#don’t think my brain has ever had a moment of silence

[totalfreakingloser]

I was born in the right generation because I love watching YouTube on my TV, having Spotify playing on my phone, playing a game on my phone, and also writing fanfiction on my laptop. I need constant overstimulation or I will self destruct.

[rkvriki]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ enhypen obliviously in love

hi.......lmfao i keep disappearing i swear i'm alive but my isnpo has been going down the drain but i got this cute lil idea also to take a break of all the smutty things i've been posting lolz... anyways hope you enjoy this one !

make sure to leave feedback and reblog! my requests are closed and my talk box is always open so lets talk!

WARNINGS ! none really i think?? this is just not my best work im sorry </3 word count: 1.9k a/n: sorry that some of them, mainly hee's, are smaller than others, my brain isn't functioning and i had a writer's block during this and if it's not goo it's bc i quite forced myself to write this bc i wanted to post sth :(

୨୧ LEE HEESEUNG ! - trying to hold your hand and failing

you and heeseung met through mutual friends in your first year of college and you became almost inseparable ever since then. in the beginning of it, you would only be together when the whole group was, but as time went by and you both started feeling more than just platonic feelings you two started hanging out alone as well. it was usual for heeseung to walk you to your apartment after classes and today was no different. you two walked side by side, the sun almost setting behind you. it was mostly quiet except for the background chatting and the small talk you two would make about something you saw. you could feel heeseung’s hand brushing against yours from time to time and you were internally cursing him out for not holding your hand already. after a few moments of silence, you heard heeseung sigh as he gained courage to hold your hand. his hand got closer to yours but- oh! a light post came between you two. needless to say heeseung was a blushing mess while you laughed at him.

୨୧ PARK JONGSEONG ! - confronting you about it

anyone had to be really blind to not notice the romantic connection there was between you and jay. it was so obvious you were both in love with each other, it was almost painful how one of the sides didn’t notice. that side being you. it’s not like you didn’t like jay romantically, because you do. a lot. but you felt like he just saw you as a best friend he tends to protect a lot. jay didn’t really show it, but he gets really frustrated when he tries to make a move on you in a subtle way, only for you to put him in the friend zone, but it’s all unintentional. every time someone tells you “jay totally likes you.” you’re quick to dismiss them because he would never see you like that. even though you’re the one saying it, it breaks you inside. until one day, you’re both in a diner, sharing fries and a milkshake and you can see jay fidgeting nervously and bouncing his leg repeatedly. “you’re restless, what’s going on?” you ask him, worried. jay sighs heavily and props his elbows on the table, staring at you with a serious expression. “look, i don’t know if i should just give up, because at this point you have to be pretending not to know.” he says “T-to know what?” he laughs at that. “that i like you, dummy.”

୨୧ SIM JAEYUN ! - tries to kiss you and fails

as childhood friends you and jake were always expected to end up dating by your fellow family members. you would always brush off any comments about you two (deep down you wish they were true) while jake just smiled like a fool while looking at you. it was no surprise when jake told his friends he liked you. it wasn’t hard to notice how he felt about you, seen the way he looks at you with glimmering eyes as he took in every word you say. he has never really tried to hide how he felt about you. he wasn’t ashamed of it and couldn’t wait for the moment you realized he liked you, because deep down he knew you felt like him too. it’s funny to him how he’s always making flirty comments and giving you kind of romantic presents and still you just thought he was playing his role as your best friend. but still, even though it was all funny and entertaining to watch, jake was tired of waiting and he decided to just directly show you how he feels. so that’s how you find yourself sitting in the park bench with him as layla plays around. jake takes a quiet deep breath as his hand comes up to brush your hair from your face, making you face him. he takes that as an opportunity to lean down. you, thinking he was gonna whisper something, turned your face to the side, making him bump his head against you. he starts laughing at you, making you confused. “you can’t really see it, can you?”

୨୧ PARK SUNGHOON ! - misunderstanding gone right ?

no one who knew you two understood how in hell you and sunghoon weren’t a couple. it was so obvious you both liked each other but still none of you seemed to do anything about it. you two were your class’s representatives so you two were almost always together and it wasn’t too hard to notice the lingering touches or stares you shared. but something the other students didn’t know was that you two had actually talked about your “feelings”. one day sunghoon almost overheard you telling your friend you liked him. “you like me?” he had asked “no! no, i don’t like you, sunghoon.” you answered trying to play it off. he nodded, his lips pursing. “good, then because i’m in love with someone else.”. it was something along those lines and you two had never talked about it again, but the tension never left. it felt heavy on you and it was painful to spend time alone with sunghoon so you settled that you were gonna tell him the truth. “remember that day you asked me if i liked you?” he hummed as he stopped in his tracks. “well, i lied. i like you, actually. i don’t want things to get awkward because you don’t feel the same but i needed to be honest.” his eyes widened as he stared at you like you were crazy. “are you kidding me? i only said i didn’t like you because you said you didn’t like me.” you gasped and pointed an accusing finger at him “why did you lie then? you said you were in love-” “hey! don’t put the blame on me now you lied too.” “well, we still can fix it right?” you said laughing making him do the same.

୨୧ KIM SUNOO ! - “PFT! who would ever like me?”

you and sunoo weren’t the closest people ever but you two spent a lot of time together since pretty much all of your friends were mutual. still, that fact didn’t stop you from developing a silly crush on him that quickly turned into something more serious the more you got to know him in the very few times the two of you were left alone after a group hangout. no one knew about it except for your best friend. you never told sunoo, not because you were afraid of rejection or him being rude because with how sweet his personality is, he would’ve rejected you in such a friendly manner it would make you think he’s reciprocating the feelings, but because no one like him would ever like you, he was way out of your league. so, confessing was definitely out of question, no matter how much your best friend would insist you would simply not do it. but in reality, it wasn’t really like that. one day you were hanging out with sunoo and your best friend at a cat cafe when suddenly in the conversation you said something along the words of “who would ever like?” and bold sunoo, was not afraid to hide his sincere feelings and answered with “i do.” he smiled while you looked up blushing furiously. your best friend laughing maniacally. “w-what?” sunoo chuckled at your reaction. “i thought i made it quite obvious that i liked you, silly.”  oh! who would’ve guessed!

୨୧ YANG JUNGWON ! - heard you liked “someone else”

you and jungwon had met each other in sophomore year of highschool and it was safe to say there was a connection instantly that was more than just a platonic one. you two quickly became attached at the hip. if jungwon said he was going somewhere it was sure that you would be here two, if you were being invited somewhere they could already expect the “can jungwon come along?” question, and vice-versa. it wasn’t strange when people came up to either you or him and asked if you were dating each other and it honestly shocked everyone when you both would always answer no to it, even your own girlfriends found your “friendship” strange. they did not find the idea of a boy-girl friendship weird or impossible to exist but they just couldn’t see your dynamic as friends so it was bound for them to question you. you heard the question so many times you decided to just tell them “fine! yes, i like him so, what?” you saw their shocked faces but they weren’t looking at you. you looked behind you seeing jungwon behind you. when you locked eyes he was quick to turn his back and walk away making you panic. a few days have gone by after that and you decided you needed to talk to him. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner. i didn’t want things to get ruined by this.” jungwon stared at you “who even is tha guy?” he asked making you look at him as if he had three heads. “what?” you asked “what what?” “jungwon the guy is literally you, i thought that was settled already.” jungwon stayed silent before laughing like a maniac. “if you’re here to make fun of me you can-” jungwon shut you off with a kiss, making you relaize where things went wrong.

୨୧ NISHIMURA RIKI ! - i don’t even know how to word this one

let’s settle one thing. you two knew you both liked each other. romantically. you just don’t bother on labelling it or directly showing it to each other. everyone around you found your dynamic honestly weird but to you two it was more simple than people put it to be. it all started when you were really oblivious about ni-ki’s feelings for you so he decided to hint that he liked you more than a friend. like one time you were walking to his house and he just shoot “you look cute.” but you didn’t quite hear what he said, distracted by a dog “what did you say?” he sighed “i said you look like a fruit.” “riki that does not make sense, but whatever you say.” and he started gradually getting bolder. “i can’t get this song out of my head.” you told him during class “i can’t get you out of my head.” oh! that was new information for you “thanks…?” at this point you were acting dumb for him and he couldn’t take it anymore so he got even more straightforward. during one of your daily walks you were rambling about a flower you saw on the way and he just let you talk as his hand sneakily grabbed yours, making you stop talking and falter in your steps “what?” he asked as if it was nothing “n-nothing!” he smiled as he kept walking along with you. after that day he noticed a change. a good one. and that’s when he realized you had realized so he decided to just get to the point “is it weird if i kiss you?” he asked when you were eating lunch in the school garden. you put your drink down and turned to look at him. “honestly, riki? yes. do i care? no.” so with that he grabbed your face, kissing you as he smiled against your lips.

[littlexdeaths]

fever pitch - r.b.

softball player robin buckley x cheerleader fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: all characters are 18+, oral (f receiving), fingering, public sex, thigh riding, secret relationship, allusions to sex, bullying, mean!dom robin, little bit of mean reader, jealous reader

this is a collab with the absolutely brilliant @undead-supernova !! i literally had so much fucking fun writing this with you august, and it might be my favorite robin fic i’ve ever written. i feel like our brains collided and made a gay ass baby and i’m so proud of us. we hope you enjoy xx.

word count: 3.7K

“Shhh, don’t want us getting caught like this do you?”

Robin’s voice is hushed but stern, now lifting her head from between your trembling thighs. The blonde has you spread out on a bench in the dugout, skirt shoved up around your hips as her tongue laps up everything you have to offer.

That is until a broken moan leaves your lips, unable to stop it as her fingers curl up inside you. The sound breaks through the silence, the only thing heard above the soft hum of cicadas.

“What would your little friends think, hmm?” she taunts, brow raised as she looks up at you, dirt still smeared across her cheeks from the game. “Knowing a loser is the one making you feel so good?”

In that moment you can’t find it within yourself to care anymore, gripping her hair in your fist to guide her back between your legs. “Let them.”

Robin hums, her lips drifting lower to nip at the tender skin of your thighs. The action causes another loud whimper to leave you. “You sure about that, honey?”

“I don’t care,” you admit out loud for the first time, thoughts completely overwhelmed with all things Robin.

“Fuck, I don’t care anymore,” you sigh.

Never in your wildest dreams would you think tonight would turn out like this.

You’d been watching her from the sidelines as she attempted to slide into homebase, coming up a little short. You’d never gotten to see her play before, your extracurriculars usually running at the same time. But today had been just your luck, with Chrissy spraining her ankle, immediately being rushed off to get it iced. Coach ended practice shortly after—no use continuing without the star of the squad there, right?

It gave you the perfect opportunity to watch her without raising any suspicion—two of your teammates by your side, laughing as Robin struck out. You took your lower lip between your teeth, trying not to gawk as she rose to her feet. Dusting the dirt off her thighs when she caught your eye, biting back a smirk as she made her way towards the dugout.

But not before stopping by where you were leaning against the bleachers. Right there, in front of everyone for the first time.

See, this has been going on for months. The sneaking around, the feigned rivalry.

If only they knew what was really happening behind closed doors.

You first noticed her late one afternoon, walking to your car after cheer practice. Robin hadn’t even crossed your radar, barely a glance in the hallway. Too wrapped up in your own world to notice. But there was just something about the warm glow of the sunset laying against her flushed cheek. The way she found your eyes, like she knew your secret, before she spit out the shell of a sunflower seed. Chuckling as she grabbed her bat and walked off.

All you knew after that was you desperately wanted to know more. And boy, did you.

You quickly learned through word of mouth that she had been caught hooking up with some girl in the band room after school. That confirmation prompted you to start dropping her little hints. Longing glances when no one was paying attention, nods in the hallway. Sneaking out of practice early just so she’d notice you walk by. And, sure, she noticed.

But Robin wasn’t going to come easy, was she?

No, she wanted to make you work for it. To prove to her you were serious, not just another girl looking to make out with her for the thrill of it. Or some sick joke conjured up by the cheer squad to humiliate her more.

You quickly realized that your subtle hints were not going to get you what you wanted. Her.

One day you’d finally had enough, boldly slipping a note in her locker between classes. Coaxing her to meet you in the secluded alley between the gym and the cafeteria. A place you’d only used to meet a certain super senior when you wanted to buy some weed.

A spot unknown or used by the majority of the students of Hawkins High, knowing you wouldn’t be seen or heard by any curious passersby.

Part of you was worried she wouldn't show, becoming increasingly more nervous as time passed. Any lingering qualms were squashed when you saw her striding down the narrow path towards you. She looked good, her dark jeans hugging her hips just right. A button-up shirt tucked loosely into them, the top few buttons left open.

You wanted nothing more than to lean forward, closing the short distance between your bodies. Leave a trail of blues and purples along her exposed skin. And that terrified you, to know that one girl could mess you up in such a monumental way.

“So,” you mumbled, kicking a pebble with the tip of your sneaker.

“So,” she answered, crossing her arms over her chest.

Without hesitation, you introduced yourself but Robin gave you a confused look.

“Yeah, I already know who you are.”

“You do?”

“Well, we’ve gone to school together our whole lives…” she paused, running a hand through her hair, “and when a girl is practically eye-fucking you in the halls, it’s hard not to notice.”

“Oh, right,” you replied, looking down. Embarrassment washed over you. “Sorry, I guess I misinterpreted this whole thing.”

You carefully pushed off the wall, ready to walk away and pretend like this whole thing never happened. Save yourself the humiliation.

But her soft voice stopped you in your tracks.

“I wouldn't say that.”

“Then what would you say?” you asked, more confident now.

“You’re the one who asked me here,” Robin pointed out, turning the focus back to you.

And just as quickly as your confidence had risen, it fell. So you looked down again, now fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

“I don’t, um,” you struggled. “I don’t really know how to say it. I just…I…”

“Oh, just spit it out already.”

You looked up at her exasperated expression, narrowing your eyes. “Fine! Fine. Whatever. I like you, okay?”

“Like me? We’ve never spoken.”

“Don’t give me that when I’ve seen the way you look at me too.”

Robin’s hardened expression fell. “Touché.”

Silence fell between you, Robin lifting her head to look at the sky. You couldn’t help but squirm again, feeling a desperate urge to breathe in her scent.

You sighed. “So, what do we do now?”

“Hell if I know,” she replied, looking back at you. “I thought you were stuck up like the rest of your prissy friends.”

“Not when I’m around you,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “You make me feel…different, somehow.”

“I could make it much worse for you, you know,” Robin replied, a smug grin reaching her lips as she stepped closer to you. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Please—”

“Actually, no,” Robin interrupted, fingers inching towards your hip. “You should beg.”

“Please,” you said without hesitation. “Please, Robin. I need you.”

Robin knew she shouldn’t. And so did you. But there was just something there, pressing against your chests as Robin pressed you against the brick. And when she kissed you the first time, you nearly whined in contentment, mewling softly against her mouth.

That kiss left you feeling desperate, eager for her to show you more. However, Robin wasn’t going to chase you, forcing you to take matters into your own hands. You sought her out one night after practice, pulling her into the equipment room outside the gym. Backing her body against the door, lips meeting once you heard the lock click into place.

“Just couldn’t stay away now, could you, baby?” she mumbled against your mouth, pulling a soft whine from you as she nipped at your lower lip. The noise caused her to laugh softly.

“I want you, Robs.”

She hummed in response, letting her lips trail across your jaw. “Want me how?” she prodded as the tip of her nose skimmed along your collarbone, rendering you utterly speechless.

“Show me,” she breathed, further stealing the breath from your lungs as she kissed you deeply. Taking control as she flipped your positions, enclosing you against the door.

You’re pliable under her soft touch, guiding her fingers up and underneath your pleated skirt. The blue of her irises nearly swallowed whole by her pupils as she gazed at you hungrily. That look ignited something within you, feeling emboldened as you reached forward to undo her pants. Exploring each other in a way that was unfamiliar to you, her skilled fingers helping to guide you with ease.

After that, it was just your little secret, with no one being the wiser. Why would they? You were on the opposite ends of the food chain, fractured by the Hawkins High hierarchy. Leaving little glances across the cafeteria, brushes of your fingertips in the hallway as a secret reminder of what you two had. It didn’t hurt that you could sit in class, practice, or even the shower and think about how they’d brush against your breasts later.

Of course, you couldn’t help but wind her up whenever you could be overheard. As she would gladly put you in your place in private.

But you knew as she approached you on the field with that familiar glint in her eye— you were really in for it this time.

“What’s so funny?” Robin asked, removing her gloves. You let your eyes linger on her fingers for a moment as she gripped the leather. Quickly shifting your gaze elsewhere as you pressed your thighs together.

Something the blonde didn’t miss. Holding back a smug smile as she looked between the three of you.

“You’re just such a loser,” Carol snickered, snapping her gum between her teeth.

Heather joined in with a giggle. “Yeah, maybe you should look into joining the t-ball team. Seems like a much better fit for you.”

Heather knew she struck a nerve, pleased with herself as Robin’s jaw clenched in anger.

“Oh, yeah?” Robin said, ready to egg her on. “And what do you know, Holloway? I’d like to see you do something other than shake your ass at Billy Hargrove during games. Don’t you find it pathetic how desperate you are for his attention?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Heather snapped back. “As if you are getting any. No one even knows your name.”

“You’d be surprised,” Robin replied, her eyes shifting towards you as if on instinct. “You know, I don’t recall ever seeing this one with a guy.”

“You better get back to that pitch before you strike out, Buckley,” you bit back, shooting her a warning look. “Again.”

With a shake of her head, Robin glanced behind you at your “friends” before scoffing and turning. But not before she took her cleat and scuffed up dirt onto your shiny white sneakers.

“Oops.” She laughed, giving you one last look before walking away.

Not missing a beat, Heather turned to you with a bewildered expression. “You know her name?”

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s on her uniform.”

“Oh— right,” she murmured, the conversation quickly forgotten as they discussed their plans for the night: yet another kegger at the Harrington residence. It was something you definitely weren’t interested in attending.

Though they begged you to join them, you merely shrugged and told them to go without you. They didn’t even blink before heading off, their laughter fading as quickly as it started. But you soon found yourself lost in the chatter of the crowd and the roar of the umpire.

You decided to move up, leaning against the chain-link fence, pom-poms thrown to the dirt as you watched your girl stepping up to bat again. The score had been tied, this being Hawkins High’s last chance to win the game.

As always, Robin found you again. She gave you a wink before you heard the sharp crack of the bat. You gasped along with the crowd at the sight of the ball shooting through the sky and into the parking lot.

You couldn’t help the loud cheer erupting from your lips, clapping along with the crowd as she sprinted through each base with ease. And as she slid into home and was declared safe, her eyes met yours. They followed you as she picked herself up, sweat dripping as she removed her helmet. Shaking her dampened hair out with a wide grin.

There was no longer anything inside you that beckoned you to be malicious. You could feel a swell of pride inside you, wanting nothing more than to show her just how incredible she was. How much you cared about her…and you planned on it.

Her teammates were quick to surround her, lifting her up onto their shoulders as the crowd continued to cheer. Robin was clearly embarrassed by the sudden swarm of attention, her cheeks beautifully flushed as they carried her across the field. Soaking in the glory for a few more moments before they were called to line up, shaking hands with the opposing team.

But as everyone began to clear out, you noticed Beth Wildfire hanging back, laughing near the dugout with Robin. As you moved closer, you could make out the way Beth was checking out Robin’s ass as she bent over to grab her glove.

Robin lifted her head slightly, noticing you making your way over.

“Nice win, Buckley,” Beth said, popping in a piece of gum. “We should go out and celebrate.”

“Oh, yeah?” Robin asked, a devious smile on her lips as she rose. You couldn’t stop the jealousy beginning to surface. “You think we should invite the team?”

She was making you work for it, wasn’t she?

“Actually, I thought maybe you and I could—”

“Hey, Robin,” you said, directly in Beth’s line of sight now.

Beth gave you a look, clearly annoyed by your interruption.

Good.

“Hey,” Robin greeted. “What’s up?”

“You still need that ride?” you asked, clutching your pom poms tighter in your fists.

“I’d almost forgotten,” Robin replied smugly.

“Well, uh,” Beth said, taking a step closer to Robin. “I could always take her home after heading to Benny’s.”

“No, that’s alright,” you said curtly, faking a smile as you also took a step forward. “I think I’ve got it from here.”

You and Beth exchanged glances before her eyes widened, flickering between you and Robin who was only looking at you. Beth said nothing, opting instead to give you both a quick nod. But the clear disappointment on her face brought you more joy than you cared to admit.

“I’ll see you later, then,” she said. “Again, nice win, Buckley.”

Even as she walked away, Robin never broke eye contact. “Thanks, Beth,” she called out, a grin widening on her lips.

“Ready to go, mon chéri? I’m starving.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

And that’s how you ended up here, your legs draped over Robin’s shoulders as her tongue circles over your clit. One hand buried in her hair and the other clutching onto the chain link fence behind you. Her blue hues never leave your face, taking in each and every reaction she pulls from you.

“You know, you’re pretty cute when you’re jealous.” She grins, flicking the tip of her tongue over your swollen clit. Enjoying the way your body twitches with every motion.

“I wasn’t jealous.”

You breathlessly try to deny it, but you both know you’re lying. Once again letting your pride get in the way, prompting Robin to remove her tongue from your center.

“No— Robbie, please,” you whine as she pulls away fully, resting her cheek against your inner thigh as she continues to slowly thrust her fingers inside you.

She revels in the way your walls grip tightly around the digits, almost as if you’re trying to keep them trapped inside. And as much as she loves feeling you, she loves making you beg even more.

So she slips her fingers out of your dripping cunt completely. Standing up to hover over you as she brings them to your lips.

“Please what, princess?” she taunts, her fingers now slipping into your mouth. Your tongue eagerly swirling around the digits until they’re devoid of any trace of you.

Robin removes them just as fast, trailing the saliva-coated digits down your jaw until they wrap around the base of your throat. “Answer me,” her harsh tone only further dampening the area between your thighs.

“Please don’t stop,” you plead without hesitation, rocking your hips up against her thigh. A look of desperation flitting across your features as you clutch onto her shoulders.

“Aww, you wanna cum, pretty thing?” Her tone is laced with condescension, finding yourself nodding almost frantically as you gaze up at her.

“I don’t know, baby… you were pretty mean earlier.” She paused, a small pout forming on your lips as she traced over them with her thumb. “You think you deserve it?”

You nod as if on instinct, whining as she pulls away from you completely. Rising to her feet once again, grabbing your hands and pulling you up off the bench. Your breasts press together as she whispers softly in your ear, “Prove it to me, then.”

You eagerly reach for the buttons on her uniform, tugging the zipper down. Impatiently yanking her pants down over the curve of her ass as you take back control.

“Sit,” you demand, resting your hands on her shoulders. Coaxing her to take your previous position on the worn bench.

“So bossy,” she teases, gripping your hips as you swing your leg over her thigh.

Taking a seat as you slip your fingers past the elastic of her underwear, moaning at the wetness you find there.

“This all for me?” you muse, your thumb brushing over her bundle of nerves with ease now. Having become quite familiar with every inch of her body over the last three months.

“I mean… Beth was looking good tonight—”

You cut her off with your mouth before she has a chance to finish her sentence. That surge of jealousy coursing through your veins as you kiss her deeply.

“She can’t have you,” you mumble against her mouth, before taking her lower lip between your teeth and tugging. “You're all mine.”

Robin curses softly as you begin to grind your hips against her thigh, slipping two fingers into her awaiting heat. Pumping them in tandem with each rock of your hips, as she mewls against your mouth.

“Please.” Now she's the one doing the begging, despite your hips continuing to grind down against her thigh. The mixture of her saliva and your juices making a mess on her bare skin.

You giggle softly as you increase the pressure on her clit with your thumb, burying your fingers deeper inside her. “Say it again.” She moans as you attach your lips to the base of her throat.

The blonde tilts her head back to expose more of her neck as you greedily suck on her flushed skin. A feeling of pride washes over you as you leave blotches of red and purple in your wake.

“You’re mine, Robin.” Your tone is overly possessive, enjoying how her body trembles beneath you. Your words being the thing to finally send her over the edge as she pulls your face back up to crash her lips against yours.

Her fingers dig harshly into the skin of your hips, encouraging you to keep grinding on her thigh. Lifting her leg to increase the pressure on your core. “That’s it… such a good girl.”

She pulls back slightly to watch you with hooded eyes, lips lifting in a genuine smile.

“My good girl.”

Her words elicit a bigger response than either of you expected, your thighs tightening around her own as you loudly cry out her name. Her hands continue to guide you along her thigh, working you through each wave of euphoria that crashes over you.

You’re both panting as you begin to come down from your highs, nuzzling your face in the crook of her neck. “Wow,” you breathe out, lightly tracing over the darkening love bites on her neck.

“Jeez, I think the whole town heard you,” Robin teases, running her fingers along your back.

“Well,” you start, pulling back to look at her. “I’m just trying to congratulate my girl on her big win.”

“Your girl?” she teases.

You bite your lip, trying to hide your smile. “Mhm.”

“Admit it,” Robin says, lifting her eyebrows, eyes tracing the lines of your face. “You were jealous.”

“Maybe I was,” you finally admit, earning an amused smile from her. “But I don’t think I have to worry about anyone else.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm.”

You press a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth before standing, helping her to her feet. Leaning back against the fence as she wiggles her pants back up over her hips.

Robin is still fastening the buttons as you walk out onto the field. Her eyes follow your figure as you reach the pitcher's mound. A fond look falls over her features as your eyes flutter shut, letting the last glow of the setting sun soak into your pores.

Feeling the weight of her stare, you turn back around. Flashing her a beaming smile as she finally reaches you on the field.

“So… Benny’s?” you ask, twisting your skirt back into place. “I’m actually starving now.”

Robin looks at you in utter disbelief as she places her hat back on her head, the brim facing the opposite direction. “Wait, you’re serious? What if someone sees us together?”

You can’t stop the giggle that leaves you, now closing the few feet separating you from her. Cupping her face in between your palms as you press another kiss to her lips.

Right in the middle of the open field.

“I told you,” you say, louder this time. “Let them see us. I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

You slip your hand into hers, lacing your fingers as you begin leading her towards your car. A sight to see, her bat and glove in her unoccupied hand. Your pom-poms in yours.

“You were still an asshole earlier, you know that?” Robin says.

As you share a laugh, you swing your intertwined hands back-and-forth. You’re practically skipping as you pull her along, light-hearted and winded.

“And you ruined my sneakers,” you counter. “Are you gonna clean them for me?”

“Only if you’re good, mon chéri.”

“I think I can manage that,” you reply as you venture further into the twilight. “At least for a little bit.”

tagging some moots 💕

@xxbimbobunnyxx @babygorewhore @impmunson @voyeurmunson @eddiesxangel @taintedcigs @strangerstilinski

[ghosttotheparty]

saw this prompt @newgrangespirals @steddieas-shegoes; needed to write it but also i kind of derailed it bc my brain has a mind of its own and its focus is steddie so i apologize also on ao3

He’s met with silence. 

Eddie supposes Murray Bauman must only ever be met with silence after speaking; he doesn’t seem the type of man to hold an easy, casual conversation. Especially now. 

Even Argyle is silent, his fork stalled on its way to his mouth as he looks from Murray to Jonathan, whose face is red, then Nancy, who’s equally flushed. 

Eddie looks at the table, his vision blurring. His hands are shaking.

“Murray,” Joyce says in a lethally calm voice. Eddie had forgotten she was here. “Go.”

“What do you mean, go?” Murray says, his voice quieter like he’s starting to sense what he’s just done. “We’re in—“

“Murray,” Joyce snaps. Eddie flinches. His fingers are knotting with the hem of the tablecloth, his food uneaten on his plate. “Go. I will deal with you later.”

There’s a moment of quiet before Murray’s chair scrapes across the uneven tile floor, and his footsteps retreat. And then there’s silence again. Tense, tense silence. 

“Steve,” Nancy says quietly, and Eddie looks up at her, glaring even though she hasn’t done anything to him. Jonathan looks at her too, anxious. Joyce sips her water, her hand shaking, and Hopper has his head down, his face hidden in his hands. 

“I’m good,” Steve says shortly, and Eddie looks at him, his stomach flipping. Steve is smiling a little, but it’s an awful smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes. He pushes his plate away with a breath like he feels just as sick as Eddie does, and he nods, but he doesn’t look like he’s really here. “I’m…”

“Steve, it— it wasn’t—“

“You told him my name,” Steve snaps, looking at her across the table, his eyes wide. Nancy looks like she’s going to start crying, and Eddie finds that he really doesn’t care if she does. “And you still…”

He laughs. Dryly, humourlessly. Eddie feels like he might throw up. 

Steve closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose the way he does when he feels a migraine coming on, and he laughs again. 

“Steve—“ Jonathan tries to say, but Steve just holds his hands up, shaking his head. 

“I’m just…”

He pushes his plate farther away, moving his chair back with a loud scrape, and then he’s leaving too, going upstairs. Eddie watches him go, watches Robin get up to follow him before she deflates, seeing the way Steve gestures for her to stay, to leave him alone. Robin’s hands are shaking, and Eddie can practically feel the anger radiating from her. 

The silence is back after a door slams upstairs. 

Joyce sets her glass down loudly, and she puts her hands flat on the table next to her plate, taking a deep, shaky breath. Hopper says her name softly, but she holds a hand up, shushing him. 

“I have never…” she starts slowly, her voice shaking with anger. “I have never been more disappointed in my life.”

“Mom—”

“Jonathan,” Joyce snaps, fixing a look on him, and he falls quiet. “…I did not raise you to be the other man. And Nancy, I…” She puts her hands on the table again, taking a measured breath before she looks at Nancy. “I am not your mother, but I think I am well within my rights to say I’m disappointed in you, too.”

“Ms Byers—”

“I don’t want to hear a word out of either of you,” Joyce says calmly before she touches her face, rubbing her chin anxiously as she stares at her plate in front of her. Nobody is eating anymore. Eddie still feels sick, but he also feels like he’s blended into the wall, like everybody’s forgotten that he’s here at all.  He looks at the table, at the fraying tablecloth that’s clutched in his fingers. 

“Unbelievable,” Joyce mutters to herself. “I can’t…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. Nancy takes a shuddering breath. She might be crying. 

“Eddie, dude.”

Eddie looks up, his eyes meeting Argyle’s. He’s looking over at Eddie anxiously, his head tilted a little bit, and as they look at each other, the others look at Eddie too. And suddenly he isn’t in the wall, but he’s the centrepiece of the table, the showstopper, the freak. 

It’s like they all remember what Murray said at the same time. 

“Eddie,” Joyce says, her voice softer than it was a moment ago. Kinder. Eddie looks at her. “Honey, if… if it is true. None of us have any problem with it.”

If it is true.

They all know it is. Eddie can tell just by looking at them that they all know. 

He feels so… small. Like he’s fifteen again. Like he’s new in high school, like he’s walking down the hallway and feeling all the stares, the eyes and eyes and eyes looking, watching, analysing, judging. Even though Joyce’s gaze is kind, and Hopper gives him a slight nod when their eyes meet. 

Eddie’s chest feels so tight he can’t breathe, each breath shallow and weak, and he’s kind of lightheaded, and he feels fucking nauseous. 

“I, uhm.” He clears his throat, his stomach churning, and he untangled his fingers from the tablecloth, taking a sharp breath. “Excuse me,” he says quickly, breathlessly, moving his chair back so fast it tips on the uneven tiles. He feels like he might pass out as he goes upstairs, hearing Argyle say something quietly behind him.

Upstairs feels even quiet than downstairs. Like every room could have an echo. 

Eddie finds a room that’s empty except for some cardboard boxes, and he shuts the door behind himself before he goes to the opposite side of the room, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead to the wall. It’s cold. 

He’s breathing too fast, and his head feels light, like if his eyes were open his vision would be dark. He wraps his arms around himself tightly, squeezing as he exhales until he wheezes, until there’s nothing in his lungs, and then he inhales as slowly as he can. In, in, in, until he can’t anymore. He holds it. Exhales. Does it all over again. 

Until he can breathe without suffocating. 

He turns to rest his back on the wall, and he slides down to the floor, closing his eyes and pulling his knees to his chest, exhaling shakily. 

He’s never felt like this before. 

He feels so… lonely. 

He feels almost cold, even though sunlight is streaming through the window, beams of golden light glowing across the floor. 

He cries. Even though he tries not to. He can’t help it, and the tears are absorbed by the sleeves of his hoodie. 

Steve’s hoodie. Eddie hates that he’s wearing it, even though Steve brought it just for him. Even though Steve specifically made sure he brought a black one, even though it smells like Steve. Eddie hates that Murray noticed that it’s Steve’s. 

He stays there for a while. Until the sunlight dims. 

He only lifts his head when the door breaks open, and Steve’s voice says, “Eddie?”

Eddie stands quickly, wiping his face and sniffling as Steve finds him and shuts the door behind himself. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, his voice wavering. “You okay?”

Steve nods. He doesn’t look like he’s been crying, but his eyes are shining blankly. And Eddie aches. 

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really have to. Steve blinks at him, hesitating. 

“I kind of already knew,” he says like it’s a question. “I just…” He exhales, swallowing, and Eddie knows he’s talking about Nancy and Jonathan. It. “I, like, convinced myself I didn’t care? That it— it didn’t matter?” 

Eddie listens, leaning against the wall, watching Steve push his hair back anxiously. 

“I mean— the world was ending, who gives a shit if— if I get cheated on? It’s so fucking stupid.” He doesn’t seem to realize he’s even talking to Eddie. He’s just talking. Saying what he didn’t say downstairs. “But I’m so… Jesus. Hearing it out loud, like— like Murray was fucking proud, like it was funny, I’m just… I don’t know.”

Steve deflates, leaning against the door, looking at Eddie, and his eyes are shining. 

“Embarrassed?”

“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, Steve,” Eddie says softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“...I trusted them,” Steve says quietly, weakly. 

“You trusted them,” Eddie repeats. “What they did is their fault, Steve, you didn’t do anything wrong. Trusting them wasn’t wrong,” he adds adamantly, watching the way Steve’s eyes shine. “You thought they were— they were trustworthy. You didn’t know they’d do something like that.” 

Steve sniffs, looking at the floor. His cheeks are flushed, and Eddie hates himself for thinking he looks beautiful. 

“You have every right to feel hurt,” Eddie says gently. Steve looks at him. He swallows. “And to feel angry.”

“What about you?” Steve asks quietly after a moment. Eddie blinks. 

“What about me?” 

Steve looks at him. His eyes flick back and forth between Eddie’s for a moment, intent and searching before he speaks. His voice is so soft. Kind. 

“He just outed you in front of all of us,” he says quietly. “You’re not angry?” 

Eddie blinks again. 

Steve looks at him so kindly. Eddie likes being looked at like this. Like Steve is listening to him even though he isn’t speaking. And Eddie realizes that Steve just knows, that he doesn’t question it. That he knows how Eddie is feeling, but is waiting for him to say it himself.

Eddie’s lip quivers, and he feels like a child again. 

“I…” He hesitates, taking a breath as a wave of nausea washes over him again. Steve just looks at him. “I’ve never come out to anyone,” he says weakly. He doesn’t recognize his own voice. “I’ve never gotten the chance to. My— My dad found some zines in my room when I was fourteen, and I didn’t… I didn’t have to say anything.” His voice is shaking. He’s never told anyone about this, not even Jeff. “The only time I ever heard that man say anything about God was when he was trying to beat the queer out of me,” he says, laughing the way Steve laughed downstairs. Humorless. Almost hysterical. “And he— he called Wayne to tell him everything because he…” 

Eddie trails off, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. 

“I told myself no one would ever know when Wayne took me in, but I swear it was like overnight, the whole town knew,” he chokes. “Because of— of my hair, or my clothes, or— or because people associate queerness with evil and— and Satanism, I don’t fucking know, but everyone knew and I…” 

He covers his face, his face hot with embarrassment as a sob escapes him, and it feels so stupid to be so upset right now, but Steve just waits patiently, listening and looking at him. 

“People keep taking it,” Eddie chokes, his face wet with tears now, looking at Steve desperately. “It’s mine, and people keep taking it from me.” 

Steve nods. 

And then he’s coming close and wrapping his arms around Eddie, and Eddie is crying into his shoulder, his hands clutching at Steve’s shirt the way they clutched at the tablecloth earlier, his fingers gripping the fabric so tightly his knuckles ache. He’s shaking. But Steve’s hands feel steady as they run over his back, and Eddie wants to die. 

Because Murray told them to have sex. And Steve is still here, holding Eddie while he cries, even though he knows Eddie is gay, even though Murray told the whole table that Eddie likes Steve, that it’s so painfully obvious that he likes Steve. That he’s pining, yearning. 

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his face into Steve’s neck, his shoulders shaking as he sobs, and Steve moves a hand to hold the back of his head, his fingers pressing into Eddie’s curls to cradle his skull. And it’s almost fucking tender, and Eddie doesn’t know how he got here. Or where he’s going to go. 

Steve is murmuring to him. Quiet I got yous and It’s okays, his voice breathy and soft in Eddie’s ear. Eddie melts against him, and Steve holds him tightly, swaying with him, rubbing his back and scratching his fingertips over his scalp carefully the way he does when Eddie has nightmares. 

Eddie whines into his neck, choking on his breath, and Steve’s arm tightens around his waist like he’s preparing to catch Eddie if he falls. 

“I know,” he whispers softly. “It’s not fair.” 

Eddie shakes his head. 

It’s not fair. 

It’s fucking bullshit. 

The whole world thinks it knows him better than he knows himself. Even if they’re fucking right. It’s not fair. He’s never gotten to speak for himself, never gotten to really introduce himself. 

He aches when he finally stops crying, his fingers relaxing but still holding Steve’s shirt loosely, and his hands are sore. Steve runs his hand through Eddie’s hair. He waits, holding Eddie close even though he isn’t crying anymore, touching him gently, kindly, as Eddie catches his breath. 

“You know what I’m angriest at?” Eddie asks softly after a few moments, his voice weak and breaking from his crying. Steve touches his head again. 

“What?” Steve whispers. 

“...He’s fucking right.”

Steve is quiet. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut as they burn again. 

And then Steve is shifting, holding the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie blinks his eyes open to look at him. Steve looks into his eyes intently, and it’s almost too much, but Eddie can’t look away, his hands tightening on Steve’s shirt. 

“About everything?” he whispers softly. Tentatively. 

Eddie looks back and forth between his eyes, and he nods. 

He feels sick again. He can’t breathe. 

Steve’s hand moves to Eddie’s face, and he’s so fucking warm. His thumb brushes over Eddie’s cheek so lightly Eddie can barely feel it. And Steve’s face relaxes, like he’s deflating, as he touches Eddie’s face, as his other hand presses into the small of his back. 

“I really fucking hate him,” Steve breathes. His eyes flicker across Eddie’s face, and they linger on Eddie’s mouth. Eddie whispers his name. Steve hesitates, stammering silently for a moment before, “Can you say it?”

Eddie steps back a little, and their hands fall even though they’re still close enough for Eddie to see the green in his eyes. 

“...Say what?” he asks hesitantly. Steve looks at him, his eyes shining, and he looks so desperate suddenly. 

“Everything,” he says breathlessly. “I wanna hear it from you.”

Eddie’s eyes fill with tears, but Steve looks like he’s begging, and Eddie is weak. 

“I’m gay,” he says softly, whispering like he’s worried someone outside might hear. “And I…” He takes a breath. Steve’s eyes look back and forth between Eddie’s like he’s looking for it. “I have, like… a huge fucking crush on you.”

Steve’s eyes drop to Eddie’s mouth like he’s watching his lips form the words. Eddie is trembling. Steve suddenly feels like he’s across the room, like he’s far away even though they’re standing so close. 

“I might fucking be in love with you, Steve, I…” 

He chokes on his breath, and Steve is touching him again, reaching for his face and wiping away his tears carefully, stepping closer. Eddie’s hands find his waist, and he grips his shirt again. 

Steve says his name. 

It always sounds so nice in his mouth. 

“You don’t– You don’t have to,” Eddie says, trying to tear himself away, closing his eyes as Steve holds his face and wipes his tears. “I know, it’s…”

“Eddie,” Steve whispers, his hands tightening on Eddie’s cheeks, and he’s so close now, their noses almost brushing. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

 Eddie’s eyes widen. He leans back to see Steve clearly, and Steve looks so nervous that Eddie aches. 

“Really?” Eddie asks weakly. 

“I…” Steve pauses, brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheeks and licking his lips, hesitating. “I might be fucking in love with you too,” he whispers. 

Eddie closes his eyes, exhaling as Steve strokes his cheeks again. He gasps for breath when Steve’s forehead touches his, his hands tightening on Steve’s shirt before he slides his hands over his waist gently. He can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric. 

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Steve asks again, his breath soft on Eddie’s face. 

“Yeah,” he chokes. 

Steve’s palms press to Eddie’s cheeks, and Eddie’s hands clutch at Steve’s waist desperately when Steve’s nose nudges his, when their lips brush. He feels like he’s dying. 

But Steve kisses him so softly, so sweetly. Holding his face tenderly in his hands and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before pulling away to look at him, to check, even though Eddie is holding him against himself, even though Eddie’s chin lifts like he’s subconsciously searching for his mouth again. 

Eddie’s eyes flutter open, and Steve is smiling at him. It’s such a soft smile, and Eddie forgets everything that’s happened today. Except Steve’s lips on his. 

“Please,” he breathes. Begs. Pleads. 

Steve kisses him again. One of his hands slides to hold the back of his head again, his fingers threading into Eddie’s curls, and his other shifts down to Eddie’s neck, his fingertips slipping under the hoodie as his thumb brushes over Eddie’s throat so lightly it tickles a little bit. Eddie’s hands press to Steve’s waist and slide to press into the small of his back, and he’s probably wrinkling the fabric of his shirt, but neither of them cares as they tilt their heads, as their lips part. 

They pull away to look at each other after a few moments, close enough that they’re sharing breaths as they both breathe hard, as Steve’s fingertips scratch over Eddie’s scalp lightly and Eddie’s eyelids flutter for a second. And then Steve is tilting his head and leaning down to kiss Eddie’s neck, his fingers twisting in his hair to hold him in place, and Eddie is dying, letting out a whimper as his eyes close and his hands reach for Steve’s arms. His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of his upper arms, squeezing as Steve presses a slow kiss under his ear. His mouth is so warm. 

Steve kisses him when he lifts his head, and Eddie kisses him back desperately, reaching to wrap his arms around his neck, whining when Steve’s hands find his waist and pull. 

Then Steve pushes, reaching up to hold the back of Eddie’s head, and Eddie stumbles back, his fingers tangling in Steve’s hair and tugging when his back hits the wall.  Steve’s hand blocks his head from the wall, and Eddie smiles against his mouth, gasping when Steve’s tongue slips across his lip. 

“Steve,” he gasps, lightheaded as Steve sucks on his lower lip, as one of his hands slides under the hoodie to touch his skin. His palms are a little rough with calluses, scratching the sensitive scar tissue on Eddie’s waist lightly, and Eddie groans. 

Steve pulls away with a gasp, looking at Eddie desperately, frantically, his other hand holding his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, and his lips are shining, and his hair is a mess, and Eddie wantshimwantshimwantshim—

“Do you wanna leave?” Steve asks, his voice rough, and Eddie looks at his mouth, still panting. “I… I don’t wanna see any of them, I just…” He’s breathless too. His hand runs over Eddie’s scarring again almost mindlessly as his thumb brushes his cheek. “Do you wanna go?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. 

Steve smiles softly, his eyes shining at him, and he leans in to kiss him one more time, caressing his cheek. (Caressing. Jesus.) Eddie hums, savouring it before they part with a quiet, slick noise that seems to echo in the empty room. 

Eddie feels lightheaded again, but he’s smiling like he’s sleepy as Steve shifts his hands to press his chin up, smiling at how pliant Eddie is. Eddie laughs under his breath, his hands holding Steve’s shoulders. 

“I’m so fucking… relieved right now,” Eddie whispers, his head falling to rest on the wall behind him. Steve kisses him again before he pulls him close, hugging him tightly. 

Eddie buries his face in Steve’s neck, wrapping his arms around him tightly, wanting to jump up and wrap his legs around his waist, to cling to him like a koala, wanting to climb inside him, to be as close as fucking possible. Steve exhales roughly, pushing a hand into Eddie’s hair. 

Steve holds his hand as they leave, ignoring the others that are gathered in the living room, even though they’re clearly waiting for the two of them. Eddie lets the door slam shut behind them. Steve drives. Eddie reaches over and puts a hand on his thigh, squeezing gently as he looks out the windows and watches the world go by. 

He’s kind of anxious about this, whatever it is. Anxious that he isn’t what Steve thinks he is, what Steve hopes he is, anxious that he isn’t enough for him. 

But he’ll try his best, he knows he will. He’ll bring Steve fucking flowers, he’ll write him fucking poems if it makes him smile. He’ll ravish him the way he deserves, touch him the way he likes, tell him every chance he gets how fucking beautiful he is. He’ll kiss him good morning and learn how to make his coffee just right. He’ll memorize the pattern of his moles and name constellations on his skin. 

He’ll remind him every single day, as long as Steve lets him have him, what he deserves. 

[honeekyuu]

talk too much. [suna rintarou x reader]

ten. ruin

previous || masterlist || next

a/n. uhm....... yeah.

warnings: swearing, phone sex

✗ !!! minors do not interact !!! ✗

✗ !!! ignore timestamps !!! ✗

“No you didn’t-”

“I did!” Suna laughs on the other end, and you giggle into your cup in response, brain fuzzy and warm. “I walked into a room full of fourth years and pulled out my canvas and when I looked up— boom. Naked ass man, dick in my face-”

“Stop!” you wheeze, shaking your head. “How the hell did you not realize-”

“I was nervous! I was so nervous to be there that I didn’t even realize I was in the wrong fucking room.”

“Did you leave?!”

“No! Of course I fucking didn’t!” You hear two sharp thuds on the other end and know just by the sound that Suna’s pounding his fist on the table. “I tunnel-visioned my way into a nude modeling class as a first year — you really think I had the courage to get up and leave after that?” 

You take a long sip of your mixed drink, leaning back against the arm of your couch and sighing deep after you swallow. “So? Then what happened?”

“Uh – I missed syllabus day of Art as Identity and drew a charcoal recreation of some random guy’s penis. Komori has it framed in his kitchen. It’s a talking point for guests and friends alike.” 

“I can’t believe you’re this much of an introvert,” you say, shaking your head with a giddy grin. “You’re so loud with me-”

“Okay, go ahead and add salt to the wound-” he barks sarcastically, snickering when you break into laughter. 

“You’re funny, Suna,” you say openly after a minute, sighing into the admission. “More people should know how funny you are.” 

“Just you’s enough, I think — and maybe your friends, just so they like me,” he responds, quiet filling the space between you for a moment. You chew on your lip while you think.

“What’d you think of them?” you whisper after a moment. “My friends.”

“Your friends?” he repeats, confusion seeping into his voice. “I mean, I always thought Suga was a weird dude, but he’s overall pretty chill and funny. Especially with Alisa – they fight a lot, don’t they?”

You smile fondly. “She likes to make him angry. He’s really easy to rile up.”

“Yeah, I could tell. They seem like good friends. I feel like I got to know you better by meeting them.”

You sigh quietly, the question burned into your mind starting to feel like guilt. You shouldn’t ask, because the truth is that your friends are the perfect friends. They’re both perfect, and you don’t know where you’d be without them. And you’re not in the habit of comparing yourself to your best friend, because you know she’d kill you for doing that.

But still, the question lingers.

“And… Alisa?” you ask, feeling the terrible guilt burn in your throat like bile. “What’d you think of her?” 

You can hear the wheels turning in Suna’s head, the silence on his end growing haunting as the seconds tick by.

“I think she’s beautiful,” he says, and – through the horrible, disappointed swooping in your gut – you realize that him being this honest even when he can tell what’s bothering you only makes you trust him more. He knows what you’re looking for, and he makes no move to sugarcoat his thoughts for you. Your respect for him grows. “But me acknowledging that she’s beautiful and me having feelings for you can both be true. Can’t they?”

You shut your eyes, sighing. You feel like an idiot. “Yes.”

“Just because your best friend is beautiful, that doesn’t mean you’re not.”

“I know.”

“I can think she’s beautiful and also think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen-”

“Oh, my God,” you laugh, embarrassed. “I get it, Suna. It was a stupid question.”

“Yeah, it was,” he says, and you can hear his smile. “Promise not to do it again?”

“No,” you mutter. He laughs.

“Okay. I can live with that.” You feel the conversation end there, and, despite the embarrassment, you feel glad that you asked. “I was thinking about something a minute ago actually,” he says, interrupting your thought. “You call me by my last name.” 

You quirk an eyebrow, the previous conversation forgotten, and purse your lips. “Is it not your name?” 

“Yeah, but…” He swallows audibly and then laughs to himself. “Your friends also call me Suna.”

You warm, seeing where this is going. “Would you rather me call you Rintarou?” His name feels foreign in your mouth, as if your tongue is just as nervous as you are, but you kind of like the taste of it.

His name feels important.

The other end of the line goes completely silent, long enough that you pull your phone away from your face to check that the call’s still connected. 

“Shit,” he breathes finally. “I dunno anymore. I was gonna suggest it, but I dunno if I can handle that, Y/n.”

Your name sounds important on his tongue, too.

Your chest starts to flutter with nerves, but the alcohol wants you to push it. “What about Rin?” It tastes intimate and presumptuous, that cut of his name from three syllables to one. You want him to taste it, too.

“Christ,” he laughs. “God, Y/n. You tryna kill me? You sent your friends to wound me critically and now this?”

“I think I like that one, actually,” you breathe. “Rin.”

“Stop it,” he laughs weakly.

“Rin.” You roll it around in your mouth, sinking deeper into your couch while you consider it.

“Cut it out,” he whispers, soft and breathy.

“Rinnie.” You like the way your lips wrap around it. You like the space it takes up and the way your voice cradles it, round and warm.

“Y/n.” His voice isn’t round and warm. It’s sharp. Thick with warning. Dragging your own name down your back like the back of a blade, leaving your skin pebbled with goosebumps and the base of your spine tugging at a knot under your navel dangerously. “Cut it out.”

You shiver and press your thighs together. “Okay,” you breathe, a soft whine coating the sound. The alcohol wants you to push your luck, and it’s so wonderfully easy to listen. “Sorry, Rinnie.”

“Shit,” he groans quietly. “Don’t do this to me, Y/n. Please.”

“Do what?”

“You know exactly fucking what.”

Your stomach flips at his tone, and there’s a pulse of desire between your thighs that has you biting down hard on your bottom lip. Your head is warm and staticky and desperately likes the sound of Suna’s voice, especially when he talks to you like that. 

“So?” you whisper, the courage there but incredibly small and entirely driven the liquor in your cup. “Are you hard?” 

Suna’s exhale is sharp, surprised. “W-What?” 

“You said over text.” Your face burns, but the idea of Suna Rintarou getting turned on by a combination of your voice and the way you say his name has you pushing out of your comfort zone. You want him too much. “That if I called you, you’d get hard. Are you?” 

He breathes hard for a beat, the sound shaky. And then he whispers, the sound soft and right in your ear in the most delicious way. 

“You know I am, pretty girl.” 

“How long?”

“Since you said my name.”

You shiver, pressing your thighs together hard. The flip of your nerves, low in your gut, is sharpened and heightened by the buzz of vodka in your veins, and you gasp quietly, trying to bring your heart rate back to normal.

“You should do something about that,” you whisper, skin vibrating when you do. You’d never be this confident sober.

He whines in response.

Suna Rintarou whines in your ear, desperate and impossible to deny. 

You feel your body become addicted to a man you’ve never met. 

“‘re you sure?” he breathes. “I don’t wanna do anything that you don’t-“

“Want you to do it,” you whisper, pulse racing and legs damn near going numb from how nervous you are. “Wanna hear you touch yourself.”

“Fuck,” he says, sharp and laced with frustration. “Fuck, Y/n — how am I supposed to say no to that?”

“You’re not,” you try. “Unless you really don’t want t-“

“I do. Fuck, I do.” He sounds the most sober he’s sounded all night, direct and honest and making your heart feel like it’s going to rip out of your chest. “Will-I…” You hear him swallow. “Will you do it, too? Are you turned on?” 

Your heart jumps into your throat, hope and desire mixing dangerously with the vodka. “Yes.” 

“What’s that an answer to?” he laughs, weak and nervous. 

“Both.” 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Will you? Want you to feel good, too.”

“Really?” Your voice sounds insecure, even in your own ears. You still aren’t used to that — to him. 

“Yes,” he urges. “God, yes. I want to make you feel good so badly, baby.” He swallows. “Can I talk to you? Make you feel good like that?” Your shaky exhale must speak for you, because he just gives another weak laugh. “Yeah? Is that okay?”

You’ve never been so full of want that it makes you cry, but you’re pretty damn close at this singular moment in time. 

“Okay,” you say, voice wavering. Suna’s exhale on the other line is just as shaky. 

“Okay,” he whispers back. “Shit-Uhm. C-Can I have a picture, baby? If that’s okay?” 

You whine in protest, already embarrassed, but you can hear how nervous he is. How unused to this he is. That this is just as terrifying and embarrassing for him, that he’s putting himself out there for you. 

It would be rude not to reciprocate. 

You take a steeling breath and pull the phone away from your face, setting it on the coffee table and putting it on speakerphone. “I look kind of messy,” you say. You start to adjust your clothes, grimacing at the frumpy shirt and shorts you’re wearing.

“I like messy,” he says, and you laugh pathetically. 

“It’s not very sexy.” You pull your hair down and ruffle it to be as attractive as possible, and then you consider your shorts for a full two seconds before throwing caution to the wind and getting rid of them. They land on the floor with an audible fwip, and Suna’s silent on the other end.

“Please tell me you didn’t just take all your clothes off,” he breathes finally. “I don’t know if I’m in a state to emotionally handle that right now.” 

You giggle, face burning and heart pounding in your ears as you open your camera and angle it favorably. ”Not all my clothes.”

“Shit.” 

You cross one arm over your torso and use it to push your breasts up, watching them swell in the camera. A rush of heat burns at your ears and neck, and your lip wobbles while you take the picture. 

Lifting the phone close, you examine the photo. You can see all the flaws that you’ve always seen, and it makes you freeze with insecurity. Makes you want to delete it and back out.

But then you hear him, his quiet ‘baby?’ on the other end, and you remember who you’re talking to. 

You hope he won’t see all the flaws you do — but there’s a piece of you that knows he will see them, but not as flaws. Because that’s who he is. 

Breath held tight in your lungs, you send off the photo, and then your head starts to pound with anxiety. 

Will he like it? Will he think it’s awkward? Will he realize that maybe he thinks you’re pretty, but he’s not sexually attracted to you the way he thought he would be—

“Oh, holy shit-” Suna’s voice is tight, thick with an emotion that’s so clearly lust that even you can’t deny it. ”Holy shit, Y/n. You’re so fucking-” He cuts off, taking a shuddering breath. “Fuck, I might start drooling.” 

You laugh, the tension breaking a little. “You’re funny-”

“I’m not joking.” Your breath catches at the sharp snap of his voice — your heart lurches, and desire swirls violently in your gut, because Suna Rintarou’s voice is starting to do that to you. “I’m not fucking joking, Y/n — you’re the sexiest girl I’ve ever seen.” 

You blink, sinking low on the couch. “What?” 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Y/n, you turn me on so much. I’m so fucking-” He laughs. “God, it’s embarrassing.” 

Your fingers shake as you press the phone desperately to your ear. “You’re so fucking what?” you ask meekly, nervous but craving more with every second that passes. 

He laughs again, self-deprecating. “I’m so fucking hard right now. Because of you. Because of this one photo.”

Your free hand drops between your thighs before you can think too long about it. “And you haven’t done anything about it yet?” 

“Oh, my God,” he groans, and you can hear the want in his voice. The strain in his tone as he tries to keep himself in line. “God, I’m not gonna last. I’m not gonna last with you, Y/n.” 

The pads of your fingers press to your clothed clit when he says your name — important, full — and it makes your desire curl and snap. You moan quietly, pursing your lips together to stop the sound — just a moment too late. 

“Fuuuck-” he says, reacting immediately to your voice. You hear shuffling, and then a burning, brutal exhale of relief, and you know he’s touching himself. The low whine trapped in his throat tells you as much. Tells you how badly he’s trying to keep his head on straight for you.  

You don’t want him to do that. You want him as lost as you are.

So you shut your eyes and lean your head back and let the alcohol take control. Let the fuzzy static in your head grow louder, let the desire throbbing in your core grow stronger. Let the choked whine in Suna’s throat take over, pulling you that much closer to the edge.

“Rin,” you breathe, yielding control to your limbs and smothering all hesitation in favor of slipping your hand past the band of your underwear. When your fingers touch down to your core, cold fingertips to searing hot skin, you moan louder. Loud enough to be heard and not caring enough to stop it. “Fuck, Rin— Can I have a picture, too?” He groans on the other line, shaky and uneven, and you whine in response. “Please? It’s only fair…”

He doesn’t say a single word back — just gives a trembling breath when you beg — but your phone buzzes against your face a moment later.

He’s got his hand down his sweats, the outline of his cock clear and the outline of his hand wrapped around it even clearer. His face is flushed a deep, searing red, and his parted lips are swollen and pink, eyes hooded with desire as he looks up into the camera. 

He’s in bed. He’s in bed, drunk and touching himself while thinking about you — the you in the photo, the you on your couch, touching yourself while you think about him, too. 

“Christ,” you whisper, eyes flying across the screen while your fingers dip low and slip with terrible ease past your entrance — two fingers in, the stretch heavenly, when your eyes land on the outline of his cock. “I don’t know if I can take you, Rinnie.” 

His inhale is shocked and laced with a moan, and then he’s coming undone in your ear. 

“You can take it, baby. I know you can take me so well.”

“Oh, God,” you gasp, back arching off the couch and fingers curling hard against your walls. “You would make me-”

“Gonna make you take it,” he finishes in a voice so rough and broken that you know he’s stopped trying to keep control, too. “Wanna make you take it, wanna show you how good you are for me. How much you’re made for me-”

“Oh, my God, I’m-”

“Wanna make you come around me. Wanna make you fall apart on my cock, pretty girl.”

“Rin,” you squeak in warning, your gut curling hard with desire, tension so close to snapping. “Rinnie, I-”

“Want my name on your tongue when I come inside you.” His voice is pitching up, breath stuttering and syllables twisting short in his mouth. “Want my name in your mouth when I ruin you for anyone else.”

It’s only right, then, that you cry his name when your orgasm slams into you full-force, pulsing and crashing down over you without warning.

By the time you come back to yourself, your walls are twitching with aftershocks around your fingers, and your breath is loud and heavy in your ears. 

Suna’s own breath is shaky in your ears, too. He whispers your name, tired and drained but still full. Still important.

You might have ruined him for anyone else, too.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Don't Judge A Book By Its Cover

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.3k

Warnings: none

Summary: You’re plagued by the kid who lives in your neighborhood, the kid you know has a crush on you. You left town, you lived your life without him, and now you’re staring at him face to face after years. Something about him has changed and now you can’t help but want him back.

Square Filled: art student au for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

As soon as the last bell at school rings, you race off campus to start the walk home. It’s not a far walk but you enjoy the silence you get from it. Your house is filled with little brothers and sisters and it’s hard to get a moment of peace. Your parents do the best they can but you know it’s hard for them. You’re the oldest so you’re expected to help out which is why you also enjoy your time alone.

You walk around the corner and notice the sixth house down from yours with the garage open. You’re not sure how you feel but something washes over you knowing what’s going to come next. Maybe it’s annoyance or irritation or indifference but the same thing happens every single time you walk home from school.

The only kid that lives there, Spencer Reid, loves to come out and walk with you the rest of the way to your house. He’s a nice kid but that’s all he is--a kid. He’s two years older than you are but you’re much taller than he is. If he is going to get a growth spurt, he’s getting it late in life or maybe his family are just short people. He’s not enrolled in your school because he’s mega smart and needs higher education to stimulate his brain.

You slip past his house in hopes you can enjoy the rest of your walk in silence but you hear the garage door slam shut and footsteps padding down the driveway.

“Hey, Y/N! Almost missed you.”

“Hi, Spencer,” you shake your head.

“How was your day?”

“It was fine. It’s just school.”

“Today was my first day of college and it was exhilarating. I have to admit, I wish you were there. Or I wish I was enrolled in your high school like all the other normal kids. At least we’d be together.”

You knew he had a crush on you after the first conversation you ever had with him. He called you pretty and vowed he’d walk with you to protect you against predators. It was cute at first but not you’re interested in someone like him. Like you said, he’s nice and has the potential of being a good boyfriend but he’s short and you don’t go for short boys.

“Sure, Spencer.”

“Listen, my mom gave me some money and I wanted to see this new French film that’s playing across town. Do you think you’d want to maybe go with me?”

Never has he ever had the balls to ask you out. Now that he has, you need to put a stop to this. He’ll get over the crush and you won’t be humiliated every time you go out in public. Does that make you selfish? Maybe. Does that make you a douche? Definitely. You stop outside of your house and look down at Spencer who has a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Spencer, listen, you’re a nice kid but it’s never going to happen between us.” Spencer’s face falls but he doesn’t say anything. “Grow over six feet and then we’ll talk, okay?”

You meant that as a joke but you don’t stick around to see if he laughs. That’s the last time you ever saw Spencer Reid.

Now

Today is the day. You’re given the opportunity to feature your art in one of the most successful art galleries in the country. You studied at Princeton and got a degree in fine arts before interning for known artist Benjamin Hale. He’s so successful that he has hundreds of galleries across America with dozens more across the world. He was impressed with your portfolio and offered to let you study underneath him while creating your artwork in private.

He offered you a chance to showcase your work in one of his new galleries. According to him, he needs new blood in this gallery and you’re the perfect fit for it. Your speciality is portraits, realism, and photorealism. Your favorite things to draw are people but there is something about being in nature and drawing what God put on this Earth. You have an eye for making your paintings look real and raw, and you’re able to capture people’s emotions henceforth the realism part of your art.

You only have about a dozen works put up in your small corner of the gallery but you’re proud of it all. You might not sell anything tonight and that’s okay. When you got the word out that the gallery was going to open, people agreed to come once they saw free food and wine was going to be handed out. Still, you appreciate everyone coming.

The place is packed mostly for Benjamin’s work but you see some people enjoying your work. You’re in the back room getting more wine for the servers when one of them joins you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Oh, hey, Lori. I’ve just gotten the box of wine for you guys.”

“I just came back here to tell you that someone just bought all of your things.” You’re so shocked that you spring up but hit your head on the corner of a shelf. You yelp in pain and rub the sore area before backing out of the dusty corner. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What did you just say?”

“Someone bought all of your work.”

You don’t wait to hear what else she has to say. You’re already out the door and rushing into the main room. You look to your section but don’t see anyone lingering around. You’re not paying attention to where you’re walking when you almost run into someone. The man grabs your shoulders to prevent you from falling and lets out a chuckle.

“Are you okay?”

Wait you know that voice. You look up at the man towering over six feet tall. Damn, he grew up.

“Spencer?”

“So, you do remember me.”

He lets go of your shoulders and allows you to take a step back from him. Damn, not only did he grow but he grew more handsome since the last time you saw him. Well, he was fifteen the last time you saw him but still.

“How could I forget the little boy who followed me for two years?”

“Yeah, I kind of had a crush on you,” he chuckles.

Oh, he even has a beautiful smile. Damn, I really was a dick to him back then. You try to ignore the pang of sadness at his use of “had” and not “have”.

“I know you did. I’m sorry, but I need to go.”

“Looking for someone?” he asks before you have a chance to leave his side.

“Yeah, someone bought everything I have out.”

“It was me.”

You pause and turn to look at him. He has a slight smirk on his face, and something in your head clicks into place. You look at him up and down and notice how he’s trying hard not to be overly confident in his decision.

“So, what, you got older and taller and now you think you’re hot shit?”

Spencer shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“You’re the one looking up, not me.” Your jaw drops several inches at his remark. “So, can we talk now?”

“Excuse me?”

“You told me to grow over six feet and we’ll talk. Well, I’m over six feet now. Will you let me take you out?”

You have no clue what to say to that because your mind is reeling from the last thing he said. Someone calls his name and you both see a black man, two blondes, and a brunette waving him over. They point to their watches which means he is either late or they have to go. He digs in his pocket and produces a business card. Only it’s not a business card. He’s in the fucking FBI.

“How about this?” He hands the card to you. “Call me when I can pick this stuff up and maybe we’ll talk then.”

He leaves your side and joins his friend group without another look at you. Is it shallow to want him now? Maybe. Are you going to try like hell to make up for lost time? Definitely.

x

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[sttoru]

“AS IF THE MEMORIES HAVE A HEART THAT ONLY BEATS AT NIGHT.”

༄ sypnosis. your boyfriend is on a business trip, yet always finds the time to call you at night. though, this time he’s lonely and in need of comfort.

༄ note. inspired by one of mahmoud darwish’s poems plus by my love for this man. sigh he’s so pretty. excuse me if this is too sappy.

༄ tags. satoru x reader. female reader. pet names such as ‘sweet, love, baby, babe, angel”. satoru is clingy. this is just uhh, fluff and sprinkles of angst + reverse comfort. spoilers jjk manga (stuff w/ suguru & toji).

“what are you doing,” “where are you,” and “who’s with you,”

satoru, as always, didn’t give you the chance to greet him properly once you picked up his call. your boyfriend was sent on a mission overseas and has been calling you every night since.

he says it’s to ‘hear your pretty voice’ and because he apparently ‘can’t survive without hearing it at least once a day’.

“satoru— love, calm down.” you chuckle softly, putting the call on speaker before going back to eat your dinner.

you hear the sorcerer let out a small whine over the phone, “my bad, sweet. you know i always look forward to speaking with you.”

you hum lightly in response. satoru has always had the habit to call you whenever he misses you even in the slightest of amounts.

some may find that annoying, however you’re aware that you are the only person satoru can rely on at the end of the day. that’s exactly why you try your best to answer all of his phone calls.

“how’d the mission go?” you ask after swallowing a bite of your food.

“pfft, the usual. dealt with some annoying curses that’ve been plaguing the area.” your boyfriend groans; he wished he didn’t have to take care of his duties so he could be with you all the time.

satoru just wanted to hold you in his arms, cuddle you, shower you with love, take you out on cute dates and spoil you with all kinds of gifts. his responsibilities as a teacher and as the strongest sorcerer constantly got in the way of that simple dream.

“good work, baby. you did well today.” you reply, earning a small ‘i-know-i-did’ huff from your boyfriend.

“thanks,” satoru adds, his voice muffled. it sounded like he had some food in his mouth, which you easily guessed was something sweet, “you know.. i was thinking about us— eh, you in particular.”

a silence falls over the phone afterwards. it was like satoru gave you a moment to process his words before he continues.

“well, when do you not think about me?” you snicker.

you couldn’t see it, but satoru rolled his eyes at your comment before letting a chuckle escape his lips, “hey! was trying to create a sentimental mood there.”

“but, i guess— yeah. true.” your words were the truth; satoru was a hopeless man when it came to you. you’ve invaded his thoughts, his heart and even his soul.

“anyways,” your boyfriend continues, pausing slightly to swallow the snack in his mouth, “i know i say this every day, but i wish you were here with me.”

you stop chewing on your food as soon as you hear the slight change of tone in satoru’s voice. you immediately knew that he needed you at the moment.

“mhm, i know,” you reply quietly. you wanted to let him get it all out before comforting him properly with your words.

satoru took that short answer as a sign to keep talking and opening up about his feelings to you.

“it’s just,” he sighs defeatedly, “actually, i don’t know. i guess being alone during times like these really gets to me.”

satoru stared at the ceiling as he laid on his back. his phone was on the pillow right next to his head, also on speaker.

when he’s with you, it’s easy to forget about all kinds of gloomy thoughts that may enter his mind. all satoru has to do is focus his attention on you and he won’t have any time to dwell on such stuff.

however when he’s alone, he’s left with his own brain and the thoughts that ate away at him ever since the inevitable incident with toji a few years ago.

suguru. amanai.

rustling sounds; satoru’s moving positions on his bed to somehow focus on your voice again.

“i guess it’s also because it’s unknown what the future holds.” satoru pauses. this time the pause was for him to collect his thoughts.

you knew what he meant by that; satoru had went through a few traumatic events over the years. he’s faced betrayal, loss and death ever since he was a teenager.

even if he doesn’t say nor show it, satoru is scared of what the future holds for him. especially with you in the picture now— he doesn’t want you to change or disappear on him. the thought alone makes his heart ache.

“..hey, can you promise me one thing, angel?” satoru eventually speaks up again, his voice a hushed whisper over the phone.

“of course. what is it?” you answer softly.

a third and short silence falls between you again.

“promise me that you’ll stay safe.” satoru sounds like he’s desperately trying to keep his tone neutral, however you could sense some vulnerability in there.

now that you’re thinking about it, you’ve never seen or heard satoru cry out in sadness or distress. though you know for sure that those feelings are building up somewhere inside of him. it’s only a matter of time before they need to be released.

“i promise,” you start in a comforting tone, “i promise i’ll stay safe, satoru.”

you could hear your boyfriend sigh in relief. just a small promise like that was enough to calm him down a little. for now, that is.

“i’ve failed many people before,” satoru continues, still trying to keep the tone of his voice neutral, “however, i will not fail you.”

you nod to yourself. the rest of your dinner was getting cold as you used your chopsticks to absentmindedly poke the rice while listening to satoru over the phone.

“you’re too important for me to lose,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath to steady his voice, “if it ever comes to that.. i don’t know what i’ll do.”

satoru actually doesn’t know how he’ll react or what he’ll do if you—the only person worth fighting for—would leave him; will all the thoughts come crashing down on him and cause him to finally break down?

he doesn’t know. nor does he want to find out. ever.

“don’t you worry, love.” you answer, “i hereby promise you that i won’t leave your side any time soon.”

you sigh, a small smile on your face which satoru couldn’t witness. you figured to cheer him up with your own words— it felt like he needed a mix of distraction and comfort at the moment and that’s what you wanted to give him.

“i’m not going anywhere. you’re completely and utterly stuck with me for now.” you playfully warn him, putting emphasis on the two words, “there’s no backing out of this, ‘toru.”

the sorcerer couldn’t help but laugh slightly at your last remark; you always knew how to make him feel better in an instant. that’s why he loved you to death,

“make that forever and we have a deal.”

“fiiine,” you reply in an over exaggerated tone before giggling, “forever it is. don’t get bored of me any time soon then.”

“oh, don’t you worry, angel.” satoru chuckles, sighing the stress away in one deep breath, “i’ll never get bored of my favourite girl. never in a million years.”

he sits up on his bed before standing up and walking to the window of his hotel room. satoru looked outside while grabbing another snack from a nearby table.

the sky was beautiful; it reminded him of you, though your beauty was no match for the sky. you were prettier than nature itself.

“satoru.” you call out to him over the phone and he immediately snaps back to reality.

“yeah, baby?” he replies, unwrapping his chocolate bar with one hand in the meantime.

“be reaaaal honest with me. like really honest.” a grin forms on your face as you thought of what to say next.

“you know i always speak the truth with you,” satoru mutters with a smile while putting a piece of chocolate in his mouth, “go on.”

“how many of those chocolate bars have you eaten today?”

the question caught satoru off guard and he instantly stops chewing.

satoru turns his head to the left and then to the right, eyes narrowed and body in a defensive stand like somebody was going to attack him any time soon.

“wh— the hell? how did you know? don’t tell me you’ve been secretly watchin’ me the entire time.”

you could already picture the way he’s probably checking his entire hotel room at the moment. your poor boyfriend may be strongest, but not when it comes to such silly ‘scary’ stuff. it’s adorable.

“babe, you never go a day without eating that one specific chocolate bar.” you giggle softly, taking another bite of your own food, “i’ve come to know your eating habits by now.”

“that so?” satoru grins to himself as he puts another piece in his mouth, “what am i thinking at the moment then? if you know me so well.”

you roll your eyes and get up to put your dishes away, taking your phone with you to the sink. “hmm.. well let me think.”

“take all the time you need, baby.”

satoru constantly tells you that you’re always on his mind, so you figured that this time wouldn’t be any different.

you know it’d probably be something sappy that’ll make you both giggle uncontrollably.

“maybe, something like—“ you start in a teasing tone, “i don’t know, uhh— ‘i love you?’”

there it goes; the uncontrollable giggles and laughter that fill both of your ears. it felt like you were two young teenagers in love again.

“damn, i’m really that predictable, huh?” satoru eventually says, trying to catch his breath as his tummy started to hurt from laughing so much.

“nah. i’d say it’s the power of love.”

another fit of laughter follows.

so, the night went on and on; going from discussions about random stupid stuff to deep philosophical conversations and back to the cheesy, lovey dovey remarks.

and of course, the call wouldn’t end without a direct and sleepy ‘i love you’ from your dear boyfriend.

[wannabehockeygf]

messier - luke hughes

part of the think later fic series

"You're the only one, Who can boil my blood, And make that shit cut, 'Cause you know that I'm always yours, I'm so in love."

*** request: "can we get Luke Hughes and messier pleaseee some angst then smut" summary: visiting your boyfriend's childhood home didn't go was well as you hoped... word count: 5.8k pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader warnings: 18+ NSFW! fingering (f receiving), sex in a semi-public place (in a car) but other than that nothing, pretty tame smut.

notes:

hi guys i'm back sorry my brain has been rotting this entire weekend

this is pretty tame, gentle smut because I've written so much rough stuff recently I needed a detox.

requesters. i love ya'll but we need to make a habit of giving me some sort of guideline besides genre. i suck so much ass at making tropes.

my first luke fic lol

also yes, I’m well aware that Jim and Ellen nor Quinn would ever be mean but this is pretty much the only idea I head

not proof read!!!

***

You hate road trips.

The endless stretch of highway, the stiff leather seats clinging to your skin, and the way time seems to crawl backward. It’s not even the scenery—darkness had swallowed the landscape hours ago, leaving you in this metal box on wheels with nothing but the hum of the engine and the occasional flash of headlights. You’d always preferred flying. Short, direct, and quick. But no, Luke insisted. “It’ll be good for us,” he’d said, like this visit to Toronto to his childhood home was some sort of bonding exercise rather than a trial by fire.

Well, the way there had been fine. More than fine, actually. Jack came along for the ride, filling the hours with nonstop chatter. You didn’t have to think or drive, just laugh at his dumb jokes and let the miles blur together. It was almost fun.

But now? Now, it’s just you and Luke. Jack had opted to fly back to Jersey, and the silence in the car felt suffocating. The weight of the weekend pressed against your chest like a rock you couldn’t shake off. It all went wrong the moment you stepped foot in their house. Their eyes, the judgment—thinly veiled but thick enough to cut through. His mom’s smile never quite reached her eyes, his dad’s questions too sharp, like they were trying to pry something out of you. And Quinn... you don’t even want to think about how Luke’s older brother barely looked at you, as if you didn’t exist.

Gold digger.

They didn’t say it, but you felt it in every sideways glance, every half-hearted attempt at conversation. It stung. You shift uncomfortably in the passenger seat, staring out the window at nothing but blackness.

“You’re too quiet,” Luke says, his voice breaking the silence, but it doesn’t soothe you like it usually does.

“Hmm,” you respond, noncommittal.

He sighs, shifting in his seat. “You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?”

“Thinking about what exactly, Luke?” You snap, before you can stop yourself. The tension’s been building, and now it’s spilling over. “How your parents probably think I’m only with you because of who you are?”

The headlights illuminate the curve of his jaw as he clenches it. “They don’t think that.”

“They do, though!” You turn toward him now, your voice rising with each word. “It was written all over their faces. I’m not good enough for you, right? Why would I be?”

The passing headlights flash across Luke’s face in rhythmic intervals, casting sharp shadows across his jawline, making him look as frustrated as you feel. You hate that his jaw is clenched like that, hate that even now, in the middle of an argument, he looks perfect, unbothered, like this isn’t tearing at him the way it’s tearing at you.

Luke grips the steering wheel a little tighter, his knuckles whitening under the strain. “They don’t think that,” he repeats, like if he says it enough, it’ll become the truth. His voice is steady, but you hear the edge in it, the frustration that’s been simmering beneath the surface since you left his parents’ house. He always gets like this when you bring it up—as if acknowledging the problem will somehow make it worse.

But it’s already bad. “Luke, please.” You shift in your seat, your hands gesturing helplessly in the small space between you. “They didn’t have to say it out loud. I could feel it.” Your voice is shaky, betraying the vulnerability you’ve been trying to keep locked away since Friday. “Your mom looked at me like I was some kind of—” you search for the right word, something that encapsulates the disappointment that had been practically dripping from her, “—charity case.”

You hear his deep exhale, the frustration in it. He’s always been calm, steady, the kind of guy who doesn’t let things get to him. It’s one of the things you loved about him—his ability to stay grounded when everything around him seemed to be spinning out of control. But right now? Right now, it’s infuriating. How can he be so calm when you’re falling apart?

He runs a hand through his hair, the action a little too deliberate, like he’s trying to stay composed. “You’re reading into it too much,” he says, glancing over at you briefly, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the dashboard. “My mom’s just... cautious. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t like you.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Cautious?” The word tastes sour in your mouth. “She practically grilled me about every job I’ve ever had like she was waiting for me to slip up and admit I’ve been freeloading my entire life.”

Luke presses his lips together, the muscle in his jaw ticking again. He doesn’t answer right away, and that silence stretches between you, pulling tight like a thread about to snap. His eyes stay on the road, but you can tell he’s thinking about what to say, about how to avoid turning this into a full-blown argument. He’s good at that—at diffusing things before they can blow up. Normally, you’d appreciate it. But right now, you need him to blow up with you, to feel what you’re feeling.

“Look,” he starts, his voice low and careful, “I get that it wasn’t... easy, okay? But you don’t know my mom like I do. She’s protective, that’s all.”

“Protective?” You scoff, louder than you meant to, the word coming out jagged. “Protective of you from what? Me?” The accusation hangs in the air, sharp and undeniable. You don’t need to hear his answer to know it’s true. You’ve known it from the moment she gave you that polite smile at the door, the kind of smile that doesn’t reach the eyes, the kind of smile that says, I’m being nice, but I don’t trust you. You’ve seen it before, just never aimed at you. “She doesn’t trust me, Luke.”

He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly like he’s trying to keep his own frustration in check. “It’s not that she doesn’t trust you,” he mutters, but even he sounds unsure now. “She’s just... adjusting. Give her time.”

You let out a huff of disbelief, shaking your head. The dark road ahead feels endless, like you’re driving in circles, like this conversation is just looping back to the same point over and over again. “Adjusting to what?” Your voice cracks, and you hate that it does because it makes you sound more vulnerable than you want to be right now. “To the fact that I’m not some high-society debutante with a trust fund? Or is it just that I’m not good enough for their golden boy? Don’t pretend your dad didn’t do the same shit, and Quinn? Barely fucking looked at me.” Luke rubs his temple with one hand, the other still gripping the wheel. “Quinn’s just quiet, you know that. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Right,” you mutter, bitterness slipping into your tone. “I’m sure it’s not because he thinks I’m not good enough for you. It’s not like literally everyone else was thinking the same thing.”

“They weren’t!” Luke insists, his voice rising, frustration creeping in now. His grip on the wheel tightens, and for a second, you think he’s going to snap. You almost want him to, to raise his voice, to match the energy that’s been building inside you all night. But instead, he just sighs again, that same exhausted sound that feels like nails on a chalkboard. “Stop it,” he says quietly, his voice firm but tired. “Stop worrying about what they think. It doesn’t matter.”

But it does. It matters so much it’s consuming you. You turn to stare out the window again, the landscape outside a blur of darkness. The silence in the car is deafening now, the kind that fills every crevice and drowns out the hum of the engine. You can’t stand it anymore.

“Easy for you to say,” you mutter under your breath, half-hoping he doesn’t hear you, half-hoping he does. “You’re their son. They’ll always love you, no matter what. But me? I’m just some girl they think is using you for your money or your status or... whatever.” Your hands are trembling, but you clasp them together in your lap, trying to steady yourself.

Luke’s jaw clenches again, and this time when he speaks, there’s an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. “You’re not ‘just some girl,’” he bites out, finally letting some of that frustration slip through. “And they don’t think that.”

“How do you know?” You turn to him, your voice rising again, the words spilling out faster than you can control them. “How do you know what they think? You weren’t the one sitting there, being interrogated like you’re on trial!”

His eyes flick over to you, narrowed and sharp. “I know my family, okay? You don’t. You’ve met them what—twice? Three times?”

Your chest tightens at that. You’ve never felt more like an outsider than you do right now, like you’re intruding on something sacred, something you don’t have the right to understand. It makes you feel small, insignificant, like you’ll never truly belong. And maybe you won’t. Maybe they’ll always see you as the girl who’s not quite good enough for their perfect son.

“Yeah, well, maybe that’s the problem,” you snap, your voice cracking again. “Maybe I don’t know them because they don’t want to know me.”

The words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, you think you might’ve gone too far. But then Luke exhales sharply, shaking his head like he can’t believe you’re having this argument. His fingers drum against the steering wheel, and when he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost tired. “You’re impossible sometimes, you know that?”

Your fingers twitch in your lap, itching to do something—anything. You could reach for the radio, but that feels like a betrayal, a cowardly way of cutting through the tension without addressing it. You steal a glance at Luke, but his gaze is trained on the road, jaw set, eyes forward. His hand grips the steering wheel tighter than necessary, knuckles pale, and the leather creaks under the pressure.

You can’t take it anymore.

“Impossible?” you repeat, your voice cutting through the still air like a knife. The words echo back at you, sharp and unforgiving, and suddenly, there’s no holding back the flood. “You think I’m the one being impossible?”

He doesn’t respond right away, just lets out a long, heavy sigh. It’s the kind of sigh that says, here we go again, and it makes your blood boil. Like you’re the problem. Like your feelings are the inconvenience here, something to be tolerated rather than understood.

You don’t let the silence linger this time. “God, you always do this,” you mutter, shaking your head as you stare out the window, watching the dark blur of trees rush past. “Every time I bring this up, you act like I’m crazy. Like I’m just imagining it all.” You pause for a breath, but it comes out shaky. “Do you think I want to feel like this?”

Luke shifts in his seat, and for a second, you think he’s about to say something, but all he does is keep drumming his fingers impatiently on the wheel. It’s almost worse than if he’d argued back. At least then you’d know he cared enough to fight with you.

The silence stretches, suffocating, until finally, his voice cuts through it, low and strained. “I just don’t know why you let it get to you like this.”

“Let it?” The disbelief in your voice is almost tangible, hanging heavy in the air between you. “As if I have a choice? As if I can just flip a switch and suddenly not care that your family thinks I’m some... leech or gold digger or—” You break off, your breath hitching slightly, the words too bitter to finish.

Luke’s eyes flick to you for the briefest second before returning to the road, his jaw clenching again. “You’re overthinking it.”

It’s the casual dismissal, the sheer indifference, that makes something inside you snap. “I’m not overthinking it!” you nearly shout, the words bursting out of you before you can reel them back in. Your heart pounds in your chest, the frustration bubbling up until you can feel it in every nerve, every muscle, making you fidget and shift in your seat like you’re too restless to stay still.

Luke slams his hand against the steering wheel, not hard enough to scare you, but enough to make a point. He lets out a frustrated puff of air, and he mutters something under his breath—something you can’t quite catch but know isn’t good. His frustration mirrors your own, though his is quieter, more controlled. His eyes stay locked on the road as he speaks, his voice cold. “Why do you care so much about what they think? Why does it have to matter?”

You stare at him, incredulous. Why does it have to matter? Is he serious? The words swirl in your head, disbelief mixing with anger, making it hard to think straight. How could he not see it? How could he not understand?

“I care because they’re your family!” you snap, the words flying out of your mouth before you can stop them. “I care because no matter how much you tell me it doesn’t matter, I know it does. You love them, Luke. You value their opinion, even if you won’t admit it. So yeah, I care about what they think of me.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, his fingers turning white again. His silence now feels like a challenge, like he’s daring you to keep going, to keep pushing. You almost want to—almost want to see just how far you can push him before he finally snaps.

And then, just as you’re about to spit out something else, something that will no doubt escalate this even further, Luke suddenly jerks the steering wheel to the right. The car swerves slightly as he takes an exit ramp, the tires squealing against the asphalt. You lurch forward in your seat, your heart pounding in your chest as the sudden movement jolts you out of your anger for a split second.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice rising with panic and confusion as you glance around, realizing that you’re nowhere near home. The highway disappears behind you, replaced by a narrow, deserted road lined with thick trees on either side.

Luke doesn’t answer immediately, his jaw still clenched, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The tension in the car is palpable, hanging heavy between you like a storm cloud about to burst. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he pulls off to the side of the road, the car coming to a stop in a small clearing, illuminated only by the faint glow of the headlights.

The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the soft ticking of the engine as it cools down. For a moment, neither of you moves. The weight of everything hangs in the air, pressing down on your chest like a stone.

Luke turns off the engine and leans back in his seat, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just—” He pauses, exhaling sharply, and finally turns to look at you. His eyes are dark, intense, and there’s something simmering just beneath the surface, something raw. “I needed to get off the damn highway. We weren’t getting anywhere.”

The double meaning in his words isn’t lost on you. It wasn’t just the road he was frustrated with—it was the entire situation. The argument. You. And that realization sends a shiver down your spine.

You sit there, staring at him, unsure of what to say. Your heart is still racing, your hands trembling slightly in your lap. But the anger you felt before is starting to ebb away, replaced by something else—something quieter, but no less intense.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching for him, your fingers grazing his arm lightly, tentatively. He glances down at your hand, then back up at you, his eyes softening just a fraction.

“Come here,” he says quietly, his voice low and rough around the edges. It’s not a demand, but it’s not a suggestion either. There’s a weight to his words, a pull that you can’t resist.

Without thinking, you unbuckle your seatbelt and move toward him, your body shifting awkwardly in the cramped space. Luke’s hands are on you before you even reach the back seat, his fingers gripping your waist as he pulls you into the space between the seats. The leather squeaks beneath you as you settle into the back, the air between you charged with an energy you can’t quite define—part frustration, part need.

He moves over the console to join you, and in the dim light, the shadows carve out every sharp line of his face, highlighting the tension that’s still etched there. But now, there’s something else in his eyes, something that makes your breath catch.

“I hate that you think that,” Luke murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is warm against your skin, mingling with yours in the small space. “I hate that you think you’re not good enough.” His hand slips around to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer.

You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, and the softness in his eyes almost makes you forget why you’re upset in the first place. But then the worry, the doubts, creep back in, unbidden. "I just—" you start, your voice thick with frustration. "I can't stop thinking about how they see me. It's like... no matter what I do, it’s never enough."

Luke's expression tightens again, a flicker of impatience crossing his face. He pulls away just enough to lean back against the seat, running a hand through his hair. "Why do you keep doing this to yourself?" His voice is laced with exasperation, but there’s something else there too—concern, maybe. "They don’t matter. We matter. Isn’t that enough?"

You want to believe him, you really do. But it’s like every word he says just sinks deeper into the pit of your stomach, twisting. "You say that, but... God, Luke, it’s not that simple. You don’t get it because you’re not the one constantly under their microscope." The words spill out before you can stop them, your frustration bubbling up again.

Luke shakes his head, a small, humorless laugh escaping him as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "No, you’re right," he mutters, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "I don’t get it. But you know what I do get?" He pauses, and for a second, you think he’s going to stop there, but he pushes on, his voice lower now, almost a growl. "I get that I’m sitting here, telling you that none of it matters. And you’re sitting there, acting like it’s the end of the world."

You open your mouth to respond, but the words die on your lips as he leans in closer, his hand sliding up your thigh. "What I don’t get," he continues, his voice softening but still carrying that edge, "Is why you can’t just trust me when I say you’re enough."

Your breath hitches as his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles against your leg, the tension in the car shifting from the argument to something else entirely. You try to stay focused, try to keep your mind on the conversation, but his touch is distracting, making it hard to think straight.

"I... I do trust you," you stammer, your voice unsteady, "but it’s not that easy. You don’t just stop worrying because someone tells you to."

Luke raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Oh, really?" he murmurs, his hand moving higher, his eyes locking onto yours. "Maybe I just haven’t been convincing enough."

His words send a jolt through you, heat pooling in your stomach, and suddenly, the argument feels like a distant memory, something less important than the way he’s looking at you now, like he’s daring you to keep pushing him. And maybe you would have, if his hand wasn’t already slipping under your shirt, his fingers warm against your skin, making it impossible to think about anything else.

You let out a shaky breath, your body leaning into his touch despite your mind screaming at you to stay focused. "Luke..." you start, but the rest of the sentence dies in your throat as he leans in, his lips ghosting over your ear.

"Stop worrying," he whispers, his voice rough and filled with that dark intensity you can never quite resist. His hand slides higher, sending sparks up your spine. "Let me show you how much I don’t care about anything but you."

Luke's fingers drift up, warm and deliberate, as if mapping out every inch of your skin beneath his touch. Your breath hitches, caught somewhere between the tension that lingers from the argument and the undeniable heat of his closeness. It's a mix of frustration and need, your thoughts spiraling as the sensation of his hand grounds you and unravels you all at once.

But there’s still that nagging voice in the back of your head, reminding you why you’re here in the first place, why your heart had been racing with something other than desire just moments ago. “This isn’t fair,” you whisper, half to yourself, half to Luke, as you shift in the seat, his hand momentarily slipping from your thigh.

He pauses, his forehead still resting lightly against yours, and you can feel the heat of his breath fan across your cheek. “What isn’t fair?” His voice is low, but there’s an edge to it, the kind that tells you he knows exactly what you mean but wants to hear you say it anyway.

You sigh, the sound barely audible in the dark, cramped space of the car. “I’m still upset with you.”

Luke lets out a soft chuckle, but there’s no real humor in it. “You’ve made that pretty clear,” he mutters, his lips brushing the side of your neck now, almost absentmindedly, as if he’s more focused on you than on the argument itself.

Your heart skips a beat, torn between wanting to push him away and pull him closer. “No, I mean it. You can’t just—” The words falter on your tongue as his hand moves again, more insistent now, tugging you toward him.

You can feel the tension in his muscles, the subtle shift in the way he holds you, as if he’s trying to balance the frustration with the desire that simmers beneath it all. “I know you’re upset,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips brushing a soft kiss just below your jawline. “But I’m not letting you spiral over this anymore.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the firmness in his voice, but the frustration bubbles up again, tangled with everything else you’re feeling. “You don’t get to decide that for me,” you snap, though the bite in your tone is softened by the way your body instinctively leans into him.

Luke pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours in the dim light. “I’m not trying to control how you feel,” he says, his voice steady, though you can see the tension still lingering in the set of his jaw. “But I am trying to remind you that what they think doesn’t matter as much as you think it does.”

You stare at him, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, torn between the desire to argue and the warmth of his hand now resting on your waist, the weight of his presence calming you even as it sets your heart racing.

“Maybe not to you,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper as you meet his gaze. “But it matters to me, Luke. And that’s not something you can just... fix.”

For a moment, the space between you is filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing, the tension palpable. Then, slowly, Luke shifts, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. “I know,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, the sharp edges of frustration dulled. “I know it matters to you. But can you trust me enough to let me show you that it doesn’t change anything between us?”

You hesitate, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket, and for the first time since the argument started, the tightness in your chest loosens just a little. “I want to,” you admit, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the car. “But it’s hard.”

Luke leans in, his lips barely grazing yours, and the softness in his touch makes your heart stutter. “Then let me make it easier,” he whispers, and the kiss that follows is slow, gentle, as if he’s trying to reassure you through the warmth of his mouth against yours.

Your fingers find their way to his hair, tangling in the strands as the kiss deepens, the heat between you simmering quietly, like embers waiting to be fanned into a flame. Every movement is deliberate, slow, as if the argument has faded into the background, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other.

Luke’s hands are careful, guiding you down against the leather seats as he follows, his weight settling over you in a way that’s both grounding and exhilarating. There’s no rush, no frantic movement—just the quiet urgency of two people who know exactly what they want but are taking their time getting there.

The quiet inside the car feels louder now, broken only by the soft rustle of clothes and the barely audible hitch in your breathing as Luke’s hand glides up your side. His touch lingers just below your ribs, fingers tracing a slow, teasing path that leaves a trail of warmth in its wake. Your skin hums under his fingertips, every inch of you tuned to the way he moves—so careful, so focused, as though he's trying to soothe the lingering frustrations with each touch.

You shift beneath him, the leather seat creaking ever so slightly, and your breath catches when his knee nudges between your legs. He hesitates for just a second, his gaze meeting yours in the dim light, searching your face as if asking for permission. The look in his eyes sends a shiver through you—not just lust but something deeper, a quiet reassurance that everything is okay now, even if things had been tense before.

Your fingers move up to his neck, pulling him closer as you press your lips against his, the kiss soft at first, but it doesn’t stay that way. Luke responds immediately, his lips parting slightly as his hand finds its way under your shirt, the warmth of his palm against your bare skin sending a surge of heat through you. The kiss deepens, and you can feel the frustration melting away, replaced by a slow, simmering need.

His hand trails down your stomach, stopping just above your waistband. The anticipation alone has your heart pounding, and you bite your lip to stifle a soft whimper. Luke pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours as his thumb traces lazy circles on your hip. "You okay?" he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, not trusting your voice, and he smiles—soft, almost teasing—before kissing you again, this time slower, more deliberate. His fingers tug gently at the hem of your pants, and you can’t help the way your hips lift instinctively, silently asking for more. The need between you is palpable now, the air thick with it, but there’s no rush. Every touch, every kiss, feels like it's drawn out, like you're both savoring the moment.

Luke’s hand slides lower, slipping beneath the fabric, and you bite back a gasp as his fingers find you, moving with the same careful intensity that he always has. Your back arches slightly, and you have to bite your lip to keep quiet, every nerve in your body tuned to the sensation of his touch. You feel the tension building again, but this time it’s the kind that makes your breath catch for an entirely different reason.

Luke's fingers press deeper, deliberate and slow, like he’s savoring every second of your reaction. The touch sends a ripple of heat through you, unraveling all the tension that had been coiling tight from the argument. Your skin feels electric, each stroke of his fingers igniting something raw and instinctive inside you. The leather beneath you squeaks softly as your back arches, the weight of him grounding you even as your body craves more. Every nerve feels alive, responding to him in a way that makes it hard to remember why you were upset in the first place.

Your breath stutters as his lips graze your ear, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. A quiet moan escapes before you can stop it, the sound slipping out despite your effort to keep quiet. Luke smirks against your neck, the curve of his lips brushing your pulse in a way that makes you shiver, the heat between you intensifying. You can feel his restraint, the way his hands move with purpose but not haste, as if he’s determined to make this last, to take his time with every single touch.

His fingers move more deliberately now, sliding deeper, and your body reacts instantly, a sharp gasp caught in your throat. You bite down on your lip, trying to stifle the sound, but the pleasure building between your thighs is impossible to ignore. Luke’s free hand grips your hip, holding you steady as your hips start to move on their own, seeking more of that delicious pressure.

The air in the car feels suffocating in the best way, filled with the sounds of your shared breathing and the faint rustle of clothes. You catch the briefest glance of his face in the dim light, his jaw clenched, eyes dark and intent on you, as though he’s barely holding himself back. It sends a wave of heat crashing over you, and you can’t help the way your legs wrap around him, pulling him closer, wanting him—no, needing him—deeper. His thumb brushes against a spot that makes your vision blur, and a sharp, involuntary whimper escapes, too loud for the quiet space.

“Shh,” Luke breathes out, his voice a low rasp that barely conceals the strain in it. “We gotta be quiet, baby.”

But there’s nothing quiet about the way he touches you, the way his body presses against yours, every slow, deliberate movement setting you ablaze. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, and you press your forehead against his shoulder, your fingers digging into his back as you try to focus on something—anything—other than the wave of pleasure threatening to spill over.

You can feel the heat of his breath against your neck as his lips brush your skin, soft kisses that trail down your collarbone. It’s slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring every inch of you. But there’s something teasing in it too, something that makes your breath hitch as his hand continues its agonizingly slow rhythm between your legs. The frustration builds alongside the pleasure, the need to cry out so overwhelming that you have to bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the sounds escaping from your throat.

The pressure builds, winding tighter and tighter, and you’re barely holding it together when Luke’s lips find your ear again. “You’re doing so good,” he whispers, the words barely audible but sending a fresh wave of heat down your spine. His voice is ragged, strained, like he’s barely managing to keep himself in check. “So damn good for me, baby.”

The praise hits you like a punch to the gut, your entire body tensing beneath him. Your thighs squeeze around him involuntarily, your hips lifting again in response to the slow, torturous rhythm he’s set. You can’t help the way your body reacts, chasing that high even as you try desperately to stay quiet.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him closer as your lips find his, muffling the moan that finally breaks free when his thumb presses just right. The kiss is messy, frantic, but it does little to hide the soft, breathless gasps escaping from both of you now. His hand moves faster, more insistent, and you can feel the tension in his body mirroring your own as the space between you narrows further.

Luke’s breath hitches as you tug him even closer, your lips parting to let out another soft, desperate moan that’s swallowed by his mouth. His fingers curl inside you, and you’re done for, every nerve sparking with heat. You break away from the kiss, your forehead pressed to his as you gasp for air, trying to keep your voice down but failing as the pleasure builds.

“Luke…” you gasp, his name barely a whisper, more breath than sound, but it’s enough to make him groan, low and rough, as he pushes himself harder against you, his lips brushing yours in another heated, sloppy kiss.

Your body trembles with the effort to keep quiet, and he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. His touch becomes more insistent, more confident, and you can feel him smirk against your lips as he leans in, his breath warm and ragged against your skin.

“You gonna come for me?” he whispers, his voice low, rough with need. His thumb circles just right, and you’re nodding before you can even think, your body already teetering on the edge. “Come on, baby,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck. “I wanna feel it.”

And you do—hard, your body shuddering as you clamp your mouth shut, burying your face in his shoulder to muffle the sounds that threaten to spill out. Your fingers dig into his back as the pleasure washes over you, hot and overwhelming, your entire body trembling in his arms as he holds you steady, his fingers never stopping.

You ride out the waves, your breath coming in shallow gasps as your legs tighten around him, your body still humming with the aftershocks. Luke slows his movements, his hand gently pulling away as he leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

For a moment, everything is still, the car quiet except for the sound of your uneven breathing. Then Luke shifts, his forehead resting against yours as he looks down at you, his expression soft but still dark with desire.

“I love you, okay?” he whispers, his voice rough, but there’s a softness to it that makes your heart flutter. “We’ll get through this.”

You nod, still catching your breath, and he smiles, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tender kiss that feels like a promise—like he’s not done with you yet.

[jaysng]

🫐 - jake! maybe about reader having some hardships during her pregnancy but baby daddy jake would be ready to do anything for her comfort !!

rejecting his kisses | sjy

pairing: husband!jake x wife!reader

genre: fluff bro what else i write 😭😭

synopsis: reader is growing sensitive day by day to touches and snaps at jake, jake being a mature husband handles the situation well.

everything felt so much more overwhelming, jake kept a family dinner and everyone was over, his members and his family. 

“how are my babies doing?” jake said as he nuzzled his nose in your neck as you moved back in annoyance. 

oh he noticed it but shrugged it off, maybe it was just a silly reaction right?

the sound of everyone talking at the same time in their own conversation rings around in your ears making it hard for you to keep up with everything jake had his hands on you the whole day, hugging you from behind, talking to his friends and family with a hand on your bump, rubbing your nose agaisnt his, kissing your cheeks, lips and forehead. yeah sounds cute but not when you’re feeling everything a little too much. 

what is going on. 

it was so bad that you had to shut your room door so loud and settle on the bed, 

there you were, pregnant and finally on your thrid trimester with your annoying husband being extra touchy anywhere he could find you at.

rubbing your temples you sat on the bed, grabbed the water from the beside table and starting chugging it down. 

meanwhile, jake who already spotted your absensce in the living room came in “bub?” you heard his voice and your brain gave a reaction not again. 

he walks in as you don’t even dare to look at him in the eye, your eyes closed as you take deep breath. 

“did i do something” he leans over to your face while staring deep “no..” u say as he hums in question he sits beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder “are you oka-“ you cut him off,

“no- just no- please okay? please just get your hands off of me please jake. stay away from me i am not feeling all your touches just leave me the fuck alone.” you say raising your voice. 

the next thing you see is tears in jake’s eyes as he looks away from you trying to hold them in. 

“i am sorry.” 

a moment of complete silence goes by as you rest your head on the headboard.

you notice him avoiding your looks and turning to the other side, hesitant to ask you if you need anything again.

“did i do something wrong?” he asks out of curiosity “i won’t touch you if—“

“no i dont know.. i am sorry i dont feel like getting touched i dont know.. i don’t know why i am being like this i don’t know” as you’re saying he turns around and comes closer to you.

attentively listening as he brings a hand to tug your hair strand back.

“hey no no it’s fine, its completely fine yeah, this is super normal for pregnant women to feel..” he says as tears start spilling from your eyes because of how understanding he is. 

jake has always put your perspective before his, always understanding everything you did, always finding a reason for your actions and letting you express yourself, god you think what did you do to deserve him. 

“b-but jake” you say as he holds your face in his hands and squishes your cheeks trying to calm you down.

“at this stage you’ve grown more sensitive. to touches to words to noises to everything” he says bringing his hands back to himself, “isn’t it?” 

you nod in agreement as he adds “so don’t ever blame yourself about all this okay? i love you just how it is. nothing will ever change that” 

you look at him and take his hand and place it on your belly, he makes sure to keep it exactly where you kept and not rub it because of muscle memory 

he pauses and lets out a little laugh as he feels the baby kicking where his arm is placed “just try not to be as aggressive as you were okay?” you nod once again as he kisses your cheeks wiping your tears off his lips. 

“baby doesn’t like hearing mum and dad argue does it?” he says as he feels another kick to his palm as you both laugh out of surprise. 

it makes you giggle, mood swings are crazy.

[a-write-for-soreeyes]

Yes, Chef [OPLA Sanji x Afab!Reader SMUT]

Pairing : OPLA Sanji x Chef (AFAB) Reader

Summary : Sanji is the only one you call 'Chef'. One night when you're the only ones working the late shift he finally confronts you about why.

Warnings : 18+ !!!!!!, NSFW/SMUT, Semi-public sex (kitchen), Oral (fem receiving), some slight dirty talk?, the apron stays ON during foreplay, Use of the term 'Chef' in a sexual way, Top!Sanji, Bottom!Reader

Word Count : 3685 (good lord)

A/N : I have never written smut before but I think this went really well! I had one quote (that quote from Fleabag the hot priest says) and a dream (sanji brain rot and my sexy playlist), so please feel free to leave your thoughts! <3

“y/n I think we’ve known each other long enough you can stop calling me ‘Chef’.”

“Yes, Chef I know” You said, carefully placing the garnish on the plate of steak and seared vegetables at your station. It was the last call of the night and of course a group had walked in right as you and Sanji had finished clearing your stations for the night.

Placing the final plate on the counter you hit the bell, one of the servers came through the doors to the kitchen grabbing the plate and turning on their heel pushing through back to the rowdy group of pirates in the dining room. Turning back to your station and beginning to stack your pots and pans, placing the used utensils inside the pot and carrying them over to the sink, ready to re-wash them.

A comfortable quiet had washed over the kitchen, only broken by the boisterous chatter from the last table of the night. “You can head out if you’d like. I’m going to put together a new dessert I’ve been practicing for these gentlemen, hopefully get them to tip better after coming in right before closing.” Sanji had called from across the kitchen while grabbing ingredients from the pantry.

“Chef, if you don’t like my company you can just say and I’ll get out of your hair.” You joked,

“Ay don’t you ever say that gorgeous, you know I love your company,” Sanji flirted pausing next to you, “Someone with good looks and good conversation, how could I not want you around?” He winked, continuing his stride back to his station.

“I think I’ll stick around once I’m done with these if it’s all the same to you, Chef. You know how much I love to taste whatever new recipes you put together.” You replied with a smile. You really did enjoy being able to be the first person to taste all of Sanji’s cooking, and you suppose being the only person in the kitchen late at night, with your criminally good looking coworker wasn’t so bad either. Rolling up your sleeves and plunging your hands into the warm water of the sink you began to scrub at your dishes.

You scrubbed in silence for a few moments, washing the grime and the stress of the day away. “Really y/n, you can go home I really don’t mind,” Sanji walked next to you leaning his side against the counter stacked high with plates and cups that would need to be washed during tomorrows slow hours, “You’ve already stayed late enough, just finish up your dishes and turn in for the night.” Out of the corner of your eye you could see him looking over your face,

“It’s fine, Chef you know I would probably be awake anyw-” Your sentence and scrubbing stopped as Sanji reached forwards wiping a smear of some ingredient from your cheek, letting his thumb linger on your cheek for just a moment, your face heating at the intimacy of the moment.

“Sorry love,” He said, pulling his hand away from your face and placing it back on the counter next to you, “Couldn’t focus on your beautiful face with something covering it.” 

This has always been the game between the two of you. When you had joined the Baratie’ crew almost 3 years ago, Sanji had started working his charm on you from day one, flustering you everytime causing you to always avoid his flirtatious gaze. Although it had taken you about two months to get comfortable with the pleasure he takes in flirting with you, (leaving you mildly excited each time he had thrown a nickname your way) the day that you did start flirting back was possibly the best day of Sanji’ life, (although he wouldn’t be admitting that to anyone anytime soon) and possibly the worst of yours. The embarrassment you felt every time you gave a flirtatious response, effectively causing you to never have the guts to look him in the eyes.

And although his flirting was nothing new, something about being the only people in the quiet kitchen after a busy Friday night, had the soft way Sanji was speaking to you to have a new feeling behind it.

“Sanji, I’m fine really. I’ll finish these up and then I want to taste whatever you’re supposed to be cooking over there, for our lovely guests.” You softly broke the tension, not looking up at him from the murky water. Sanji chuckled and pushed off the counter, making his way back to his abandoned pastry mix. Resuming your washing the both of you working contently in each other's presence.

—-

Placing the last of your now clean dishes back at your station and wiping your hands on the towel you always had draped over the string of your apron. Slugging your way over to Sanji's station, you hiked yourself up onto the counter next to him, huffing out a quiet “Whatever you’ve got baking smells amazing Chef. I can’t wait to taste whatever it is.”

Sanji chuckled, continuing to whisk whatever he was whipping up for a “quick dessert”.

“They’re strawberry macarons, with an easy butterscotch drizzle on top.”

“Ah yes Chef, a very simple dessert, definitely not a complicated pastry that can take years to master.” Laughing, Sanji put down the bowl and grabbed his dish towel, turning towards the oven behind him, taking hold of the hot baking sheet in his covered hand. Turning back to you he gently swatted your side, placing the hot tray down where you had been sitting.

“For your information the pastry is not the hard part for me. It’s the filling that always gets me.”, Using his one hand to pull the macaron shells up from the pan, Sanji stuck his finger in the bowl on his right swiping up some of the filling he had been whipping up on his finger, and held it out to you, “Here give this a try, I know it’s missing something I just can’t quite place it.”

Seeing Sanji hold his finger out, covered in the pink buttercream filling, you made the conscious decision that this was going to be your winning move in this game of cat and mouse you and him had been playing for the past years. You leaned forwards and wrapped your mouth around his finger, the taste of the sweet icing flowing over your tongue. Swirling your tongue around his finger to get the last of the filling off of his digit.

“It’s good. Could maybe use a little more powdered sugar, get it to thicken up a bit more.” You shrugged.

 Sanji was silent. Not even a flirtatious remark about how ‘you’re all the sugar I need sugar’ just silence. Looking at Sanji directly (for possibly the first time in months) you were shocked at the way he was looking at you. So gently, so full of love and something else you couldn’t quite place. Surprise? Uncomfortability? You weren’t sure, only assuming the worst, regret flooded your body immediately. Sanji opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it, hanging your head,

“I-I’m so sorry Chef, I-I don’t know what I was thinking, I guess I just thought it would be funny considering how much we fake flirt with each other, but I’m now realizing that that was WILDLY inappropriate especially to someone who is a much better chef than I am- I’m so so sorry Chef-”

“Ah, fuck you calling me “Chef” like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it.” Your head snapped up to look him directly in the eyes.

“Wha-what?”

“You heard what I said.” He smirked at you, blond hair falling in front of his left eye, “The way you say it any moment you possibly can, ‘yes Chef’, ‘I’m sorry Chef’, ‘Of course I can Chef’. You think I haven’t noticed how I’m the only one you call that?” Sanji stalking around the counter, placed one hand on the counter at either side of you.

He leaned into you, his hot breath fanning over your neck, “Everytime you say that stupid fucking title,you know what it does to me. What it makes me think of.”

Shivering at the feeling of his breath you turned your face towards him, “And what does it make you think of, Chef?” A low rumble reverberated from Sanji’ chest, now pressing up close to you.

Sanji tilted his head, lips just barely ghosting over yours, “Would you like me to show you?” You gave an embarrassed nod.

His lips were soft against yours, tasting of cigarettes and the mint he used to try and cover the previous. Pushing himself up against you, you could feel your underwear beginning to slick. Teeth clashing together you ran your hand up Sanji’ back, neck and up into his blonde hair. One of his own hands wrapping around your waist, the other sliding up the front of your apron and giving your breast a soft squeeze. You gasped, and fast as lightning Sanji slipped his tongue into your mouth exploring it with a small groan at the feeling.

Using the heated kiss as a distraction Sanji began to unbutton your uniform, pausing every few buttons to bring his hands up to your face, deepening your make out before going back to his main mission of releasing you from your shirt.

Finally undoing the final button of your uniform Sanji reached into your shirt with one hand swiping over your tit, causing it to harden under his calloused hand, even with the fabric of your bra separating them. Although Sanji made quick work of that issue, easily reaching around you and unclasping the irritating bra pulling it down under your breasts, allowing them to bounce slightly with the force of your making out. Removing his other hand from your waist Sanji roughly cupped your breasts in his hands bringing them out from behind your apron. Squeezing them with his large hands, your apron roughly scraping against the soft flesh, you moaned into the unstopping kisses. Hiking you up onto the edge of the counter Sanji gave himself better access to your chest, leaning down to your right tit and taking it into his mouth, tongue swirling around the nipple, leaving kisses, nips and hickies all around. His left hand grasping at your other tit Sanji pinches at the bud for a few moments before switching. Moans leaving your mouth, you bit your lip nearly drawing blood, as you used one hand to pull his head closer into your chest, the other pulling off his ascot, apron and starting on the snap buttons of his uniform.

“Please, Chef please.” You whimpered, beginning to roll your hips on him, the feeling of his warm mouth on your chest with no friction on your lower parts starting to take its toll on you. Feeling Sanji groan and roll against the counter he pulled back looking at you, hair a mess, eyes glazed over in arousal he ripped the apron and top from off your body, bra following immediately after. During the moment of separation you ripped his now crumpled shirt off, tossing it somewhere in the kitchen out of your vision, which was now focused solely on taking in Sanji’ gorgeous figure.

Grabbing his face and pulling him towards you hungerly you continued to make out. Sanji began to press his body against yours reaching behind your figure to swipe the forgotten baking sheet off the counter creating room for him to be able to push you back into a lying position, the heat of the counter where the hot pans of pastries had just been only seconds earlier caused you to let out a gasp, arching your back to get away from the heat pressing your breasts right into Sanji’s hard chest, his hand going behind you to pull your torso as close to him as possible.

Pulling back from the kiss, Sanji gently laid you down fully on the counter. Running his hands down your sides he began to kiss his way down your body stopping to leave small nips around your chest and hips. Pulling away Sanji started work on your belt, unbuckling it and immediately going for your buttons. You begin to fuss at the feeling of his hands being so close to where you need him but he has yet to touch you.

“I know love, don't worry, I’m gonna make you feel so good.” he whispered out, pressing a kiss to your thigh as he finally slid your pants off, leaving you in just your panties. Groaning at the sight of you trying to hump the air to get any friction to quell the desire you feel, Sanji brought a finger up to your covered mound, gently ghosting it along causing you to let a loud whimper escape from your lips. “Darling you’re soaked. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you want me to make you feel good?”

Gripping the edges of the counter whimpered “Yes. Yes yes please Chef, please make me feel good.”

Sanji smirked up at you, already fidgeting and he hasn’t even started yet. “Well, when you put it like that. I guess I have no choice.” He pulled your panties down grabbing them in one hand and used the other to grasp your hip bringing your soaked pussy right to him, immediately beginning his assault, licking up your folds and once he reached the top starting to suck on your clit, swirling his tongue around the small bud. Your hand shot down for Sanji’ bleach blond hair, fisting it and using it to pull him right into you, wrapping your legs around his head when he stuck his tongue right into your pussy.

“Oh fuck! Yes, god please!” You moaned, at the sound of your moans and whimpers Sanji could feel the tent in his pants straining, he beginning to slightly hump at the air, getting pleasure from just the motions he made.

Feeling the knot begin to form in your stomach you started to pant and hump his face faster. Sanji getting the message stopped tongue fucking you to resume sucking on your clit bringing his right hand down to your entrance sticking 2 fingers in you easily between the slick and spit that had been pooling there. The pleasure assaulting your senses caused you to lurch forwards, nails scraping against Sanji's scalp causing him to moan against you.

Between the feeling of Sanji sucking on your clit, his fingers rapidly pushing in and out of you and the vibrations of the moans he was letting out you felt the knot in your stomach snap, shaking your felt yourself release all over his face, practically screaming out into the echoes of the kitchen,

“Yes, yes fuck, yes Chef! Fuck!” When the feeling of your first orgasm of the night finished and your clit started to become overstimulated you leant back against your arm, releasing your hold on Sanji's hair to run one hand through it and tried to pull yourself away from his mouth still licking up your wetness and kissing around your nub.

“Uhh, Chef- Chef please too- too much” Pulling himself off of you Sanji leant back on his heels, a string of spit and cum connecting him to you. You took a moment to admire him as he caught his breath. He looked beautiful, face covered in your cum with strings of it and drool connecting the two of you, hair sticking in all directions from your harsh pulling and his eyes, god his eyes he had a look in them you’d only ever hoped to see, he was so drunk on your pussy you’re not even sure he knew where the two of you were right now.

Grabbing his right wrist from where his fingers were still brushing against your pussy lips you pulled him up to you, locking your lips in another kiss, this one much more gentle and soft than the previous rough make out you had. Pushing your tongue into his mouth you could taste yourself on his tongue, occasionally kissing around his mouth and along his jawline to collect more of your slick from his face. Sanji let out a gasp as you kissed up his jaw and to his ear, giving it a slight nip before whispering to him, “You made me feel so good Chef. I wanna do the same for you.”

Standing to his full height Sanji started to work on his belt, hands shaking in anticipation at finally being able to feel you around him. You started work on the button on his bottoms, purposely brushing your hand against his erection feeling it twitch at every touch you gave him. Reaching your hands up to his waistband Sanji pulled down his pants and underwear in one swoop as he stepped out of the pool of fabric now at his feet. Cradling your face in his large hands Sanji ran his thumb down your cheekbone and swiped it over your lips.

"I wanna make you feel good, let me make you feel good.”, You looked up at him with half lidded eyes, your hand lazily wrapping around his hard-on, stroking him and running your thumb over his head using the precum that had begun to bead there as lube for your lazy motions. “Please Chef.” You felt his cock twitch at the title and his breathing hitch.

“We can feel good together love. Just let me take care of you this time.” At that Sanji guided you back to your lying position against the now cold countertop of his work station. Taking a moment to admire you splayed out before him Sanji ran his hands down the backs of your thighs pushing them up to give himself access to your wet cunt.

Rubbing the head of his cock against your folds he collected some of your slick before he watched his cock disappear into you. A growl coming from him as he felt you tighten around his shaft.

Keening at the feeling of yourself stretching around him, your eyes rolling back as he pushed further finally bottoming out. Sanji paused allowing you a chance to adjust to his size he could feel you tighten around him.

Slowly, he began to pull almost all the way out of you before rocking back in, the both of you groaning at the feeling. Sanji looked up at your face, eyes almost completely closed and mouth open gasping in pleasure. He reached forwards grasping your soft hand in his own rough one giving something for you to ground yourself on through the pleasure.

“Chef please-!” you whimpered at the feeling of his thrusts starting to pick up speed.

“Fuck love, you feel so good squeezing around me.” Sanji groaned into your ear, leaving sloppy kisses around your jaw and down your neck, his cock burying into you at a rapid pace.

Your moans and huffs at the overwhelming feelings you were experiencing getting louder with each thrust, to the point you were almost crying out in pleasure. Sanji captured your lips again roughly making out with you in an attempt to quiet you, although between your moans and the squelch of his cock pistoning in and out of you it was nearly impossible to do so.

Sanji could feel his high approaching with each thrust, “I-I’m close, fuck darling you feel so good-” he sighed pressing your foreheads together.

“I-I’m so close, please Chef. Please let me cum please!” You blubbered against his lips, tears beginning to form and run down your cheeks, you could feel every inch of him in you, stretching you, pressing against every part of you, his head kissing your cervix.

“Just a little more baby, just give me a little more.” Pounding into your cunt, slick running down both of you, you wrapped your legs around his back pulling him impossibly closer, the hand that was resting coming down to rub furiously at your clit, “come for me love, come all over my cock.” Your mouth opened in a silent scream as you felt yourself release all over his cock, your pussy clamping down, you cried out,

“Fuck! Chef!”

At the feeling of you cumming around him Sanji knew he just needed a few more before he to came undone, or- “Fuck Sanji!” your eyes rolling back, and that was his breaking point. At the sound of you crying out his name, his real name for the first time since you’ve met, not some title he’d heard a thousand times before, Sanji came. Ropes of his cum painting your insides with his release he shuttered, his vision blanking at the overwhelming bliss he was experiencing from cumming inside you for the first time.

The air between you two hot and heavy as you both stayed still just enjoying the intimacy of the moment. Sanji gave a few final sluggish thrusts to help you both ride the end of your pleasures before the feeling became too much. He pulled out gently being sure not to overwhelm you, the sound of your mixed cum quietly dripping from you both onto the tiled floor beneath him.

Basking in the afterglow of the scene, foreheads pressed together you tilted your head up locking your lips in a tender kiss. Bringing your hand that was not clasped in Sanji's up to caress his face, taking in the way the soft light reflected off his glistening forehead and the beads of sweat that dripped from his disheveled hair down the curves and lines of his face.

“You’re beautiful.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s supposed to say that to you, Love.” He chuckled, allowing the seriousness of the moment to fade away into comfortable giggles. “I love you.” He breathed out, gazing at you, trying to memorize everything about you in this moment, from how your messy hair splayed out behind you to the dried tear tracks down your face. Looking back into his blue eyes,

“I love you Sanji.”

--------------------------------

[arlh0e]

I'm not sure if you're taking requests but I figured I'd try. I've had the idea of Hozier/Andrew finding out you have an oral fixation/kink and using against you until you're a brain dead mess. I came to Tumblr to see if I could find anything but it surprisingly doesn't have a ton of Hozier fics considering he's basically everyone's dream man.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading this!!

Moments silence (common tongue)

Oh my god I love this idea! Im so glad Ive been getting smut requests because Im relatively new to smut writing so I adore being able to practice. My apologies in advance if this is super awkward to read bc I was having trouble trying to figure out how to describe homies dick. It also may turn out to be a little long, I am a whore for sucking dick so pardon me if I get excited and carried away.

Rating: Hozier x reader, graphic smut, hard dom! Andrew, oral m! And fem! Receiving, face fucking, the sloppiest of sloppy blowjobs, oral fixation, smut under the cut, general filth, plotless smut, reassurance, begging, choking, help I need him

You were squirming beneath him, his tongue and fingers working their usual magic.

He loved going down on you, your pleasure was his top priority every time that he took you to bed, he absolutely loved making you feel good.

You hadn’t told him that you had a similar affinity with giving him the same pleasure. Of course, he knew you loved the act of giving, but to what extent he wasn’t fully aware of.

If you were honest, it was almost concerning how constantly you were thinking about the feeling of your mouth around him. It made you so wet that you had ruined more pairs of underwear than you were comfortable admitting. He made your mouth water and your mind go nearly completely blank with anything other than want for him.

You feel his fingers move from inside of you, his head lifting to meet your eyes. His pupils are dilated and you can see your arousal covering his lips. He looked utterly enchanting.

His hand moves toward your bottom lip, tapping it softly twice. “Open.” His voice is deeper than normal and his accent has thickened. You opened your mouth and let him push his fingers into your mouth, tasting yourself on his skin. You find yourself sucking gently on his fingers, moving your tongue across his digits, wishing it were his cock in your mouth instead.

You let out a moan as his fingers leave your mouth, not even processing the words you were saying. “If you don’t let me suck your dick right now I may just lose my mind.” Your voice was coming out in gasps and moans, you were desperate, bordering on feral.

He quirked a brow at you, smiling smugly down at you. “Oh, is that right?” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, pulling away just slightly so that you could still feel his breath across your face, your noses were still touching. “I was wondering when you were going to tell me about this little fixation you have with putting your mouth on me.” He chuckled darkly, looking at you through hooded eyes.

You couldn’t even say you were surprised at this revelation. Of course he knew. You expected nothing less, and honestly you hadn’t exactly been secretive about it, you hadn’t ever tried to hide it, so of course he knew.

He moved his head away from yours, his fingers coming to your chin, squeezing it gently. “I want you to beg.” His tone was serious, leaving no room to argue.

Your gaze shifted around the room, your eyes darting everywhere but his face as you felt the blush creep onto your face through your neck. You weren’t necessarily embarrassed, but you hadn’t ever told anyone about this particular interest of yours. The idea that he not only kew but was asking you to beg for it was entirely foreign to you. It made you squirm a bit beneath him.

“Ah ah.” He pulls a bit on your chin, forcing you to look back at him. “Eyes on me. Use your words.” His gaze was intense but encouraging, loving. He wanted to hear you ask nicely, but he also wanted you to feel comfortable. You knew he wouldn’t push you to do anything you didn’t want to.

“Please?” You looked up at him with wide eyes, batted your eyelashes just a little bit. “Pretty, pretty please?”

He chuckled a bit, smiling down at you, his mask cracking just a little bit. “With a cherry on top?” You loved the way he could go from this powerful, dominant being to his normal goofy self like this sometimes.

“Of a most delicious sundae.” You smile back at him, sticking your tongue out for a half second.

He just kept smiling down at you, his hold on your chin still firm. “Well I cant argue with that.” He stands, still clothed from the waist down, pulling you up to sit before him. Your hands stayed folded in your lap as you looked at him, standing before you, hands at his sides. “Go ahead, love.”

You slowly slip off the side of the bed and onto your knees in front of him. You could see the outline of his erection through his jeans, and you wondered for a second if that was uncomfortable. Surely it had to be.

You move your hands to fiddle with the button on his pants, frantically trying to undo the button and zipper. You always had a bit of trouble getting his hand pants all the way off of him, with how long his legs were, you couldn’t quite get them off, he always had to help you.

You took a moment to look at him, completely bare before you. He was beautiful, like a divine being come down to earth, and he was all yours.

You raise one hand to wrap it gently around his shaft while you used your tongue to wipe to bead of precum from his tip. The taste was salty and a bit bitter, but one you enjoyed nonetheless.

You carefully took him into your mouth, just a little bit at first, working up the nerve to try to go farther, moving slowly at first focusing on using your tongue to further his pleasure, hollowing your cheeks around him as you bobbed your head up and down along his length.

His hand flew to the back of your head, taking a fist full of your hair as his head leaned back and he let out a deep groan. He gently pushed on the back of your head, urging you to take him deeper and deeper.

You loved hearing the noises you could illicit from him, the way he gasped and tugged on your hair when you would moan in satisfaction around him, and you especially loved the louder sounds he would make for you, the way he would tell you how good you were doing and how good he felt. He was so vocal, and every word, noise, and gasp he made, pulled you in more.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good baby.” His voice was low and ever encouraging as he moved his hands through your hair, guiding your head along his cock at a relentless pace. You gagged, taking him farther than you had thought you were capable of.

You felt tears prickling your eyes as he kept bottoming out in the back of your throat, doing your best to keep your mouth closed but failing quite miserably as you continued gagging on him.

You found yourself struggling slightly to breathe between the saliva that was running down your chin and the pace at which he was hitting the back of your throat.

You moved your hand to tap frantically against his abdomen, wordlessly asking for a break to take a breath. After a few more thrusts, he backs away, his hands still in your hair, but granting you a break as he pulls gently on your hair to angle your head upward meeting his lips with yours.

You smile into the kiss, it was gentle, loving but urgent and nothing short of demanding. You moan into his lips, still smiling. As he pulls away, he makes a point out of observing the grin playing at your lips.

“So eager to please, darling.” He smiles darkly back at you, loosening his grip on your hair. He places another peck to your lips, then your forehead. “Do you want some more?” His gaze softened, looking down at you, smoothing your hair, a hint of concern in his eyes. He was making sure you were okay, checking in to make sure he wasn’t going too far or making you uncomfortable.

You nodded back at him, your smile not even faltering for a second. “Yes, please.” Your voice was raw, it felt like you had swallowed sand paper, and your voice cracked, but you didn’t even care. You wanted more of him. You wanted him to use you for his pleasure until you couldn’t speak or think or even breathe, and you were already halfway there.

You rose up higher on your knees, moving your hands to his hips, pulling him closer to you in an attempt to take him back into your mouth. You were met instead with a hand at the base of your neck, stopping you. You looked up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to let you have what you wanted.

He chuckled and moved his fingers to hold your chin once again, this time pulling you to your feet in front of him. “Uh uh. Lay down.” He removes his hand from your chin roughly, causing you to lose your balance and fall back onto the bed.

He makes his way around the bed to the side closest to your head, leaning over you, placing yet another kiss on your lips. “If you want me to stop, lap twice on my right thigh, alright?” You nod quickly, understanding where this is going, and quite eagerly scoot yourself to the end of the bed, your head dangling upside down over the side, your mouth falling open to welcome him.

He chuckles at your enthusiasm, moving his hands to rest on either side of your shoulders, bending himself over you as he pushes himself back into your mouth, deeper than before.

You let out a moan as the same time you hear him groan from over you. “Jesus fucking christ, love.” He curses, thrusting his hips into your mouth once again, starting slow and gradually picking up the pace.

He moves his hands to wrap around your neck, feeling himself move inside your throat. You were breathless, gasping in between his thrusts, chocking on his cock as well as your own saliva, gagging as he used you. Your hands were holding the backs of his thighs, pulling him closer to you, but also to ground yourself.

You were loving every moment of this. Relishing in the moment and the fact that you could deliver pleasure to him this way. You were utterly enchanted by him, his sounds, the curses he let out, the feeling of him moving in and out of your throat, you couldn’t think of any reason as to why you hadn’t told him this earlier.

With every second you could feel him coming closer, you also felt yourself becoming less and less able to think of anything but him. You were all but mindless, unable to form a single coherent thought, only embellishing in the feeling of his muscles, tensing all as once and then relaxing.

You tasted that same, familiar salty taste as you heard him breathlessly curse one final time before pulling out of your mouth and kneeling down next to your head.

You swallowed before offering him a dopey smile, still not fully in your right mind, high off the feeling of being useful to him.

He smiles back, standing up once again, this time to move you toward the pillows at the head of the bed, before laying himself next to you and gathering you in his arms.

“I take it we’ll be doing that again?” He smiles down at you and places a kiss to your forehead.

“Yes. A lot.” You giggle as you curl up into his arms, closing your eyes and letting his arms completely encase your frame.

Dom Andrew is my favorite Andrew to write tbh. Thank you for the request, hope you enjoyed it <3

[daisynik7]

test drive

Pairing: ex-boyfriend!Eren x f!reader

Word Count: ~4.9k

cw: exes-to-lovers, a breakup scene (flashback) established past relationship, fluff, some angst, smut - car sex (cowgirl), blowjob, cunnilingus, face-riding, 69 position, sex with no condom, multiple orgasms, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, princess, baby)

Summary: You’re moving back to your hometown of Paradis after completing two long years of grad school in Marley. In desperate need of a car, you’re surprised to hear from your ex-boyfriend Eren, who graciously offers you one.  Author’s Note: Had this in my head for a while, brain is a little fried at the moment, but I just had to get this out! Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated! Header image found on Pinterest, mdni divider by @/mikeykuns.

“Eren, do you think we should break up?”

The two of you are in your bedroom, finished packing the last of your luggage before you fly out to Marley tomorrow morning. It’s near midnight on the last day of summer. The windows are open, and the chirping of crickets is loud amidst the silence of the night air. He zips your suitcase closed, peering at you, confused. “What?”

It’s been the lingering question on your mind the past couple of weeks, but you were too afraid to mention it. Maybe you were hoping that the thought would go away on its own. You didn’t really want to break up. You love him. The idea of being apart scares you, though. The uncertainty, the unknown. Two years isn’t very long in the grand scheme of life, but who’s to say you don’t end up deciding to remain in Marley for good? Eren has already made it clear that he has no intentions of leaving Paradis. Would staying together be a waste of time when the future is so unpredictable?

You bite your lip, nervous to elaborate, voice timid. “I’ve heard that long distance is really hard.”

He stands up, crossing his arms over his chest. “So? We’ll get through it.”

“Will we, though? I’m going to be busy with school, and you’re starting your new job. Plus, Marley is so far away. When are we ever going to see each other?” 

He stares at you as if you’re sputtering nonsense. “We’ll make it work,” he answers, definitive. 

“It’s not going to be easy.”

He scratches his scalp, frustrated. “I don’t understand. Do you want to break up?”

You stay quiet, contemplating. When you don’t respond right away, he says, “You do, don’t you?” He sounds like he’s been betrayed, which in retrospect, he has been. By you, of all people. The person who’s supposed to love him. 

Breathing staggered, tears welling in your eyes, you murmur, “I just don’t know if we can do it.”

He begins pacing the floor, voice increasing in volume, rightfully upset. “You don’t know if you can do it. Me? I’m all in. You’re already giving up before we try.”

“I just don’t want either of us to get hurt!” you cry.

“What do you call this, then?!” he yells, tears rolling down his cheeks. “This fucking hurts! Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way sooner?”

“I don’t know! I wasn’t sure! I was scared.” You sob into your hands. “I’m sorry, Eren.”

He’s shaking his head erratically, fists bunched in his hair. “I can’t believe you’re doing this right now. After all we’ve been through. You don’t even want to give it a shot.”

You swallow hard, wiping snot from your nose. “We can try it out. Let’s try it out,” you plead with him, regretting it. 

“No. It’s too late now. You already set us up for failure. Since you’re not confident about us, then maybe this isn’t going to work out after all.” He sounds spiteful. Daggers piercing through your heart in the form of harsh words. And while you struggle for breath, drenching the fabric of your t-shirt, you can’t blame him for reacting this way. You spent an amazing summer together, and the night before you leave, you drop a grenade like this. What were you thinking?

“Eren,” you beg, sniffling

“I gotta go,” he mutters, grabbing his keys, avoiding your gaze. 

“Eren, wait!” you shout, following him out the room. Down the stairs. Through the front door. In front of his car. “Eren! I’m sorry! I take it back!”

“Have a nice life in Marley,” he spits out, getting into his car, slamming it shut, and reversing out of the driveway without another word. Headlights reflect off the shimmer in your eyes, watching him leave.

That’s the last time you saw Eren. The next day, you boarded your flight to Marley and moved into your new home. You tried to call him, text him, even pestered friends and family to urge him to reach out to you. He never did. And all the while, you still don’t blame him for reacting the way he did. 

The two of you were happy. You loved each other. And when an inkling of hardship reared its ugly head, you ran for it instead of facing it. There’s no way you could have predicted that your relationship would fall apart. In fact, there’s many times that you’ve considered how much stronger the two of you would have gotten if you did stay together. Distance makes the heart grow fonder. If you had believed that sooner, you wouldn’t be living with this remorse. 

It's been over two years since that day. Life continued, though it was tough not having Eren around anymore. He was always your biggest supporter, the anchor that kept you afloat. Grad school wouldn’t have been as stressful if you had him by your side, but you managed to scrape by. You made new friends along the way while maintaining your relationships from home. Mikasa and you would chat regularly, and on occasion, she would mention Eren’s name in passing. You received little footnotes of his life through her, but overall, he’s a stranger to you now. 

That being said, you’re shocked to finally hear from him after that fateful night two years ago. 

Following graduation, you secured a job in Paradis nearby your hometown. For now, the plan is to move in with your family until you save enough money to move out. Unfortunately, you don’t have car. So, in an unexpected turn of events, you sit in the rear of a taxi, on your way to Eren’s. 

Eren: Heard you’re home and you need a car.

Those were his first words to you after two whole years of radio silence. After telling you to have a nice life in Marley. Of course, you were stunned when his name popped up on your screen in the first place, even more so to see his offer to help you. Most likely he was informed about your current situation by Mikasa. Nevertheless, it shocks you that he wants anything to do with you. 

You actually want to meet with him. It may be no more than a business transaction, but to see him in the flesh will be nice. Will it fix what happened? Probably not. It’s worth a shot, though, for some peace of mind. Maybe this is his own way of telling you that he’s over it, and that the two of you can finally put this to bed. 

So, you arrange a time to meet at his place. He gives you an unfamiliar address; it seems he moved out of his parent’s house not long after he started working. Mikasa had mentioned that before. What she’s never disclosed with you is if he’s been dating. On your way to him, your belly begins to fill with dread. Could you handle seeing Eren with another woman? Living together, happily in love? You want him to be happy, but with someone else? Deep down, you still love him. You never dated anyone seriously during your time in Marley. No one even came close to him. He’ll never get back together with you, not after what happened. In fact, you’re positive he’s already found someone, a person who will appreciate him and love him for all he is. Someone who isn’t afraid. It’s better he’s with someone else; you actually hope you see that today, so that you can finally move on. 

The trip takes over half an hour. You recognize the route being taken; the same one you would take on the way to Paradis University, where you and Eren met for the first time. During freshman year, Mikasa, your roommate at the time, introduced you to him. The two of you became fast friends, even faster lovers. The spark was there the moment you shook his hand, the moment he gazed into your eyes, flashing that charming smile at you. It was casual at first, no labels, no strings attached. Two horny college kids fulfilling their sexual desires exclusively with one another. Kisses and sex soon became something more, something special. By the time you were sophomores, it was official: he was yours and you were his. 

The driver enters a quaint neighborhood, pulling up to the front of a modern apartment complex. Once you pay the fare, you step out, inspecting the building. Eren lives on the third floor; each unit has a balcony overlooking the neighborhood, the nearby cityscape in the near distance. It’s a beautiful location and your curiosity gets the best of you. Who is he currently sharing his life with? Do they watch sunrises together from their grand view, sipping their morning coffee in domestic bliss? Should it be you instead? 

Before you get carried away with your imagination, you retrieve your phone from your bag, texting him that you have arrived and are waiting outside. There’s no reason for you to head up into his apartment, right? You’re here to check out his car; that’s it. You can’t help thinking that it would be fun to check out. For research purposes, of course.

He replies quickly, mentioning how he’ll head down to you. You take a few deep breaths, mentally preparing yourself to see him for the first time ever since your bitter goodbye. Do you hug him? Keep your distance? Should you say anything personal or keep it strictly professional? All of these conflicting feelings are fighting with each other in your head. There’s so much you want to tell him: your life the last two years, how sorry you are for the way it ended, how much you miss him. At the same time, you want a clean slate, almost as if you’re strangers meeting for the first time. 

As he steps out from the lobby, you freeze on the spot, dazzled by his presence. What strikes you initially is how long his hair has gotten; it’s enough to put up into a small bun, with a few stray strands scattered around his face. His eyes are as brilliant as ever, barely visible dark circles underneath from age or stress, most likely the lather; it hasn’t been that long. There’s still that youthful charm about him, though. That will never fade.

He's dressed in a plain white t-shirt and black sweats pants, an outfit reminiscent of his college years, laid-back and casual. You’ve always liked this look on him, always found it sexy. Too many memories of you stripping this exact attire off him, hasty to make love in the twin bed of his dormitory. You try to shake these thoughts away as he approaches you with a rigid disposition, hesitant and a bit awkward. He clears his throat before saying, “Hey.” His hands are in his pockets as he greets you. 

You respond with a gentle smile. “Hi.”

This is going to be harder than you thought. 

~~~

Two years. That’s how long it’s been since they broke up, since he last saw her. Two whole fucking years. 

Eren didn’t want to break up. The thought never even crossed his mind. He was determined to be with her the rest of his life, of their lives. That’s why he got so upset when she suggested it. They spent an entire summer together, perfect in every possible way, and she had the nerve to ask that question the night before the big move? Do you think we should break up? He couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. They were supposed to love each other forever. 

It doesn’t excuse the way he behaved to her afterwards. Instead of discussing it like a mature adult, he exploded, too caught up in the storm of emotions raging in his head. His ego was hurt, pride shot down, heart betrayed. Following that night, Eren was too ashamed by the whole ordeal; he thought it’d be easier to ignore it and move on. 

Move on. Yeah right.

He replays those scenes constantly. Her pleas of We can try it out. Let’s try it out. I’m sorry! I take it back! ringing in his ears like a broken record, reminding him that if they talked about it, if he had just turned around to work it out, maybe they’d still be together. They’d be happy. It’s the biggest regret of his life; not fighting for her and letting her slip away. A fleeting moment of weakness and fear leading to their ultimate demise. A tragic ending to such a beautiful story. Can they ever get the happy ending they wanted? 

He tried to date other women; it never amounted to anything serious. Eventually, Eren gave up on the dating scene all together, focusing his energy on other priorities like his career and friendships. He was hoping that one day, he’d magically be over her.

When Mikasa informs him about her move back to Paradis, he knows immediately he needs to meet with her. Seeing her one last time might be the key to moving on once and for all. So, he finally decides to be mature and contact her, under the guise of giving her one of his cars. In his defense, he’s been meaning to sell it anyways. He never could quite let it go, though, considering it’s the car he drove all throughout college, with her. Late night drives to Maria’s Point, holding hands and kissing beneath the stars. Fast food runs at their favorite drive-thru, her feeding French fries to him from the passenger side, cruising through the empty streets with their favorite music blaring through the radio speakers. Even the backseat has seen plenty of action during those years, the foreground to many naughty trysts away from campus. Every corner of it carries a memory of her; that’s why he’s been so reluctant to let it go. He still loves her. But that’s all in the past. This car will be the final peace offering that will allow him to move on. He’s got it all planned out. 

What he’s not prepared for is the rush of emotions that flood his chest upon seeing her. This is definitely not part of the plan. 

When he greets her, she smiles at him, the same radiant smile he’s yearned for the two years of her absence. One that instantly warms his soul. He does his best to maintain his composure. Keep it together, he thinks to himself, stuffing his hands in his pockets while he clenches his fists, bursting at the seams. This isn’t part of the plan. 

He kicks the ground with his heels, fidgeting. “So…it’s been a minute, huh?” He does a mental eye roll to himself. Did he really say that? Idiot, idiot, idiot. 

She giggles, and he nearly combusts. How is it that a simple laugh can ignite every fiber of his being? He’s a fool for assuming he could get through this unscathed. “Yeah. It has. How are you?” Her expression is sincere; he always loved that about her, how intently she listens, how much she cares. Even after their harsh breakup, that sincerity remains. She’s making this much more difficult than he expected. 

He shrugs, nonchalant. “I’m okay. You?”

She mimics him, raising her shoulders. “I’m alright.”

He chews his lip nervously before asking, “Well, do you want to check out the car?” Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan, he reminds himself. 

She nods, following him to the parking garage to his designated spot. Her eyes widen when she sees it. “You want to sell me this?”

“Yup.”

She inspects it, mouth parted, surprised. “Wow. The Titan.”

He busts out in laughter, amused that she remembers the silly nickname they came up with freshman year. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

She turns to look at him, eyes twinkling, lips curled into a warm smile. “How could I forget?”

He swallows hard, saliva thick on his tongue. Fluttering in his core, tingling through his fingers. The question stumbles out quickly. “Want to take it out for a spin? A test drive?” 

Eren’s aware that this is dangerous territory. The two of them, enclosed in the small space of his car, memories in every crevice of the interior. It’s his chance to properly apologize for what happened. That’s how he justifies it, at least. Part of him also wants to recreate their past together. Riding in his car, fingers laced together on the center console, singing their favorite songs with the windows rolled down, wind blowing on their smiling faces. It’s infeasible; he doesn’t even know if she feels the same way. There’s that tiny portion of him that holds out hope; she did agree to meet him. That means something, right?

She contemplates for a moment. “Sure. Can you drive, though?”

“Still the passenger princess, I see.” 

“Some things never change, right?” She gives him a wink before stepping to the side of the car, waiting for him to unlock the doors. 

He gulps, thrilled and jittery at whatever adventure they’re about to embark on. In the corner of his mind, all he can think is 

Fuck the plan. 

~~~

You weren’t supposed to get in it with him. The idea was to meet him and do the exchange, simple as that. When you recognize the car, all the memories you shared flood into your mind. You let your emotions get the best of you; you want one more special moment with Eren. It’s only fair to your relationship to end it on a good note, right? You weren’t expecting anything more than closure, which was what the both of you needed. 

He doesn’t tell you where he’s driving to, but he doesn’t have to. By the time you’re on the highway, you watch the sun set in the distance from the rearview mirror. You pass by multiple signs, indicating Maria’s Point in x number of miles, the amount decreasing the closer you approach it. The two of you chat, condensing all from the past two years into a half hour car ride. You describe your experience in grad school, he talks about his full-time job. It’s cordial, like two old friends catching up after a while being apart. Except the both of you are fully aware of the elephant squished in the backseat of The Titan. Neither of you mention anything about it.

He drives up the familiar hill leading up to the panorama at the top of the cliff. This spot of Maria’s Point is often secluded, which was perfect for you and Eren back in the day. He parks away from the edge, the last rays of orange and pink hovering on the skyline. With a twist of his keys, he shuts off the ignition and it’s silent. Suddenly, after effortless conversation, you’re shy, unable to speak. 

Luckily, he does. “I actually want to talk to you about something important.”

You snap your seatbelt off, adjusting to give him your full attention. His hands remain on the steering wheel, drumming his fingers nervously. “I’m sorry for the way I acted that night.” He doesn’t need to elaborate; you know exactly what he’s referring to. You’re caught off guard from the apology, so you keep quiet, waiting for him to continue. 

After a deep breath, he explains, “I blew up, and I shouldn’t have. I got upset because I thought you had given up before we even tried. But I know you were scared; I was too. Regardless, it wasn’t right and I’m sorry. For that and for avoiding you after.” He slides his hands around the wheel, dropping them to his lap. His eyes are forward, avoiding you. 

When he doesn’t have more to add, you respond. “Thank you. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have blindsided you. I should have told you how I was feeling instead of ignoring it until the last minute. Like you said, I was scared, so I ran away from it without even giving it a shot. It wasn’t fair to you, and it wasn’t fair to us.” He’s focuses on you now, listening carefully as you talk. “Just so you know, I never blamed you for how you reacted. I deserved it.”

He shifts his body towards you, shaking his head. “No, you didn’t deserve that. I didn’t even say goodbye.”

You blink away the oncoming tears from your eyes. “It’s okay, Eren. We can do that now.”

The stillness that follows is concerning. He studies you with an unreadable expression, contemplating. Then, he leans closer to you, elbow resting on the center console, his breath tickling your cheeks, whispering, “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

You gravitate towards him, lessening the space between you, gazing at his lips. “You don’t?”

“I never wanted to in the first place.”

Drifting forward, you rest your forehead to his, the skin-to-skin contact rekindling the spark that burned so brightly not too long ago. “Eren.”

“I miss you,” he confesses. “Every fucking day.” 

His lips graze yours, eyes watching you, waiting. Unable to hold back any longer, you kiss him, melting into him seamlessly. The two years of remorse vanish in an instant, and you’re transported in time, as if you were never apart. You touch your palm on his chest, his racing heartbeat thumping against your fingertips. He slides his hand around the nape of your neck, cradling you gently, deepening the kiss. His lips are soft on yours, prudent and delicate, careful not to overbear you. 

You pull off to catch your breath, clutching at his t-shirt so that’s it’s bunched into your fist. “I missed you, Eren.”

He swallows loudly, eyes half-lidded in a daze. “I missed you so fucking much,” he mutters, driving his tongue inside your mouth, kissing you desperately now. He drinks you up like he’s dying of thirst, the only cure to his drought. You match him, opening wider, swirling your tongue with his. His lips trail to your neck, sucking on the pulse point beneath your chin.  

“Eren,” you moan, running your fingers through his hair. 

“I love hearing you say my name. Fuck,” he swears, licking at the spot. He marks you on the other side, nibbling lightly at your skin with his teeth. “Did you ever think about me?”

“Every day,” you admit, eyes closed as he moves to your ear, pinching your lobe between his lips. “And you?”

“All the time,” he answers. He breaks away, cupping your cheek tenderly in his palm. “I’m still in love with you. I love you.”

Your breath hitches, throat tight with emotion, though you manage to utter, “I love you too.”

He beams at you before suggesting, “Should we get out of here? Go to my place?”

Tugging at his collar, you shake your head with a smirk. “I can’t wait that long.”

Understanding what you’re implying, he suggests, “Backseat?”

You give him a wet smooch and a nod. He chuckles, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Are you that needy for me, baby? Can’t even wait to go home?”

Glancing at his lap, the evident bulge protruding from his sweats, you scoff at him playfully. “Don’t act like you aren’t either. Look how big you are already.”

He grins, exiting the driver’s side and quickly sliding into the backseat, spreading his legs wide, hoisting his shirt off to reveal his chiseled torso. “You’re right. I’ve been waiting two years, please don’t make me wait any longer.”

You follow him to the rear, shrugging your blouse and pants off hastily until you’re down to your underwear. He marvels at your bare figure, licking his lips while you kneel beside him. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, scanning you up and down, almost in disbelief. “Would you think about me whenever you touched yourself?”

Nestled to his lap, ass sticking out, you nod, rubbing your face on the erection straining against the fabric. “I only thought about you, Eren.”

“Fuck,” he groans, mesmerized. He pets you, brushing his thumb across your cheeks. “Me too, sweetie. No one makes me come the way you do.” He lifts his hips to slide his bottoms and boxers down his legs, exposing his hard cock standing stiff and pretty, glistening with precum leaking from the tip. 

You’re salivating, spit coating your entire mouth, hungry for his cock. Without wasting another second, you swallow him, surrounding him in your wet heat until he hits the back of your throat. He bucks up slightly, thighs trembling beneath you. “Fuck,” he swears, trailing your spine, gliding to your ass. “Always so good to me.” He slips beneath your panties, teasing your entrance. “Can I fuck you with these fingers? Please?”

You nod with his cock in your mouth, slurping the drool trickling on his shaft, bobbing on him. He slides one in, then another, pumping them in and out of you as you moan around his dick. He wriggles inside you, stimulating your sweet spot, gushing on his digits with your first orgasm. His follows immediately after, his load spurting onto your tongue, guzzling every last drop of him. 

You release him, turning over so your head is resting on his lap, peering up at his face. His hand is between your legs, rubbing the soft plush of your thighs, smiling down at you. He teases your clit, flicking his wet fingers on it, causing you to whine. 

“You still like it when I play with you like this,” he purrs, watching you twitch from the pleasure. “My good girl always comes so much for me.” He caresses your forehead gently, toying with your swollen bud. “Can you give me another one, princess?” Too many times do you remember him pleasuring you, sitting in the passenger seat, you gripping to his wrist, directing his hand to your pussy. Tonight is no different; he’s just as relentless, tapping away at you until your creaming for him once more. 

“I need to fucking taste you,” he growls, slipping his fingers past his lips, licking them. “Sit up, sweetie. Ride me while you make me hard again.”

It’s clumsy maneuvering in the cramped space, but eventually, you get into position. He’s below you, slurping at your sopping pussy as you’re bent over his cock, licking the head as you stroke him off. The windows begin fogging up, the air sweltering and humid. Your knee digs uncomfortably into the cushion, the other hangs off the edge of the seat, foot planted to the floor. Eren manages to fit his impressive stature, one leg angled and stretched towards the driver’s side, the other laid across the backseat, enough space for you to blow him while you ride his face. 

“I missed this sloppy cunt,” he muffles, spreading his tongue on you. He spits, smearing his frothy saliva across your clit, puckered around it, sucking. 

Once he’s hard again, you beg, “Fuck me, Eren.” You’re close to another climax and you’re desperate to come with him in you this time. “Please.”

He laughs, lifting you off, his face glossy with your slick, covering his nose, mouth, and chin. “Whatever you want, princess.” He sits up against the seat, legs splayed like a throne for you to sit pretty on. You straddle his lap, rubbing your pussy on his cock before guiding it into your entrance. 

You both drawl out, “Fuck,” kissing messily, arms wrapped around each other in a snug embrace. You ride him feverishly as he fucks up into you, gripping onto your hips tightly, bouncing you on his dick. You’re both sweating immensely, the temperature in the car sweltering, but neither of you mind it, too concentrated on each other’s orgasms, too addicted to the high you’re chasing together. 

“Fuck, baby. I’m so close,” he groans, picking up the pace, his thighs slapping lewdly against your ass.

“Come inside me, Eren. Fill me up,” you whimper, pushing the hair away from his sweaty forehead. 

“Yeah? You want it? Take it then. Take it sweetheart.” His eyes are shut tight as he shoots his load, thick cock pulsing inside you. You ride out your orgasm with him, scattering delicate kisses on his face. He grins, gazing at you with a hazy expression. 

“What’s that look for?” you ask, booping his nose. 

“Nothing,” he replies, cheeks rounded into a bigger smile. He squeezes your face between his palms. “I’m just happy. So unbelievably happy right now.”

You place your hands over his, leaning into his touch. “Me too.”

You stay comfortably like this for a few minutes, Eren cracking the windows open to let out some steam. You joke, “So, are you still going to sell me this car?”

He chuckles. “How about I give it to you. I was going to anyways.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. It was supposed to be a peace offering. But I like this outcome way better.”

“Me too. But I’m not going to just take it from you. Let me pay you for it.”

He tips your chin to look at you, grinning wide. “How about you move in with me instead?”

“What?” you giggle, unable to contain your smile, thrilled by the suggestion.

“Move in with me,” he repeats, nuzzling his nose to yours. 

“Isn’t this is a little too soon, considering we just got back together?”

He stretches his arms out, relaxing into the seat, smirking at you. “We already wasted two years without each other, I’m not wasting any more time.”

You scoot closer to him, kissing his cheek, then his lips. “Okay, you’ve got a deal.”

[mingsolo]

Say My Name

incubus!hongjoong x f!reader / genre: demon au, supernatural au, smut, romance  / warnings: alcohol intake, cursing, clingy woosan, manifestation of paranormal activities, f! masturbation, sex toys, an almost hook up, scaredy cat mingi, pet names (love), the word kill used in threatening context, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), oral f!receiving, , squirting, creampie / wc: 7k, r: 21+

done for my beloved @flurrys-creativity 666 milestone from two years ago! yep. another repost im too proud to let go. and idc this is a supernatural/halloween themed party, we celebrate summerween in this household from now on!

Another boring Halloween night indoors.

You wanted to do something fun, but most of your friends told you they were “too old to costume parties” and left you without plans for the night, so just like last year, you were bound to spend Halloween night laying on the couch watching another mainstream horror film that will be as bad as the previous one.

Doing just that, sipping straight from the wine bottle, because there was no one to impress after all, you emptied what was left of the liquid, hoping it made you drunk enough to lose the critical thinking from your brain and enjoy this plot-less movie. 

The doorbell rang, interrupting your mental count of how many cliche moments had been in the film already. You look at the hour surprised to check it was barely past nine. Dragging your feet to your door, you checked the peephole to find your friends San and Wooyoung standing next to each other, San kissing Wooyo’s cheek,  as clingy as ever.

“Hey hey, don’t be mushy in my house!” you shouted, opening the door, to which San abruptly let go of Wooyoung’s ass. “Let’s not eat in front of the poor?.”

“Someone is really sensitive tonight.” San said, letting himself in, followed by Wooyoung who smiley showed you the two bottles of wine and packs of beer they had brought with them. 

“Well I’m the most single person on earth, so I have the right to complain.” you sighed, dropping yourself on the couch same as you previously were. 

“Very dramatic.” San arched his eyebrows, sitting on the carpeted floor next to you, opening the bag he was carrying. 

“What are you doing here anyways, weren’t you going to a haunted house with those friends of your dance group?.” 

“We did,” Wooyoung responded, opening the wine bottles in the kitchen, searching for something through your cabinets as if it were his own home. “But Mingi fainted half way through and the paramedics needed someone to accompany him while he was still zoned out, his apartment is on the other side of the city so there was no point in going back.” 

“… And since we knew you were going to be here alone drowning in your own misery, we decided to come play with you with the little thing we bought at the gift shop.” San added, taking out a wooden board and placing it on your coffee table. “Tadda!.”

“A Ouija board?, really?.” You rolled your eyes at the thing. You have played with them in the past, a few times in fact, and nothing interesting ever has come out of it. 

“It’ll be more fun than sitting on your ass all night watching… that.” Wooyoung sat beside San, taking the remote and turning the TV off. 

You scoffed, accepting the glass of wine Wooyoung handed to you. Sitting cross-legged next to San, with Wooyoung in the center of the other side, you sipped half glass, and placed your hands on the planchet as they did. 

“Alexa, dim the lights to minimum.” Wooyoung shouted.

With the ambiance now up to Wooyoung’s Ouija board session standards, He closed his eyes and you and San did the same. The whole thing was silly, but it was better than what you were doing for sure. 

“I’m now speaking to whoever demon or spirit that roams close to us tonight!” Wooyoung shouted so abruptly after a minute of silence that both you and San got startled, popping both your eyes open. “We meant no harm! we only want to communicate with you.” 

San and you were containing the laughter, which Wooyoung noticed giving you both a sharp glare. You catched San looking at his boyfriend so earnestly that you felt your heart ache a little, they really were in love with each other. It made you happy and melancholic at the same time. How much you wished you too had someone. 

 “Please! Manifest to us, give us a sign that you can hear our calling.” Wooyoung continued, the tone of his voice becoming louder with each sentence. 

“Wooyo shut it, the neighbors will complain about…” 

Your words were interrupted by the piece you and your friends were holding slowly moving to the “H” marker. 

“gET oUT!” Wooyoung giggled excitedly. San let go of your hand to put a fist in over his lips, failing to repress a high pitched Oooooh. 

“H? So there is someone here with us,” Wooyoung closed his eyes without dropping a smile. “So tell us your name then, I’m Wooyoung, that’s San, and the sulky one is Y/n,” 

“Shut up!” you replied annoyed, letting go of both their hands, but they quickly grabbed them again, putting them back. Just as you were to keep complaining, you got interrupted again by the marker making your hands move to the “O” letter, then “N” next “G”, until it spelled a complete name- Hongjoong.

“Who the fuck is Hongjoong?.” 

“The demon, woman!” Wooyoung squeaked.

“Ok that’s enough you almost had me,” you let go of them and stand up, taking the glass of wine with you. 

“You are no fun.” San pouted, taking a sip himself. 

“Y/n comeback, you need to say goodbye to the demon or else it will stay here with you!.” Wooyoung whined again. 

“Well I’m kind of lonely, so welcome home, HOngJoOng!” you mocked, raising your glass to the air, finishing it in one shot. Both your friends interchanged worried but amused glares. They then took the marker again, saying their goodbyes to the supposed demon, and set the board aside.

The rest of the night went without any more talk about the Ouija board. You ordered pizza and watched random horror YouTube videos while finishing the booze your friends had brought. 

San and Wooyoung left your apartment around two in the morning. Despite having tried to tease you with the demon thing, you enjoyed having them over tonight and were grateful they decided to show up so you could have some fun on Halloween night. 

“You really spooked her with the demon thing,” San chuckled, while he and his boyfriend waited for their uber downstairs at your apartment building. 

“What do you mean?” Wooyoung asked, yawning widely.

“By moving the board to spell that name, where did you hear that anyway?” 

“That wasn’t you?.” Wooyoung suddenly got very awake. His posture getting painfully straight. 

“No.” 

Both looked straight into nothing, a sudden breeze running through their backs, cold and intrusive. 

“She didn’t say goodbye to it.” Wooyoung mumbled, as the uber arrived in front of them.

That night you went to sleep right after your friends left. Drowsy thanks to the alcohol, you started snorting as soon as your head hit the pillow. That’s how you didn’t notice the lights on the whole apartment flickering all night until you woke up later that morning. 

.

.

.

Over the next couple of weeks, something started to change in your apartment. 

Small stuff at first, like things you swear to have left in certain places, appearing on others. Then, things that disappeared completely. You started thinking the stress of working extra hours was messing with you, so you decided to complete your shifts normally and go to sleep at early hours trying to get more rest, but this didn’t end whatever weird thing was happening. 

On top of that, every time you went out with your friends, you were reminded how single you were and it was starting to be really annoying. Of course you were happy for them, but you would be lying if you didn’t wonder what was about you that was impossible for you to get with someone. Hell, even a one night stand was starting to sound good at this point. 

Sadly, your work was just entering its demanding season, with you having to stay late again and unable to go out as often, so even that wasn’t on the table right now.

Besides, the stuff going on in your apartment continued to worsen. The more you paid attention, the more weird things happened, and it was coming to the point where you couldn’t keep ignoring it. Every day, the presence of someone living with you was more tangible. It was as subtle as feeling a stare over you, while cooking, working or even taking a shower. Creepy shadows behind the curtains or sudden shivers on your spine, as if someone was standing behind you. 

It all started on Halloween night, you knew it had to do something with that stupid Ouija board but you weren’t going to admit it. Doing that was accepting it was real, and then who knew what this thing could do. 

A couple of months living like this, you started to feel more at ease, ignoring all signals, convinced that whoever was living with you, wouldn’t hurt you, or it would have done it already, besides that, the little time you spend in your apartment was sleeping, so what would the spirits or whatever was inside your home do?.

One particular evening, you got this urge to do a deep cleaning of your home, so you spent a big part of the night looking through stuff stacked in your closet. At the top of one shelf, you found a shoe box, with old cards and random objects, one of them being a rubber item with the shape of a teardrop, your forgotten vibrator. Your eyes pop open when you instantly remember having bought the thing last year, pressured by your friend Yeri, who told you “every girl needed one” as if it was a lip tint or favorite perfume. 

You took the vibrator to the bathroom, and cleaned it neatly with some body wash. After drying it completely, you took the charger and connected it, pressing your lips together when the white light showed on, telling you it worked. 

You didn’t remember why you stopped using it, or when was the last time you did, but right now you were happy to have found it. 

After finishing with the usual night routine, you were ready for bed. Throwing an old shirt over your head you were about to put on your worn out pajamas, when your eyes landed on the toy laying on your nightstand. 

“Well fuck it.” you said to yourself, throwing the pajamas away and taking in your hands. You lay onto the bed, pressing the + button to which the thing began to vibrate with slow repetitions. You pressed the same button again and it started vibrating continuously, now faster. Quickly you removed your underwear, closing your eyes, pressing the vibrator on the spot between your legs. It was cold and the vibrations made you gasp a little, sending a twirl of sensations right after it touched your skin. 

Slowly you began pressing it harder, building up the sensation, making your legs relax, opening more and more to give access to your entrance, until it was placed right on the spot where it could begin sinking inside you. 

Lost in the pleasure, you began moving the thing automatically in circles, up and down until it was half way inside you, making your legs shake and the knot in your stomach build up quickly. Either the toy was surprisingly efficient, or it had been so long since you experienced an orgasm that in mere minutes you were too worked up and ready to let go. 

Moaning softly, the same time you were riding your release, you clearly felt the sensation of something making pressure on the bed at your feet, as if someone was sitting on it. You got startled at how clearly it felt, all while your orgasm continued to hit you until the sensation started to wash away. You opened your eyes, noticing the lights in the room quickly flickering, stopping immediately as your vision cleared. 

Ignoring the lights issue for your well being, you placed the vibrator on top of your nightstand, too worn out over your first orgasm in weeks. Having no energy left you barely threw a blanket over you, completely relaxed. 

The next morning you woke up refreshed, a sensation that didn’t last long as soon as you looked at the clock. 

“Oh fuck!.” 

It was way past nine, and you were already late for work. You rubbed your eyes to get rid of the motion to close them again, noticing your blanket wasn’t over you. You were half naked and uncovered, and it made you shiver. The wind from outside makes your curtains move, letting you know your window was open when you were sure you left it closed, same as you knew you were wearing underwear before falling asleep. 

Whatever the case, you didn’t have the time to contemplate that right now. You clumsily got up and ran to the bathroom, got into the shower, throwing whatever clothes you saw first and leaving for work before your boss decided to send you back and take out a considerable amount from your weekly paycheck.

After that the day continued to be awful. Your boss had waited for you to scold you for coming in late, the clients you saw that afternoon were a pain in the ass and you had to skip lunch in order to finish something someone else didn’t do on time. 

Besides, there was something on the back of your mind. You remembered the sensation of someone sitting at the foot of your bed, the lights acting weird, the missing underwear, the window… It was starting to feel kind of dangerous. But even by having all those things on your head, plus the work stuff, the only thing that could possibly help you relax was to go home to your toy, as desperate  as it sounded.

That evening, you felt something was particularly off the moment you stepped foot into the apartment. The presence in your home felt heavy and oppressive. It felt as if whatever it was, was right there waiting for you, you just couldn’t see it. It wanted attention, and you weren’t going to give in.

Acknowledging it was accepting it was real. And you weren’t ready for that. 

A few weeks into the paranormal stuff going on in your apartment, you could almost say it was becoming the new normal. The thing in your house wanted your attention, but so far it hasn’t done anything to directly hurt you. It was as if it was presenting you an endurance test, and you were decided to  win. 

A particular thing you noticed was that on the nights you decided to play with yourself, it seemed to trigger this thing even more.

The windows slammed louder and repeatedly, the tv turned on and off nonstop, your bedroom stuff fell off their places. All while you could clearly feel someone hovering over you, breathing beside you. At one point you even felt fingers caressing your skin as you did, and you swore you must check yourself into a mental facility but the sensation of being watched gave you a push, something new you didn’t know you enjoyed so much. 

It was crazy, but it felt so good. 

This is how it went for another month, until one night a few days before new years eve. 

.

.

.

It was a Friday when you and your friends met up at a new club close downtown. 

San and Wooyoung picked you up, and together you entered the club waiting to meet with another couple of friends from their dance group. Yeri and her girlfriend were already inside, waiting for you.

The night was going on great, you spent the time since arriving dancing with San and Yeri, drinking and having a good time, so good that you even forgot about the crazy stuff happening at your house. One moment as you asked for a martini at the counter, Wooyoung reached out to you with a devilish smirk on his lips, and you knew it was trouble. 

“I can tell you are scheming something.” you said glaring at him, waiting for your drink. 

“I have someone who wants to meet you.” He said with a teasing tone. 

“Who?.” 

“My friend Mingi, he’s been wanting to talk to you but you just haven’t stopped dancing with Yeri since he got here.” 

“Mingi?, isn’t that the dude that fainted at the haunted house?.” 

Wooyoung arched his eyebrows, his smirk so big that you felt like slapping him out of his face.

“Wooyo, he sounds like a wi…” You swallowed your words as a shadow approached you both, showing a guy half chest and head taller than Wooyoung, coming out from behind him. 

To say he was handsome was an understatement, cause was gorgeous. Sharp eyes and nose, beautiful plump lips. His hair was styled up, dark with shades of blue on the sides, shining from the lights on the ceiling. 

“Hello,” He spoke with the deepest voice that you’ve heard, so clear despite the loud noise of the music and people around you. 

“Y/n, this is Mingi,” Wooyoung said with an irritating tone, “You were saying he sounds like a whi-” 

“Nice to meet you,” you waved at him, pushing Wooyoung back softly. He let out his particular loud witchy laugh but took the hint and walked out back to the rest of your friends.

Mingi nodded, smiling as he looked at you straight into the eyes. 

This Mingi you were talking to didn’t seem like the type to faint in haunted houses. 

As you two chatted, he was confident, cool and very interesting. You spoke and danced with him for a good amount of time, admiring how much of a natural he was. You were so at ease that you completely ignored your friends, knowing they were happy to see you getting along with someone. 

“We will be opening a show later this month,” Mingi spoke softly, practically whispering in your ear, as you danced with him so close you could feel the friction of his muscles over your chest, his hand resting firmly on your waist. “Would you like to come up backstage and cheer us on?, And maybe go out with me after?.” 

You smiled like a dumb high school girl nodding your head yes, but you didn’t care. Mingi smiled too, hiding his flustered cheeks looking up at the ceiling.

 God not only he was hot but so freaking cute.

When the song was about to end you asked Mingi to take a break to get more drinks. Mingi ordered a beer and a cocktail for you. Drinks in hand, you bit your lip, watching him lick his, savoring the rest of the beer on them. You knew what you were about to ask was maybe too rushed, but fuck he looked incredible hot and you were already tipsy from the alcohol. Inviting him over to your apartment was too tempting to let it go. And by the way he was eyeing you from head to toe all night, you knew he also wanted it. 

Just as you were about to say the words, Mingi shuts you up by pressing his lips into yours, softly at first, the kiss slowly becoming more hungry. 

Your hands went to his chest, roaming through his muscles until you reached the back of his head. Mingi let go a soft spoken growl, that with his deep tone sounded even more hot. You stood up from the stool, placing yourself between his legs and continued kissing him, his lips were so soft that you wanted that kiss to last forever until there was no more left of them. 

You bit his bottom lip and you could feel his bulge hardening by having him so close. It was now or never.

“Want to get out of here?.” 

Mingi smiled against your mouth, taking your lips just as you did before and grabbing you by the waist so he could stand up, leading you by the hand between the people dancing and shouting on the dance floor. 

Before leaving you sent a text to Yeri, to inform your friends you were leaving with Mingi, to which she responded with a smirk, eggplant and teardrop emojis, making  you laugh out loud. 

Mingi asked for your address and called an Uber, you two kissing softly outside the club the entire time until the car arrived. 

The ride home was too long in your opinion, not wanting to waste more time. Your mind wonders the things Mingi would do to you, having seen how good he moved on the dance floor, you could only imagine how he would move in your bed.

Just as you arrived at the front door, Mingi hugged you from behind, his large hands roaming through your hips and ass, pressing gently but firmly. You giggled and wished he wasn’t so playful right now because it was taking too long for you to get the right key. 

When you finally entered your apartment, he slightly pushed you against the wall, making you feel his length on your stomach, while his tongue explored all of your mouth. 

“You look too good.” He breathed on your neck and you could feel the warmth in your lower abdomen, the space between your legs aching for some touch. Mingi seemed to read your mind by the way one of his hands went to touch your sensitive spot, fingers toying with the fabric of your underwear, teasing your entrance.“Want me to keep talking?.”

You were already so wet for him and you smiled proudly seeing how his eyes dropped lazily, anticipation shining on them. He kissed you one more time, sliding his fingers beneath your cloth, when suddenly you felt it…

The presence, it was there. 

The vibe in the apartment shuffled instantly. Mingi didn’t seem to notice but you did, and you gasped out loud when something grabbed Mingi’s hand between your legs away, making him break the kiss, and look at you in confusion.

“Are you ok? You want to stop?.” 

You wanted to say no, that you didn’t throw his hand away, but you didn’t have the time to.

The sudden stomp of your front door slamming open by itself made Mingi jump pack, and you pressed yourself against the wall. Then your kitchen cabinets opened and closed repeatedly, the contents inside of them popping out falling into the floors making a mess. 

“What the fuck?!” Mingi screamed, pressing himself against the wall too. The look on his face was of someone so terrified that he will probably have a hard time adjusting to normal life again. 

“Mingi…” you tried to calm him down but it was no use.

He fainted halfway at the Haunted House. You remembered. You suddenly got scared what would happen if he died right here in your apartment. 

Your windows then open at unison, making your curtains fly high into the ceiling, the cold air from outside making your magazines and lightweight items fly around as if a little tornado had born inside your home.

“Nah fuck this…” Mingi said to you barely audible, hands over his chest. You tried to get close to him but he walked back, scared of you. “Fuck this!!.” He repeated, his glare changed into that one of a scared puppy. Then he sprinted through the already opened door, which slammed shut behind him.

The flying objects, slamming doors and cabinets and all the shit happening around you stopped as soon as Mingi walked away. You stood still for a few seconds, gathering your thoughts and trying to collect yourself, but you realized you have gone past beyond that.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?.”

You shouted at the air, the anger built up from months ready to explode from your body. 

“I know you are listening! what the fuck was that?!”

You waited for a response, a cracking door, a flickering light, but nothing. 

“So now you don’t want to do anything huh?!,” you walked in circles in your living room, trying to provoke whatever this thing was. You knew it was there, invisible as always, watching you, mocking you. “So now what?, you screw my fuck over? And then you go silent?!”

Still nothing. 

“I’ve had enough, Fuck you!” you whined, the anger now becoming frustration. “And who’s going to clean this mess up, motherfucker?” you were crying shamelessly,  kicking the first thing your foot could reach, hurting your foot a little in the motion. A brown wooden box slid off, landing in front of your coffee table. “This is ?...”

Walking over to it, you crouched and opened the Ouija board your friends had left in your apartment since that Halloween night. You walked towards it as if it was going to explode at any second, bending over to reach it, carefully placing both hands on the marker. As soon as your fingers touched the piece, it violently began moving - first to the letter “H”, then the “O”,  next an “N”… until you said what it spelled. “Hongjoong.” 

Just as you finished saying his name you felt a violent gust of cold air behind you, and a soft spoken voice dragging his words,  whispering right over your ear. 

“Fucking finally.” 

You have thought countless times what would you do if you had whatever that was hunting you in the flesh, so to speak. You had imagined yourself screaming, running away _ the poor Mingi, you didn’t blame him for doing so. But right now, what you had in front of you wasn’t anything you would have expected.

The figure of a man crouching beside you, his face was what you saw first.  You froze, admiring his features, and god he was magnificent. 

Pointy nose, seemingly carved to perfection. Large almond eyes, shaped like that of a red fox, that were now eyeing your own face, almost earnestly. Pouty lips, pink in shade and soft looking. Ashy blonde hair falling into most of his forehead. His face alone was stunning and he seemed to notice your staring. 

“I could look at you all night too, but I have better plans, my dear Y/n.”

He helped you stand up,  grabbing your chin between his long fingers as he did. His outfit was weird, and it seemed heavy but it accentuated his slim but toned figure. 

“You were the thing making all these weird things all this time?.” You asked, your tone way calmer and softer than the shouting and cursing you were doing moments before. 

He chuckled dryly, leaving your face and walking away, watching the mess in your living room visibly amused. “Do I look like a thing?,” he said, picking up the Ouija board from the floor, chuckling and throwing it over the couch. 

“No- I mean…” 

“I had to mess up your stuff, and even that way it took so long to say my name for the third time,” He walked over to you again, and you instinctively walked back. “I’ve thrown this thing many times at you and you always ignored it.”  He eyed the Ouija board again. “Hope you have learned not to bring anyone over ever again, sorry your friend shit his pants.” Hongjoong chuckled with malice, but you were unable to move or say something back. “You do it next time and I won’t be so gentle.” 

“Gentle? You destroyed my apartment.” You replied bitterly, to which Hongjoong glared at you. You took a step back and he smiled again. 

“Gentle meaning I won’t kill whoever you bring out next time.” He teased, and you felt a shiver down your spine. “Relax, I would have hurt you if I wanted  to already.”

That was true.

“What do you want then?.”

Hongjoong smirked, finally the conversation was heading his way. 

“You know what I want,” he came closer to you, his hand grabbing the hem of your dress, playing with it. “You know I like to watch you…” Immediately your mind went back to the nights when you pleased yourself, now having clear that it was him every time, leaning beside you, guiding you with his presence. 

The thought made you feel incredibly aroused, you shook your head in denial. It was insane. Whoever he was, he didn’t belong to this world, yet he was right here in front of you. He looked and felt so real, and it was overwhelming. 

Hongjoong got even closer, cupping your head with his fingers, black chrome shades painted on them. His touch was burning, it felt dark and forbidden, as if you needed to get out of his presence as soon as possible, or you would be sucked into something you wouldn’t be able to go back from. 

“What’s wrong, love?,” He leaned to brush his lips into yours holding you by your waist with his free hand. “Don’t you want to play with me? We have waited for so long.”

Your eye level was almost the same as him, which let you look at him in the eyes as he brushed and softly licked your bottom lip with his tongue. Your lower abdomen was on fire, and by the way he made pressure with his fingers on your skin, you knew he could feel how worked up you were. 

This felt wrong, off limits. But his aura was overpowering, and you needed this, he was right about that, you have waited maybe too fucking long.

“What happens after?,” you mumbled, closing your eyes as Hongjoong pressed gentle pecks on your neck, now both his hands sliding under your dress, making pressure between your thighs. 

“After what?,” He continued kissing your neck and making his way between your legs, with force he lifted your leg up, so he could easily caress your entrance. You were damped already, Hongjoong scoffed at the feeling of your ruined underwear. 

“After we-.”

“Why so prude?” He faced you again, brushing your pussy with his long fingers, so much bigger than your little damped spot. “After we fuck all night until you never think of someone else but me, ever again?.” He then slid his finger under the cloth and pushed his finger inside you, making you moan softly. Hongjoong didn’t wait for a response, instead pushed another two fingers inside, lifting you up first until you were sitting on your now empty desk. He curled his fingers, causing you to clench around them, which made him groan. His voice was so gentle and soft, and yet you could sense he might have sounded like it, but he wasn’t going to be. 

Your whimpers and moans had him biting his lip, chasing your release knowing you wouldn’t resist much longer like this. Your arms were hung over his shoulders, eyes shut, your legs numb, lost in the sensation of his fingers playing with the softness of your clit. 

“Oh, please…” you whined, pushing yourself deeper into his fingers, making Hongjoong groan in desperation. 

“Fucking tease.” He growled, looking down exactly where his hand was connected with your entrance. “If this is how you feel around my fingers, I can’t wait to be inside you.” 

His words made electricity run through your whole body. Is this some kind of magic, hex or something unnatural? How he has you like this by his fingers only. Whatever the case it was too much when he crocked his fingers hitting your sweet spot, making you jolt and moan with your face buried on his neck. 

Hongjoong could feel your release dampening his fingers, and somehow knowing what you liked, he caressed the outside of your entrance so gently that the tingling sensation made your legs give up and you collapsed over him. 

He carried you wrapping your legs around him, you tightly hugging him, too worn out to move. 

“And that’s one.” 

The short trip to your bed was enough for you to recover your breath, shaking as you hear what he said. 

Hongjoong placed you at the center of the bed, letting you rest a little more, as he took out his flashy jacket, and began unbuttoning his black silk blouse. He stopped at the third button, showing you just a glimpse of his chest, soft and firm skin teasing you. He then unzipped his belt, giving you a show, how fucking delightful. You just came, but the knot on your lower stomach was building up again. 

“I’ve seen that expression so many times,” His tone lowered this time, almost in a whisper. “Can’t believe I had to go through the pain of watching you do that to yourself, when I could have been fucking you every night just like I would do now.” 

You were ashamed of how much his words affected you, your entrance dripping wet by the way he looked at you, how his words enveloped you. “Please…” you find yourself about to beg him to touch you, you desperately want him to be deep inside you, like you never wanted anyone before. 

“Shhh.” Hongjoong lowered himself on the bed, placing himself between your legs, opening them slowly as he kissed your knees and legs with soft brushes of his lips. “For now I only want to hear your moans and whimpers, I want to hear the sound of my name while you scream it.” 

You pressed your lips together, letting out a soft Hum that made Hongjoong chuckle. 

“You better say it countless times, you have to make up for me, for all these months you refused to say it.” He then grabbed your underwear and ripped it off, throwing it to the side. He took a good look at you from behind your legs, sliding your dress up until you were exposed from your abdomen down. 

You saw his eyes, glowing with a crimson tone in the darkness of the room and his black eye shadow. They shone brightly the more he stared at you until they disappeared as Hongjoong buried his face between your legs. 

Hongjoong had wished for this moment for so long. Watching you had been both a torment and a blessing all these months. 

It’s been so long since he had been summoned in the flesh, and the first time someone made him feel the need to really feel someone else’s skin, a vulnerable and delicate skin.  You as a mortal were invaluable to him, because you wouldn’t just disappear and be a stranger to him as all of the demons, ghouls and entities he was accustomed to surrendered himself with, all of which had no substance or meaning, but again what did on his seemingly endless and pointless life anyway?. At least here he could watch over you, protect you.

He had realized how much of a domestic life he wanted. His past human self is still attached to this world, now finding comfort in you, his precious master. 

But of course he wasn’t going to tell you that just yet, first he had to make you feel good, knowing perfectly how much you needed it. 

You softly gasped when his lips brushed your entrance, he took his sweet time flickering over your pussy lips, savoring them. He licked your dripping slit with one long strip, making you clench and arch your back at the sensation. 

Still sensitive from your previous high, you couldn’t hold back, unwinding slowly letting go of any inhibitions. Hongjoong smirked with his head buried in between your legs, proud of how you were losing control. 

He was licking at a faster pace, up and down and then wiggling his tongue making you whimper loudly. Impulsively your hands went to his hair, making a mess out of it. You pushed your hips against his mouth, urging him to keep going, and he groaned against your pussy sending vibrations to your whole body. Hongjoong could feel his hardened length throbbing at how good you were taking his tongue. He needs to be inside you or he will come just by looking at you getting high on his mouth only. 

“Hongjoong, please…” You threw your head back, your hips moving letting him burying his tongue deeper inside you, where he had no problem reaching your sensitive spot. 

“Come for me again,” He whispered, going back to suck in your pussy right after. 

Your whines and moans had gotten him so hard, his dick leaking already, desperate to be out of the restraint of his pants.  Without letting your pussy alone, he skilfully removed his belt, dragging his pants down a little so his length could break free. 

“Love, I want to taste it.” 

He licked you from top to bottom before sucking in your little nest of nerves once more, to which you couldn’t resist longer. The explosion in your lower abdomen crushed you over. It was a hundred times more intense than the previous one, and you felt an unfamiliar sensation you never experienced before. Shocked, you saw your juices leak from you with a little splash, Hongjoong expertly making filthy noises as he sucked in the sweet release until there was none of it.

“Oh God… I-” you excused yourself, kind of embarrassed of what just happened. 

Hongjoong licked his lips, and your pussy throbbed from the sight of him smiling devilish as he brushed his thumb over his lower lip.

“Bet your damned toy couldn’t do that huh?.” 

He stood up finally removing his blouse, letting you admire his slim but toned figure. Then he pushed the rest of his pants down, his length in full display so hard and erect that it wobbled, and you could feel your pussy dripping once more. You couldn��t believe you weren’t drained out already. 

“Take the dress off.” 

You obeyed, sitting on the bed and unzipping the back of your dress, throwing it over your shoulders until it was completely off. Hongjoong let out a moan at the sight of your breast bouncing as you took the dress off, a sight he wouldn’t be tired of anytime soon. He then took his length on his hand, stroking it gently the same time he eyed your breast attentively. You adjusted yourself on the bed purposely making them bounce, to which Hongjoong let out a giggle full of devilish intent. 

“Such a tease.” 

You took a deep breath, watching him hovering over you until his face was in front of yours. He kissed you gently and slowly, both of you unable to keep your eyes open. He pressed himself beneath you until you were laying down in the bed again, making you feel his hardened length over your stomach. Your hands trailed the firmness of his chest, the warmth of his skin feeling so good against your palms. You then caressed his back, kissing him deeply as you never kissed anyone else before. 

As you were lost in the pleasure of the kiss, Hongjoong took the chance to spread your legs apart with his knee, shifting from his position so he could align himself with your entrance. 

He breaks the kiss apart, taking in a deep breath. You both opened your eyes as he slowly pushed himself inside you, so slowly it was almost as if he was punishing you. When he was finally inside you, he stood still looking at your face, your eyes dropping lazily unable to keep them open. 

Him stretching you out was the most exquisite sensation you have experienced probably ever, it felt so intimate and personal, as if your body had been waiting for him to fill you up like this. 

When he was sure you had adjusted to him, he began moving, slowly at first, trying not to hurt you, but soon his pace intensified and he was going in and out with force. 

Your vision was blurry, head spinning as Hongjoong slammed inside you repeatedly, leaving hickies in your neck, kissing your breasts and caressing the back of your thighs as he fucked you desperately.

Looking for something to hold onto you grabbed the bed sheets with your fist tightly, Hongjoong burying himself deeper and deeper inside you with rhythmic movements. You were becoming louder by the second and it was making him crazy. He harshly took your hand from your mouth when you tried to repress your moaning. 

“Don’t, I need to hear you.”

His choice of words really resonated with you. He wasn’t just fucking you just because he could, he was fucking you so good cause he wanted to, he needed to. Even if his presence was dominating, you could feel he wanted to do this, maybe since the first night he was summoned. 

He leaned again to kiss you on the mouth, stroking his tongue against your lips as his dick slammed into you with the same motion. You took him in your lips, licking and sucking on his mouth as well, everything building up the sweet sensation right there where your bodies were connected. 

Hongjoong continued fucking you so hard that you had trouble keeping up with the kiss. The sound of your bodies slamming against each other was obscene and so beautiful to hear, it invaded the entire house, allowing no other sound to come in. Each of his strokes sends electric waves through both your bodies. Your breast pressed against his chest, which now Hongjoong caressed with his palm, in circle motions over your hardened nip. 

“Fuck, Hongjoong,” you moaned, arching your hips for him to bury himself deeper. “Faster” you begged, looking at him with hungry eyes. Hongjoong smirked at your requests, happy to oblige. 

He pushed himself in, adjusting the angle by grabbing one of your legs and throwing it over his shoulder. You whined, cursing under your breath with your head thrown back. The movements plus Hongjoong breathy moans driving you insane. 

“Yeah, right there.” you threw your other leg over his shoulder, making Hongjoong groan loudly. “Deeper Hongjoong, fuck me deeper.” Hongjoong knew he would be done if you continued to be so vocal about what he was doing to you, but he couldn’t stop. Every word and sound coming out you was delicious, making him realize he could be fucking you so good like this every night for the rest of your life together. 

You whined when he pulled out almost entirely, but when he slammed himself all in one motion again, you couldn’t resist any longer. 

“I’m so close…”

“I know.” He responded, pulling out again, and pressing all his length softly, stroking your clit with his hand at the same time he pushed in and out. “I want you to make a mess again, would you?.”

You let out a few breathy Yes, rolling your hips close to him, like wanting his dick to reach even deeper, until you could feel it almost touched your heart. Your hand reached his back, when he bent over too close to your face, firmly holding your legs still hanging to the sides of his shoulders. He looked down again at how he slipped inside and out of you and he let out a guttural sound, biting his lip almost hurting himself. 

You took his head and made him look at you, letting him know you were about to come. He moaned when he felt your walls tightening around him, and a warmth drizzling sensation covered him up. You closed your eyes and let go of him, moaning loudly riding your release. 

Hongjoong continued to thrust inside you,  massaging your clit in circles wanting you to come again, the over stimulation so much that you cried out  his name, grabbing the sheets again looking for something to hold onto. Hongjoong couldn’t hold any longer and spilled all inside you, still pushing inside wanting you to come once more. When he pulled out, looking at his dripping cum spill out of you, at the same time he watched you squirt again, it was a view he would never get tired of, and will probably have on repeat in his mind on the times he can’t have you like this. 

 When you finally took a deep breath, waves of pleasure still tingled inside you.  You opened your eyes, finding Hongjoong looking at you, one hand stroking your jaw gently.  

The windows opened again, this time without any loud bang, letting in a cold breeze than in any other circumstance would have been too cold for you, but right now it felt so good how the air cooled your burning bodies. The light from the night sky illuminates the afterglow of what just happened. 

“Right. I almost forgot you are a… demon?.” you smiled. Hongjoong chuckled, still admiring your face, caressing your waist with his fingers. 

“It’s funny. I can make a mess out of things, but I don’t have the power to clean the mess out.” You arch your eyebrows. It was very convenient and didn’t make any sense, but the thought of cleaning was the least thing you cared about right now anyways.

After a moment of silence, as you rest against each other you finally ask. “What happens after?.”

Hongjoong was taken aback from your sudden question. Now that it had already happened, he had to give you a real answer. He got tense for a second, but his face softened immediately after. 

“I’m yours to take.” He whispered over your lips, brushing his bottom lip against yours. 

“Mine?.” 

“Yours.” You caressed his face, his body comfortably on top of you, skin still burned against yours, but you felt no discomfort. You then kissed him, softly but deeply. 

Hongjoong felt a spiraling sensation over his chest, a feeling he thought he had lost so long ago. With his energy building up inside him, it started causing the lights to go out, so intense that it reached not only your apartment but the whole building. The fainted sound of cars and the city at night echoed through the room.

Still kissing, your naked bodies glowing against the night light coming from the opened windows was the only thing that could be seen against the total darkness.

@mingsolo do not repost/translate to other sites

[ghcstao3]

“Come on, stupid thing. Work.”

Soap has been toying with an old radio for the better part of an hour now, ever since he’d gone digging through the safehouse’s storage and discovered the thing. Ghost’s headache has only grown since.

“This fuckin’—“ Soap mutters a string of curses under his breath. He smacks the side of the small device. “Is a spot of entertainment too much to ask for? Christ.”

Right. Because they’re trapped in the cabin overnight at least, and according to Soap, that demands they find something to pass the time. Unfortunately the deck of cards Soap had also pulled out was missing half its count, and the books on the shelves have too-faded print between their insect-eaten pages, so the radio it is.

God forbid they sit in silence and mind their own.

Finally, the wretched thing crackles to life. It’s all static as Soap searches through frequencies, and Ghost has to suppress a groan. Even Soap’s mumbling had been more bearable.

“Hold on… I think… yes!”

The faintest melody filters through the ancient speaker, just a channel of classical music since it’d be unlikely that much else would be reaching them where they’re holed up.

Ghost is making a mental count of his inventory for the nth time when a hand appears in front of his face, beckoning. Ghost raises an eyebrow at the mischievous look on Soap’s face.

“Dance with me, LT,” he says. “Not taking no for an answer after all the trouble I’ve just been through.”

“I don’t dance, sergeant,” Ghost replies flatly. “Find a better partner. That’ll waste your time.”

“You’re such a wet blanket.” Soap rolls his eyes, but still doesn’t retract his hand. “It’s just us. I won’t tell anyone if the big, bad Ghost does a bit of dancing. Swear it.”

Ghost scoffs. Soap snatches his arm and hauls Ghost to his feet despite his resistance. The music fades and resurges with the radio’s signal as Soap drapes Ghost’s arms over his shoulders and settles his own hands on Ghost’s waist.

“Not takin’ the piss, are you?” Ghost grumbles. “Gonna teach me how to waltz, Johnny?”

“Maybe I will,” Soap says matter-of-factly. “‘S that a problem, Lieutenant Riley?”

Ghost frowns. “Is when you use my full name.”

Soap snorts. “Yeah, okay. Just shut up and sway to the music. Indulge me a smidge, would you?”

Though Ghost huffs, for whatever reason he can’t find it in himself to pull away.

As they do, in fact, sway—for a brief, terrifying moment, he thinks that maybe this isn’t the worst thing in the world, like he thought it’d be at first. Like he is trying to argue his brain into believing.

And he doesn’t mean the dancing part itself.

[penkura]

Hi! I'm currently on my traffy brain rot-

May I request a law x Reader but reader has a tendency of always wearing headphones and/or play music on full blast because she can't stand silence too much. I mean I can't stand silence because you don't know what's in a specific space and silence just means something negative in me lmao.

Also, I listen to music mostly because I feel/express emotions more freely than without music because I find emotions hard to feel/express. It's alright if you don't add this to reader but I hope this helps somewhat explaining their love for blasting music.

Hello!! Traffy brain rot is SO REAL GOSH. It just comes randomly and sticks for months at a time good lord.

I also have headphones on most of the time, it's how I focus and sometimes is the only way I can get any work done, I hate the silence, there's always something on my TV or in my ears.

I hope you enjoy!!

Law knows when you’ve taken over his office, it’s the only time there’s ever music blasting from a radio snail or whatever little device it was you picked up on an island before. He doesn’t mind it per say, only because you have decent music tastes and it’s normally something he can tolerate, he doesn’t mind those moments when you’re both in there. He’ll usually be reviewing charts or the supplies list before your next docking, while you’d be writing up reports he’s asked for, it’s always comfortable even with music blaring as you work.

This time, your music isn’t playing out loud, you’ve got your headphones on and it makes Law wonder if something might be wrong today. You only really have your headphones on if you need to be left completely alone, even then you don’t take over his office but stay in your room or the common area, not wanting to feel like a bother towards your captain/boyfriend. He’d never call you a bother, Law loved you too much to ever think that. He doesn’t mind when you take over his office or bedroom honestly, anything for you to feel safe and comfortable, he’s willing to allow.

It only really becomes a problem when you don’t hear him speaking to you. A few times you’ve left your headphones on during crew meetings and he’s had to stop and make sure you’re listening, making you hand them over until he was done. At least it meant you weren’t in silence, not with your crewmates talking to and whispering with you. Your headphones aren’t on all the time, only when it’s too quiet, and you can’t stand the silence anymore.

And then, the other time it’s a slight problem, is when he needs to check in with you on your reports or anything else, and you don’t hear him.

“Hey, hey.” You jump when Law taps your shoulder, surprising him when you turn your head quickly, wide eyed when you know he’s done this before to get your attention. Taking your headphones off, you ask him what he needs and he points at the report on your desk. “Have you finished that yet?”

“Oh, shaking your head, you turn back to it and slip your headphones back on, “Almost, just a few more minutes, okay?”

Nodding, Law almost leaves you alone to finish, before putting his hand on yours, making you stop your music again as you give him a questioning look.

“What are you listening to?”

“Mm, it’s Uta’s new song. It’s really catchy, you wanna hear it?”

“No, I’m fine,” you shrug and go back to work, while Law puts an arm around your shoulders and kisses the top of your head, “Just making sure you are too.”

[14thgalerie]

i peeled my orange today

• pairing: james potter x reader

• now playing:

• word count: 1.3k

• genre: angst

— a short one that i did last night. peeling fruits had always been something that shows the tenderness of humans to me. that one poetry reading about oranges made my heart clench at the thought that came to me of best friend!reader who has always pined for james and the bittersweetness of being too late.

There he was standing by the edge of the lake, his slender silhouette illuminated by the pale blue moonlight. At the crunch of stray leaves, he turns to look at you, his expression containing surprise.

In hushed communion, you stood in silence beside him, opting to fix your gaze on the languid current of the water before you. Capturing a mental photograph of the delicate interplay of the light as it hits the dancing small waves deep into your mind, ingraining the image to a corner that you could visit now and then when you forget the laughter that bounced against the corridors.

For a while, you chose to linger in the sound of the rusting trees surrounding the castle that casts a melody for you. You were in no rush to speak your mind, not when there was a clear understanding that he would stand sentinel for a thousand years should you want to.

17 years of friendship told you that. Threads of shared laughter and silent conversations. Tales that were shared with no urgency.

And so, in the fragile and sacred lull of the moment, you reveled in the comfortable silence. If the years it took to be freed from your heart was to be likened, it would be a while before he could fathom to be in the same space as you.

“James.” You call. Slowly, you turn your head to face him, only to discover that his attention is transfixed on you already.

Finding that gaze studying you; flickering ever so slightly across the features that painted your face— perhaps he already knew the words that were poised to slip out of you. After all, he did know the twists and turns of your soul much more intimately than any other. Those pretty eyes mirrored the waters in front of you with the light hitting the silvers on his waterline.

The 15-year-old kid within you felt enraged to see the swarm of emotions that drowned you in those eyes.

A tempest of desire, and longing, woven with heaps of frustration, and guilt. It was something that held you captive and consumed you for longer than you dare admit, threatening to swallow you whole. As you stand before him, your brain struggles to recall how exactly you escaped it.

Reaching out the hand closest to him to grab his warm hands, missing the way it enveloped your shivering ones. You couldn’t help the fluster of memories that came rushing back and the instinctive way your tear ducts activated.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, a tremor infused in the last syllable.

“For what?” You ask, brushing aside tears with a subtle flutter of your lashes. Thumbs caressing the skin on the back of his hand, moving with a patterned path. You didn’t notice it but he did and that realisation added to the weight to the lump that blocked his airways.

“I just stand here and yet I still manage to upset you.” He says, a hesitant exhale lingering between the words.

“What made you think that?” You press.

“If the past year wasn’t enough proof of that, then I don’t think I even know you as well as I would like.”

The words hung in the air like a storm cloud threatening to explode. His lungs relax as he realises how he held his breath when you moved your eyes away. 

The combination of his emotions, adding the ones he still couldn’t pinpoint, left him staggering in his stance. If it weren’t for the way his knees locked from his many years of quidditch, he would be beside you on his knees. 

Every second that passed felt like a sharp blade. The pain was hollow yet deep, striking the centre of his heart and reaching throughout every nerve in his body. And it was only a deep, and unending sense of devastation left in him.

He knew what was coming, a somber revelation that loomed over his head for several weeks already. Yet, he resisted the need to acknowledge it, not when your own countenance showed no obvious indication of it. Thus he indulged himself in this false pretense, allowing himself that at least. Alas, the days kept getting shorter, and the hours were swift in their passage and he was left gripped by a sinking fear as you kept getting further and further away from him even though your physical body remained next to him.

As you always did from the ungraceful encounter on the path to the Hogwarts Express when he was 11, your faces meeting the stone cold ground with a huff.

He couldn’t accept that this would be the culmination of a slow, painful unravelling and elimination of all he knew that defined his every day.

His soul was incredibly and seamlessly intertwined with yours, so intimately bound that he trembled at the thought of the scissors you wield, deadly afraid that they would sever it when he least expected it, leaving behind a scorching mark upon his very essence.

“I peeled my orange today.”

In the hushed atmosphere, your words hung in the air, an admission that crushed you to admit out loud. But from the anguished expression of the man opposite you, you could easily surmise that his emotions far surpassed yours and were nowhere near the ones that hit him at such a mundane divulgence. 

The lake’s tranquil waves lapped against the shore in a rhythmic pattern. The serene waters played a soothing contrast to the tempestuous tide swirling in the recesses of his mind.  He didn’t say anything for a while, the silence between you was heavy with unspoken shared vulnerability. 

However, for you, surprising as it was, it was nothing but a statement now. The words transcended meaning except for a mere reflection of a newfound learning. Something you were proud of enough that you shared the thought with him.

At last, he spoke, his voice filled with subtle remorse that is obscured by a quirk of tenderness that he kept reserved for you. “You did? You didn’t spill the juice all over your hands?” 

James was surprised at himself for the unexpected eloquence that flowed from within him, a symphony of words that were likened to a normal conversation between the two of you. Astonished at the way his voice remained unnervingly steady and held no tremors. It seemed as if the invincible, vice-like grip that threatened to crush his vocal chords vanished.

You cast your gaze upon him again, your eyes directly looking at his own. In that silent exchange, his vulnerability was laid bare, accompanied by a sense of helplessness in them.

Because unlike you, that sentence meant a lot more to him. Because for him, it meant that he could no longer tell you how much he loved you when he couldn’t peel oranges for you anymore.

Your impatient self wouldn’t be hovering next to him as his hands tenderly tore apart the tough skin of the citrus until the soft flesh of the fruit was revealed. The scent of sweet citrus filling the air and the twinkle in your eyes at the pleasing aroma as he splits it apart. The calloused flesh on his fingers that were a stark contrast to the way the figures were so gentle in separating each slice.

It meant that he could no longer ignore the pout that formed when you noticed how he gave you the better half.

James’ heart ached and throbbed in the worst ways possible at that bitter realisation.

“I love you.” 

So despite knowing it was too late, he summoned the courage to tell you in the way you’ve always yearned for in the sidelines. 

In reply, you whispered “I love you too.” accompanied by a genuine smile that felt natural.

He just didn’t expect your hurt to feel like this. 

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