every weekend with some guy named Kyle and that he thinks his buddy Ghost’s jokes are just the worst abomination on Earth.

You get so lost in talking to him, you don’t even realize how much time has passed. Your food arrives and the table finally falls quiet.

You both get lost in eating your meals. Soap finishes his glass of wine and leans back in his seat with a content sigh. When you finish your own plate, you do the same. The chair creaks underneath the shift of weight and your eyes meet his.

You wait to see if he’ll say something. But he just continues to stare at you, drifting from your eyes and down the rest of your body that’s not hidden by the table.

“So, should we get out of here?” you finally find yourself asking, burying any embarrassment deep down, “Your place or mine?”

Soap seems to falter suddenly, crooked smile slipping off of his face, “Listen, darlin’...I-I don’t actually want to…you know…”

Your cheeks burn a little and you shrink in on yourself where you sit, “Oh! Well, that’s fine. I-It’s just that you said it was an inquiry so…I assumed.”

Soap shakes his head, reaching across the table to place his hand over yours, “I know. I told you that just so I could see you. I’m just worried about you, darlin’.”

“You want to talk me out of it,” you sigh, leaning back in your seat again, “I appreciate your concern, Soap. But I’m really at the end of my rope here. This is my very last resort, you understand?”

“But you shouldn’t have to-!” you pull your hand out from underneath his and stand.

“I know,” you shrug, “I’m only doing what I can with my circumstances. I appreciate you taking the time to see me and let me know you’re worried. I’ll see you around, okay?”

You leave him behind at the table and make your way back to your car. As you sit, engine idling, the disappointment bubbles up within you. Soap is probably the absolute best you could have gotten in a situation like this. But, it’s clear now that you’re going to have to find a new guy.

You just hope you don’t walk right into the clawed talons of some unknown serial killer or something.

The thought sends shivers down your spine as you make your way back home.

So begins the process of finding a new person to get the money from.

At least, that’s how it should be.

The problem was there seemingly was always something that got in the way. Or rather…someone.

Soap, in fact.

Around every turn, he was there to intercept the meeting you had with a man.

A terribly boring man named Charles; Soap showed up at the bar you met at. The surprisingly young guy you weren’t even sure had enough money for his own monthly rent, Brandon; Soap was there. Justin, the doctor that lowkey gave you the creeps; Soap was there too.

Every single time, the Scot would sit himself at the table and run the guy off, leaving you no choice but to go home alone and moneyless.

You’re getting angrier with every passing day and before you know it, you’re calling him up and asking him to meet you.

The second you lay your eyes on him, you’re marching right up to him.

“What the hell is your problem, Soap?!” you cry, practically nose to nose with him as you glare.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he holds his hands up in mock surrender, “Don’t know what I did to get you so wound up but-”

“You know exactly what you’ve done!” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest, “Why do you keep getting in my way?”

“That’s a mean thing to say to someone,” he responds lightheartedly.

But then your glare wipes the smile off of his face and he sighs, running a hand through his mohawk. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, rocking anxiously back and forth on his heels as he seems to think over his next words carefully.

“I’m just lookin’ out for you, darlin’,” he assures, “This…isn't safe, what you’re doin’. You could get into somethin’ real serious. I just…want to make sure you’re safe.”

You deflate and sigh, “I already told you, Soap. I appreciate your concern but…”

Suddenly, he surges forward, big, rough hands cupping your cheeks as he pulls your lips to his. You gasp, hands resting against his chest as you allow yourself to melt into the kiss.

When he pulls back, he seems almost nervous, “I wanted to kiss you really badly the first night I saw you.”

“So you like me?” you ask softly, not taking your hands off of his chest.

He reaches up, wrapping one of his hands around yours, “I’m afraid so.”

“Soap…” you start but he interrupts you.

“Johnny,” he says, “Call me Johnny.”

“Johnny,” you correct yourself, feeling your cheeks burn at the positively giddy look on his face, “I don’t know if…this…” you gesture between the two of you, “Is a good idea…with what I’m dealing with.”

His brows furrowed and a frown lines his lips. You find yourself wishing you could wipe the solemn look right off his face – it doesn’t suit him, “Just give me a chance, yeah? That’s all I ask of you.”

You sigh, “Okay, Johnny.”

You’re not sure why you gave in so easily to him. But the bright look returns to his eyes again and you find yourself feeling lighter.

He steps back, slipping his fingers in between yours. He tugs you in his direction to follow him and you do, heart skipping in your chest as you look at your hand wrapped up in his.

You haven’t been in a relationship in a very long time so this giddy feeling wasn’t one that you got to feel very often.

Sooner than you’d like, he’s slipping his hand from yours to open the door to an apartment complex for you. You step inside and make your way down the hallway, tailing close behind him up to a door on the first floor – apartment 108.

“It’s not much,” he gives you that charming, crooked smile as he opens the door.

“It’s better than my place,” you joke as you toe your shoes off.

“Have you had anything to eat?” he asks, helping you out of your jacket before hanging it on the rack by the door. You shake your head and he nods, “I’ll order us somethin’. Go ahead and make yourself at home.”

You watch him disappear into the kitchen as you look around his flat. It’s a modest apartment, a bit bare but there’s little bits of Johnny scattered around the place. There were picture frames on the walls and on different surfaces. The couch was navy blue and looked well loved.

“Here’s some water,” he says, startling you as he comes back into the living room, “I ordered us some food, wasn’t sure what you liked so I guessed.”

You chuckle, taking a seat on the couch, “I don’t mind.”

“I’m not really,” he chuckles, sounding nervous, “Good at this.”

“Well,” you sink into the cushions, “I can’t say I am either.”

He laughs, a sweet, melodic sound that makes your cheeks flush, “Well, in that case. We can just…go with the flow.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Go with the flow.”

By the time the food arrives, you and Soap are invested in watching a random season of The Bachelorette. Neither of you could decide so you looked online to find a wheel to spin to decide your fate for you.

“Ugh,” Soap groans, “Can’t believe she’s goin’ on about how dreamy this bastard is. He’s a total tool!”

You giggle, holding one of his throw pillows against your chest as you sit. You’re about to add your own two cents when the doorbell rings.

Soap jumps to his feet, “Fuckin’ hell, I could eat a cow.”

You admire the view of him from behind when he opens the door. His tight green t-shirt hugs the dip of his waist, riding up just a bit to show a sliver of tanned skin. His shoulders look impossibly wide as he stands in the doorway to take the food, muscles rippling beneath the fabric. His jeans sit low on his hips, belt tied tightly around them.

Fuck, he’s good looking.

He turns, grinning and holding up the bags as if to show you his spoils. He raises one dark brow curiously, as if he knows what you’d been thinking.

“So,” he coos, saddling up next to you, placing the food on the coffee table, “Did you enjoy the view?”

You squeak, “I don’t think it’s polite to call out someone for looking…”

He cocks his head to the side and chuckles, leaning down to grip your chin, “Mind if I kiss you?”

“Now you’re asking?” you respond, breathless as you look at his lips coming closer and closer to yours.

“Aye,” he breathes.

You nod and his lips are against yours in an instant. He supports his weight by placing his hands on the back of the couch. You have to crane your neck back to be able to kiss him but having him over top of you like this is exhilarating.

You know you should stop before you get too carried away but you can’t seem to bring yourself to break away from him. Your attraction to this man is palpable and all consuming.

Against your better judgment, you let him push you down, back against the cushions so he can crawl onto the couch. One knee on one side of you, he keeps one foot on the floor to straddle you without crushing you under his weight. But you wish that he would, fuck.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers slipping through the short hairs of his mohawk. He sighs against your lips, one hand coming up to wrap lightly around your throat, just pinning you down so he can deepen the kiss.

You find yourself tugging at his shirt, edging it up and up until he’s forced to pull away.

“Are you sure?” he asks, blue eyes swallowed by the black of his pupils when he meets your gaze.

You nod, “Want you, Johnny.”

“I’ll give you all of me,” he promises, sitting up to yank his shirt over his head.

It feels like the air evaporates from your lungs at the sight of him. He’s built, muscles rippling underneath a layer of fat – a man who is built for pure strength. His tanned skin is littered with tattoos here and there and hair speckles over his chest and stomach, a thick happy trail disappearing under his jeans. Which are tented with how his hardened cock presses against the fabric, desperate to be released.

Your hand slips down the planes of his chest and down his tummy, cupping his erection. It twitches and kicks beneath your touch and pulls a groan from him.

He reaches out, wrapping his hand around your wrist and bringing your hand to his lips where he places a kiss upon your palm.

“Strip yourself, baby,” he orders, “Wanna see that pretty body.”

He sits back on his heels, watching your every movement as you slip your shirt off and shimmy your pants down your hips.

When you stop, he realizes you're not going to take your panties off so he quickly does it for you. His thumbs hook into the band and yanks them down, making you squeal as the force jostles you.

Soap chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as his hands eagerly cup your breasts. You sigh at the contact, arching your back to press more into his touch.

His kisses all over your chest, leaving no spot untouched, until he can pop one of your nipples in his mouth. You whimper, fingers sliding appreciatively through his mohawk while his other hand slips between your thighs.

You easily part them, nearly panting by the time his fingers slip between your folds. You're already wet and sticky, drooling all over yourself with slick he uses to circle your clit.

Your hips twitch as the first feeling of his rough fingers on the little bud. You cry out, tugging on his hair as he switches his mouth to give your other nipple proper attention.

You arch your hips, his fingers sneaking down to prod at your entrance. With a glance at your face to make sure you're okay with it, he slides one in.

There's a loud squelch when it sinks in to the last knuckle and you whine in embarrassment.

He can't resist commenting, “So wet.”

You whimper, lightly slapping his shoulder at his teasing. He chuckles, leaning up to press his lips against yours as he carefully works you open on that one finger. He presses and prods against your walls, waiting for you to relax so he can slip another one inside you — really prepare you for his cock.

He presses against your g-spot and it rips a heavenly sound from your lips that only encourages him to do it again. You get wetter and wetter, throbbing and clenching around his middle finger.

When he decides you're ready, he introduces a second finger. His ring finger easily fits in right alongside his middle.

“There you go,” he praises, unable to resist looking down to see where his fingers are buried inside you, “That's it, baby, look at you go.”

You gasp, eyes rolling back in your head when he adjusts his hand. His palm cups over your clit, the angle letting him really grind the tips of those digits right against that gooey little spot inside you.

He watches the way you cream his fingers, milky colored slick dripping down his knuckles. It makes his mouth water.

The movements rub his palm over your clit, stimulating the tender little bud and driving you closer and closer to the edge. You cry out, moaning and wailing the tighter that cord winds in your tummy.

You clench and pulse against his fingers, a signal that you're going to cum for him. He works even harder, diligently worshiping your precious cunt until you toss your head back and sob.

Your body trembles, thighs twitching in time to your walls squeezing around him. He moans with you, watching your pretty body in the throes of pleasure.

When it becomes too much, you weakly reach down and bat his hand away. He slips his fingers out, watching you clamp your thighs shut.

As you lay there panting and collecting yourself, he pops his cum-covered fingers into his mouth. He moans at your taste, slipping his tongue between them to catch every single drop of sweet cum he can get.

By the time he finishes off the delicacy, you're watching him with lidded eyes and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“More?” he asks, a crooked grin on his face. You nod and he chuckles, “That looked like a good fuckin’ orgasm. Sure you can handle more?”

“If I can't,” you whisper, sitting up to tug at his belt, “You can make me.”

“Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to help you open his pants, “Want me to make you take it, baby? Make you cum on my cock until you can't even think?”

“Please, Johnny,” you whimper, not tearing your eyes off the sight of him stripping himself bare.

His cock was fat and heavy, a thick patch of hair scattering the base with thick, full balls to match. You felt your mouth fill with saliva at the sight of his hand wrapped around his big cock, stroking himself languidly until enough precum had dripped out to slick himself up.

“Let me hear it again, doll,” his eyes are heavy lidded as he looks at you laid out beneath him, breathless and sweating from the orgasm he’d worked out of you.

“Please, Johnny,” you whisper, needily reaching your hands out towards him.

“Shit,” he grunts, “Alright.”

He scoots closer to you, spreading your legs open for him. Your sticky folds part, exposing your swollen, sensitive clit and clenching hole that’s still drooling your creamy release.

He slips the tip of his cock through the gooey mess, tapping it meanly against your little bud. Your knees flinch at the stimulation and your jaw drops open when he starts to push inside.

It burns and you arch your hips away instinctively from the pain. He slips out and curses.

“You gotta relax, sweetheart,” he mumbles, hoisting your hips into his lap with an iron grip.

“Can’t,” you pitifully whimper.

Soap clicks his tongue, purses his lips and lewdly spits on your clit. You whine, hands covering your face when he uses his cockhead to smear it all over.

When he starts to push in again, the burn starts but a rough thumb finds your clit.

“Shh,” Soap soothes you, watching as the furrow in your brows vanishes.

He works your clit in tiny circles as he carefully saws his cock in and out of your tight hole, inching a little bit more in every time. Your body grows pliant and soft, slumping against the couch until he finally buries himself to the hilt.

“Thaaaaat’s it,” he praises, still rolling your hard clit under his thumb, “Good fuckin’ job. Take your reward, sweetheart.”

He remains completely stuffed inside you, grinding his hips up just a little until he prods at that gooey little spot inside you. His thumb continues to swirl around your clit and he watches your eyes grow wide, a grin stretching across his face.

“C-Cummin’-!” you manage to gasp before you throw your head back.

He groans, jaw falling open as he works you through the orgasm, rubbing your clit to ease you through every pleasurable wave. It’s only when you reach down, grabbing his wrist to stop him that he ceases.

“Fuck,” you pant, pupils blown wide as he looks at you coming down.

“Feels good cumming on cock, huh, sweetheart?” he asks, once again wearing that crooked grin on his face.

You nod your head, still too fucked out from your orgasm to properly formulate words. He chuckles, carefully pulling back until only the thick head of him remains nestled inside. With a swift, experienced roll of his hips, he stuffs every single inch right back in.

You wail, grappling haphazardly against his shoulders for stability as he starts to really fuck you. He punches so deep, makes you feel him in your tummy. The friction burns and feels incredible at the same time.

It feels so fucking good that you can’t stop any of the sounds that are forced from your lungs with every mind-numbingly pleasurable thrust of his cock. You’re soaking him, dripping all creamy down his cock in a way he knows you’ve never done before. No way your own fingers could make you cream like this and he doubts you’ve ever sat this pretty cunt on any stupid toys.

He groans, grinding against your clit every time he reaches as deep as he can, “Not gonna have shit to sell now, huh?”

You whimper, shaking your head as you stare at him wide eyed, drool dripping over your lips because you can’t close your mouth for even a second. There’s no way for you to quiet yourself, you’re loud, you wear every pleasurable experience on your face with no ability to hide or perform. Every reaction is real and authentic and he loves it.

“Don’t think I can ever let you go after this, sweetheart,” he coos, slowing his thrusts so you can focus on looking at him, “That alright with you?”

You swallow thickly and shakily nod your head, “O-Only want you, J-Johnny.”

He snorts, sharp canines glinting at the predatory grin he gives you, “You only sayin’ that because you’re got your cunt stuffed full of my cock?”

You whimper at the punishing thrust he gives you, the pain of him battering your cervix making you tremble, “N-No! L-Liked you when I first saw y-you. I-I swear, Johnny. Please!”

“Alright, quit fuckin’ beggin’,” he snaps, leaning out of your reach, making you whine.

He takes a mean grip of your hips, using just his strength to yank you onto his cock like a fleshlight. You wail, head tossed back against the couch as he really fucks you. Every thrust is too deep but gives you nothing but pleasure. He grinds against your clit every time he sinks in, making sure to also aim for the gooey little spot that gets you creaming around him. His fat, heavy balls slap against your ass every time he stuffs that cock into you.

It’s all just too much. He should know better, really, treating a little virgin pussy so meanly. You’re too new to this, don’t know how to take such cruel, deep strokes. You’re squeezing tight, staring at him with wide, glassy eyes. He can’t stop the moan that tears from his throat at the sight of tears trickling down your cheeks – proof that this is all too much.

But he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. Not when he feels how tight you’re squeezing around him, how much wetter you’re getting as you get closer and closer to what he knows is going to be the best damn orgasm of your life.

“Cum,” he whispers, shocked at how fucked his voice is from pleasure, “Cum right fuckin’ now.”

“W-Wait, Johnny-!” you wail, feet kicking as you fight against his iron-tight hold on you, “I-It’s…It feels w-wrong!”

“Stop fuckin’ runnin’,” he snarls, easily pinning you to the couch. He folds you up, knees to your chest as he presses his body weight down on you. He can feel the air being forced out of your lungs under the weight, “I said cum.”

You open your mouth, wanting to say something. But you can’t get the words you, only whimpers and tears. He doesn’t care what you had to say, though. All he cares about is feeling your tight little cunt cum around him so he can have his own orgasm.

You still try to fight him from how intense the build up is. You slap against his shoulders, squirm and try to kick him off but he easily holds you down. Even as you fight, you never once tell him to stop.

After a few, long seconds, he feels it.

Fuck, does he feel it.

You gush. It splatters all over his cock and stomach. He curses, slamming into you over and over, every thrust forcing another squirt out of you. You’re sobbing, fat tears falling down your cheeks and you’re moaning the prettiest damn symphony that has ever blessed his ears.

The orgasm is too much, it’s intense and all consuming. You can’t come down, every time he stuffs you full, your orgasm continues to wash through you.

“J-Johnny-!” you sob, “N-No more!”

“Fuck!” he snarls, cutting his own orgasm off when he pulls out of you.

He pushes himself off of you and you curl in on yourself, softly sniffling and shaking in a little ball. He licks his dry lips at the sight of you covered in your own squirt.

“C’mere, darlin’,” he coos, panting and breathy, hoisting you up and into his lap.

He cradles you in his arms as you’re wracked with trembles and twitches, your nerves zapping through your body from the pleasure. He shushes you, cupping your chin to make you look at him. Your eyes are red-rimmed and wet from your tears, pupils blown out wide. He clicks his tongue and wipes his thumb underneath to swipe some away.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coos, “Just get some breaths. Got a little overwhelmed, huh?”

You nod, slumping against him with a sigh when you finally feel like you’re back in your body. Johnny is solid and sweaty beneath you, warm and comfortable as he cups the back of your head and strokes his hand over your body.

“I-I’ve never um…” you clear your throat, cheeks burning hot.

“Knocked your damn socks off, huh?” he jokes, a crooked smile on his face.

You giggle, endorphins still rushing through your body. You shift on his lap and catch the pinch in his brow before he can school his expression back into place. You look down, biting your lip at the sight of his cock still hard and twitching, smeared in a creamy mess of your cum.

“Ah, it’ll go down on its own, darlin’,” he assures, no irritation to be seen or heard from him.

One look in his eyes shows you that he’s perfectly prepared to go without his well-earned orgasm – just for you.

But you don’t want that, you realize. He had made you feel incredible, given you an orgasm that you’ve never been able to experience in your life. You doubt anyone else will ever be able to make you do it again.

“I-I want to help, Johnny,” you whisper, trying to swallow down your nerves.

His brows raise in interest, “What did you have in mind?”

You slide off of his lap and slowly sink to your knees. You place your shaky hands on his thighs to steady yourself, looking up at him with wide, too-innocent eyes.

He lets his head fall back against the back of the couch, a breathless, “steamin’ blood Jesus,” following.

“I-I’ve never done this,” you confess, though he’s not surprised, “Is that okay?”

“Is that-” he laughs softly, “darlin’ any man who isn’t appreciative of you willin’ to swallow his cock is a man you kick in the balls, got that?”

You giggle, nerves dissipating as he wraps a hand around the base of him. You scoot a bit closer when he holds it out for you, waiting for you to do what you please with it. Your tongue falls from your mouth and Soap feels like he’s suspended in air as he watches you get closer and closer to the sensitive, leaky tip.

The first contact feels better than he could have imagined. He’d gotten so fucking close earlier, buried in your cunt as you came around him, squealing for him and all. He knows it won’t take much to send him over the edge this time.

Perfect practice for you, he thinks. You won’t have to be on your knees for too long or do any real work to get him to cum for you.

You’re clumsy and it’s clear you’re unsure about the taste of his cock. It’s not just his precum, it’s your own cum mixed with it. He can’t blame you for being unsure.

He reaches down, a soft, gentle hand resting atop your head to encourage you. When you look up, he smiles so softly at you that it makes your heart jump in your chest. You suddenly feel like you’re the center of his world. Those baby blues never once waver from you as you sloppily lick and slurp on the tip of him.

“Take a little more,” he whispers, lashes fluttering and chest rising as he takes a deep breath when you eagerly follow his directions.

Your pretty lips stretch around the girth of him, taking just the head inside your hot little mouth. The flared glans are greeted by your curious tongue, making him whimper when you lick. Your mixed taste lingers on your tongue but you quickly grow accustomed to it.

Feeling braver from Johnny’s unfiltered reactions, you take a little more into your mouth. Then more. And a little more until you suddenly choke, gagging around him. You pull your head off, sputtering and coughing a bit.

Johnny coos at you, thumbing away some drool on your chin, “Not too deep, darlin’. You’re not ready for that.”

You hum, not at all discouraged from taking him back into your mouth again. You don’t take him as deep, accepting that you have your limit – for now, judging by Johnny’s subtle promise of more to come.

“Just suck, watch your teeth,” he whispers, not caring about the way his voice cracks, “Move your head like this. Go at your own pace, alright?”

You lazily blink up at him, hoping he understands your agreement. You do as you’re told, folding your lips over your teeth to keep them away from his sensitive skin. Bobbing your head feels awkward and it makes your jaw ache but the sounds Johnny begins to make makes you temporarily forget about your own discomfort.

His eyes are rolling back in his head and he starts to stroke the rest of his cock that your mouth can’t handle yet. You can’t tear your gaze away from the sight of those thick, veiny fingers wrapped around himself, getting covered in a slick mess of your cum that he had so generously fucked out of you earlier. Drooling all over him like this only gives him more of a mess to work with. It’s gross, frothy and dripping down your chin and neck, slicking up your tits.

It makes your cunt tingle selfishly. You think you could make yourself cum, slip your hand between your legs and stroke your clit until you find release. But you don’t – you focus on Johnny and his pleasure. He’d already given you so much that you don’t want to come across as greedy by making his moment about your own pleasure.

Johnny’s free hand grip around the back of your neck, squeezing and caressing your skin as encouragement since his mouth is too busy moaning. You take his sounds as signals, sucking and moving at whatever pace makes him cry out the loudest.

You had no idea men like him were willing to be as loud as he was. Usually, the masculine type of guys like him would be online whining about how moaning was ‘gay’ or some stupid shit.

Johnny didn’t seem to give a fuck. If he felt good, he was going to let you know. It made you feel more at ease, like you were doing a good job even though you knew you were still clumsy and it probably didn’t feel as good as head he’s surely gotten in the past.

But it encouraged you to work harder to please him, to earn more of those beautiful, unfiltered moans that he was so willing to give you. They were your reward for the intense ache in your jaw.

“F-Fuck,” he groans, suddenly, eyes opening from when he had closed them at some point, “I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

His words are slurred, like his brain’s oozed down to his cock, too stupid to think of anything except how heavy and full his balls felt.

“Shit, shit, shit-!” he whimpers, an honest to god whimper, “Off, pull off!”

You do as you’re told, releasing his cock from your mouth. Strings of frothy drool connect your lips to his tip and you don’t dare break it, the sight making you clench around nothing.

Johnny strokes his cock, another loud moan erupting from his lips as he cums. It spurts out, splattering against your cheek, making you flinch in surprise. You can see the way his balls throb in time to each rope of cum that his fat cock spits out. More splatters on your cheeks and lips and across your nose until it tapers off to slow, thick oozes that dribble over his knuckles.

When he lets himself go, he sags against the couch, staring dazedly at the ceiling as his erection flags and grows soft.

When he finally looks at you, you can see his eyes widen almost in alarm. He leans forward, cupping your cheek, messily swiping some of his cum off of your cheek.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles, still sounding breathless, “Didn’t think you were gonna get splashed with it.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, feeling his cum still lingering on your lips.

You can’t resist sticking your tongue out to taste it. His eyes darken at the sight of you licking up his cum. You don’t make a face of disgust like he expected, instead he catches the way your thighs clench together.

“Is that right?” he mumbles, cock twitching in interest, “Isn’t that an interesting development? You like to taste cum, sweetheart?”

You whimper when he swipes more up onto his thumb, bringing it to your lips for you to suck off, which you eagerly do. You suck his finger clean until he pulls it back out, pupils blown wide, making his blue eyes look black.

“You ever had that pretty cunt eaten before?” he asks, a predatory grin splitting across his face when you shake your head.

His hand wraps around your throat, ripping a moan out of your throat. He easily manhandles you onto your knees, tits pressed against the cushions of the couch with a nasty “stay.”

You never thought you’d enjoy being manhandled and ordered around like a dog but fuck if you’re not learning more about yourself tonight.

Soap smacks your thighs apart, and slips his head between them. You take a glance down and nearly choke at the sight of him laying on his back, staring hungrily as you cunt drips gooey, sticky strings right onto his waiting tongue that he holds out for it.

The sight is so fucking filthy.

But it’s nothing compared to the sounds he makes when he gets that tongue on your cunt. He slurps between your folds, groaning at the taste of your cum on his taste buds. He swallows your clit, cheeks hollowing out as he sucks.

You’re already a moaning mess, crying out into the cushions which you claw desperately at. Your eyes roll up into your head when you feel him pop your clit out of his mouth, spit on it, and then slurp it right back up.

He eats so fucking dirty, it’s disgusting and sloppy. But it makes you rut your hips against him.

Soap chuckles, pulling back to watch you work your hips over nothing before you realize he stopped and whine.

“Fuck yourself on my tongue then,” he whispers, earning him a relenting whimper in response.

You can feel the flat of his tongue, hot and thick, against your clit. The little bud’s so hard, swollen and pulsing against the muscle.

With his order ringing in the back of your head, you clumsily hump his tongue. You drag your sensitive little clit back and forth along the surface of his tongue. It feels so fucking good that you actually sob. The sound tears from your chest and makes his cock twitch.

You rut faster and faster, not caring about the way you’re messing up his face when you move too high or too low. You know there’s a mess on his chin, cheeks and nose but you don’t care. His tongue is there for you, for you to cum all over. He’s so good to you, holding it out just so you can use him as you please.

As you grow closer and closer, your moans change in pitch and he suddenly reaches up, stilling you. You groan, an irritated sound that makes him laugh. You frown at that but it’s quickly wiped away when he grips your ass, spreading your cheeks apart so he can stuff his tongue into your creaming cunt.

You shout, sitting straight up in surprise, your weight falling onto his face. He moans at that, rewarding you by pushing his tongue even deeper. It feels odd, different from his fingers and his cock. It’s soft and almost slimy, not long enough to quite reach any pleasurable place.

But just the fact that he’s got his tongue buried in your pussy is enough to have you clenching on it. He watches you through heavy lids, waiting to see what your next move is.

He’s enjoying your little show, he must admit. He likes seeing a sweet, clumsy virgin experience these things for the first time. He likes the fact he’s breaking you in, tearing your walls down and seeing you lost in mind-numbing pleasure.

You surprise him by resuming the motion of your hips. You hump back and forth, riding his tongue like it’s a little toy just for you. And he supposes it is, he’d be a toy for you if you so wished. He’s addicted to this sweet, creamy little pussy and he’s not afraid to admit it.

You reach down, swirling your fingers around your sticky clit. There’s lewd clicks that accompany the movements along with the sound of his tongue sliding in and out of your hole.

You meet his gaze, he’s staring so intensely at you. It spurs you on, makes you fuck yourself on his face more confidently.

You tap your fingers against your clit, slapping the little bud and pulling your fingers back to show Soap the sticky strings of slick that connect them to your cunt. He can’t stop himself from reaching down, wrapping his hand around his cock, jerking himself off to the sight of you smacking your clit and fucking his tongue.

You’re pulsing around it, dripping down his face and mixing with the drool that's pooling out of his mouth. His face is a mess, it drips down his cheeks and under his neck. He’s sure there’s a pool beneath his head that will need to be cleaned up and fuck, he’ll lick it from the floor if you let him. Just as long as he gets to taste you again.

You gasp, tossing your head back. His cock fucking aches, harder than it was before and more sensitive now that he’s already had an orgasm. He knows he’s leaking, drooling sticky precum all over himself like the horny mutt he is.

You cum spectacularly, twitching and trembling, rubbing your clit and clenching around his tongue. It’s like a reward, swallowing down your cum straight from the source. He pulls his tongue out of your hole and wraps his lips around your clit again.

You wail, shaking and throwing yourself face down against the couch again. You try to wrench your hips away from his punishing mouth but he wraps his arms around your thighs and continues to slurp and slobber all over that tender little bud. Your eyes roll back in your head as another orgasm tears through you, far too soon after the other. It almost hurts from how sensitive you are through it, not even able to make a sound as it washes over you.

Only when you’re left twitching and trembling does he finally relent. There’s tears falling out of your eyes and drool dribbling down your chin. The picture of fucked out.

He laughs, folding himself over your back.

“You still with me?” he asks, kissing your shoulder.

You whimper, “Fuck, you’re so good, Johnny.”

He chuckles, “Think you can take more?”

You eagerly nod your head and he doesn’t waste any time. He sinks his cock into you in one deep thrust. You choke on a moan, arching your back so you can feel him even deeper.

He doesn’t start slow like he did before. He knows your little cunt is fucked nice and open for him now. You’re still dazed, drunk on endorphins, any attempts to meet his thrusts are sloppy and clumsy. It’s cute so he doesn’t bother stopping you.

“Spread your legs,” he orders you but doesn’t wait for you to do it.

Instead, he meanly knocks them apart, opening you up even more. His balls slap against your clit and you wail, the exact reaction he was hoping for.

“There you go,” he laughs, “You liked slapping that little clit earlier. How’s this?”

“So good!” you cry, kicking your feet against the floor as pleasure washes through you.

You feel like a live wire, every movement forcing you closer and closer to your next orgasm. Soap isn’t far behind you, too sensitive and worked up to draw it out for long.

He clasps the back of your neck, pinning your face to the cushions as he fucks. He takes and takes, using your sticky, gooey cunt. He’s pounding into you, hips slamming against your ass and his balls slapping your clit.

You can’t even say anything as the orgasm washes over you. He only feels it, the rhythmic clenching of your walls and the gush as you squirt. You’re silent, completely still against the couch as he saws his fat cock in and out, squirt after squirt of cum splattering all over his thighs until he inevitably reaches his own end.

This time, he fills you up. Seats himself as deeply inside of you as he can before he moans. His cock pathetically spits only a few strings of cum but the orgasm lasts far longer, encouraged along by the clenching of your cunt as you’re coming down. Or maybe you’re still cumming, he’s not sure.

There’s a faraway look in your eyes, a wet spot of drool underneath your cheek on the cushion of the couch. You’re panting and glistening with sweat. When he pulls out of you, you drop to sit on the floor, the measly load he had given you drooling out of your cunt as it continues to clench and throb around nothing.

Fuck, he’s never felt so proud to fuck someone brainless before. He knows you’re gonna need a good bath and cozy arms to sleep in.

And his are the best around, if he does say so himself.

He kisses up your spine, curling himself around you as you finally start to come back to yourself, pliant and soft. The both of you sit there, holding one another and sharing soft kisses until he decides it’s time to move.

He’s in no rush, though. He’s wrapped around your finger now and you’re never getting rid of him.

do not modify, translate, repost, or use for c.ai. reblogs OK!

#soap x reader #soap smut #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish smut #john soap mactavish smut #john soap mactavish x reader #cod x reader #cod smut

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acidinduceddaydreams · 3 months

Text

First Real Love with Skz

Skz x reader who was in a toxic relationship before them

Synopsis: In which you experience love, the real kind, for the first time.

Warnings: major tw for trauma in terms of mental and physical violence done by a significant other. Please don’t read if this triggers you.

a/n : this fic was my baby for a long time. Now it’s yours, please look after it. I pray it brings some comfort to you!🫶🏼

Chan:

He feels honored that you choose him to be apart of your life.

Doesn’t pry too much when you bring up your past. If you want to tell him you will and he’s content with that.

He finds you so incredibly intoxicating. He can’t believe that someone would ever treat you badly. He would fight tooth and nail to make sure you’re always happy.

Literally so in love with your more childlike/ whimsical view of the world now that you two are together. Your personality definitely changed for the better once you met him and realized that being safe should be a prerequisite in a relationship.

Minho:

Doesn’t ask about your past relationship much. Mostly relies on you telling him about it when you feel comfortable enough.

Absolutely at your service!!! If you’re having particularly unpleasant or difficult feelings or are in your own head he’s at your beck and call. Whether that’s cooking for you, feeding you (which you won’t admit you like) or even leaving you alone for a bit.

The babies (his cats) are by your side 24/7 to ground you and get you out of your head because “ they wouldn’t want their mom to be sad.”

Changbin:

Cannot fathom the idea of someone hurting you in any way whatsoever without wanting to beat them up.

Unlike Minho, Changbin will not leave you alone if you’re having a particularly bad day. He thinks you’re so precious so he will never leave your side even in a particularly bad situation.

Binnie gives the best cuddles!!!! I am 100% convinced. Cuddling is a must! It’s like free therapy. (He, himself is free therapy but wbk) his hugs and cuddles make you forget about what’s going on in your head bc binnie’s cuddles make everything better.

Hyunjin:

He’s appalled that someone could treat another human with disrespect and violence let alone you!

He’s your number one fan in everything you do. Celebrates your small wins just as grandly as the big ones. Oh you ate breakfast today. Suddenly your name and “I’m so proud of you” is all he knows how to say.

Paints with you. Yk when you put the canvases parallel to each other and paint something for the other person. Yeah you guys do that all the time as a grounding technique but also just as a way to show love to one another.

Jisung:

He’s so good at reading body language!!!!!! He is absolutely crushed when things like holding your hand or stretching his hand out to touch your cheek make you flinch, not because he’s mad or angry at you but rather at the person who ever dared to treat you this way.

Wdym personal space? Hannie’s never heard of it. He’s so good at getting you out of you head. He knows what triggers you and sometimes know when something will trigger you before you do.

He’s so attentive bc why wouldn’t he be when he has you to look after. This boy loves you so much and he shows it every day.

Felix:

Bakes for you!!!!!! Sometimes you two bake together but he usually does it in advance to you telling him you need a little extra love today.

So in love with you. Tries to show you the beauty that you are because you haven’t felt beautiful till you met him. “Oh baby you look even more gorgeous than you did yesterday, I didn’t even know that was possible.”

You remind him of sunshine and he reminds you of the sun. Clearly neither of you can exist without the other.

Seungmin:

He is super playful and witty naturally but he tones down the more mocking side for your particularly hard days. He loves you in ways that you didn’t know you could be loved.

On regular days though you two share a similar sense of humor. He loves that about you. Never lets it go too far though.

Absolutely a sucker for you. The boys tease him for being soft for you but he doesn’t care. You’re his baby and he doesn’t care who sees that.

Jeongin:

This boy is so whipped for you. He always listens to you even if what you have to say is something he has no idea about. It feels so amazing to have someone listen to you. To truly listen. He makes it look easy even though listening and not interrupting is quite hard.

He’s not a big fan of skinship but your hands are always within his and he loves it. He’s genuinely so feral for it but you don’t need to know that.

He’ll make sure to show you how someone treats someone they love every day. He’s so attentive and that makes going to him whether it’s with a problem or just to talk so easy because you know there’s no judgment from him.

#bang chan x reader #skz imagines #skz x reader #seungmin x reader #skz ot8 #angst with a happy ending #lee know x reader #seo changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #jeongin x reader #han jisung x reader #felix x reader #bang chan x female reader #lee know x you #changbin comfort

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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 6 months

Text

When the Levee Breaks pt.1

pairing: Remus Lupin x reader

tags / warnings: friends to lovers fluff then smut, mutual pining, smoking weed (be responsible irl), high sex, explicit descriptions of oral (f receiving), fem!reader

NSFW notes: A LARGE PORTION OF THIS FIC IS NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS; DO NOT READ IT IF IT ISN'T APPROPRIATE FOR YOU! HOWEVER, because such a long portion (like 2/3) has no sexual material (except for the implication at the very beginning), i have clearly marked where it becomes NSFW in case any age-appropriate readers want to read only up to that point (i know some people just want fluff not smut even if they're of age, and that's so chill); i will say there is drug use before then, so still adult material, but fluffy around that; please please be responsible for your content consumption

random notes: set in the late 70's / early 80's, following canon of when the marauders would've met but the rest of the world building (e.g. au) left ambiguous title inspired by a song on one of the albums mentioned idk why this turned out similar to The Prettiest Star with Sirius Black, but i guess my fantasy is just to listen to music intensely with someone then fuck lovingly lol

word count: 6.4k

hope you enjoy! thank you if you read it! 🫶

You watch as his long fingers, practiced and adept, roll the spliff. You liked this part. You could stare at his hands under the guise of watching the rolling. Remus didn’t have to know how far from pot your mind wandered when you did. He didn’t have to know it made you wonder every time what else he could do with this fingers. Imagine how they would feel on you. In you.

At the thought, you squirm where you’re seated on his settee next to him. He chuckles in a low tone.

“Antsy?”

“No.”

He can tell you’re lying. You can tell he can tell. But you don’t care. As long as he can’t tell why you’re lying, it doesn’t matter, and you can keep wriggling.

“Whatever you say, jitterbug.”

Your wringing hands catch his attention, and his eyes fix on them even as his hands continue their work.

“Next time, you’re rolling it,” he says through a smile. “There’d be nothing left to smoke by the time you finished shaking it everywhere,” he laughs, too amused with himself, giggling as if he were already high.

“Remus?” you start, and he shakes his head and chuckles, loving how you get when he teases you.

“What?” he smiles, eyebrows shooting up at you, both a welcome and a challenge for you to say whatever you’re about to.

“Can you remind me who provided this wonderful gift on this wonderful afternoon?” You shake the baggy you brought to his flat not 15 minutes ago.

He laughs, now nodding, and concedes, “You’re right, sunshine. I should be so grateful.”

Remus brings the spliff to his mouth to lick the edge of the paper, and your retort gets caught in your throat as you fixate on his tongue.

A bit too late, a bit too quiet for your usual banter, you say, “You should be, Moons. I can still take it home and smoke by myself.”

“Oh now I’ve rolled it for you, yeah? Didn’t realize you were just here for my services. Should’ve known you were just pretending to love me till you got what you wanted.” He holds up his finished work — a beauty really — in front of you as he finishes his joke. You hum affirmatively, taking it from him and looking it over.

You inspect it exaggeratedly and with a theatrical sense of casual satisfaction tell him, “Hm, not bad. I was starting to regret the long con, but I think this was worth it.”

He’s giggling as he gets up, bumping his body against yours before he does, going toward his record collection. He walks over lazily, unhurriedly, his bare feet quiet on the floor, his hand coming up to mess with his hair. His loose, comfy clothes do a lot to hide the muscles you know are lean but strong underneath.

“Come help me choose,” he says over his shoulder as he falls to one knee to scan a lower shelf. Almost a whole wall of his small apartment is covered in shelves, boxes, stacks of records. It looks a mess, but it’s actually meticulously organized by release date.

You follow him, come up just behind him. You crouch, too, not all the way down like him. You lean on him, resting your head atop his, bringing your arms around his shoulders and neck.

He moans casually, seeming happy, and grabs your arms where they fall across his chest.

“Oh, Rem. You should know…”

“Hm?” he asks, looking up at you. You look down at him, seeing his warm smile upside down.

“This is the real reason I’ve pretended to be your friend all these years,” you fake seriousness as you nod toward the records. Remus rolls his eyes, but his smile stretches further across his lovely face. It pulls on a long scar that runs down his cheek.

“And may I ask how you knew when we were eleven that one day I would own such an epic collection?”

“Easy. You wore a Led Zeppelin t-shirt one of the first days we knew each other.”

He’s taken aback by your giving an actual answer.

“Did I really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, smiling down at him. The warmth of reminiscing about those childhood years softening you.

“I think I remember that shirt,” he smiles nostalgically. “How do you remember that?” He twists in your embrace, coming to sit on the floor and pulling you with him. You’re sitting close to each other, and he’s watching you, rapt.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I remember being so nervous and lonely at the beginning. Wanting to make friends. And you seemed nice, so I noticed you.” You shrug again, look down for a moment, not wanting to express embarrassment at a more honest recollection: you had a crush on him immediately, even back then, even before you were really sure what it was you were feeling — that came with the years that followed. “The day you wore that shirt, it was like something familiar I could latch onto. Someone who liked something I liked.” Remus is smiling adoringly at you. Listening as intently as he is, looking as giddy, he looks like a child at the greatest story time ever from his seat on the floor.

“I even tried to talk to you about it,” you confess, cringing teasingly at yourself.

“Yeah?” He sits up straighter like a puppy hearing someone at the door.

“Yeah,” you exhale.

“I don’t remember that happening.”

“That’s because it didn’t,” you laugh. “I said tried to talk to you. I got too nervous and ran to hide before I could get the words out.”

He’s shaking his head in disbelief, his smile still plastered on his face.

“I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed you yet.” Remus looks especially contemplative for a moment then hums, biting his lower lip. “It’s crazy. Trying to think of my life before you is like remembering a blank canvas.”

Your cheeks warm and so does your heart.

You’re smiling a beaming smile at him but say, “There wasn’t much to notice. I was pretty quiet. And besides, your attention probably couldn’t handle a single thing more given you were getting to know Sirius and James.” He laughs lightly at the good memories but shakes his head at you a little more pronouncedly.

“I’m sure there was a lot to notice. I was just an idiot. And quiet, too. By comparison to that lot anyway. They spoke enough for the three of us. I probably would’ve wimped out if I’d tried to talk to a pretty girl like you back then.” The edges of his entrancing brown eyes crinkled from his smile. “I mean… to be honest… I’d get nervous for a while, talking to you at first.”

“You didn’t,” you tease but secretly really want to hear more.

“I did, yeah. Of course I did,” he laughs at himself. “I had a big crush on you. James and Sirius wouldn’t let me live it down for ages.”

You’re shocked at this news. And maybe your face shows it. What it doesn’t show is how desperately your mind is racing, questioning: “Wait, could things have been otherwise? Did he actually like me as more than a friend at some point? Did I ruin it somehow?”

Remus tenses slightly, his smile no longer reaching his eyes, which are attentive at your reaction.

“That was a long time ago,” he jokes to fill the silence that is beginning to stretch too long, his tone awkward.

“What happened?” you whisper, unable to help it.

He takes a second to answer, like he doesn’t know what to say. He’s searching your face, and you’re not sure how much he can read there.

He shrugs. His face gives an “I don’t know” scowl. He’s trying to escape answering, but you don’t let him.

“Remus,” you laugh and shove him playfully.

“I don’t know,” he giggles. “I don’t know. Then I got to know you I guess. And we became friends.”

You give a scoffy laugh. You know he probably didn’t mean it that way, but your stomach sinks at the idea that getting to know you would remedy him of his crush. You’re staring at the floor when his voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Hey, you okay?” He’s trying to keep the playful atmosphere, but you hear true concern in his tone. “Did I say something I shouldn’t’ve?”

You want to say “yes,” but you wouldn’t be able to tell him which part. So, you don’t say anything.

“I didn’t think you’d mind, after all these years,” he says more softly.

“No, Rem. Of course I don’t mind.” You shake your head as if dismissing the idea, attempting a laugh that still comes out strained. “I was just surprised is all.”

He’s watching you, nodding subtlety, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

“Let’s choose something, yeah?” you nod next to you toward the wall, desperate to redirect attention.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” Remus turns toward the records, skimming across his stacks. A thought catches him, and he moves purposefully toward a different shelf.

“What are you thinking?” you notice, your interest piqued.

“1971,” he says as if it’s an answer. It is to you.

1971: the year you met.

He pulls out a well-worn record, and the strain on your smile finally dissipates to easy delight. You come stand next to him, and he hands it to you.

“Do you remember how much we listened to that then?” he asks.

“How could I forget,” you smile, your fingers tracing the cover of Led Zeppelin IV.

It came out November 1971, but neither of you could get it till at least a month later, during Christmas break from school. When you finally did, the two of you listened to it nonstop. You absolutely loved the album, but you knew you listened to it that much because it was an easy excuse to hang out with Remus. You’d been listening to music together, often just the two of you, ever since.

“Fuck, I remember we’d listen to it in my room,” Remus reminisces. “And even Sirius, the biggest Zeppelin fan of us all, couldn’t take it anymore,” he laughs. “He’d turn it off when he found us listening to it, scolding us for ‘abusing a sacred thing.’”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Oh, look at this,” Remus startles you, excited. He pulls another record off the same shelf.

“This is too perfect,” he giggles. “I didn’t remember this came out then,” he muses, looking it over. “Probably didn’t get my hands on it till much later, I guess. But it’s like it was made for us. For you.” He hands you Just As I Am by Bill Withers, but you still don’t get what he’s saying. He sees your confused look and chuckles. “Second track,” he hints. Your eyes land on “Ain’t No Sunshine.”

“Sunshine”: Remus’s nickname for you for years. You had Sirius to thank for it actually. He’d said you and Remus were like yin and yang. And since you all already called him “Moony,” you had to be “Sunny.” The other three of you cringed at the sound of that, so he tried “sunshine” instead, conceding it was close enough, and it stuck. Over the years, Sirius and James used it less and less, Remus more and more.

“It’s your song,” Remus urges, knocking his shoulder against yours. “There literally can’t be sunshine when you’re gone because you are sunshine.” He sounds too excited, and it’s adorable.

“You sound like Sirius saying he’s serious,” you tease. He just laughs and takes the record back.

“Whatever, grumpy. It’s an epic song, and you know it, and now it’s yours, and I don’t care if that’s cheesy.”

“I love it,” escapes you, teasing tone gone. His eyes snap to yours, and he looks at you warmly.

“Alright, sunshine,” he whispers. A beat. “Wanna listen to it?” he asks, voice almost normal again. You nod gladly then go back to the sofa as he sets it up.

Remus soon comes back and joins you. He grabs the spliff from between stacks of snacks you’d prepared for the afternoon then looks over at you.

“Ready, sunshine?”

“Mhhm.”

“You do the honours.” He hands it to you and grabs the lighter. Rather than handing that to you too, he lights it for you as it dangles from your parted lips.

You take a long drag, feeling it enter you and welcoming it. You cough lightly as you exhale slowly. You are no novice but are still always a cougher. Remus still always giggles when you do, but it’s never mocking. He has a glass of water ready for you, knowing you well, always looking after you. You trade him the water for the spliff, which he proceeds to hit with equal enthusiasm and less wheezing.

You pass it back and forth for a little while. It’s strong stuff and just three hits in, you feel it engulfing you. The settee feels softer; the music sounds better.

“Ain’t No Sunshine” is playing, and in your dazed state, you’re sure this is going to be the peak of the album even if it doesn’t coincide with the peak of your high. You close your eyes, and you can feel the music on your skin.

Remus chuckles next to you, and your face turns to him.

“You look so stoned right now,” he explains, giddy.

“That’s because I am,” you laugh. Once you start laughing it’s hard to stop; once Remus joins, it’s almost impossible.

You chat easily, observations and jokes from both of you greatly benefitting from the induced assistance. Remus has a revelation about your listening to HI-fi while high. Your mind is blown multiple times at how deep the lyrics are.

“They’re all talkin’ at him, but he doesn’t hear a word they’re sayin’, Moons! Not a word! I should do that,” you tell him as if it’s the most urgent thing in the world. He cracks up. “He’s so right, you know? Gotta keep the sun shining through the pouring rain, you know?”

“Uh-huh, I know, sunshine, I know,” he just laughs at you.

“You have such a nice smile, Moony,” you observe, dazed just as much from the feelings perambulating through your system than the pot doing the same.

“Yeah?” he asks, exaggerating it till he’s all teeth and squinty eyes.

“Yeah,” you laugh. “It looked funny upside down over there,” you remember. “Watch!”

You flip over on the sofa till your feet are up where your neck should rest and your head is dangling off the edge where your knees would normally be. You smile up at him. Remus doubles over laughing with you, bringing his face much closer to yours as he leans into it.

“You’re right. Looks funny,” he tells you much more softly than you expected after his cackling. He watches you intently then brings a hand to your upside down face. He traces your features lightly, and it’s warm and tingly. His long finger travels down your nose, across your eyebrows.

“C’mere,” you whisper to him.

“Where?” he whispers back, his voice a gruff chuckle again.

“Down here!” you whisper-yell.

You pull his shoulder down and start kicking his legs up as he contorts until you get him in the same position as you. You end up side by side, upside-down on the sofa.

Each of you giggles at the other as you steal side glances. Your faces, pulled the wrong way by gravity, softened more than normal by the smoking, look even goofier through your incessant giggles and pointless efforts at holding those back.

You listen, and laugh, to at least a whole song like this. You kick each other’s feet throughout. As one of your kicks brings you closer to Remus, he rolls over to tickle you. You laugh so loud you can’t even hear the record over it.

“Stop, Rem! Stop!” you plead. “I’m already too dizzy.”

He keeps it up a moment but soon takes pity on you and helps move your body the right way around, his strong hands manipulating you easily.

“Alright, dizzy. Enough upside-down,” he says as he fixes your now crazy hair.

You just nod and shift closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he shuffles to a comfortable height for you, laying his own head on yours.

A primary reason you enjoy getting high with Remus: you both get snuggly. You’re touchy normally, even more than most best friends you’ve seen, but not overly so. When you’re high, it’s overly so. But it somehow doesn’t feel weird. In fact, it feels wonderful.

So, it feels wonderful, not weird, when you absentmindedly reach over for his hand. He gives it to you easily, and you begin caressing it.

“Your skin is so soft, Rem.” You pull his hand closer to you, bringing it close to your face, looking it at like you’ve never seen a hand before. Remus takes the opportunity and quickly grabs at your nose playfully. You giggle at this as he responds to your initial comment.

“In between all the scars maybe.” He sounds matter of fact. There’s a lot less pain in his voice now when he talks about them than when he did in your younger years. You look forward to the day when you hear no pain there at all.

“No, the scars too,” you correct him gently, and you bring your thumb to a scar that runs from the top of his hand up to his forearm. You trace it with reverence, and he shivers at your touch. You know for a fact you’re the only person in the world he allows to touch them. You’re so grateful for his trust, and in this moment, your emotions heightened, your inhibitions lowered, the vibrations of the music moving through you, you feel the need to tell him so.

“Thank you for letting me touch you, Moony.”

Remus has been watching where your hands are connected until now, but at your words, he looks into your eyes. He just looks at you for a long moment. You can’t tell how long, time elongated and indeterminable in your current state, but you’re completely comfortable to sit in it through its entirety, looking straight back at him.

Eventually, the softest grin blossoms on his face. You mirror it.

“Thank you for not being afraid to,” he whispers. You genuinely don’t understand.

“Why would I be?”

“You know what I mean,” he tries to explain. He looks down in shyness but back at you before continuing, “Maybe ‘afraid’ isn’t the right word. Maybe it’s ‘disgusted’ or something…”

His voice is fading to a low whisper by the end, like the louder the words are the truer they’ll be.

Without hesitating, you tell him the truth: “Remus, you’re the least disgusting person in the world. You’re beautiful.” He grimaces like he can’t believe you, so you go on. “You are.”

You turn your body even more toward him, bringing your connected hands to your almost shared lap and bringing your other hand to caress his cheek.

“Silly Moony. You’re so sickeningly beautiful,” you chuckle. Your hand runs up through his hair. “This hair is ridiculous,” you inform him, tousling it. He leans into your touch like a content puppy. “These eyes.” You trace circles around each of them, first skimming his eyebrows then looping around. “They’re the easiest thing in the world to melt into, no pot needed.” You feel them crinkle as they smile into your compliments. “This nose.” You trace it slowly. “These lips,” you say more softly. You feel his gasp when you touch them then feel nothing, his breath held as you trace them. “And your scars,” you say with some finality. You trace a prominent one across his face. He closes his eyes while you do, opens them again when you reach its end. “You beauty isn’t one to be ruined by scars, Remus Lupin. Your beauty is the kind that incorporates the scar and makes that beautiful too.”

Remus squeezes your interlaced hands. Your faces are so close to each other that you could see his eyes moisten as you tell him all this. He closes them before full tears form and moves his face that tiny bit closer till his forehead rests on yours. You nuzzle his nose, and he nuzzles yours back.

“It’s so quiet,” you whisper, breaking the silence — noticing the silence. You didn’t notice when the album ended. Remus just hums in response.

The silence is loaded but peaceful. You don’t want to pressure him into having to say something back after you let yourself get so intense with him. It wasn’t about what he said back; it was about his understanding how you saw him, how you hoped he would see himself.

So, with his eyes still closed, you give the scar that runs across his nose a light kiss, do the same to another larger one across his jaw. Then you bring your head back to his shoulder, snuggling into him to mark the end of the moment, no further pressure necessary.

Remus shifts his body closer, as close to you as possible. He brings his arm around your shoulders without letting go of your hand. He’s holding you close, and your arm crosses your chest to keep your hands intertwined. He kisses the top of your head — new, sweet — then rests his own there again — familiar, warm. Your thumb absentmindedly strokes the back of his hand.

You sit together in the quiet a long while. You close your eyes, breathe Remus in, let his body, his presence envelop you then just bask in it. Everything feels pleasantly heavy — the air, his body where it touches yours.

You settle into him, and without your noticing you’re doing it, your hand on his stills.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers.

“Hm?” you need to ask, unsure what he means. You look up, and he looks down, and your faces are a breadth away from each other.

“I liked how you were touching me,” he whispers. “I always like how you touch me,” he adds like a secret.

He brings his hand that’s not holding yours up to your face. First, the backs of his fingers brush lightly over your cheekbone then he rests his hand there. His fingers hold your jaw; his thumb caresses your cheek. Like you tend to do, you lean into his touch.

His gentle, soothing touch flutters your eyes closed. Your inability to see his face makes it less scary to respond, “I always like how you touch me too.”

“Yeah?” he sighs, his hand holding you a bit more tightly, his thumb coming down to graze your bottom lip. You nod slowly, his hand moving with your head.

“Do you ever think about other ways we could touch each other?” he whispers. Your eyes fly open at this and land on his: lidded, dilated, gazing into your own.

“Do you?”

“I asked you first,” he giggles. “And I’ve already told you a secret today. It’s your turn.”

“What secret?” Your voices are still soft, whispering even though there’s no need for quiet other than your intimacy demanding it.

“About my crush.”

“I had a crush on you too,” you tell him. “So now we’re even.”

“That’s not fair, sunshine,” he smiles. You smile back.

Then, after a moment, like he can’t help it, “You did?”

“Of course I did.”

“What happened?” he echoes.

“Nothing,” you confess.

His eyebrows furrow, unsure how to interpret this. His eyes hold hope and trepidation at once.

“I got to know you… And we became friends…” you continue. His expression falls, and you’re pretty sure you recognize this look as disappointment. But you go on, “And it made me love you all the more.”

You’re ready to read his expression closely this time, but you don’t get the chance before he’s kissing you, before you’re kissing back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ NSFW beyond this point ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s slow. Deliberate. His lips push on yours; his arms bring you closer. His tongue teases your lips, and though they part in response, his tongue traces them rather than push in. You whimper at the feeling of it, and he moans at your reaction. He breathes you in, covers your whole mouth with his, devouring the sound, devouring you.

Now his tongue enters your mouth, exploring, playing with yours. You’re not sure whether his movements are slow or whether they just feel slow because you’re still high. You are sure you have no desire to speed any of it up.

You bring your hands to either side of his face, holding him gently but pulling him to you. He follows easily, and when your chests are almost flush, you trace your hands down to his shirt and pull him on top of you as you lean back, lying down on the sofa.

You keep kissing a deliciously long while then Remus goes beyond your lips, kissing along your jaw leisurely. He mouths at your skin, licking, nipping his way unhurriedly down to your neck. Here he languidly runs his tongue along the length of your neck, kissing your pulse point, nipping behind your ear.

Everywhere he touches is buzzing, and you shiver at the sensation. When his breath blows cold air on your now wet skin, you shiver even harder, your body shuddering against his above you. He chuckles into the crook of your neck and continues.

After another while of his working his way down, he has to pull the neck of your shirt down to reach further. You bare your neck to him, loving his exploratory path.

When his mouth leaves your skin for the first time in several minutes, your impulse is to immediately pull him back to you.

“Let’s take this off,” he whispers sedately, gruffly, tugging at your top.

You pull it off and don’t waste time unclasping and sliding your bra off as well. Remus looks at you, dopey and delighted, but without further ado, pushes your chest so that you lie back again. His hand stays on you and begins lazily kneading your breast as he brings his mouth back to you.

He kisses the base of your neck and continues his previous ministrations across your collarbones. He seems to be on a mission to trace the entire surface area of your skin with his wandering mouth, and you have every intention of letting him and enjoying every long second of it.

As he makes his languorous way down your sternum, you arch your back, pushing up into him, and bring your hands to his messy hair, holding him close. You scratch and tug, needing somewhere to release some energy, every part of you he’s touched left humming warm and electric. He groans into your chest, and you’re certain you feel the vibrations move through your skin, across your chest cavity, and into your heart, where they ricochet within it, making it beat faster.

“Remus,” you whine adoringly. He hums into your skin again in response and speeds up his southward trajectory just the slightest bit.

His face comes between your breasts, and he runs his teeth down the valley, then licks his tongue up the same path. You shake a little, and his hand squeezes your breast tighter. The other one he mouths across until his tongue traces a slow, wet circle around your nipple. This shoots a hot, jolting current straight from where his mouth is connected to you down to between your legs.

He’s gentle for a while, moving back and forth between your tits, often agonizingly slowly, his hands kneading at your chest all the while. Without your expecting it, though, he bites one of your hard, sensitive nipples and tugs lightly. You squeal and push your chest into his mouth. He keeps going, switching as he fancies between rough and tender.

At a bite of the side of your breast, you rut up into him, and the movement has you feeling how wet you are. You’ve never been this wet before before direct stimulation.

Remus holds your hips down to the sofa but moves from your chest to your stomach. His roaming mouth proceeds at its perfect, maddening pace. It meanders to your ribs, down your sides, not following a straight path down.

Once he eventually reaches the threshold of your pants, he looks up at you.

Remus looks higher than you’ve ever seen him before. He looks elated, in awe.

“I want to spend hours and hours on your body like this,” he tells you, nuzzling his face into your lower stomach, kissing it as he detaches from you.

“Remus,” you whimper, running your hand into his hair and inadvertently thrusting your hips up. He chuckles, still sounding high, but his voice is as low as you’ve ever heard it.

He takes your trousers and underwear off in one efficient but slow tug. He pulls his shirt off much faster, and you touch all his skin you can reach before he’s repositioning himself.

Your thighs feel cold now uncovered, but it’s nothing compared to the sensation of fresh air on your soaking cunt. As you adjust your body, you feel a thick wetness drip from your entrance down to where your arse meets the sofa. You feel the coldness of that wetness even more as Remus pushes your legs further apart to position himself between them.

You’re completely sure you’re wetter than you’ve ever been before, but you’re not sure if you could possibly be as wet as you feel, thinking the high could be heightening your sensation of it. You’re worried it’s too much, worried you’ll put Remus off.

“I can clean up a little if —“ you start, but you’re cut off by Remus diving in, running his flat tongue slowly, firmly up from the base of your puddle up to your pubic bone. A strangled, prolonged gasp functions as the end of your sentence.

When Remus licks you again, your thighs shake on either side of his head. You feel him laugh into your cunt, and this time you imagine the vibrations shooting all the way up your body, following the chaotic roadmap his mouth left lingering across it.

Remus pulls back from you and rests his chin on your pubic bone, looking up at you.

He informs you simply, “You taste delicious, darling.” He looks drunk on it.

“Everything tastes better when you’re high,” you tease.

“Then I’m really going to enjoy this,” he smiles. “But I’m pretty sure you’ll get me high just by letting me do this other times.”

“Other times?”

“Well, yeah…” he giggles. His eyes bore into yours even though he’s the length of your torso away. “I though this was a first, not an only…”

“Good.” You sound giddy. “Just checking.”

“Silly,” he shakes his head at you. You thrust your hips up and laugh at the expression he makes when you bump his face, like he’s dazed. He squeezes your thigh harshly where he’s holding you.

“Behave, sunshine. It’s feeling dangerous down here.”

“I thought you were enjoying it.”

“I am.” A bite at your hip. “And I’m seriously getting the munchies, so just…” You don’t understand the end of his sentence, the words muffled against your skin as he starts eating you out.

It’s heavenly. High as you are, in love as you are, you think you’re on cloud nine. This gets you wondering where such an odd expression even comes from. It seems so random.

“Moony?”

“Hmm?” is grunted into your cunt.

“Why do you think it’s called being on cloud nine?”

He pulls back. The whole lower half of his face shines in your slick.

“Why are you thinking about that right now? Am I that bad at this?”

“Bad? It’s amazing.” You ruffle his hair in your groping hands. “Which is why I’m on cloud nine, which is why I’m thinking about that right now. Your hair is as soft as clouds, Moons.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Am not,” you giggle.

“Are,” he teases.

“Can you keep going now? It felt so good. Your mouth is ridiculous.” You thrust your hips up at him again.

“Ridiculous and bossy,” he complains, but he’s smiling hard, and before you can even think of a retort, he does as you bid.

His mouth takes its time between your legs. He spends eternities teasing you: mouthing at the tops of your thighs, licking up your bikini line, nipping at your clit without giving it the attention he knows you want from how loud you whine every time he gives it the slightest graze. He loves all over your vulva, not leaving any part untouched, unworshipped. His tongue fucks into your entrance languidly; it swirls there. He licks your labia, sucks on it, gives the same attention to your clit when you moan loud enough. He travels back and forth, seemingly enjoying all of it too much to stick to any one attention too long. The next time he lands on your clit, he prolongs it.

Your legs shake; your back arches; your whines grow loud before turning strangled, and Remus takes his cue to reserve the relaxed approach for later. He picks up his pace, gripping your thighs tightly and shakes his whole face into you, alternating between licking and sucking rhythmically at your clit. You cum hard, and it feels like it goes on for minutes.

With your eyes closed, you truly feel like you’re floating, your only anchor to the world Remus Lupin where you feel his body attached to yours.

You’re laughing in pleasure, and the laughs turn to pants as you slowly, slowly come down. You love coming down to an already high baseline, and you giggle at the sensation of relaxing into a still heightened state.

It suddenly strikes you it feels like it’s been years since you talked to Remus, heard his mellifluous voice, and you startle your eyes open searching for him.

You see him immediately. He’s gazing at you with equal parts ardor and adoration, but when he sees your expression, his shifts to concern.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, my love?” He rushes to hover just above you. His face is close to yours again, though it’s scanning all over your body. His hand holds your face gently, his other arm holding him up. “Did something feel bad? Does something hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine, Moons, I’m fine,” you rush to reassure. “I just missed you,” you explain.

“Missed me?” His eyes shoot to yours. “I’m right here, love; what do you mean you missed me?” He can’t help a subtle giggle, and his adoring expression takes back its rightful place on his beautiful face.

“I just thought I hadn’t seen you in too long.” Your hands caress his face, thread through his hair. “Or heard your voice…”

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning into your touch. “I’m right here. What do you want me to say?”

“Anything,” you smile.

“I love you.”

You’ve heard them before, but never like this, and they’re the best words in the world, in the universe.

“Remus,” you sigh, leaning up to kiss him. He tastes intensely of you, and you laugh into the kiss. “I’m sorry I got you so… so slicky.”

“I don’t mind,” he chuckles. “Means it was good, right?”

“Beyond. ‘Good’ is like… like one colour out of a whole rainbow for how that just felt.”

He’s beaming down at you and kisses you again, lingering there.

When he finally separates from you, his caressing thumb comes to wipe some slick at the corner of your lip. You grab his hand and kiss each of his fingers lightly. Then you lick down his long index finger, your tongue finding and following a scar up his hand to his wrist.

You look into his eyes, and he’s staring at you, transfixed.

“I was thinking about your fingers when you were rolling the spliff.”

“Yeah?” His voice is a desperate sigh.

“Yeah.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“How beautiful your hands are. How they’d feel touching me… How your fingers would feel inside me…”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You wanna find out?”

“Yes,” you moan.

“Get them nice and wet for me, and I’ll show you.” They’re already lingering at your lips, but he slowly pushes them in. You welcome them enthusiastically and lazily suck on them, swirl your tongue around them.

“Fuck.” His voice is low. “Fuck, I want to feel everything there is to feel with you.”

“Mmm,” you nod, your mouth still full.

Remus takes his fingers out, kisses you, and lets his mouth stay on yours as his fingers trace down your chin, your chest, your stomach steadily, leaving a wet path. When they reach between your legs, you squirm in anticipation.

He rubs a couple of tight, slow circles on your clit. You’re so sensitive, and it feels amazing. You mewl into his mouth where it still hovers just above yours.

“Ready, my sunshine?”

“Mmhhmm.”

Remus pushes two fingers into you ever so slowly. You release a low, slow whine the whole time he takes to press in. He gives you gentle kisses, eating it up. When his fingers are in to the hilt, you wonder how you didn’t feel devastatingly empty every moment of your life before this one. When he adds a third, you’re sure you will every moment after.

You clench purposefully around him, and he moans into your mouth. Closing your eyes again, it’s the easiest thing to let yourself be consumed by the sensations, by Remus.

When he curls his fingers inside you, you clench again, this time automatically. You grip his hair and clutch his back, your arms pulling his body close to yours.

The spot he starts massaging feels like it’s a blazing fire, but everywhere else you’re connected, your chests, your mouths, is scattered scalding embers.

You’re savouring every second, every sensation, already feeling another high building but relishing in the time it’ll take to get there.

You run your hands down Remus’s back, feeling the bumps of his scars, the grooves of his defined muscles. For the first time all afternoon, you feel a desire to hurry…

You start moving your hips to meet his rhythm, eager, even more than for your own climax, for your turn to take your time on him.

pt. 2!

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macsimagines · 1 year

Note

Hello again dearest! I hope you’ve been doing well and that life has been treating you kindly ♡

With my second and third Uni midterms looming over me, I would like to request Yan! Izana, Ran, & Shin with a foreign darling~ One who is an international university student in Japan on a student visa

And if it’s not too long, I’d like a follow up of their darling taking them to visit their home country for the holidays since the Yan’s can’t bear to be apart from their darling especially when they would be overseas alone without them ♡♡

I've actually had foreign japanese students at my old school and uni though we weren't' close wish i couldve interacted more and maybe learned something from them hah

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, BABY TRAPPING, SCUM BAG BEHAVIOR

Yandere! Izana Kurokawa

He was attracted to you right away, not even romantically or physically, just having been of mixed decent and then seeing someone who might relate to his own experiences interested him.

Became very romantically interested after a few interactions however, you had such a fresh perspective as a foreigner and some of the things he's had to live through seemed to resonate with you.

"Your step-mom was straightup evil. No kid should have to go through that, and I hope your kingdom is as beautiful as you make it out to be."

Hooked for life right away. And also distraught at the thought of you leaving, would constantly try to convince you to get a citizenship and just live here forever with him.

"Why even go back if I'm here?" Is one thousand percent serious, you've become such a huge part of his entire being so it must be the same for you right?

When you convince him to come with you on holiday home to meet your family though, something changes. You don't have to stay in Japan, you just have to stay with him.

As long as you're together than everything will work out. It wasn't like you could so much as leave his place without him being glued to your hip, good luck getting out of the country without him tagging along.

Yandere! Ran Haitani

He is sooo enamored by you. Fetishizing people because of their race is so goddamn gross but the fact that you're foreign definitely is what attracts him to you to begin with.

Ran is so toxic with it to. Calls you exotic like its some kind of compliment, tells you you're accent is soooo cute when you're doing your best to sound natural, makes fun of you for every mispronunciation.

But you don't know anyone in Japan and he's 6'1 so you put up with it. He's just so tall and pretty and he knows all the best spots in roppongi so of course you choose to suck it up.

Afterall, its not like it's forever. He's just your heavy and hot fling that you can go home and brag to your friends about, right? Wrong. He's sprung bitch and you're stuck with him.

"Hey, when are we going to your neck of the woods for this holiday?" "...We?" "Ya, I gotta pack and get my ticket soon, right?"

Hope you're ready to disappoint your folks now that you're bringing home this freak show. Don't forget his dream is to become a foreign celebrity so he wants to experience it all when he visits with you.

"Man, this trip is so much fun. I can't wait for next year."

Yandere!Shinichiro Sano

Worships you. He can't spit game for shit, but thankfully you don't understand him too well to begin with. It's a match made in heaven!

He doesn't make fun of you when you get your words wrong or fumble a sentence, but he does think its so cute. Shinichiro doesn't try to infantilize you but it does come off like that.

God the fact that you want him and you stick with him even though he's such a dork makes him love you so much, he doesn't even think he deserves you.

Hates it when you go home the first time. He can't even talk to you on the phone because of service issues, and trust me this dude was ready to take out loans for collect call just to hear your voice.

Bombards you with all kinds of questions like "Who did you see? Who were you with? Are you going back!?"

So my big headcanon is that he's a baby trapper. So when you talk about going next season he's already trying to figure out how knock you up.

Ends up fucking you with busted condoms (he poked holes) a few weeks before your trip because he needed to give you a VERY good reason to come back.

Just tells you "It's cause I'm going to miss you so much baby, I gotta get as much of you as I can. :)"

You end up surprising him with a ticket for him to come with you. He honestly could cry tears of joy, but he'll save it for when you discover his own little surprise.

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere izana kurokawa #yandere shinichiro sano #yandere ran haitani

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spamgyu · 5 months

Text

i miss you, i'm sorry // Soonyoung Oneshot

DESCRIPTION: Soonyoung let his pride get in the way and now he's forced to come to terms of his mistakes... two years too late. PARING: Soonyoung x Reader GENRE: Angst WARNINGS: Mentions of alcohol, not a warning but mention of NCT Taeyong

Highly recommend listening to the following while you read: i know it won't work - gracie abrams i miss you, i'm sorry - gracie abrams

It took him some time to swallow his pride; to own up to his mistakes.

Betraying you.

You two may have not been romantically together for very long; barely hitting the one year mark before the world you knew had been torn apart by the one man you have least expected to do so.

Before becoming officially his, you were a friend – someone who had been around him for nearly every waking moment of his idol life.

Their group's back-up dancer.

And maybe that's why it hurt even more; because maybe you have expected heartache from dating an idol... but you didn't expect a friend to hurt you the way Soonyoung did.

He wished he could forget that day – that whole week, in fact. But no matter where he turned, whatever he did, he was haunted by his actions.

Each time he listened to a love song, each time he saw a happy couple, every time he heard of any of his freinds brag about the connection they shared with their other half – he thought back to you.

And it wasn't long before he thought of the day he ruined it all.

You two had been caught, and not by the reporters that both of you have successfully dodged for months – but by his fans. It seemed fool proof at first, hiding in plain sight.

Who would have suspected a blurred face individual in the background of all their behind the scenes videos?

The answer was everyone.

There had been speculations at first, ones that were quite easy to dismiss – but that day in April, it had come crashing down.

Proof of your long term relationship had been uploaded on all platforms; clips of his lingering stares on stage, subtle glances caught on their behind the scene videos, similar instagram photos and profile pictures, more importantly images of you simply acting as a regular couple leaking from his iCloud.

There was no denying it this time.

Or so you thought.

Soonyoung had always told you that when this happened, he would own up to it. He was now at a place in his career where he was able to protect you from any harsh words of the public – a place where he was more than happy to brag about his relationship status.

But he fell short.

He lied.

He didn't know what came over him at that time, choosing the easy way out – or at least, what he thought was easy at the time.

Your heart sank to the deepest pit of your stomach when you had read the message he had posted on their fan service platform that day, shattering once it reached the bottom.

"Please don't believe any rumors that are being spread. If I was in a relationship, you would hear about it from me first. She is just our back-up dancer. I love you guys~ 🩷🩵"

Just our back-up dancer.

He remembered the tears streaming down your face that day, the only words uttering from your lips was "why?".

Why did he choose to dismiss you as just a staff?

Why didn't he fight for you?

Why didn't he fight for the relationship?

Why did he lie to you?

Why?

Soonyoung didn't have any explanation as to why, he couldn't answer you – simply remaining still as he watched you fall apart in front of him.

He didn't know why he didn't shed a tear that day, allowing for you to walk away without bothering to go after you when you had finally found your composure – silently saying your final goodbye.

His pride had gotten the best of him.

And he continued to allow it to do so for the following months; brushing off his member's attempt to address the situation. He didn't dare blink an eye when you didn't show up to the practices, waving off their choreographer when he had notified him that you were no longer a part of the team.

"I don't care." He scoffed, walking away.

He should have.

Staring at the article pulled up on his phone, sent so kindly by Seungcheol, Soonyoung felt that same sinking feeling he had put you through two years ago – his knees buckling under him.

He could have sworn he was over it, over you.

He came to terms of his mistakes, but he didn't think he would have to face it once again.

SEUNGCHEOL: I know you said it doesn't matter but I think it's best you heard from one of us first [NCT Taeyong confirms relationship with non-idol through social media post.]

The image didn't show your face; the boy, who Soonyoung had shared mutual friends with, had taken a picture in the mirror with a mystery girl hidden behind him. The only indicator of this being you was the arms wrapped around his waist – the arms that was loitered with sticker like tattoos.

The ones Soonyoung used to playfully color in with markers and lazily trace as the two of you laid in his bed.

He remembered all the times you happily showed off a new addition to the collection, each and every single one having a memory attached to it.

Especially the blue ink heart that was etched on to your left thumb – the one that he caressed each time your fingers would lock.

He knew this tattoo had no link to him, but somehow he felt as through he had been kicked down at the sight of his thumb sitting a few centimeters from it.

The heart that was once his.

Shakily taking a seat on the edge of his bed, Soonyoung allowed for his phone to slip from his hands – hitting the floor with a loud smack.

He didn't care if the screen cracked, or if there was any damages to the edges of his unprotected device. All he was focused on was the sudden pain that radiated throughout his body.

You had moved on, you were happy – while he was barely beginning to grieve the end of you.

He had run away from his emotions for the past two years, thinking that it would never come – but once again, he was oh so wrong.

Soonyoung felt as though his lung had been punctured, unable to get enough air into his system as his chest began to heave – the tears had now broken the flood gates.

Gripping the edge comforter, Soonyoung tried bite back the sobs that were now threatening to escape his lips – where was this pain when you had asked, no begged, for him to fight for the love you two shared.

"Soonyoung, please." Your voice shook, but he remained unfazed. "I need to know why."

Even now, he couldn't answer that question.

Soonyoung didn't know why he chose to respond to the scandal the way he did. He didn't know why he let you walk away. He didn't know why he chose to ignore your attempts to reach out for closure.

All he knew was that he was in pain, a great amount of it.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

He was never good at handling any alcoholic drink, but that didn't stop Soonyoung from ending the past three days with at least one bottle of soju before bed.

It was easier to sleep that way.

In the stillness of the night, he sat alone at the dining table – throwing back another shot of the clear liquid, while his thoughts consumed his brain.

Soonyoung had been out of his game since reading that article, their group's comeback couldn't over power all the images of you that flashed through his mind – no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, his brain found it's way to wander back to you.

As his body began to feel the effects of the fourth shot, Soonyoung began to think of the unthinkable.

It wasn't like you would pick up anyways? You probably had his number blocked. Maybe even changed it.

Anyone would have.

But he needed to hear it – he needed to hear your recorded voice, the one that let a caller know that you have missed their call.

It was the closest thing he could have to hearing your voice.

"Hello?"

"Y/n." He choked out, your voice instantly sobering him up – almost as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on him.

"Hoshi?"

This time, it felt as though someone had driven yet another knife into his chest – this time right into his heart.

Hoshi.

It wasn't Soonyoung or Soonie.

It was Hoshi.

"I-I–" He tried to fight the sharp ache that pulsed under his ribcage as he searched his brain for the right words to say. "I'm sorry."

Silence.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry." Soonyoung repeated, his voice showing clear evidence of the hurt he had been feeling in the past few days.

"No."

"Wha–"

"No," He couldn't see you but he could practically picture you shaking your head at him, your expression mirroring the firm tone he heard on the other line. "You don't get to call me to apologize after two years of radio silence. You don't get to have the closure that I begged for. No."

There was that knife again; only this time, he didn't care for the discomfort because he knew you were right.

Soonyoung was instantly transported back to the months that followed that god-foresaken day – to the times he watched your notifications come in, only for him to delete it without a reply.

[8:23 pm - April 15] I'm sorry for walking out. Please, I want to talk about it [9:10 pm - April 15] I just want to know why.

[12:03 am - April 18] Y/N: I miss you. I miss us.

[11:28 pm - April 29] You told me you would always be by my side, that you wouldn't let them get to us. Why was it so easy for you to let us go? Did you not mean anything you told me?

[2:09 am - May 7] You were the one that pursued me, you made me fall for you. I was fine being friends. I shouldn't have let you in. I should have kept my distance. One day, I'll learn to realize you were a mistake but for now I want you to know that I love you. It hurts so much but I love you.

You were absolutely right, he didn't deserve to be forgiven.

He didn't deserve to be heard out, not when he covered his ears all while you called out for him.

"Those I love you's, those sweet words, they were all empty. You didn't feel the same way. You were my whole world and I was nothing but a grain of sand to you." He had never heard your voice so cold; the one that used to sound like a soft melodic song in his ears. "You made me fall for you only for you to not be there to catch me. I don't want to hear a single thing you have to say."

"I–"

"Baby!" His voice was heard in the background.

"I'm hanging up. Don't ever call this number again."

The sound of the line ending echoed in his ears as the sob, that was held in his throat, came out as a small hiccup.

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@thegirlwhoimagined @forcheol @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @f4iryjjosh @akeminy @yonabutnotyuna @tacosandbitch @aaniag @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter @xbaekcult @alwaysalmostthere @ashkuuuu @morkswatermelonnnn @isabellah29 @lottogyu @bubbly-moon @lllucere @bo-fairykim @pluviophile-xxx @daegutowns @niktwazny303 @fragmentof-indifference @leah-rose03 @haolistic @eclliipsed @joshuahongnumbers @gyuguys @yaaaridk @christinewithluv @yoonzinoooo @livelikejinki @watercolureyes @whoa-jo @primoisellerose @wonwoobestboyy @rakshithanotrao @mingcouper @aksweet7 @nikkell @raginghellfire @kriizztin @doubleshoticedshakenespresso @porridgesblog @bbysnw @squashcolouredskies

(for some reason it's not allowing me to tag some who wanted to be added to the perm tag list ... cries... pls check ur settings so i can for future posts)

#...... hoshi girls.... dont kill me #this one ..... is something #hoshi x reader #hoshi x yn #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung fic #hoshi angst #soonyoung angst #svt angst #svt fic #hoshi fic

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desi2go · 29 days

Text

Goodbye, Jeongin

pairings: Jeongin x reader

warnings: angst, cheating

Everyone knew that Jeongin wasn't fond of skinship, well, usually. From time to time, he liked to cuddle but that was rare. You knew he loved you eitherway. He is someone who shows his love through acts of service.

He always brought you coffee when you were busy with studying, putting the empty dishes away so that you wouldn't need to do that anymore even when he was exhausted from practice. He would massage your fingers after you have finished writing an essay or bring you flowers every once and then, filling your apartment with the fresh, sweet smell.

On busy nights where his mind doesn't seem to stop working, keeping him awake, he seeks your warm and soft body. Feeling you against him was comforting and relaxed him. It reminded you that you were always there for him, someone he could turn to no matter what even in the worst moments of his life.

At first you didn't notice anything. He wasn't fond of skinship after all which you accepted even if you loved to cuddle with him. But the occasions where he would let you pamper him, hugging him tightly, became even rarer if that was possible. You didn't thought much about it at first, whenever the stress was too much, he liked to have a moment for himself and you respected that.

Heck, you didn't even notice the change, it sneakily decreased. And he liked his space when he is stressed with a comeback. However, his weird behaviour didn't end after the comeback, no, it became progressively worse.

Sometimes, you wondered if he could be in the same room as you. Whenever you sat down on the couch, not even touching him since he was uncomfortable with that, he jumped up almost immeadiately, pretending to get something from another room. You often stared shocked at the place he sat just seconds ago.

But it hurt you to know that the person you loved so dearly avoided you and you just couldn't figure out why.

It was yet another night you spend alone at your shared apartment instead of being with Jeongin who had a day off. When he texted you that he would spend it with the boys, you firstly felt enraged. This was the first day in months that he would have time to be with you and he choose to spend it with the persons he saw every day 24/7. Then, you felt hurt. It hurt so damn much that he avoided you.

You tried to distract yourself with watching some movies while eating ice cream, when your front door opened and a tired Jeongin stepped into the hallway that was connected with your living room. Exhausted, you looked over your shoulder to see him undressing his jacket and dropping down on the other end of the couch so that you couldn't touch him. It just fueled your anger more that he didn't even greet you let alone asked you how your day was. He just looked at his phone, typing and probably texting some of the boys.

"How was your day?" you broke the silence.

He stayed silent for some time. "Good" he answered, not even daring to look up. You cleared your throat, blinking the tears away.

"Jeongin?" He gave no answer.

"Jeongin?" you tried to get his attention once more, this time emphazising it more. However, this time his gaze shot up, clearly annoyed.

"What?" he snarled, brows knitted together.

You were hurt that he spoke to you in that tone and the anger and humiliation took over.

"What? You really ask what? What is wrong with you?" you yelled, agitated and disappointed.

Just now, he looked up from the phone, wetting his lips. His eyes sparkled like they caught fire, a fire that seemed to burn everything down, including you. You two weren't a couple who fought regularly. It was very uncommon between you two since you hated to yell and often became very emotional. But from time to time, a fight would happen but they were rather small.

However, this one was fiery and intense. Nothing like any fight before. And you feared its outcome.

"What is wrong with me? What is wrong with you? Why do you need to cling to me like that? You're overbearing and an attention seeker!" he screamed, his grip on his phone was strong and you wouldn't be surprised if it broke.

"I'm seeking for attention? What is wrong with trying to spend some time with my boyfriend? I miss you, Jeongin.", you sighed enraged.

"You are always there. I can't go somewhere without you worrying and texting me all the time. It's annoying. Don't you have other friends to spend your stupid time with?"

"But I want to see my boyfriend, you if you forgot that." you yelled, voice breaking.

"You see me so much! I can't even practise alone without you showing up!"

"I thought you liked it" you justified loudly. Well, in the beginning, he loved it if you could watch him dance. That was what he told you but clearly that wasn't the case.

"Well, it would be nce if you weren't that clingy!" he yelled, throwing his phone on the couch before jumping up, wanting to escape the fight. But you wouldn't let him, not this time after what he had said. You would clarify this issue now, not when he decided to come back.

"Don't you dare run away now, Jeongin", you growled, wiping the first tears from your cheeks while blocking his way.

"See? I can't even go without your approval now." he snarled, combing through his hair while mumbling something you couldn't quite make out.

"What did you say?" you asked, voice shaking.

"I said that Suhee wouldn't be so fucking overbearing", he repeated what he had said under his breath earlier, yelling.

You froze, eyes going wide. Suhee was his hair stylist and you thought that they both were just friends. But maybe there was more between them without you knowing. Why else should he have compared you with her?

"What?" you whispered. Maybe you just connected the dots wrong. Maybe it was just a misinterpretation.

He stilled, seeming to understand what he had said. A shocked expression appeared on his face, panicked when he took the last few steps to minimize the distance between you. Slowly, he rubbed his hands over your arms, wanting to calm you down.

"Y/n, I'm..." You brushed his fingers off your body. Finally, looking him in the eyes again.

"Did you sleep with her?" you whispered, your voice calm and dangerously cold.

"Y/n, wait-" you didn't let him finish his sentence. He concealed something from you.

"Jeongin, did you fuck Suhee?" you repeated your phrase emphazisingly. The silence ripped you apart. You hoped that it was a terrible misunderstanding, that he would negate it. But the painful look in his eyes told you otherwise.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. It was a mistake!" he cried out, sobbing uncontrollably. He tried to reach out to you but you just took some quick steps back. You couldn't let him touch you. You were disgusted by his appearance. Your heart was broken, shattered into a million tiny pieces.

You shook your head, distancing yourself more and more while your wishion became blurred. Never, you had thought that he would betray you. That he would cheat on you. It had happened to you before. Before you two dated, you were at the exact same position like now, hurt and broken. Jeongin was the one that picked every little piece of your heart up, one by one, and that why, it probably hurt even more to know that he was the one to do the exact same. And like before, you were left broken and in pain.

You pushed past him, trying to get to your bedroom. You couldn't stay here, not when every single happy memory haunted you. You just couldn't bare it. Quickly, you pulled out a suitcase and threw some clothes in it. Just the most important things so that you could survive some days.

You will crash at your friend's house for the time being, until you figured out, where you could stay for the long run.

"What are you doing?" Jeongin cried out, sobbing like hell. He knew of your past and that you hated to be betrayed. And he knew damn well that this was the end of your relationship.

"I can't stay here. I will get my other things during the next week" you said while strolling out of the bedroom. He followed you like a toddler, begging you to stay and to give him another chance even when he knew that it would never happen.

"Goodbye, Jeongin" you whispered, holding back from crying. You would wait until you shut the door properly before breaking apart. You wouldn't give him the chance to see how broken you are and how much his little 'mistake' hurt you.

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ghoulsgraveyard · 13 days

Text

Mattress Shopping

a/n: oops! all fluff! I wrote this one while not high and You Can Tell. this is a very soft fic, very domestic. It takes place in the same universe as Animal Instinct and is a direct sequel, but there is no piss kink, only references to it. content warnings: mentions of sex and violence, allusions to piss (hilarious phrase), emotional hurt/comfort. word count: 2k part 1

You were about to head back up to your apartment when Logan took your hand and started walking towards his car. “Lo, where are we going?” He looks at you, confused. “I thought you said you wanted to go mattress shopping?” Logan hated shopping. It was loud and crowded and too bright. It always took too long. But Logan also loved you. And he loved you more than he hated shopping. “You don’t have to come if you don't want to, I know you don't like shopping.” Logan opens your door for you before heading around to the driver's seat “I’ll be using the thing too.” he states “Besides, there are worse things I could be doing than spending the day with you” he grumbles out afterwards as he starts the car. You practically melt into the seat. It never gets old, his loving you. You’ll cherish these acts of love every single time. “You sap” you say with a giggle. “Yeah yeah, dont go telling people that.” he starts the car with a wink towards you. After hours of sterile lights and crackling top 40 hits, you and Logan had successfully found a mattress. The incredibly persistent salesman changed his tune very quickly after the third time he tried to upsell you and Logan had unsheathed his claws. “W-would you like to use our delivery and installation service?” he said shakily, one last attempt to up his commission. Logan had enough. “Listen pal, I don't need to throw money away on something I can do myself. I got two arms and two legs. Just give me the goddamned mattress” he was not loud, but he was also not fucking around.

After loading the mattress into the back of the car you were on your way back. “Thank you for coming with me” you smile at him and he furrows his brow “why?” he grunts out, eyes on the road. “You made mattress shopping better.” you tease, he lets out a humorless chuckle “Honey i was grumpy and threatened a salesman. I made that experience worse, not better.” You frown at this. “I don't think you did. You certainly got us a better deal on that mattress.” you look over to him, his frown still prominent.

“Logan, you make everything better. Sometimes I feel like you don’t realize that I don't just love you, I like you. Like fundamentally, as a person, I genuinely enjoy being in your presence. I like to spend time with you logan. You’re grumpy and a little mean, you drink and you smoke and I love you all the same. You’re who I want to be with. You’re my person, you’re who I choose. There is no one I would rather go mattress shopping with.”

He doesn’t have anything to say to that. What could he even say to that? How do you tell someone that they have shifted your sense of self? How does he begin to describe how your love has changed him? How could it not change him? He’s lived his whole life hating himself. his thoughts, his actions, to the very essence of his core, his soul, his being, he hated himself. Everything he touched he ruined, every person he loved died, he was the worst Logan and everyone knew it.

Now he’s not so sure. How could he be so awful when you loved him so much? He trusted you, and he trusted your judgment of character, so logically he has to face that he’s not all bad. But it’s more than that. Your presence in his life has to be proof of something, call it god, call it the universe, call it karma, you were all the proof he needed that at one point he did something good. He must have done something really and truly good to earn you. There’s a voice in his head now to fight back that familiar dialogue. A voice that tells him he’s a good man with bad circumstances, a voice that tells him his mistakes don’t define him, it’s a voice that sounds like yours. If you, beautiful, kind and perfect you, could love him? He must have done something right. He has good in him, you make him believe it. All he can do is grab your hand and squeeze it. One day he’ll tell you. One day he’ll find the right words and put them in the right order and he’ll be able to tell you that he is devastatingly, irrevocably and wholly in love with you. But until that day he’ll hold you close, be sweet only for you, and even go mattress shopping. All for you.

That night, after you had gotten the new bed set up, you both went over to Wade’s for drinks. After about thirty minutes, Wade claps his hands with glee in the kitchen as he pours more tequila into a whiskey glass. He practically prances back into the room returning to his seat “Soooooo what 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 shit did you two get up with today” he waggles his fingers at you. How did he do that with his voice? Nevermind. Logan sputters into his drink, recovering quickly “The hell are you talkin about?” he grunts. Wade looks delighted. “I am so glad you asked pookie” Logan groans as he continues, “I was on my daily walk around your building and I couldn't help but notice a set of your sheets and a whole mattress in your dumpster!” Wade teases. “Daily walks?” Logan growls “you root through our trash?” you question. “Hold on, don't turn this around on me, either you’re sexual deviants or Wolvy dear is getting really old, or both!” Wade coos, sipping his drink.

10 minutes later when you’re finally able to separate Logan from him with as little blood shed as possible (with varying degrees of success) you decide to cut the night short. Thirty minutes before blood might be a new record for the two of them actually. Logan presses the button to summon the elevator, you reach for your phone to- shit! “Babe I forgot my phone, I’ll be right back” he lets out a hmph to confirm he heard you. You jog back to Wade’s door, opening it with ease. Fucker never locks his door, says it an ‘open invitation’. Whatever that means. “Hey, sorry I forgot my phone” Wade leans against the counter taking a break from washing dishes. “Oh it’s all right boo” he grins as you search through the spot where you sat “But while I have you here” he trails off probing your response to his previous question. You found your phone… right next to Wade. Rolling your eyes at his antics “Oops?” he smiles. You punch him on your way out with no real malice, but before reaching the door, you turn back to say “Well it’s not the second one” you wink and jog right back to Logan.

“Harlots!” you hear Wade yell at you from his door before slamming it. Logan raises an eyebrow in question “What did ya say to him?” you take his hand in the elevator “Oh nothing” you smile with a hint of mischief. He looks at you accusatorial “well nothing that isn’t true” Logan groans at your response “you know i’m never going to hear the end of this. I have to interact with him wayyy more than you do” you step out of the elevator, heading towards the car as Logan continues “He’s going to ask me more questions about it, and then I'm gonna have to stab him.” He opens the passenger door for you “thought you didn’t like it when I skewered the little shit.” Logan pulls a cigar from the glove box, slicing off the end with a claw. “Can ya give me a light here sugar?” he grumbles out with the cigar between his teeth as he starts the car.

Fuck he was handsome. Devastatingly so. The wrinkles on his face from his seemingly permanent soured expression, his strong jaw extenuated by facial hair that would look ridiculous on anyone else, the way his shirt was unbuttoned so you could begin to see a peek of his salt and pepper chest hair, it just wasn’t fair that any man could look this good.

“Hon” he grunts out. You snapped back to the present, finding the lighter a bit further back in the glovebox. You hold the flame to the end while he sucks in, creating a bright cherry at the end of the stick. “I never said not to skewer him” you start “I just said I think it's gross seeing your claws fully through his skull and finding two of his fingers in between our couch cushions.” Logan chuckles at this “So you don’t mind me brutalizing our friend, as long as you don't have to see it.” he puffs on his cigar. “Nope!” you pop, smiling at him “I can't believe you just called Wade your friend” Logan stops at the light and grunts out “slip of the tongue” while he looks out the window. “I don't think it was” you lightly elbow him “I already know you’re secretly a softie, I won’t tell him.” he exhales another billow of smoke, but you couldn’t help but notice the tips of his ears had turned a little red. You decide not to comment on it, smiling only to yourself. This was the Logan only you got to see. Everyone else in the whole world only knew him as angry and violent with brief moments of sincerity. He was gruff and brash and had a weird way of showing he cared.

As much as you were his -lord knows you have the hickeys to prove it- he was yours. The Logan that learned how to cook just to make you breakfast in bed is yours. The Logan who will wear a face mask with you is yours. The Logan who uses his claws to chop vegetables is yours. The Logan who can’t sleep if you’re not in his arms, the Logan who stands between your legs while you sit on the bathroom counter to shave him, the Logan who presses kisses to your head and ties your shoes. He was a secret, locked away from the world, buried deep inside from years of putting up walls to protect himself. He only existed with you.

What a gift. What a tragedy. What an awful thought, that he hides his kindness and vulnerability from the world. What an absolute honor it is to be the only person he trusts enough to let in. It doesn’t come easy to him, it doesn’t come naturally. He makes the conscious effort everyday to break down his own walls for you.

Logan rarely says “I love you” ; those three words seem to choke him every time he tries to spit them out. But when he does say them, it’s always a whisper. Like if he’s quiet enough the curse that seems to snuff out everyone he loves won’t hear him, won’t find him. Like he’s worried if he says it too loud it will trigger some horrible accident that will steal you away from him, but even then he can’t help but tell you. He swallows his fear in the small hours of the night to whisper a promise to you.

He doesn’t need to tell you. You can see it. You can feel it.

You don’t realize you’re home until the car stops and you feel his rough fingertips on your face in a gentle touch “Where’d you go in that head of yours pretty?” he looks deeply into your eyes. “Just thinking about you.” you smile and press a kiss to his lips before opening your door and getting out. “What about me?” he locks the car and slings an arm around you as you walk towards the elevator to go back to your home. “Just how much I love you.” Logan pushes the button when he lets out a “hmm” at your answer, looking away. His ears were pink again. You tug his collar down for another kiss then whisper in his ear

“I think we need to break in that new mattress” a/n: I hope you enjoyed! let me know if you're interested in a part three. nothing motivates me like hearing what people liked, so if you enjoyed and want more, let me know!

taglist @mistyorchid

#worst wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #worst wolverine x reader #wolverine x reader #my works

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slowandsteddie · 1 year

Note

Hi!

Since you’re asking for fic ideas, how about Claudia Henderson taking Steve in when he’s younger? She knows Wayne Munson got custody of his nephew the year before, so she asks him for advice helping Steve adjust.

Maybe Steve and Eddie getting to be close friends? Bonus points for little brother Dustin!

Thank you so much for the request! I love it and have been thinking about it nonstop.

CW: mentions of divorce, previous child neglect/abuse, C-PTSD, mention of minor character death (murder), swearing

I’m not sure what happened here exactly. I just know that I like it.

1953 words.

Claudia Henderson had always wanted two boys, a fact that almost everyone in Hawkins knew about. So, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her that Jim Hopper was standing on her doorstep. He was holding his hat in front of him and the look on his face proved that he knew he was probably going to ask too much. Again.

“How can I help you, Chief?” She asked as though she couldn’t see Steve Harrington sitting in Hop’s car and looking straight ahead.

He cleared his throat. “I need to watch over the kid for a few days. Maybe a week while we try to get ahold of some relatives.”

Jim never was one to beat around the bush, but neither was Claudia. “Why?”

“His father is… going away for a while.” He seemed uncomfortable.

“Why?” She repeated, subconsciously crossing her arms when she had to press for more answers. He came to her for a favor, she had every reason to demand answers.

“He killed his wife and the kid has nowhere else to go in the meantime. I don’t want to have to hold him in a cell just because we don’t have a child services division in this small town.”

“Sorry we aren’t New York, Chief.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. That poor kid. Did he see what happened? Was she going to have to take him into the station to answer questions in the morning? “Does he have anything with him?”

“Just some clothes. He didn’t really want anything out of that house.”

She sighed again at that. “Bring him, then.”

Tomorrow, she was going to see if he wanted to go to the store and get anything. Probably best to keep him busy if he was willing. Besides, she needed to take Dustin to go pick out a new coloring book anyway.

Claudia looked out through the darkness and gave herself a moment to mourn, though not to cry. Steve’s mother had been her friend, even if they had drifted apart after Claudia’s divorce had gone through. Tonight couldn’t be about her. Not when her best friend’s son needed someone to take care of him.

“Thank you, Ms Henderson,” Hop said as he passed the backpack over to her and Steve stood on her doorstep.

He was so skinny. And was that bruising or shadows on his tiny face? That was a question she’d leave for the morning. Right now, he looked like he was about to collapse.

“I’m not doing it for you,” she replied before kneeling down to Steve’s level.

Hop took the opportunity to leave. The young male looked to him the same way a terrified boy would look for his father and Claudia made a note to reprimand the police chief later.

“Hi, Steve. I know this isn’t your home, but I want you to be comfortable here. Do you want to stay in the spare room tonight, or my room?”

He looked at her, wide eyed, as if she had a second head. “I get to choose?” He asked so softly and it broke her heart.

“You always have a choice here, Steve. As long as you stay safe and don’t hurt anyone.”

He chewed his lip and winced. It made Claudia lean more towards bruises than shadows, but it was hard to tell in the lighting and she wasn’t going to push. He had been through a lot.

“Spare room please,” Steve eventually decided.

Claudia made sure to show him where the kitchen and the bathroom were in case he needed anything. She also pointed out her own room being right across the hall before opening the door to the spare room for him. She did her best to make sure that he was as settled and comfortable as he was going to be under the circumstances. She stood in the door frame for a few seconds, holding on to it gently. She didn’t want to leave him, but he had requested to be alone.

“Anything you need, Steve. Just let me know. And Dustin might pester you in the morning if he wakes up before I do.”

“Okay,” he said simply.

Claudia went back to bed, leaving her door open. She really was going to have to call Wayne in the morning.

If Steve snuck into her room and laid on the floor beside her bed, she pretended not to notice.

—

“Wayne?” She was speaking a little lower than normal, but she did have two sleeping boys in her house and she was doing her best to keep it that way. “How did you help Eddie cope when he had to move in with you?”

“Why are you asking Claudia?” His voice was rough, but she knew him well enough to know that it was because he was tired.

“Have you heard about what happened at the Harrington’s yet?”

“You mean the murder?”

“I have Steve. Hop brought him to me last night,” she said in a rush before looking down the hall to make sure neither boy was going to sneak in on this conversation.

“Just make sure he feels safe and knows that things are going to happen at his speed, as much as possible. Have your limits and stick to them. Don’t let him push you over just because you know the hell he’s been through. And most important? Don’t try and be his Mama unless he asks you to.”

“Don’t have to worry about that last one. Hop said it should hopefully only be a week until they find some family willing to take him.” There was a tiny sniffle behind her. “Shit, Wayne. I gotta go. I’ll call you back tonight.”

When Claudia turned around, Steve was already disappearing back into the spare bedroom. The door closed with a soft click.

Shit.

“Mom, what’s for breakfast?” Dustin demanded as he walked out of his room and straight to the kitchen.

She’d check in on Steve soon. He probably needed a minute anyway.

“Pancakes sound good to you, Dusty?”

His toothless grin made her heart hurt.

How could anyone look at their child and feel anything but love?

—

It had been a few months and it seemed like Steve was staying. No one wanted to step up and take Steve. Honestly? Claudia wasn’t heartbroken about it. The longer he stayed, the more she loved him. She wasn’t fully convinced that she would let anyone take him away from her at this point. She wasn’t sure when she started looking at Steve as a son exactly, just that it happened quickly. Even Dustin, spoiled as he was, was excited to have an older kid in the house to hang out with. He said it made him seem cool to his friends that he suddenly found himself spending a lot more time with a Harrington. Whatever that meant.

She was just happy they were getting along. Happy that Steve was getting more comfortable with them. He was back up to a healthy weight, all the bruises were gone, and his injuries had turned to faded scars. Steve was safe. Most importantly, he was happy and loved. Claudia tried to not let it get to her that those were new feelings for the boy who previously only knew neglect or abuse at the hands of his biological parents.

—

Claudia woke up in the middle of the night, her heart pounding. What was that? A second thud had her throwing her covers back and running to the kitchen. The sight that greeted her would have made her laugh if Steve didn’t look so terrified.

Both boys were covered in flour. Honestly, the fact that most of the kitchen also had at least a thin dusting of the stuff was kind of impressive.

“What’s happening in here?” She asked with a smile.

Steve flinched and she tried to not let it get to her. He had to know by now that she would never hurt him, but the past doesn’t just go away like that.

“We were trying to make you a cake, but you put the flour too high and Steve wasn’t going to crawl on the counter. So I had to do it.” Dustin supplied after looking at the older kid and realizing that he wasn’t going to talk.

It happened a lot, Steve suddenly not talking. He also tended to leave the room a lot and hide in what had become his room. At least he felt safe enough to walk away now. He wasn’t walking away this time.

“It’s your birthday,” Steve said so softly. “It’s your birthday and you deserve a cake. I never got a cake.” His words got quieter as he kept talking, the last part of what he said barely audible.

“Oh, Steve,” Claudia’s heart was breaking. Shattering, really. “That’s really thoughtful of you, sweetheart. How about this? We clean up this mess and try again together? Yeah? Then I’ll move some stuff around so you can reach all the food in this kitchen.”

His eyes were shiny with unshed tears as the fear on his face gave way to a shy smile. “Okay,” he said simply.

And that was that.

—

Claudia was flustered.

She had been talking to Wayne a lot lately because he could relate to what she was going through. Taking in a kid who had nowhere else to go.

Somehow, that translated into them going out for dinner or lunch a few times to talk in person. To complain about the hardships and brag about the worthy things respectively.

That turned into her actually asking him on a date. Even more surprisingly, he agreed! Even though she knew he wouldn’t care, she was dressed in her absolute best and even took the time to tame her wild hair.

When there was a knock on the door, she was quick to answer it before Steve or Dustin had a chance. What she saw took her breath away. Wayne had put an effort in as well, and he was even holding a bouquet of flowers. Her cheeks heated and she smiled widely.

“They’re beautiful,” she breathed.

“You’re beautiful,” Wayne replied.

“Come in, come in,” she insisted as she stepped out of the way. When she saw Eddie, she smiled at him as well. “Thank you for agreeing to babysit my kiddos for me.”

Eddie grinned. “Uncle Wayne said he’d get me an Iron Maiden cassette.” Then he was running off to Dustin’s room, following the sound of laughter.

Claudia laughed softly before returning her attention to Wayne.

He shrugged. “Flattery and bribery get you everywhere with that boy,” he joked before going to grab a vase to put the flowers in.

Obviously he had been around the house a few times and paid attention to where she put things. Briefly, Claudia pictured Wayne and Eddie moving in - in the future.

It wasn’t a bad thought.

—

When they got back, Claudia was greeted by an adorable sight. Dustin was asleep, spread across the couch. Eddie and Steve were cuddled up in the recliner. Of course Dustin would claim the couch for himself and make two people share the smaller seat.

“Let’s not wake them just yet,” she said softly after a moment. “I’ve never seen Steve look so relaxed.”

Wayne had no objections. “Let’s put a note on the coffee table and then head to the backyard?”

Claudia had no objections, either. She scrawled out something on a piece of paper that was on the table already before leading the way outside. They sat on the outside loveseat, their knees touching.

Everyone was going to be spending a lot more time together. She just knew it.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie stranger things #steve stranger things #steve x eddie #steddie fanfiction #claudia henderson #wayne munson #dustin henderson #Claudia Henderson is an amazing mom #I take requests #requested fic #pre steddie #early Steddie #slowandsteddie

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mugloversonly · 25 days

Text

Staying in the past Moving Forward

So, I read this by @steddiecameraroll and disappeared into the void and woke up with this fully completed... I'm tagging @steddieangstyaugust but I'm not 100% sure it counts. If it does though, it fits well into today's prompt:

Prompt: Future | rating: T |

Summary: A look into the next year and a half for the boys (after refers to the breakup)

STEVE Morning after:

"Go to hell." That was the last thing Eddie said to Steve before he went with Robin to Indy the next morning as planned and told her what happened on the way.

She was pissed at him. She originally thought that Steve asked Eddie to come and he said no, which would have sucked, but she figured they could make long distance work. Steve was her best friend, but he fucked up and broke two hearts that didn't need breaking. When they got to their shared apartment, Robin called Eddie.

"Hey, it's Robin." She said once he answered. "I just called to say that Steve is an idiot. You were the best thing to happen to him and he threw it away carelessly." Eddie sniffled.

"I'm not going to take him back Rob." He said strongly. And he meant it. He knew one day he could forgive Steve, but his trust in the man would be forever damaged.

"I know. I'm not asking you to, just thought you should know that I'm not going to choose sides between you two. You're both my friends and he did you wrong." She promised to call him weekly and agreed that he wasn't going to call her as long as she lived with Steve. She could respect that.

Steve on the other hand, was angry. Not at Eddie or Robin, although a little at Robin. He was angry with himself. He assumed Eddie thought it was a fling. He knew they were planning on leaving but he figured it wouldn't be that big a deal. He was wrong.

"Did you know I was in love with you?" The words rang in Steve's ears. He didn't know but if he had, he's not sure what he would have done. He made Eddie think he was unimportant as if it wasn't breaking Steve's heart to leave him behind. He fucked everything up and a few minutes later he found out he could have had everything. God he's an idiot.

A week after:

"Robin I need to talk to him. Please." Steve begged. Robin took the phone into her room so she could talk to Eddie privately.

"He doesn't want to talk to you, dingus. I'm not going to let your fuck up, ruin my friendship." She shut the door in his face. That last part hit him hard. She was right of course. If she broke Eddie's trust by letting Steve talk to him it would ruin them too. He didn't want to do that.

A month after:

Steve tried to call the trailer a few times a week, but he never got an answer. He left voicemail after voicemail until he called and instead of ringing he heard, "The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service."

"What the hell?" He whispered. "Hey Robin?" He shouted to his roommate. At her affirmative noise he asked, "why is Eddie's phone disconnected?" He heard her stand and make her way to the kitchen. She took the phone from him and hung it up.

"You kept calling even after he asked you to stop. He called me at work today to give me his new number." She admitted. She was doing her best to help Steve get through the break up, but Eddie was her friend too and she felt partially responsible for what happened since she's the one who got into college. Steve sighed. He did this to himself. Tears welled up and began to fall. He'd cried every day for the past month but he didn't feel like he deserved to feel sad. He was the reason he felt this way, him alone. Eddie did nothing wrong, he was perfect. It's why Steve dragged it out so long. He made a mistake, if he could just talk to him and apologize, he knew this would all work out. It had to work out.

A year after:

"Go to Hell." The last words Eddie ever said to Steve. But not the last time he heard Eddie's voice.

Steve was at a bar. He was trying to find someone to hook up with, man, woman, it didn't matter. He was too thin, drinking too much, not doing well. He was staring at the bottom of a bottle nursing his still broken heart, when he heard it. Over the bar's radio a new single by a local Indiana group, Corroded Coffin: Death to the King. Eddie's voice poured through the speakers, shattering Steve's heart with each word.

The King rules with an iron fist Doesn't know what love is Uses his subjects like pawns in his game leaves them broken and in pain Death to the King who killed me first Death to the King it's what he deserves I saw us grow old through a crystal ball I saw the happy ending our kids growing tall The king saw nothing, nothing at all He took my heart When he left his throne Buried it in the forest And left me alone Death to the King who killed me first Death to the King it's what he deserves

Steve couldn't hear this anymore. He stumbled out of the bar and practically ran to his apartment. He no longer shared with Robin since she moved in with her girlfriend. Steve was happy for her, at least one of them should get love, and she deserved it for putting up with his shit.

He dialed her number and prayed she'd answer. "Hello?" Came a half asleep voice.

"Robbie?" Steve whispered. She grunted in response. "Eddie's band is on the radio! I just heard them." He said shocked, sure it would surprise her.

"I know." She said calmly.

"Oh, have you heard it already?" Steve asked.

"Yeah. He played me the demo last time I saw him." She said with a yawn. The last time she saw him?

"You visited him?" He asked.

"No, he came to see me." She said as if that didn't destroy Steve. He made the drive to see Robin who was just a few miles away from him. He could have visited. He would have visited if Steve wasn't so stupid.

"Steve? You still there?" She asked.

"I think I ruined my life, Robbie." Steve said.

"I think you did too." That statement hung in the air until Steve went to sleep.

The next day, Steve bought the whole album.

A Year and Six months after:

Steve sat down with Robin and the kids in his apartment. It was a bit strained with them after the break up since everyone thought Steve was in the wrong…not that Steve could blame them, he was the one who told them everything. Eddie had requested that their friends not take sides and Steve had done the same. He hoped this would smooth things over. He agreed to host a get together for everyone to celebrate being Upside Down free. And everyone would be here, even Eddie. Steve needed to stay strong and he would. He hadn't seen him since the night he blew up his life, but if he could explain Eddie was the right person, but the wrong time for Steve. Then everything would be okay. He hasn't gotten over Eddie and he hoped the same was true for Eddie as shitty as that sounded.

The doorbell rang and Dustin jumped up to grab it knowing who it would be. "Henderson!" Eddie's voice boomed through the apartment. The kids got up to greet him and they all came into the living room as a giant group. Robin hugged him next and asked how everything was going and then he turned to finally look at Steve a year and a half after he confessed his love. Steve met his eyes and couldn't stop himself from letting his gaze roam. He looked good. His lanky form had filled out to a more muscular build, he had quite a few more tattoos, and his long curly hair was longer and more well maintained than Steve had ever seen it. He had to say something.

"Hey, Eddie." He waved awkwardly. "You look good." He tried not to hide as everyone's eyes turned to them.

"Thanks, Steve." He replied. "And thanks for hosting." He smiled. It didn't look strained at all…maybe Steve was right and they could fix this.

"No problem. Do you want a beer?" Steve asked.

"No thanks, I don't really drink anymore." Eddie replied. Steve was shocked but he listed his available drinks and Eddie settled on a coke. Steve snagged a beer for himself on the way back. The group seemed to settle and everyone acted like it was perfectly normal for all of them to be together again. And maybe it was for everyone else. After all, the kids had been all spread out for college for months now. Eddie seemed perfectly content to chat with everyone even Hopper and Joyce when they showed up.

Steve was the one with the issue. But he did his best to not show how off he felt and he thought he was successful. He was 4 beers in when he was brave enough to ask Eddie to talk. Shockingly, he agreed and they went out for a smoke. Steve took his pack out and offered one to Eddie who shook his head. "Don't like my brand or something?" He scoffed.

"Actually no. Wayne had a cancer scare a few months back so we both promised to quit." Eddie said quietly. Steve felt like a dick.

"Jesus Eddie. I'm sorry." Eddie dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Eddie asked calmly. Steve meanwhile was freaking out. Here goes nothing.

"I wanted to start by saying I'm sorry for how I ended things back then." Eddie opened his mouth but Steve rushed forward. "Please let me finish." Eddie nodded. "It was a shitty thing to do. I shouldn't have ended things like that or blindsided you with it. I never should have done it in the first place because I've been miserable without you." Eddie went to speak again before shaking his head and gesturing for Steve to continue. "I loved you back then and I didn't think you loved me back. I still love you." This time, Eddie couldn't keep quiet.

"Steve," he sighed. His face was unreadable but the beer gave Steve courage.

"You're my right person Eddie. It was the wrong time a year and a half ago, but it's the right time now." He took both of Eddie's hands in his. "Please, give me another chance?" He asked hope bleeding into his voice. Eddie smiled softly but it wasn't a happy smile.

"Steve, I listened to you, so can you promise to listen to me?" He asked keeping their hands together.

"I promise. I'd do anything you asked." Steve vowed. Eddie ducked his head and began.

"First off, thank you for the apology. It was really shitty what you did back then. We had only been dating a few months so I understand you not asking me to come with you, but not telling me at all? That was the worst pain I have ever felt, including the bats." Steve sagged, he hated that he put Eddie through that. "And I forgive you."

"You do?" Steve lit up. Eddie held his palm up to indicate he wasn't done.

"I forgive you, Steve. But this isn't fair. You broke up with me. I can't… I won't trust you with my heart again." He whispered softly but with certainty. "You broke it into smithereens. Crushed it into pieces and then ground it to dust under your shoe as if it was a trinket from the arcade." Steve winced and felt tears begin to stream down his face. "I'm sorry, you're miserable Steve. I really am. I can try to be your friend again. Slowly. If that's something you can be okay with. But I'm not willing to be more than that." He pulled his hands from Steve's. "You were my first love Steve and a part of me will always love you. But I moved on. I'm moving forward. It's time that you did too." With that he turned and went back into the apartment.

Steve's vision blurred but he still looked at Eddie through the window. He didn't look affected at all by Steve's confession and his rejection of it. Was Steve so delusional to think that just because he couldn't let go, that Eddie wouldn't either?

He spent another half hour out there wishing things were different, when Robin came out. "Hey. Did you get closure?" Robin asked. Steve nodded slowly. "And?"

"I didn't want closure." At Robin's questioning noise he admitted, "I wanted a second chance." Robin gasped. "He said no. I don't blame him."

"So, what now?" She asked.

"I move on I guess. He said he'd be willing to try being friends again but made it very clear that's all we'd ever be." Steve hung his head and cried.

Two weeks later Steve saw a headline that stopped his heart: Corroded Coffin's front man engaged to mystery man!

EDDIE morning after:

"Go to Hell" the last thing he said to Steve as he stormed back to his van. He sped back to the trailer, the raw pain tearing him apart piece by piece. Luckily Wayne wasn't working tonight. Eddie needed him. He slid into the driveway and barely remembered to lock the car door behind him before he sprinted into the house. Wayne was sitting in his rocking chair but one look at the state Eddie was in had him jumping to his feet.

"What's wrong, son?" Wayne asked. The tears that were starting to fall became a river down Eddie's face as he told Wayne what happened. Wayne pulled him onto the couch and into his side. He held his boy and rocked him softly as he cried.

"What am I gonna do without him Wayne?" He whispered.

"You want to feel your feelings or want to fix it?" Wayne asked. This was a system they came up with when Eddie was little. Sometimes Eddie just needed to vent without Wayne trying to solve the problem.

"Fix it, Wayne. Please. It hurts so bad." He sobbed. Wayne held him tighter.

"It'll probably hurt for a while." He said sadly. "Here's what we're going to do. You are going to go rest. When you wake up I'll go pick us up some of your favorite foods from the diner while you shower. Then we're gonna comb through the house and get every reminder of that boy out of the house and in the trash where it belongs. We're going to get rid of everything that makes you look behind you. And finally! We are going to get drunk on the good beer and watch one of those horror movies you like so much. How does that sound?" Eddie smiled even through the tears.

"That sounds like a great idea dad."

"Only look forward from now on Ed."

A week after:

"Ed! Phone for you." Wayne called. Eddie wiped his eyes and moved to answer it. He checked the clock and realized exactly who would be calling.

"Hey, Rob." He said. He was happy to hear from the girl, glad that their friendship wasn't destroyed by Steve's actions.

When she called a week ago he thought about hanging up but she didn't sound like she was going to yell at him. He was right. It was the same with the kids. When he didn't go to see Steve off, Dustin called him. Eddie expected to be torn into but the boy was calling to see if he was okay.

"Steve told us what happened and I just want to say, that was shitty of him. I don't know if I think he's a good guy anymore." He admitted. Eddie's heart hurt, not just for himself but for Steve and the party.

"Listen, I can't tell you how to feel. But don't pick sides on my account. Robin and I are still friends even though she's rooming with him. Don't let our falling out destroy your friendship. If you decide on your own that's one thing, but don't do it for me." Eddie said. Dustin agreed and passed it on to the rest of the party. As soon as he hung up, the phone rang again and it was Robin. She expressed similar sentiments as Dustin. They agreed to call weekly. Which brought them to now.

"Hey, Eddie. Let me go into my bedroom." She apparently called from the kitchen in case he didn't answer. She began walking and he could hear Steve in the background.

"Let me talk to him, please." He heard Robin tell Steve no and shut her door.

"Sorry about that."

"No problem…thanks for that." He said earnestly.

"I'm not going to let him hurt you more by breaking your trust in other people." She said sternly. The two talked about their week before Robin asked the dreaded question. "How are you doing by the way?"

"I'm alright. I mean…I've been better but I'm not drowning myself in booze." Robin chuckled. "I don't blame you Robin. He made the choices he made, not you." He said again. He said it their first call too but he got the feeling she didn't believe him. Hopefully this time it would stick.

A month after:

"Hey, Eddie. It's Steve. Listen I know you haven't been answering me but I just…I want to talk to you. Apologize properly. I miss you." The machine told him. Eddie rolled his eyes. He asked Robin to tell Steve to stop calling. He didn't get to dump Eddie like a broken toy and then beg to talk to him. That's not fair. It's so selfish. Eddie thought Steve wasn't like that anymore but…he was wrong.

"Hey Wayne?" Eddie said as he stepped out onto the porch. At his grunt of affirmation, Eddie continued. "How much hassle would it be to get a new phone line?" After explaining to Wayne that he asked Steve to quit calling but he wouldn't, he agreed to get another phone line. Thankfully, it wasn't that hard to tell everyone they spoke to about the change. Eddie made sure to call Robin's work number to give her the new one though. He didn't want to risk Steve answering.

Six months after:

The band was actually making waves. They veered from the death metal scene and went into hard rock. It wasn't too much different if Eddie was being honest, but it was getting attention. They were preforming at actual bars and getting a crowd. They had groupies and agents were scouting them.

Eddie had indulged in the casual sex of it all but made sure to stay away from drugs, he knew what that shit could do. On some nights, he wasn't looking for a hook up, just someone to talk to.

It was one such night when Eddie met Zeke.

Zeke was everything Eddie never knew he wanted. Tall with dark hair, dark eyes, and mocha skin. He radiated confidence but he spoke shyly. "You guys are good." He said as he slid into the seat next to Eddie.

"Thanks. We've been playing together a long time." Zeke seemed interested and the two of them chatted. Not once did he think of Steve, a first when it came to chatting up men. So far every man was compared to Steve whether Eddie wanted to or not. But, Zeke was so different and Eddie felt ready to move on. The night ended with Zeke walking Eddie to his car and Eddie brushing a kiss to his cheek with a request to come to the next show.

Zeke kept his promise and showed up again and again. Eventually, he asked Eddie on a date to which he agreed. The only time he thought about Steve that night was when Zeke asked if he'd ever been in love. "Once. It didn't end well." At Zeke's sad and confused eyes, Eddie told him what happened. He couldn't help the way his eyes welled up, but it didn't hurt as much to tell this story. "Just, promise me one thing?" Eddie asked.

"Anything."

"If you decide you don't want to be with me, for whatever reason, don't do it like that." The pain was still in his voice and Zeke looked heartbroken for him.

"I won't."

Nine months after:

Wayne came out of the doctor's office with tears in his eyes. Eddie expected the worst. He had gone in for a routine checkup last week and they were worried they saw something. "It's okay, boy. It was benign." Wayne reassured as Eddie threw himself into his uncle's arms. "We gotta quit smoking though. It might be too late for me, but you're young." Eddie met his uncle's eyes.

"Whatever you want, dad." He promised. On the way home, they stopped at the drug store to get nicotine patches and gum. The next few weeks were going to suck, but it would be worth it to put Wayne's mind at ease. He silently promised to quit drinking too.

After Steve left, Eddie drank a lot that first month. But now, he wasn't as torn up. He was still hurt, of course he was, but he knew he didn't do anything wrong. It was all Steve and the only thing Eddie could do was forgive him.

Eleven months after:

"Robin, are you going to be in town next week?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah. Why what's up?" Robin situated herself at the dining table. She recently moved into an apartment with her girlfriend. This meant she could talk to Eddie freely. At first she didn't want to leave Steve alone, but he promised he'd be okay, and they hung out nearly every day anyway.

"My band is coming there to record an album. We'll be there for about two weeks." He said as nonchalant as he could. That didn't stop Robin from screaming her excitement and nearly bursting his eardrum. "Jesus woman! With pipes like that you could blow the windows out of Notre Dame."

"Sorry, sorry. That's so exciting!" She congratulated him. He shared the details of when he would be in town and where they were staying.

"I also wanted to show you a demo before we put it on the album. It's a different kind of personal than some of the other things I've written and I want your opinion."

"Sure!"

The next week saw Eddie playing his "heartbreak anthem", as the boys called it, "Death to the King". It was the song they were singing when they were noticed by this label so they wanted to put it out there, Eddie just wanted to make sure it wasn't obvious who it was about by those that didn't know him.

He drove his sword through my heart His court jester lost his spark He wasn't cool, he didn't shine And the king screamed, you're no longer mine I gave him my loyalty I gave him my love I gave him everything wanted nothing in return He took it all from me and left me to burn Death to the King who killed me first Death to the King it's what he deserves

The song played through and Eddie felt raw. "So?" He asked.

"It's about Steve obviously. But you wouldn't be able to tell really if you didn't know the two of you dated. Especially when you consider all the other songs about anti-establishment on the album." Robin was right. it would blend in.

A Year after:

"Death to the King" was playing on radio stations all over the country. It was being requested in call ins and the buzz for the album was booming. It was set to come out that night and the band was celebrating tonight! The band flew into Indy from Chicago so they could all be together with their friends and family. Robin came in with her girlfriend Libby and made the rounds.

"I'm so proud of you Eddie!" She said and hugged him tightly. The kids of the party and other young adults (minus Steve) were all there and it was sweet.

"Thanks, Buck. Oh! This is my boyfriend Zeke." He said introducing them.

"Finally I have a face to the name." She said and shook his hand. She didn't let go and yanked him down to her level. "Listen to me closely. If you hurt him, I will end you. He's been hurt enough by idiot boys, alright?" Zeke nodded and leaned back eyes wide.

"Wayne gave me a shovel talk earlier too. But I don't plan on hurting Eddie and if I ever do, I will find you and let you do what must be done." Zeke promised.

"That's all I ask." She said before she began milling around.

"She's terrifying." He said. Eddie laughed at his boyfriend.

"She is isn't she?"

As the album wrap party wound down, the band all stood at the front of the room to thank everyone for coming.

"There's one more thing though" Gareth said. "Eddie, this album is filled with your pain and heartbreak from a year ago." He was touched by their recognition.

"We hate that you were hurting but we all saw how cathartic this album was for you." Jeff spoke next. He tilted his head in confusion, it seemed like they were leading up to something.

Bear closed out with "and while we don't want you hurting, we hope that this doesn't turn our music into sappy shit." He grabbed Eddie by the shoulders and spun him around to face Zeke who lowered himself to one knee.

"Oh, holy shit!" Eddie screamed uneloquently and covered his mouth with his hands. Zeke laughed softly.

"Eddie, when we met you were just starting out. I got to see, not all of it, but a lot of hard work, dedication, and sleepless nights that led you here. I have never been as happy as I am with you. And I know it's a little soon, we've only been together for six months. But I love you Eddie. You're it for me baby. I asked Wayne for his blessing and he gave me this." He pulled out a ring box from his pocket and opened it to reveal Eddie's mom's ring. Tears ran down Eddie's face. "I got it resized to fit you, I think. Wayne mentioned it was your mother's and her mother's, you know all the way up the chain. And since you don't have any sisters, we figured it could be yours. So, will you marry me?" Zeke finally asked. Eddie was nearly sobbing now but he was determined to speak. But first…he full body tackled Zeke to the ground.

"Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!" His friends cheered and in a heap on the ground his fiance slid his ring onto his finger as their lips met. The flash of a camera reminded him everyone else was in the room. They broke the kiss and he smiled at the group. His eyes caught Robin's and he saw the joy in them for him but also the tinge of sadness she must feel for Steve. He shook his head, he was over Steve and had been for a while, but they were friends once. Maybe they could be again.

A Year and Six months after:

Eddie stood outside Steve's apartment. He was glad Zeke understood when he explained it was a night for the survivors of the "Earthquake" only. He flew in with Eddie and was hanging out at the hotel waiting for him to get back. They were planning on Seeing Wayne tomorrow. He knocked and was relieved that Dustin answered the door. He stepped in and caught up with everyone he'd seen recently before finally turning to see Steve for the first time in a year and a half.

He didn't look good. Bags under his eyes, five o'clock shadow, too skinny, and most telling of all, his hair wasn't done. They went through the awkward stage of catching up with an ex, before Steve asked to speak to him outside. Eddie didn't really have anything to say to him, but closure would be nice.

Except, the more Steve spoke, the less Eddie wanted to be out here. "This isn't fair. You broke up with me." Eddie wanted to tell him he was engaged but now wasn't the time. He wanted Steve to understand that this was how Eddie felt, regardless of another person in his life. He didn't want to get back together with Steve because of Zeke, but because the pain Steve caused him was too great. He would always love Steve, you never forget your first love. But Eddie didn't want to look to the past, only the future. As he left Steve outside, a weight lifted off Eddie's chest. He finally felt free to fly.

The next morning he called his PR team and gave the okay to announce the engagement.

Two weeks later when the article came in, Zeke and Eddie cuddled on the couch and read it together.

"Corroded Coffin's front man Eddie Munson is engaged to accountant Zeke Forester". Eddie had never been happier and was moving forward.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #angst with a happy ending #for Eddie #unhappy ending #for Steve #steddieangstyaugust #I think...if it doesn't count I'll fix that #steddie #fic of a fic #I disappeared into a writing frenzy and came out the other end with this in hand #enjoy #robin buckley #wayne munson #original female character #original male character

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