#even though he was a grade a asshole

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One

Hellfire did in fact, have cookies to sell.

More than cookies, which Dustin practically preened over when Eddie dragged himself back to their table. 

The ornaments they had made were still there, but now the centerpiece was an array of baked goods. Spread out in a spiral, it started from the large cake in the center and spun out into miniature cookies held in tiny decorated bags, all while Harrington stood over them like a proud parent. 

It smelled mockingly delicious. 

Eddie glared at the display, resisting the urge to upend the whole thing onto the floor.

Cookies and cakes and (--was that frickin bread pudding?) whatever other treats Harrington had shown up with might look good, but Eddie didn’t trust it. 

Didn’t trust Harrington, even if the bastard had never really done anything himself--but then, he never had to, had he? 

That was the point of all that money, after all. So he could pay other people to do his dirty work while he kept his hands squeaky clean. 

“Inch a bit to the left--there, stop!” Harrington was saying, like the bossy asshole he was.

Like he thought he could just come in and expect everyone to follow his lead. 

“Perfect! Now don’t touch it.” 

God, Eddie had to nip this in the butt, now. Before King Horrorton harassed his sheep all day, and cemented the club's undeserved bad name in the minds of Hawkins.

“Dustin what did I just say--” 

Eddie stepped up to the front of their table, preparing himself for war. Looked over to his friends knowing they'd likely need a nod of reassurance. A show from him that said he had this handled.

There was no cowering. 

No pleading, helpless, 'What do we do Eddie!?' gazes aimed his direction.

Hellfire wasn’t even looking at him, and not because they were all avoiding Harrington's line of sight.

No, the fucking traiters were flanking the King. Like they were buddies with the bastard instead of mortal enemies. 

“Hey, Ed’s, Harrington brought pies. Cakes too!” Gareth said around a mouthful of said cookie when he noticed Eddie standing before him. 

It came out a garbled mess, but years of experience had Eddie understanding him anyway. 

Jeff was busy playing what sounded like twenty fucking questions regarding the setup, and even Grant appeared comfortable, happily letting Harrington order him around as they finished setting up. 

Like this was some kind of cutesy Disney movie where they all held hands and sang songs instead of a hostile takeover situation. 

Eddie’s eye twitched.

Sensing a disturbance in the force, Jeff looked up and immediately interrupted himself to point to a series of red and green cookies placed dead center, delighted. 

“Check it out man, Steve made some shaped like dice!” 

(And he did say ‘Steve.’ 

Not Harrington, or This Asshole, or The Invading Evil Forces of Darkness.

Just Steve, like Steve was someone Jeff hung out with everyday.

Jeff’s cleric was a dead elf walking.) 

Eddie took note of what was in fact, dice cookies. 

He hated how good they looked.

“There’s four flavors.” Steve told him, cocky little grin on his face as he observed his work.  “Chocolate chip, peanut butter, snickerdoodle--and the dice ones are sugar cookies.” 

He licked his lips before finally turning to look at Eddie, hair curling over his face and making him wave a hand to brush them out of his eyes. 

Eddie hated how good he looked too. 

‘Hate, hate, hate, absolutely loathe-’ 

“Great, sure, wonderful.” Eddie managed, though given the look Grant and Jeff both shot him it might have come out as more of a growl. 

Dustin rolled his eyes, and Eddie couldn’t help but notice that Hellfire’s other two youngest hadn’t dared to show their faces yet. 

Likely they knew Eddie was having an absolute meltdown over Steve’s presence and were waiting for his reaction to blow over. 

(Their characters were dead too.) 

“I have two full cakes--one chocolate, on vanilla--and a few individual slices we can sell.” Steve was continuing, as if Eddie wasn’t glaring a hole in his forehead. “Those did really well last year when I made them for the basketball team.” 

Insults fought for space on Eddie’s tongue, but he managed to roll a 20 to pick the best one, opening his mouth to let it fly.

"Harr-" is as far as he got before he was rudely interrupted.

“Steve? Is that you?” A woman Eddie didn’t recognize but was clearly someone's mom came up cautiously to the table, side eyeing the Hellfire banner like a nervous horse. “That can’t be your famous tiramisu, is it?”

Steve beamed at her. “Well hi Miss Carpenter. It is!” 

Eddie was bumped aside by a massive purse, the woman not even glancing in his direction as she stepped up to the table. 

With a sneer, he finally slumped to the back of their little spot as Miss Carpenter looked over all Steve’s (not Hellfire’s and absolutely not Eddie’s) offerings. 

Didn’t care to wipe it off right then, even if he knew he needed to if he wanted to make sales. 

Jeff sent him a look.

The same one he usually aimed Eddie’s way when he thought Eddie’s antics were going to cause problems. 

He ignored it, on grounds that traitors don’t get to be judgy. 

“Oh,” Miss Caprtender tittered, the draw of Harrington’s baked goods clearly overcoming whatever fear she had about Hellfire. “Well I just can’t pass that up. The swim team meets aren’t the same without you!”

Eddie pretended to gag.  

Waited for her to comment on Hellfire--their clothes, their music, hell even the length of Eddie’s hair--and found he was almost disappointed when there wasn't even a single question about Hawkins precious golden child was slumming it with the weirdos. 

Instead, Miss Carpenter's hand went fishing in her purse for her wallet as she loudly called out over her shoulder, to presumably another annoying woman; 

“Terry, Steve’s here! He’s been baking!” 

For two terrifying seconds, there was a notable dip in the conversations around them. 

Grant’s eyes went wide as several women responded to the announcement like dogs hearing food hit the floor, and within seconds their table was absolutely swarmed by the mothers of Hawkins.

Even Eddie’s eyes went wide at the sheer number of them. 

“Hold, men, hold.” Dustin cautioned as Jeff and Grant both took a step back. “Come on, we need to get our gold!” 

“They’re scary though.” Gareth whispered in horror as four women tried to talk at once, jostling each other so hard they shook the table menacingly. 

“Ladies, ladies there’s enough here for everyone!” Steve laughed, showing off his disgustingly cute dimples as he did, getting several of the mom’s to blush at their own behavior in the process. 

The sheer amount of attention of course, drew in even more people, and Dustin quickly took up directing, planting Jeff and Grant at either end of their table while he and Steve fended off the hoard from the front. 

(Given the way he and Steve were equally ordering Hellfire around, Eddie finally knew where the little shit had picked that attitude up from. He was going to have to cure Dustin of it, ASAP.  ) 

“Here you go Miss Harper.” Steve said sweetly, handing over yet another stack of baked goods.

Without turning his head, and in the tone of voice one used to warn a misbehaving dog, he added; “Gareth don’t think I can’t fucking see you, get back up here.” 

Caught trying to sink under the table with another cookie in his mouth, Gareth found himself hauled back to his feet by his collar, putting a snarl on Eddie’s face immediately. 

“Hey--” He started, defensive and more than ready to intercede, except Gareth wasn’t flinching or cursing or doing that thing he did with his mouth when he was desperately trying to hold in his temper. 

Instead he was giving a sheepish grin and a half-assed apology while he hung in Harrington’s grasp, before doing what the guy told him to do. 

(It did not help that Steve patted him on the shoulder when he released him, before handing Gareth a third fucking cookie.)

Eddie’s eye twitched a second time.

(He told it to knock it off.

It didn’t listen.) 

No one acknowledged Eddie or his outburst, which meant he was just skulking behind the boys while they all worked. 

Arms crossed, rings tapping a rhythm on his forearm, far too keyed up to do anything other than glare at the back of Harrington's skull.

The King seemed perfectly happy to ignore him.

Likewise, Gareth and Grant knew better than to bother him when he was in a snit. 

Henderson made the occasional snappy little comment, but the brat had mostly left him alone now that they were well into the swing of selling, chortling over the increasing stack of cash Steve kept trying to get him to put into a “safe place.” 

Eddie was seconds away from walking up and snatching the cash himself when Jeff decided it was on him to attempt the impossible. 

Get him to help Harrington. 

“More hands would be nice, Eddie!” Jeff called, looking more than a little harassed as the mom he was helping changed her order a second time, snaking out the last single slice of chocolate cake from another mom who was eyeing it. “Steve and I could really use your assistance over here!” 

Eddie’s glare, which had been doing its level best to try and vaporize the King’s brain, switched targets instantly. 

“I’m supervising.” 

Jeff made a face like he was about to argue, but the King beat him to it. 

“It must be tough,” Harrington said, tilting his head to look back towards Eddie, “to supervise people who are working so much harder than you.” 

Which promptly set the mood for the next full hour. 

xXx 

Harrington was matching him tit for tat.

Every shitty, sneered word out of Eddie’s mouth was met with an equally mean toned barb, though given the repeated looks everyone kept shooting him, Eddie was very much considered the aggressor here.

A fact he cannot believe is coming from his own friends.

What happened to comradery? To Eddie stepping in and protecting them, from the likes of people just like Harrington? 

But no, Eddie makes one fucking comment about how the cookies are probably half hair-spray and suddenly he’s the bad guy.

(Nevermind that Steve had fired right back, telling Eddie that any hair-spray taste was probably from all the drugs he did.)

Was somewhat, halfway--okay maybe amazing, Eddie might have snuck a cookie himself--food really all it took to get them all to turn on him like this?

Erase the years of Eddie being their shield in high school? 

Act like Harrington wasn’t just as bitchy and awful as he had been in high school (even if he was, admittedly, being nicer about it all right now? Almost--aloof, like he couldn’t figure out why Eddie hated him so much, but likewise wasn’t going to take even one eye roll sitting down--and no, no, Eddie wasn't derailing this by thinking about his stupid eyes, he wasn't!) 

Frankly he would have flipped them all the bird and stormed off, if it weren’t for the increasingly weird little comments people were making. 

‘Oh Steve, it's a shock to see you here.’ 

‘Are you doing someone a favor?’ 

‘You know Pastor Jim said something about this game…’

The last one had put Eddie’s teeth on edge, even if Dustin had brushed it off. It hadn’t been aimed at Steve directly but the women saying it had absolutely been looking at the King, as if waiting for his reaction.

Not that Harrington would take the bait this soon, though. 

There were too many people buying fricken…cupcakes and shit, while the King enjoyed the attention of the masses. 

Eventually this tiny crowd would die down though, and that’s when Harrington would change his tune. Start answering some of the questions he seemed to be dodging as more and more people got braver about coming up to the table.

This whole thing was a ticking time bomb, and Eddie would be ready when it inevitably blew. 

To defend his table, his club, his friends. 

Even Henderson, who absolutely didn’t deserve it just then. 

“Dude perk up would you? You look like you’re going to stab somebody.” Jeff hissed at him ten minutes later, when there was finally a break in the flood. 

Eddie ignored him in place of taking stock of the table. (And maybe, sneaking another cookie.)

“Hope you brought more than this, Harrington.” He said, knowing he sounded like a stuck up ass and not feeling an iota of guilt about it. “Unless you plan to run home and bake more like a good little housewife.”  

“Dude.” Grant said, casting him a look like King Dick might leave and take the cookies with him.

“Oh I brought more.” Harrington dismissed, with a small flick of his fingers. “And I’ll have you know you’d never find a housewife more perfect than I am, Munson.” 

Then he turned to nail Eddie with the most shit eating grin he’d ever seen the King wear. 

Facing flaming a brilliant red, Eddie sputtered for a second before finally getting ahold of himself and spitting; 

“How delightful. I--” 

“Okay.” Jeff cut in, forever the mediator. “Gary, Dustin can you help Steve pull the extra stuff out from under the tables? While I go talk to Eddie?” 

“Can I try the tiramisu?” Gareth asked, inching hopefully towards the treat while keeping an eye on Harrington’s hands, lest he get smacked again. 

“Only if you’re a good boy.” Harrington told him sarcastically and goddammit why did that make Eddie blush harder!? 

Jeff sighed, before grabbing his arm and hauling Eddie back, away from the table, right as a younger man in some stupid sport’s jacket asked questions about one of the dice cookies.

“Look I get it man, I do,” Jeff started, voice talking on the sort of wheelding, pleading tone it did when he really wanted something and knew Eddie was opposed. “but Steve’s actually been super cool. We might actually make money off this, and he’s giving us all of it. Can you just… not antagonize him for five minutes?” 

Eddie stared at his best friend in abject horror. 

“You couldn’t have talked to him for more than twenty minutes total. Half of which he spent bitching that you were bagging a cake wrong! At what point was Harrington "being cool!?"

The asterisks were made by his fingers, which Eddie mockingly framed his face with. 

He got a flat, unimpressed stare in return. 

“It was a very informative twenty minutes and he was right about the cake. Now are you going to help or are you going to glower in the corner?” 

Eddie gaped. 

“I cannot believe you right now--”

Jeff didn’t even wait to hear him out.

 “You’ve chosen to glower. I can’t help you man, but we’d all have a much better day if you weren’t at Harrington’s throat every five seconds.” Jeff turned smoothly on his heel.

Over his shoulder he added; “Seriously, don’t come back until you’ve worked your way out of your snit.” 

Shocked, Eddie watched Jeff float back to the front, inserting himself easily between Grant and Steve and immediately striking up a conversation.

With the enemy. 

“I didn’t know you baked.” Jeff told Steve loudly (and very obviously, for Eddie to see.) 

Steve gave a bashful little smile, then shrugged. “It’s a hobby. Got into it back when the basketball team needed to fundraise a few years ago and Tommy’s mom got it in her head we should sell home baked goods. Turns out its kinda fun.” 

“Please never get out of it.” Gareth insisted, a piece of God knows what crammed in his mouth.

“Dude, how many of those have you gotten into!? Stop eating the merchandise!” Dustin commanded, smacking at Gareth’s shoulder. 

“I physically cannot stop man.” Gareth dodged, reaching out for another cookie. “I’m not sorry.” 

Steve just laughed. All charming and buddy-buddy, like it was natural for him to be here. 

Wearing a Hellfire shirt. Making jokes and teasing the guys. 

In Eddie’s fucking place. 

He seethed, fingers twitching, and envisioned the very unsexy murder of one Steve Harrington.  

Cartoon X’s for eyes and all. 

xXx

Trouble didn't hit the table.

It in fact, seemed to stay away as if on purpose, to shove in Eddie's face that he was the one in the wrong here.

Even the questions toned done, as the second wave of moms showed up, this round prompted by some former teammate of Steve’s Eddie didn’t recognize yelling about his apple pie.

Instead, Eddie’s wayward sheep finally made their appearance Mike and Lucas trying to sneak in as if Eddie wouldn’t notice during the new rush.

(Eddie himself almost caused trouble when he realized Lucas was wearing a Not-A-Hellfire shirt, which solved the mystery of where Harrington had gotten his.

He was inching his way towards them, a snarky word on his tongue when he saw Sinclair said something about how he was “already on Eddie’s shitlist for joining the basketball team,” in relation to what must have been a question about his Hellfire shirt, that caused Eddie to freeze.

With the air of a sad, wet kitten, Lucas followed it with; “I’m sure it won’t be long before he kicks me out of Hellfire anyway.” 

Like he'd been punched in the gut, all the air left Eddie’s lungs.

Because before Lucas had said that, Eddie had been thinking it. 

Not really--he’d never kick anyone out of Hellfire.

It was more that he'd thought about it in the way one does when you know you're right, and are having to resort to underhanded tactics to force the other party to come to their senses.

Like a sort of shitty, angry “I should kick you out, let you see what happens when you don’t have us!” kind of innervation.

The same kind he had heard the jocks sling before, when they were mad at each other and--God he wasn’t--he couldn’t be, like them...could he?

Like fucking Harrington, who oh fuck, was patting Lucas sympathetically on the shoulder and giving him some kind of whispered advice. 

Sonovabitch. 

“I’m going for a smoke.” Eddie bit out, vision tunneling.

He knew he needed to go sit down somewhere, before he fucking lost it in front of Hawkin, Harrington and everyone. 

And wouldn’t that just be a treat for King Steve?

To watch Eddie realize he had turned into the very thing he hated, preached against, even? 

That Steve was, maybe, possibly, doing a better job of following Eddie’s own Munson Doctrine than he was?

Eddie barely saw the room anymore--waived off whatever Grant was trying to say to him as flew past, shaking hands fishing for a desperately needed cigarette.

Maybe a hope and a prayer too, because apparently he needed it.

How long had he been like this? 

Been a douchebag asshole? 

Was it the whole year? More than? Or was it just now, with stupid Steve involved? Could he trace this back to that stupidly cute--no, no, annoying, asshole?

Was this some fucked up way of coping with his growing crush!?

Lost in thought and growing self hatred he nearly careened right into Robin Buckley.

Her slightly bent paper reindeer ears marking her as a member of the band kids who had been absolutely butchering ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ a few minutes earlier. 

Vaguely heard her yell Steve’s name as he ran off (because that’s what he was doing. What he always did.

Run--from himself and his own fucking feelings, like a total cliche.)

--but didn’t take in that she was doing more than saying hi to, oh fuck him sideways--her friend.

Because she and Steve were friends.

Good ones, if the freshmen were to be believed.

Rather than go outside and catastrophize in the cold, Eddie threw himself threw the doors at the end of the hall, then up the stairwell, to the second floor.

Tucked himself right into a corner, right there by the stairs.

Sank down into a crouch, hands scrubbing up his face before tangling in his hair, head dropping between his knees, cigarette shoved into his mouth.

Somehow, Eddie decided, this was Steve’s fault. 

He'd have come up with a reason for that, he was sure. A good one even, except he forgot one of the key features of his life.

He was a Munson, and as a general rule of life, nice neat things did not happen to Munson's--but they did get kicked while they were down.

“Okay, what happened?” Steve fucking Harrington asked, voice loudly echoing up the stairwell from down below, and Eddie threw his head back, nearly slamming it against the wall. 

(Maybe he’d pissed off a witch. His life would make a lot more sense if someone had cursed it.)

“She gave me her number!”

That was Buckley, the shrill timber identifiable even as she whispered the words. 

Eddie can’t really see them without giving himself away--could probably make his escape if he got down and army-crawled past the railing he’s huddled by, but figured this is their fault anyway. 

Not his problem if he overhears a private conversation if they’re both too stupid to check to see if someone was seated literally right up above them.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?" Steve was saying. "That’s what we wanted!” 

“Is it!? What if she’s just, you know, giving it to me?” 

“...I’m not following.” 

“Like in a friend way. Not a--”

“Romantic way?”

Harrington has the smarts to say the words quietly.  So quietly in fact, that had Eddie not been in the exact right position he wouldn’t have heard--but he almost swallowed his unlit (he should have lit it, maybe they'd have smelled the smoke and fucked off) cigarette anyway. 

“Sssshh!” Robin hissed, and Eddie can’t see either of them but he imagined her jamming her hand over Harrington’s big fat mouth. 

“Not so loud, Steve!” 

“Sorry, God.” Sure enough, Harrington’s voice is muffled. “How did she give it to you? Did she say anything?” 

“She asked if I want to hang out after band, but because I have that stupid family thing, I told her I couldn’t today, but I can literally any other day, and she said she’d call me, and I said--” 

“Robs, breathe.” 

“Don’t interrupt me, Dingus!” Robin said, voice shrill again, before she clearly listened to Harrington and took a breath. 

 It was big, and deep, and she blasted it back out loud enough for the fucking birds on the roof to hear. 

In a calmer voice, Robin continued; “I said we never traded phone numbers so I didn’t have hers. She grabbed my arm and wrote her number on it. Look, she added a heart!” 

“Okay, here you go! A hearts a good sign!"  

And Harrington sounded--sounds happy for her, practically ecstatic, which doesn’t make much sense given Robin is talking about a ‘her’ and-

And-and-and--

Eddie’s always been quick to connect the dots. 

It’s something he inherited from his old man. A Munson trait he’s tried to make his own through being an excellent DM (and not by robbing people blind or boosting cars.) 

Here, the dots clearly screamed that Robin Buckley was trying to ask a woman out. 

You know, in a gay way. 

Which Harrington not only knew, but was supportive of. 

Steve Harrington, who famously called Jonathan Byers' a queer before smashing the guy's beloved camera into the ground. 

Eddie’s head exploded. 

Or was in the process of exploding--he’s not entirely sure given the tunnel vision was back and his soul felt like it had exited his body entirely. 

Just knew that his world was being remade for a second time in five minutes, and that he was dealing with it pretty damn poorly.

(Maybe God would be nice for once, and just give him the aneurism he clearly deserved.)

Which was of course, when trouble finally did decide to show face, in the form of Dustin Henderson barging through the doors and into Steve and Robin's little meeting.

Eddie knew, because Eddie could hear him.

“Steve! Steve we have a problem!” 

“I’m busy Dustin--”

“Be busy later, we have an emergency on our hands!” 

“And what, pray tell, do you think is an emergency?” 

Eddie, who had instantly latched onto the conversation by the sheer need to have something distract him from his own thoughts, wondered the very same.

“Jason Carver showed up at the table, with a priest. They’re trying to do some whole kind of crazy sermon--is that a good enough emergency for you!?” 

“Oh shit. ” Steve spat, at the same time Eddie yelled it from up high. 

He sprang up, all thoughts of Robin and Steve knowing he’d eavesdropped vanishing entirely from his head as he lunged for the stairs.

Flew down them, because the thing he'd been waiting all fucking day for had finally happened.

He nearly crashed into Robin once again as he blew through the barely closed doors, Steve and Dustin already far ahead of him.

“Eddie?” Robin asked, voice noticeably nervous. "Were you--"

"Not now Starbuck, but we can talk later." Eddie told her, flying right past.

After he saved Hellfire. 

[moonwish]

turbulent events have happened tonight

[msgexymunson]

Benefits

Description: Your best friend Eddie starts to look very appealing to you, but if you suggest a dynamic change, will he go for it?

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, AFAB reader, weed smoking, virgin Eddie x virgin reader, grinding, fingering, fem oral receiving.

A/N: I just wanted to write a little goofy, not so confident Eddie and this poured out of my brain hole. Enjoy! Reblogs and comments keep me alive so please for the love of all that is smutty reblog if you enjoy it! 

5k words

Masterlist

“All I'm saying is…” you take a big pull of the joint Eddie wiggles at you, his rough fingers brushing your lips. Your voice comes out croaky as hell when you speak, holding the smoke in, “...you can't do the voice.” 

The film plays quietly in the background as you both hang out on his couch, paying little attention to it. 

Eddie scoffs at you, taking the smoke back, and takes a big lug of it himself, hand coming to rest on your bare ankle that was thrown casually over his lap. 

“What you trying to say? You know I can do voices. I could totally do Vader.” 

Giggling, you wiggle your feet as he lightly drags his fingers over them. 

“Don't do that, you know it tickles!” 

Holding his hands up and away from you, you almost miss the contact. Which was insane. This is Eddie, for fucks sake. Your best friend. The asshole who made you nearly piss your pants in seventh grade from tickling too hard, who does stupid shit to get you to smile when you're sad. 

Recently though, the little lingering touches he gives you make your toes curl. Those glances that last a little too long for best friends, the drag of his hand on your back when you move through a crowd. It was crazy, but a part of you couldn't help but think he was feeling the same way. It wasn't like you were in love with the guy, at least not like that. He was almost family. Which made the feelings that you were having sinful in a way that made your thighs clench. 

The flirting didn't help. Eddie flirted as naturally as breathing. He was just so goddamn charming; he had chemistry with everyone. Which made it even more awkward. What if your salacious thoughts weren't reciprocated? Maybe it was just your raging hormones and you needed to keep them in check before you lose your best friend. 

“You're wrong you know.” 

Eddie's words bring you out of the daze you've been falling into; you blink at him, confused. 

“Huh?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, and flashes you a smirk that does nothing to quench the fire inside, right when his large hands move to your waist and tickle you relentlessly. You're gasping giggles as he pins your hands over your head, full weight pressing into you. Somehow, he's got his narrow hips in between your thighs, which is definitely not helping the situation. 

“I can totally do the voice, see?” He drops it two octaves, letting a deep bass voice flow out of him, “Luke, I am your father.” 

Fuck, that shouldn't turn you on, but it did. That, and his forced proximity has you feeling uncomfortably wet. It's embarrassingly seeping into your panties; so much so that you cringe at your body's betrayal. 

He's just so damn close. So close, that you see something fluttering behind those brandy wine eyes of his. Or, was it merely your imagination?

Only one way to find out. 

Biting your lip, you flutter your eyelashes softly and speak in the sexiest voice you can.

“Does that mean I should call you Daddy?” 

Eddie's mouth drops open in a perfect O, eyebrows knitted. 

“You can't- you just- fuck!” 

He clambers off of you in an attempt to put some space between you, crossing his legs on the couch. Eddie looks flustered, cheeks burning red as he looks at you like you just grew an extra head. 

“I can't what, Eddie? Can't tease you like you tease me?” 

“Huh? I don't tease you! When did I-” 

“Oh, pinning me down don't count, huh?” 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you watch as he blows air out, grabbing a cushion and ramming it in his lap. 

“I didn't mean it like that, it's just, I dunno.” 

Looking down at his hands, he fiddles with his rings. The sheepishness he's showing is adorable, and so unlike him that it stops you in your tracks. Maybe you should just go easy on him, just a little. 

“Don't worry about it Eds, I'm just fucking around.” 

There's a bit of tension released from his shoulders, but he's still not looking at you. 

Fuck, you need another smoke. 

“You want me to roll?” 

“Hell no, I've seen you roll.” 

Scrunching your nose in fake anger, he laughs at you. 

“Look like a little chipmunk when you do that.” 

“All I hear is that you think I'm adorable.” You giggle as he mockingly rolls his eyes. 

“OK, you roll, I'll grab some sodas.” 

Getting up, you smooth your skirt down and walk over to the fridge. The cans are on the lower shelf, so you bend to grab two, making a mental note to tell Eddie to buy some more. 

When you look back, Eddie's slid to the floor, rolling paraphernalia spread out in front of him. It would be a normal scene, if he didn't still have the cushion wedged in his lap and his face wasn't glowing redder than your underwear. 

Underwear… underwear that he might have seen, since you just bent over. And the only reason why he'd keep that cushion in his lap is if he… 

Oh. 

Wordlessly, you put the soda next to his elbow and scoot up on the couch, entirely unsure about what you're supposed to do in a situation like this. The furthest you've ever gone is some over the clothes stuff. 

Plus, this is Eddie. Your stupid, asshole, mean, tormenting, breathtakingly gorgeous best friend. You curse, wriggling a little in your seat. Your panties are so damp they're practically glued to your privates, a heat emanating from you that's making your insides burn. 

“Milady.” 

Eddie holds the joint to you, perfectly rolled and more surprisingly, unlit.

“Eddie, you always take the first toke. Rollers rights, remember?” 

He shrugs and passes it anyway, giving you the lighter too, as he lifts himself onto the couch with both hands, letting his cushion shield drop briefly. Long enough to see the tightness in the crotch of his pants. 

Now the feel of your slick is dampening your thighs. Pushing them together as tight as you can, willing the feeling to dissipate, you light it with trembling hands. One puff, two puffs, pass. As his fingers graze yours, he looks at you appraisingly.

“You alright there sweetheart? Not comfy?” 

Nothings gonna happen if you just sit here and whine like a bitch in your head. Take the leap. 

“It's a little, er, embarrassing.” 

Knees squeezing together so hard it's bordering on painful, you look up at him through your lashes. Eddie's eyes are wide and warm, a light smile wrinkling them at the corners softly. 

“It's only me, come on. You can tell me anything.”

Huffing and wriggling some more, you watch him inhale smoke, and blow it out, a slight pout to his mouth that makes you want to pepper it with soft kisses. Then hard kisses. Then, other stuff. Fuck. 

“It's not- we don't, talk about this kinda stuff. I don't wanna… cross a line, you know?”

“Hey, it's alright.” His thick fingers shakily touch your knee, thumb rubbing back and forth. You're not sure if it calms you or makes you worse. It could be both. 

“Fine. Just, don't look at me when I tell you this, ‘kay?” 

There's a little laugh from him, then he rests his head on the back of the couch, eyes staring resolutely to the ceiling. 

“Alright weirdo I'm not looking. Shoot.” 

Tightening your knuckles, your face creases with the effort as you let fly the words that may well end your friendship. 

“I'm uncomfortable, I'm just- fuck, I'm really wet, OK?”

Of all the things you could say, you know Eddie was not expecting you to say that. Especially when he blushes profusely and his grip tightens hard on the cushion in his lap. True to his word, his gaze is directed firmly on the ceiling. 

“That's really-” His voice is broken; squeaky and boyish. He coughs and it comes out much lower, almost comically so. “That's, er, interesting.” 

You can't help it. A crazy laugh shoots out of your throat. An insane laugh. A mental institution laugh. It seems fitting for the situation. Here you are, on Eddie fucking Munson’s couch, telling him how wet you are? You've finally lost it. 

He laughs with you, helping to diffuse some of the awkward energy filling the room.

“Sorry Eddie. It just feels a bit, surreal, you know?” 

Eddie risks a look at you when he hands the joint back. You both stare at each other, each wishing to read the other's mind. 

Remember who you're talking to. This is Eddie. You can talk to him about anything. 

“Listen, Eddie, this is way out of fucking left field but I'm gonna say it. Have you like, done stuff, before?” 

Taking the biggest inhale you can risk without swallowing the roach, you pass the smoke back. There's a very slight shake to Eddie's hand. For some reason it gives you a bit more confidence. His voice wobbles more dramatically than you've ever heard.

“You mean like, sexual, stuff?” 

He finishes the smoke and stubs it out, glancing at you. There's a heat in his eyes that you're not used to seeing. 

“Y-yeah, I mean, honest truth? I've only done over the clothes stuff. Nothing more than that. And you?” 

Eddie coughs, puffing his chest out a little in full man-mode.

“I mean, yeah sure, a bit more than that, you know.” 

You do know. You know by the way he worded that, he's at least not gotten past third base. 

“You're a virgin too then.” 

“Hey!” He huffs, turning to you, “I'm like, way less of a virgin than you are!” 

You laugh loudly, knocking his arm with your fist. 

“Doesn't make you less of a virgin, you idiot.” 

He laughs, shaking his head. 

“Suppose you're right. Some hook-ups ‘round the back of The Hideout don't count for much.”

Reaching for his hand, you brush his knuckles with tentative fingers. 

“Eddie, what I'm trying to say is, well maybe- we could help each other out? I'm a bit… frustrated, and so are you. You know?” 

He squirms a little, recoiling from your touch. 

“What makes you think I'm frustrated?” 

“Eddie, I'm not a fucking idiot. I know why you're grabbing that cushion.” 

He laughs, his special fake laugh he reserves for awkward occasions. That is, until you grab the cushion from his lap and throw it across the room.

He's hard, almost painfully so. It's pressing against his zipper in such a way that you know it must be uncomfortable. You take in a harsh breath as you look at his face. So many emotions seem to be fighting for dominance. Clear arousal, some confusion, a little bit of pity, maybe? Which is the last thing you want to see.

Maybe you were wrong.

“I'm saying that we can help each other. I'm attracted to you. I'm not declaring my love for you or anything. It's not like, some crazy confession. I'm just saying we could… relieve each other.”

“Oh.” His whole demeanour has shifted at your words, “so you don't like, love me, or anything?” 

“Eddie, you are so fucking stupid. Of course I love you, you're my best friend. Just not like that. I mean, I kinda want you to… touch me places, don't mean I want your hand in marriage!” 

His chuckle rings against the tinny walls of the trailer. Then, he looks at you, really looks at you. Biting his lip, he walks his hands toward you, stopping just shy of your constricted knees. 

“Glad you said that. I didn't know how to say that I kinda… well, that I like you, that way, but not like… man, you said it better.” 

And just like that, your Eddie was back. It wasn't weird, far from it. After the way you'd been acting around each other for years, it just made sense. 

You both smile at each other. A genuine, familiar smile. One that hurts your cheeks, that makes your chest fill with warmth. 

“I know this is like, super weird, but it might help, you know?” 

Eddie crawls further towards you, palms splayed on your knees. The simple touch has you quivering. 

“What if it's too weird? I don't want this to ruin our friendship.” 

You smile softly, and unclench your thighs slightly, knees spreading. Enough to make his eyes dart down to your core and back up, laced with want. 

“Tell you what Eds. Kiss me.” 

“And how is that gonna help?”

You laugh, beckoning him forwards. As if on a string, he leans toward you, his rough hands grazing the tops of your thighs. You try to disguise the gasp it elicits from you, but it doesn't seem necessary. Eddie's breathing hard, hard enough to hide any impromptu noises from you. 

“Just kiss me Eddie. If it's weird and gross, we'll laugh about it. If it's, erm, better than that… well, then we can maybe take it a little further.”

Eddie leans in more, hovering over you as your head rests naturally into the armrest. But he stops, inches from your face, hesitating. 

“I don't- shit, I don't know what to do!” 

Laughing loud, you reach out and twirl a section of his hair in your soft hands, adding definition to a curl. 

“Just, use a move on me. You know? Like I'm one of those girls at The Hideout. Come on.” 

He laughs, knuckles dragging over your cheek. 

“That's… this isn't the same. You're not like that ” 

“Fine, just- come on to me. Hit me with your best shot. Just, I dunno, just-”

The rest of your sentence dies on your tongue as he cradles your jaw and presses his full lips softly to yours. You don't know what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. He holds your face almost delicately, tongue lapping gently at your lip until you allow him to slip it inside. 

It's a slow, deliberate thing, as if he's mapping out your mouth in case you never agree to do this again. Not that that's a danger to you. His tongue is burning hot; a slippery warm need, igniting the fire that was already smouldering within you. 

His form relaxes slightly, allowing his weight to drop. His chest falls onto yours, no doubt telling him of the heaving gasps you're taking. You couldn't find it in you to mind, not whilst he's prising your legs open with one knee, his thigh pressing against just where you need it most. 

A moan races out of your mouth and into his, muffled into his chasing tongue. The warmth between your legs is just getting worse, stoked by the pressure of his searching knee. Suddenly there's tension exactly where you need it, the coarse denim of his thigh rubbing hard against your throbbing nub. 

“Eddie, fuck!”

He smiles into your mouth as he pushes his leg harder, groans overtaking his mouth as you use it to chase your pleasure. 

His perfect mouth traces down your jaw, nipping and sucking at your flesh. His thick tongue lathing over your taut muscles, your tiny fingers grasping onto his arms almost pathetically. 

When he breaks away to look at you, eyes searching for doubts, you can't help but think how beautiful he looks. His hair's a little messier than usual, cheeks flushed pink, and those full lips look even plumper than before. 

“Sorry, should have checked in. Was that, alright? Not too weird?” 

You try to slow your breathing, but it's no use. It usually takes you a while to get there on your own, but you were so close to coming on Eddie's leg after a couple of minutes of making out it was almost shameful. 

“I'll say, jeez. I nearly- er, got carried away.” 

“Really?” Eddie's eyes seem to brighten as the corners of his mouth twitch up into a cheeky grin. 

“Don't let that get to your head! I'm just really… needy right now.” 

“Fuck,” he replies, adjusting his bulge, “right, carried away, you say?”

Before you can process what he's said he leaps up, grabs you by the waist and throws you over his shoulder. Your giggling squeals echo through the trailer, ringing out like the peals of a bell as he barges into his room and throws you on the bed. Laughing and red faced, with your skirt rucked up around your hips and your arms flung above your head, you notice Eddie's gaze shamelessly skimming to your panties. 

Shaking out of his bare faced revelry he jumps onto the bed next to you, eager as a kid at Christmas. He's on his side, a large hand roaming over your stomach, across your waist, down to your hips and skimming just under your thin sweater. 

“You want me to take this off?” You ask, tugging at the hem. 

“Oh, er- yeah, I-I mean if you- do you want to take it off?” 

Eddie bumbles through his words as you giggle at him, his usual confident demeanour evaporated at the thought of your body. 

“Eddie you dingus, you've literally seen me in my underwear before!” 

“Well, yeah… but that was before you, er, filled out.” 

It was a long time ago. A hot Summer spent running around the trailer park hitting each other with water balloons. You'd almost forgotten how far back it was.

“You don't have to be scared of my boobs ya know.” 

Eddie scoffs, hitting you playfully with a flick of his finger on the tip of your nose. You grab it, trying to bite it but he's pulling it away and you follow. It turns into yet another wrestling match as laughter rings from the pair of you. He tries to hold his hand up high but then you straddle him. 

Suddenly, his arm goes limp and you pull the offending digit into your mouth triumphantly, nibbling softly. It's then you realise you're straddling his stomach and he's completely lost, staring at the way your skirt is wrinkled. 

Play fight discarded, you shimmy down his body and revel in the little shaking breath Eddie makes as you sit gently on his crotch, the hardened bulge pressing into your clothed heat. 

“Fuck, you're so warm.” 

You blush as his fingers dig into your hips as if afraid you'll disappear. 

“You can feel that, through your jeans?” 

He chuckles low in his throat and the sound travels straight to your tummy, letting loose a cascade of butterflies. 

“Feel it? It's like a freaking furnace. Bet it'll feel amazing inside you.” 

It's just Eddie, running his mouth; in fact it seems he didn't mean to say that out loud judging by the look on his face. He always has an issue separating outside thoughts and inside thoughts. It was so casually spoken though, you don't think he realised just how dirty it sounded. 

Your fingers smooth up his stomach, feeling the muscles tense under the contact, pulling his shirt up with them. 

“Really hot when you say stuff like that.” 

You're embarrassed admitting it, but you're so turned on that he needs to know how much his words affect you. Mostly so he'll keep using them.

“Yeah?” 

“Hmm.” 

You're dragging nails over his abdomen, tugging his t-shirt higher and higher. He doesn't seem to mind, firm hands pulling your hips slowly back and forth. So you take a shot, and yank it up high. He gets the message, lifting his arms over his head so you can fling it off and away. 

There's no subtlety to the way he pulls at your top, sitting up to wrench it off you. He's panting, eyes raking over your red cotton bra as if you were in the finest lingerie. Then your lips crash together, desperately exploring each other's mouths, teeth clashing in urgency. You collapse on top of him as he holds your hip with one hand, guiding you over his hardness as the other palms your breast over your bra. 

That feeling is back, the burning tingling mass of arousal clutching your insides, growing and growing quicker than ever. You rut against him, each pass sending a zip of sensation all the way from your clit to the tips of your toes. 

Moaning in his mouth, you break away and he nips at your neck, rough fingers snaking into your bra to clumsily rub your nipple. You cling to his waist tightly as the feeling mounts, and mounts, and finally- 

“Eddie! Oh- oh fuckin’ hell!” 

It happens. The thing that had never happened to you outside of your own late night desperate fumblings. It flows like liquid fire through your veins, buzzing across your skin in a wild burning sensation that takes you utterly by surprise. Your sounds are feral; incoherent and needy, as your thighs grasp him firmly as if in fear of him moving away. 

After a loaded silence, whilst you both breathe, and breathe, you finally unclasp your legs around him, falling to the side in an ungainly heap of arms and legs.  

“Well. Holy fucking shit.” you laugh nervously, legs shaking with the after effects.

“So, not too weird?” He smiles, taking the opportunity to get on top of you, arms either side of your head. 

“It's a little weird. Only ever, you know, came, on my own, so yeah.” 

“Yeah?” The cocky look is back, a hand trailing down your shoulder to rest on your breast. 

“Can I take this off, please?” 

You smile and lift your back up so he can slide his hand behind you, fumbling around to try and get the clasp, swearing under his breath. 

“I don't know, can you?” You question, stifling giggles. 

“You could just help me, you know, you-you devil woman- Oh wait I did it!” 

The clasp springs free and Eddie's proud smile nearly splits his face apart as he eagerly pulls down the straps. 

“You're such a goofball.”

“You've got amazing tits, Jesus Christ.” 

Heat flushes your chest and before you can retort he's kneeling between your legs, hot mouth sucking roughly on a nipple. Words fail you, your body the only thing talking as you arch your back and push toward his greedy lips. Letting go with a loud pop, he sucks a hickey right in the middle of your sternum, running his thumb over the wet mark after. 

“I wanna go down on you.” He blurts it out, spill words tugging out of his lips before he can stop them. 

“You wanna what?” You respond, dazed as he looks up at you, eyes full of fire. 

“I wanna use my mouth on you. Down here.” 

He drags his fingers low, pressing one just to the top of your mound. 

“You really want to?” As far as you're aware, that's not a thing guys tend to want to do. At least that's what you've heard. Eddie seems to be an exception. 

“More than anything.” He's brutally honest, eyes wide and begging. 

“I mean, if you want to, sure.” 

“OK, shit, just wait a sec.” 

Getting up so fast it must make his head spin, he unbuttons his jeans and wrestles them down his legs, tossing them away. The tent in his boxers makes your eyes widen.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he climbs back on the bed. 

“Sorry, just so fuckin’ hard it hurts.” 

Nothing can stop the whimper that shoots out of your mouth at his words. Again, he's just being honest, but he doesn't seem to understand how sexy it is. 

Moving to unzip your skirt, he bats your hand away to do it himself. Before he pulls it off, he looks at you nervously. 

“Just, let me know if you don't like something. Or if you do. I've er, I've not done this before so lower your expectations.” He laughs it out, embarrassment coating each word. 

“I thought you had a bunch of hook ups at The Hideout?” You tease, smirking at him. 

“Right, full disclosure, I've erm, used my fingers before, a few times. And once- once some girl tried to give me head and I busted in like three seconds, OK?” 

He grabs a bunch of his hair and hides behind it while you chuckle. 

“Eddie, it's fine, I'm glad you told me. It's just me. I'm not gonna judge you, you know that.” 

“Yeah, of course.” The breath he lets out is loud, tension melting from his body, and he bends to pull your skirt down and off. Your panties are next; they cling to your core so much it makes you cringe, but he doesn't seem to mind. 

“Can you, spread your legs a little sweetheart?” His voice is husky, eyes staring straight at your pussy. Feeling exposed, you do as he asks, fighting the urge to pull away from his gaze. 

“Look at you. Beautiful.” 

Smiling at his words, it turns into an open mouthed gasp as he strokes his fingers softly through your folds. 

“Fuck me, you're soaked.” 

Then his tongue is slipping across you, feeling tentatively as he keeps your legs wide with his rough palms. It's different; wet and messy, but it's incredible. The pleasure increases tenfold as his wandering mouth finds your clit. 

“Eddie, right there, right there!” 

He groans, pushing his face into you so hard you can feel the vibrations from the noise. He's moving his tongue up and around it, making an absolute mess of spit and slick over you. Suddenly he tries sucking and your back leaves the bed, hands coming to clutch at his hair. 

“Oh my God, do that again, please please, oh fuck!” 

He does it again, and again, smoothing each suckle with a flat lick from his tongue. Fingers graze your hole suddenly, making you jump. As you look down you see Eddie's entirely consumed by what he's doing, rutting himself into the mattress like an animal. One finger breaches you, feeling around, pumping slowly in and out. It's good, but it's not great. 

You feel ashamed even trying to guide him but you attempt to shake it off. 

“Eddie?” 

“Hmm?” He looks up, an almost dazed expression in his eyes. 

“Can you- can you curl your finger upward?” 

“Like this?” 

Your reaction is instantaneous, hips rucking up to his touch. 

“Fuuuck.” 

“Yeah? That good, sweetheart?” 

That smugness is back but it isn't in you to care. There's no words, just little whimpers and moans as you grab him by the hair and push his mouth back where you need it. 

When he adds another finger, you're gone. Your walls are clenching around him, sucking him in as the feeling of his thick digits stretching you fills your entire being. Dots dance in your vision as your whole body feels fuzzy, tingles whispering over your skin. You cry out as the feeling escalates, bubbling through you until you can't see, can't think, clawing at Eddie's head until you reach an impossible precipice. Then, it explodes, showering you in waves, over and over. 

“Oh my God that was amazing, fuck Eddie, you're incredible, I never came that hard in all my life, Jesus Christ!” 

You're babbling, you know, bubbles of platitudes popping out of your mouth in almost nonsensical sounds as your legs twitch like crazy. 

Eddie scoots up a little, face pressed into the plush of your stomach. He mumbles something incomprehensible. Leaning up on your elbows, you pull his hair a little making him look at you. 

“You alright there? What'd you say?” 

Eddie laughs, kissing your tummy, face flushed pink. 

“I said I fuckin’ came in my pants.” 

Then he hides again, as if your skin can cover his embarrassment. 

“Eddie, come here you dope.” 

He climbs up you, leaning on quivering arms. The front of his boxers pushes on your sticky core. 

“Don't worry about it, that's kinda hot.” 

“Yeah? You're hot. That was, wow. I think I found my favourite place.” 

You giggle, pressing kisses to his lips. There's still traces of you on him but you don't care. 

“Can you tell me what you said again?” He asks, grin fighting to envelop his whole face. 

“Huh?” 

“You know, how I'm the most incredible lover in existence.” Waggling his eyebrows at you, he strokes a wayward hair off of your sweaty forehead. 

“I did not say that!” 

“I'm paraphrasing, it was pretty close.” 

You hit him on the chest playfully and he falls to the side in a terrible act of mock pain. Crawling on top of him, you continue to smack him, fake punches thrown at his ribs. 

“OK, you win, I cannot best you!” 

Grabbing your hand, he kisses your knuckles and you melt against him, pressing soft kisses to his mouth. They turn harder, tongues massaging each other as he runs his hands down your back. 

You break away to plant a single kiss to the tip of his nose. 

“Maybe in a bit, you know, when you've… recovered…” 

Dragging your nails down his lean chest you look up at him, biting your lip. 

“We can… go all the way?” 

Eddie's face lights up. He grabs you and flings you down so he's on top, kissing your neck and jaw sloppily as you squeal at the sudden onslaught. 

“Yes, fuck yes, gimme like two minutes, five tops.” 

Taglist (if you want to be added please send me a PM so I don't lose the request, thank you)

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n

[haeryna]

the purest shade of white ↪ okkotsu yuuta x reader ⸙͎｡˚⋆ 𓋼

summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.

tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories

notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!

"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"

Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?

As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.

If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.

"Senpai, what should-"

Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.

"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"

"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.

"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.

"I think I'll have him die."

Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.

Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?

Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.

"So you're Yuuji's executioner."

Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."

"Who're you?"

Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-

You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."

A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.

"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.

"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"

You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"

"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."

You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.

No. No!

He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.

"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.

As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-

I can't lose anyone else.

You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.

With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.

Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.

"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"

While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.

"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"

Special Grade?

What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."

You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.

Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.

He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.

Did you miss him like he missed you?

The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.

Will you forgive him?

You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.

"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.

"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.

"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.

The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.

"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."

Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.

"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"

Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.

"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"

"Senpai!"

Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?

"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"

Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"

Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."

With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"

Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."

You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."

The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."

You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.

"I promised you, didn't I?"

Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.

"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.

"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.

"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."

The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."

"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"

Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."

As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.

"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."

[sweets3rial]

the tutor in dorm 24B

inspired by this request

meantutor!re2!leon x fem!reader

summary: you have no choice but to go to your math professor for help in the class. unfortunately, he can't help you. but he knows a certain blonde that can, top of his class, perfect scores on everything, just the tutor for you.

tags: college!au, math/stats terminology, ooc leon, leon is an asshole, leon & reader have attitudes, dom!leon, slightly jealous leon, degrading kink, praise kink, leon talks you through it, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (use safety guys!), oral sex, cunnilingus, clit stimulation, teasing, etc.

word count: 9.8k 🧍‍♀️ (this shit long sorry)

math is horrible. you’ve never been bright in math, plus it isn’t fun. it’s only fun when you understand what you’re doing. especially statistics, which is a whole other level for math. there are symbols, very important definitions and strategies, formulas and techniques, very precise calculations and data.

you never understood what the teacher was writing up on the board when you’d step into lecture. he moved fast and spoke even faster, you’re hands would cramp trying to keep up with him and you’re notes were a jumbled mess.

even if you tried so hard, you just couldn’t understand. your mind was constantly running, like a hamster on a wheel though it was nonstop. it was the same schedule pretty much every day. you wake up, rush out of your dorm, race to class, get to class huffing and puffing, and you do this three more times for your other classes.

then after a long day of learning, you’re off to work at the cafe down the street. it’s a very famous cafe, especially with it being so close to campus. convenient for students who needed work and wanted a nice coffee.

after work, you’d go back to your dorm on the brink of passing out, but of course, you had to study.

it was a constant look, a constant cycle that seemingly never broke until summer break. your days were starting to blend together and you were slowly driving yourself insane. at one point, you put stats at the back of your mind since you were so focused on an essay for your english class.

little did you know that you’d pay for that in the future. you missed one class, one lecture - and it seemed like you missed a whole semester.

you went to class the next day, after turning in that very important essay, and you were completely lost. you tried talking to your classmate about what the professor was talking about but she was just as lost as you.

if you thought stats was hard before, it’s even harder now. you looked over your notes from before, trying to correlate those to the ones now. though, nothing made sense.

that led you to where you are now. a week later, still very much lost, and you’re grade dropping with every single assignment.

you toyed with the drawstring of your sweats, blinking your dry eyes and nibbling at the dry skin of your lip. you were trying so hard to stay awake as your professor scrolled through your grades. his eyes were squinted and his knuckles pressed to his lips.

he had a pensive look on his face, looking from your scores and back to you.

you could practically read his mind. it was embarrassing and shameful. he took off his glasses with a sigh and turned his chair to face you.

“you were doing really good in the beginning but after chapter three i mean,” he paused gesturing his head over to the computer where the D’s and F’s lined up like a pattern.

“what happened? chapter three was so long ago why didn’t you reach out?”

you never understood why some professors didn’t take students' lives into consideration. some professors think that students have no life while others are very considerate. this professor wasn’t one of those professors.

he didn’t understand why his students couldn’t understand his material or why people asked stupid questions. even though, at the beginning of the semester he mentioned:

‘even stupid questions are good questions’

then when that stupid question is asked. he sits there with a disappointed look on his face and quite literally embarrasses that student in front of everyone. which is why, you don’t ask questions at all. you don’t want to be embarrassed, especially not in front of 30 other people.

“i’m sorry, my life has just been really hectic lately and-“ you rambled, running your hands over your face with a heavy sigh. until, of course, you were interrupted.

“no worries, i understand but,” he paused again, judging you with his eyes and completely ignoring the fact that you were on the brink of a mental breakdown. “you gotta reach out for help if you need it.”

even if you tried, it probably wouldn’t help. his teaching methods are like tough love. harsh but it’s supposed to teach you a lesson. spoiler alert, it never does.

he reached over for a pen and a sticky note and you watched him scribble down a few numbers and a name.

“i can’t really help you since my life is also hectic,”

alright, asshole. you’re the fucking professor you should be helping me. you said to yourself, never in your life did you want to slap someone so bad,

“but i can refer you to one of my top students.” he pushed the sticky note toward you. you picked it up and read the name at the top, his dorm number, and his phone number.

great, just what you needed a tutor.

you weren’t sure how exactly this ’top student’ was passing this class with flying colors and it was to the point your professor was impressed. which he never is and never was.

either this top student is sucking your professor's dick behind the scenes or is actually insane.

you read the name at the top as your professor began to speak.

“his name is Leon, he’s gotten perfect scores on every quiz and test, very smart and a decent kid,”

yup, Leon is definitely sucking this man's dick.

Leon’s contact info and his dorm room were written underneath his name. it was odd that he didn’t tutor in the library like the rest of the tutors did. though, given the fact he’d rather tutor in his dorm, he probably isn’t a tutor at all.

“i contacted him before our meeting today, he’s expecting you.

“oh, okay.” you nodded slowly, pocketing the small slip of paper. you weren’t so sure if you were comfortable being alone in a random dorm with some guy you’ve never met, but for the sake of your grade you were willing to do so.

you finalized your meeting with your professor and left his office even more unsatisfied than when you came. you were hoping he’d give you a run down on what you missed but instead, he completely dismissed you to his top student.

you left the building phone and slip of paper in hand, you weren’t sure if you should text him or not. ultimately, you decided it could wait. you were exhausted and maybe a small nap would be helpful rather than going to this guy's dorm where you probably wouldn’t learn jack shit.

—

Leon waited for you. he was told to expect you around the afternoon, so he canceled his plans with his friends, he went home to his dorm, tidied up, and put on a more suitable outfit. he never wanted to be a tutor it was tiring trying to teach someone something over and over again.

plus, he had doubt in his skills as well. he would be to blame if someone were to get a bad score or if they failed their exam.

but when his stats professor made a deal with Leon, he decided to take it. if he were to tutor you and possibly future students, he’d put in a good word with any police academy he wanted to join.

Leon wasn’t so sure how his professor would get that to happen but it was better than nothing at all.

so he waited, half an hour went by and then an hour and another. at this point, he was tired both physically and mentally. he sat leaned onto his desk with an elbow, tapping his pen against his notebook. it didn’t take long for him to catch the hint that you weren’t coming.

and just as he was about to strip his clothes to take a nap, there was a knock at his dorm door. his hands dropped at his sides and a sigh left his mouth, though he tried to maintain a calm act even though he was close to bursting into flames.

he was irritated, you were two hours late, he was already drained from a long day of sprinting around campus for his classes and he just got dumped not too long ago. he does not have time to be in a good mood.

albeit, he still opened the door with a smile.

“hi, you must be-“

“yes, i’m so so sorry! i know i was supposed to be here hours ago,”

Leon let out a small laugh, mumbling under his breath, “yeah, you were…”

unfortunately, you heard that part, and your heart dropped. at first glance, this guy looks like a sweetheart. he had a nice face, his cheeks a little round but his jaw very defined and sharp. his eyebrows were relaxed and a thick brown, and his dirty blonde hair was split down the side and a little long — the ends just touching the height of his cheekbones.

his lips were plump and a nice pink, glasses were perched up on his head and you guessed he was probably wearing them earlier.

his chin had a small indent, a little butt chin almost. he had two beauty marks on his throat, right on his adams apple, and a few small ones on his face.

he wore a basic dark blue sweater, even with the baggy fabric you could still tell his shoulders were nice and broad and he paired his sweater with basic grey sweats.

he was very attractive, tall, and muscular but that baby face was throwing you off. it wasn’t a bad thing, rather it was intriguing. how are you supposed to focus when there’s a very attractive man tutoring you? maybe your professor is secretly setting you up.

“oh god, i’m so sorry. i probably should’ve gotten your number from our professor,”

“uh no worries, just come in.” he said in a hurry, opening the door further for you. you nodded to him a thank you and stepped inside.

his dorm smelt of fresh mint and lemon, there was a hint of spice in the air as well. it was pretty warm, which made you guess the heater was on.

he shut the door behind you, walking past you as you stayed in the doorway to slip off your shoes. you took around the room for a second. his bed was up against the left side of the room, away from the sight of the door. dark midnight blue sheet, with a matching duvet and pillowcases.

underneath his bed were a bunch of bins, probably clothes and extra storage. against the back wall was his desk, piles of papers and different books were all stacked neatly at the side. the large window above the desk allowed a natural hue of light to cast down into the room, giving the room a pale yellow glow.

against the other wall was a dresser and closet. his room was very generic, with some posters and photos taped to the walls and a whiteboard with messy scribbles depicting his schedule for the week.

“so uh, how much did the professor tell you?” he asked, sitting at his desk chair and swerving around towards you and he lowered his glasses down to his eyes. you took a few steps further into his dorm, adjusting the tote bag on your shoulder.

“um he just said to meet you here and that you could help,”

“well no shit,” he scoffed, catching you off guard and sending a tense feeling through your muscles. “did he say what you needed help with? which chapter? which concept?” he asked and each time you shook your head like a dumbass.

“i’ve kind of been struggling the whole semester i just-“

“why didn’t you get help earlier?” Leon asked curiously, tilting his head to the side. unlike your professor, who seemed actually concerned this time. but that concern was probably for himself instead of you.

“i was embarrassed, i guess,” you shrugged.

he sighed, dropping his head and nodding his it up an down.

“okay well, uh please sit anywhere really uhh,” he got up from his desk chair and walked over towards the other corner of his dorm. there was another small chair in the corner, albeit a bit old, and he brought it over to his desk.

“sorry, i’m not used to visitors.”

“no worries,”

you sat down on his old chair and placed your tote bag into your lap as he opened up his computer. you watched as he brought his glasses up in front of his eyes and opened up the course page. “so uh, what did you need help with?”

his tone was harsh, almost like your professors. you felt intimidated by him, he was smart and quite rude.

“um well, everything?” your answer sounded more like a question, causing him to raise an eyebrow up at you.

“i’m sorry, i can’t help you with everything,” he spat, turning his shoulders towards you with one elbow on his desk. “give me specifics, like which chapter?”

“every chapter, it just isn’t making sense to me and i-“

a sigh left his lips and his shoulders slumped, you could practically hear the thoughts running through his head. “alright well, i can help you with the first chapter,” he said with a shrug.

you nodded along, reaching into your bag for your notes.

“the first chapter is pretty basic. basic terminology and techniques we use throughout the class, ‘kay?” he began, speaking with his hands as he went. you nodded at him, placing your notebook at the edge of his desk and writing down what he just said.

anything counts, anything you could get would help. you needed to get a good grade in this class, if you had to retake it for the credit it would be a disaster.

“it’s mostly the types of data, the collections of data, the types of sampling — and those are the basics.” his eyes flickered from his computer down towards your hunched figure. you were writing down every single word he spoke. you’d repeat his words to yourself in silent whispers.

then, as you finished writing, you looked up at him and waited for him to continue but he was left speechless. you really were desperate.

“tell me, do you know any of the terminology in chapter 1?” he asked, turning his full figure towards you. doing so, his knees were now touching yours. he didn’t miss the way you scooched back further in your chair to avoid his touch. cute.

“uh,” you hummed to yourself as you flicked through your notes and back to chapter one.

“no, no,” he stopped you, placing his hand over yours and bringing it back down into your lap. “tell me from memory, not from your notes.”

he watched you blink at him as if you were processing his words slowly, “uh yeah, i can do that.” you leaned away from his desk and your notes and faced him, your knees touching his again.

“i know sample versus population,”

“give me an example of both.” he cut you off again, leaning back into his chair and adjusting his hips.

“um, a population will be all the college students of our university but a sample would be just the engineer students,”

“good, at least you know that.”

you gave him a nervous laugh, a little more proud than you should be but his praise made you feel … good.

he continued to make you list what you know, making sure you knew every term by giving him real-life scenarios and every time you got it correct it was like a golden sticker was placed on your forehead. you were beginning to understand and, as ridiculous as it sounds, you were starting to have fun.

relating the different terms to real-life situations made it easy on you, rather than the unrealistic scenarios your professor gave you.

he let out a loud yawn and you caught a whiff of his minty breath, he’d been chewing on mint gum for the past hour now. throwing an old one away and popping in a new stick. you could tell he was getting tired, he was less responsive and blinking slowly.

“i think you should get some rest,” you told him. he looked over at you with a small ‘hm?’ before shaking his head, blonde hair sweeping over the bone of his brow and lips curling down into a frown.

“i’m fine,” he practically shouted out after another yawn, “let’s just finish it, ‘kay?”

“no, Leon, it’s okay we can continue another time.”

he stayed silent, his lips pursed as he looked down at your notes. gradually, his head began to bob up and down into a nod and another yawn left his mouth. this time, he stretched back, letting his sweater glide up slightly to reveal a sharp v-line and brown happy trail.

you quickly looked away and began to pack up your things, shoving your notebook and pencil case into your bag — not even bothering to shut or zip anything up.

“man, look at the time,” he said, lifting up his sleeve to reveal a black watch. “next time be on time, that way we have more time.” he smiled at you as you stood up.

you weren’t sure whether to take that as a friendly reminder or a warning but either way you nodded.

you made your way towards the door, slipping on your shoes and looking back at him to say goodbye. you expected him to still be seated at his desk or even going to lay on his bed. though, to your surprise, he was standing directly behind you.

hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweater.

“jesus!,” you jumped, “sorry, you surprised me.”

“uh, who else do you expect to lock the door behind you?”

you blinked up at him, again caught off guard. he was a little bipolar with his attitude, one minute he’s proud of you for getting something the next he’s making fun of you with his eyes.

“well, goodnight,” you said to him as you stepped out the door, he didn’t say anything else. he kicked the door closed and locked it the moment you stepped out.

you could feel your eye twitch, only if you could march back in there and beat the blue out of his eyes but he was just a tutor. just a few weeks of this and then you’ll never have to speak to him again.

-

“are you serious? we just went over this,”

“i’m sorry i blanked out,”

“no, you didn’t i was watching you giggle on the phone with that little boyfriend of yours,”

“first of all, why are you watching me? and second of all, i wasn’t on the phone with any boyfriend.”

he sighed, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “i wasn’t stalking you, dumbass. your bright ass screen caught my attention and when i looked over voila it’s you.”

he leaned forward, pointing a finger at your face and squinting his eyes behind his glasses, “and who else would have you giggling like that in the middle of a lesson huh?”

to be honest, he didn’t like that you weren’t paying attention, it was more work on him because you always came crying to him about not understanding a topic. he didn’t necessarily hate tutoring you. sure, you guys had some fun times but it was beginning to become a part of his everyday life.

canceling plans on his friends, not going to the gym, and missing out on his personal time. his goal was to teach you and go over a chapter every week, it was working … slowly but surely.

“i saw a funny video, ‘kay?”

“wow, so you’re just sitting in class watching silly videos. no wonder why your brain is rotten.”

“hey, asshole, the professor wasn’t even talking about anything important. it was more about his dumbass grandkids,” you rebutted, grumbling your words toward the end of your sentence.

“if it wasn’t anything important, how come you don’t know what he just fucking talked about?” he said with a scoff.

you groaned and began to pack your things, you probably should’ve done this a long time ago. sure, Leon helps, but he belittles you in every way and it’s beginning to actually hurt. his rude comments and attitude.

he was like a hawk or a vulture, hovering over you every second of the day and then picking at you when you were alone. slowly tearing at your skin and ripping off flesh until he got to bone. he was always watching you.

you couldn’t go on your phone in class to check a text or even walk out early because he will know and will say something about it later. maybe it was time for another tutor.

“whatever, Leon. you’re not helping anymore.” you scoffed his way as you stuffed your computer into your bag.

“that’s where your wrong, your grades have been getting better, haven’t they?”

“what are you? my dad? you’re checking my grades now?”

only if he wasn’t so stupidly handsome, you would probably smack him across the face or maybe choke him out. there was something about Leon that you liked, unfortunately. he was intriguing, he knew so much about you but you didn’t know anything about him.

he wasn’t in the frat, thank god. he was smart and had a large group of friends. you always caught them hanging out in the private study rooms in the library, the ones they always made sure to book. they all would stay there and hang out like obnoxious fools.

it was rare to see Leon smile and laugh, he looked like a completely different person. his eyes gleamed differently and he had a specific glow around him. maybe the reason you saw him so much in public or outside of his dorm was because you looked for him.

you looked for him and that glow.

“i’m not, the professor told me.” he watched as you continued to pack, were you really leaving? was he too harsh? sometimes he was only ‘mean’ to you to elicit a reaction from you. it was cute to watch your jaw drop and your fingers twitch as if you wanted to hit him.

sometimes, you played along, insulting him back. it was amusing to watch your spark glow into a flame. he hated tutoring but he didn’t hate you.

“of course, you practically suck that man's dick during office hours,” you said to yourself but loud enough to let him hear.

“that’s hilarious,” he said, rubbing at his nose bridge where his glasses sat.

“you didn’t deny it.” you huffed turning to leave until you were, very abruptly, yanked back. his hand had wrapped around your wrist, holding you back from leaving.

you turned back to him, his head was tilted to the side and he silently motioned with his eyes towards your seat.

“sit, we’re not done.”

his tone sent chills up your spine but you still refused, only if he didn’t look so damn good.

“yes, we are.”

you yanked your wrist away from him but much to your prevail, that only prompted him to stand up, grab you by your hips, and push your right back down into your seat.

“no. we are not.”

you sat still, bag in your lap, eyes wide and lips shut. did he just…man handle you back into your seat?

he sat back down in his seat after you, rolling his jaw with a sniff. “where were we?”

you remained silent and still, you knew if you got back up to leave he’d only pull you back down into your seat. though, you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it. the minute his large hands fell onto your hips there was a burn that ran through you, and it wasn’t rage.

“what is variance?” he asked turning towards you.

“standard deviation squared,” you replied, very straight and mellow-toned.

a smile grew onto his lips, the blues of his eyes gleaming and his pearly white teeth slowly revealing from underneath his pink plump lips. “good, you’re getting the hang of it.”

ever since then, Leon was very comfortable with touching you and kind of controlling you. tugging you by your wrists, guiding you with his hand on the small of your back, touching your legs, or shoving you to get your attention.

you were slowly losing it. you couldn’t even think straight, he was such a distraction. his voice, his hands, his scent, everything. the way he dressed was always so casual but he always looked so good, basic sweats with graphic tees or a sweater.

glasses, hair sometimes a little messy. you noticed when he was very focused his tongue would stick out from the corner of his mouth, it was cute, to say the least. he’d scrunch his nose to keep his glasses up on his eyes, he rolled his ankle instead of bouncing his leg, and when he laughed.

it was boisterous and full of light. you never thought that you could make him laugh, even if he wasn’t laughing with you rather he was laughing at you.

-

“are you serious? it’s like you don’t retain anything at all, how did you even get accepted?”

that one kind of hurt but you were too focused on the brightness in his cheeks and his perfectly straight teeth.

“well the acceptance rate is pretty high so…” you shrugged turning back towards your notebook.

you kept on denying the fact that you very much had a crush. is it wrong to find someone attractive? no, not at all. it’s a regular thing to find people attractive, doesn’t mean you have a crush on them. but this … is different.

a month and a half in you were beginning to realize you very much had a crush on Leon. you were beginning to get used to him and he was getting used to you.

you looked forward to tutor sessions now, practically dropping everything to go and see him. you began putting on extra perfume and wearing your hair down rather than keeping it up.

you kept your attire casual, you didn’t want him to think that you were dolling yourself up for him. so pajama pants or sweats were your usual go-to.

little did you know, Leon noticed everything. he was keen to snuff people out. he could smell you from a mile away, that heavy fragrance of yours was slowly seeping into his clothes and his brain. even after months, everything you touched was beginning to smell like you.

he noticed how your makeup slowly became heavier and your hair was all nicely done for him.

to be frank, he was flattered. he hoped you were getting all dolled up for him and not the guy who constantly blew up your phone. who is he? is he a boyfriend? a relative? a crush? a friend? who is he?

Leon wants to know, who do you see throughout the day? who are your friends? what do you like? do you like him? do you hate him? every time he sees your face he just wants to know, who are you?

Leon sat at his desk, waiting for you. his hands were folded up to his mouth and his leg was bouncing anxiously. you’ve never been late, well except for that first day but other than that you were always on time. always.

the pillow you occasionally sat in your lap during these sessions was now in his lap. it smelt just like you. at first, he wanted to snatch it away from you the moment you put the pillow into your lap, hugging it against you and spreading your germs onto it.

but then, it was nice. it was your signature pillow, you looked for it every time you came over and placed it directly in your lap. now, he finds himself carrying it around or having it next to him while he sleeps. is that weird?

well, it was his pillow in the first place. what’s so wrong about having it in his bed? it’s comforting.

his eyes quickly flicked over when his phone screen lit up, he looked over at it quickly reading the notification. you texted him.

was something wrong? are you sick? do you no longer need tutoring?

he quickly unlocked his phone and read the message, the pillow now bunched up underneath his nose as he slowly inhaled and exhaled your heavy scent.

‘hey, might be running a little late today :/. there’s a lot of traffic.’

traffic? where are you coming from?

‘k.’

he kept his reply short and nonchalant even though his curiosity was close to killing him. he knew the semester was close to ending, meaning he wasn’t going to see you afterward. it’s a big campus, so many buildings and so many students. he rarely sees you.

though, he catches a glimpse of you in the library, walking and talking with your friends. in the lunch hall, always getting the same drink from the vending machines and leaving in a hurry as you typed away at your phone.

you told him you had no boyfriend, but maybe you were lying to him. maybe it’s because he wasn’t a close friend of yours. that’s right, he’s just a tutor — not a friend or a love interest in your eyes.

he sat there longer than he anticipated, he didn’t realize how long he had been sitting until there was a knock on the door. he stood up, tossing the pillow in his lap aside onto his bed and rushing to the door. almost tripping over the clothes and mess that sat on his floor.

shit, he forgot to clean. he kicked the mess aside as he made his way to the door. kicking it under his bed mostly. he almost tripped on one of his shoes, letting out a small cuss before stumbling more towards the door.

the chaos behind the door caused you to furrow your brows.

“Leon? you good?”

“yeah! hold on!” he shouted out. you nodded slowly, itching at your ankle with the tip of your shoe.

Leon looked down at his attire, week-old sweats and a white sweatshirt with oil stains on it.

he turned away from the door quickly and silently ran back into his room, he needed clean clothes and he hadn’t done laundry all week. he didn’t have time, all because he was too busy thinking about you.

he quickly threw his sweatshirt off, taking the glasses off his head in the same swift movement. now he was just a mess, feeling around his bed for his glasses like Velma from Scooby Doo. all while his sweats were halfway on his legs.

“shit, shit,” he muttered to himself and he almost sighed with relief as he finally found his glasses and a clean, well decently clean, sweatshirt.

he rushed over to the door, sweat sticking to his hairline and very much out of breath. when he swung it open he was met by you looking down at your phone, texting someone once again. you looked up at him with a smile.

“what were you doing in there, huh? hiding a girl from me?” you taunted with a smile. he took notice of your outfit once you stuffed your phone away, a small wine-red top paired with some baggy jeans. you had a nice pendant necklace on, hanging right between the swell of your breasts, and cute little bracelets all up your wrists.

your makeup was done nicely, same with your hair. you were very very pretty today. you always were. but who did you look pretty for today?

“don’t be an idiot,” he scoffed, stepping sideways and letting you inside. you chuckled to yourself, finishing up your text to your friend before your phone was miraculously snatched from you.

“no phones tonight.” he snapped at you, taking a sneaky peek at your text convo. it wasn't a guy, it was a friend who was a girl. you two were speaking about a house party and tutoring. he lifted an eyebrow and looked down at you, he was completely ignoring your small grumbles of complaints.

“you were at a house party before this?”

“nosy much!” you snapped as he shut your phone off and stuffed it away into his pocket.

“answer the question,” he sighed like a disappointed parent.

“yes, i was and i ditched it to be here. with you.” you finalized.

he wasn’t gonna lie, the last part of your sentence sends electricity through his veins. you ditched fun to be here. not for tutoring. not for your grade. but to be here with him. he had no words, he was just frozen in place not sure of what to say or do.

“um, no phones today no distractions. midterm is coming up and i don’t want you to fail,” he said, clearing his throat. he shut the door softly and locked it. he turned to face you, taking off your shoes with a pout.

“aw, you care about my score?”

he rolled his eyes, shoving past you with another scoff. “yeah because your score reflects my tutoring.”

"and here i thought you hated tutoring,"

"i do, hurry up and get inside."

you smiled up at him, walking further into his room and instantly looking for your pillow. it wasn’t in its usual spot but you found it on top of his bed. his very tall bed. you jumped up, half of your body on the bed and your legs dangling off the floor.

you outstretched your arm for your his pillow. it was just at your fingertips but still out of reach. why did his bed have to be so big?

Leon watched you struggle for a bit, amused at how hard you were working just for a pillow. he also took this chance to admire how good you looked, almost perfect. bent over the edge of his bed, shirt riding up to reveal more of your back.

he couldn’t help but imagine you in this position but in different circumstances. his hands on your waist, bodies sticky and sweaty, hips rocking against one another.

he was quickly shaken out of his trance when you hit him in the face with the pillow.

“let’s get this over with, my friends are expecting me back in two hours.”

he cleared his throat and nodded with a small, “yeah.” his voice cracking in between.

it was hard to focus, he couldn’t stop looking your way. he couldn’t dismiss the burn that flew through him every time your knees touched his. he couldn’t form a sentence when your eyes would lock with his as you patiently waited for him to teach you something else.

almost like a dog waiting for a fucking treat.

the mascara on your lashes made your lashes pop more, shiny gloss on your lips, and the blush on your cheeks was nice and bright — but not too obnoxious. what was obnoxious though was your top, so dangerously low and that pendant hitting the fat of your breasts with every movement.

you were speaking to him but his eyes were focused on your pendant necklace. you took notice of it, stopping midsentence and looking down towards your necklace that he was so focused on.

“who’s the one distracted now?” you chuckled, taking out the pendant from your shirt and showing it to him.

“where’d you get it from? a boyfriend?” he asked out of nowhere. even his own words caught him off guard. he didn’t mean to ask that last part but it has been on his mind forever.

“Leon, how many times do i have to tell you?” you sighed out, leaning back into your chair and crossing your legs. “i don’t have a boyfriend.”

“then who is currently blowing up your phone?” he asked, motioning down to your phone constantly buzzing in his pocket.

“my friends,” you said with a shrug.

“i don’t believe it.”

“well, you should.”

“what could they possibly want to talk about?”

“you,” you said, looking from your phone lighting up in his pocket then back up at him.

you watched his eyebrow raise in confusion and he tilted his head to the side once again in disbelief. but you nodded slowly leaning towards him.

“they think you’re hot,”

“oh really?”

“yes, really.”

he scooted closer to you, both of his meaty thighs now trapping yours. his pupils dilated as he looked into your own. instantly, your palms began to sweat. you crossed your arms over your chest, subconsciously trying to shoo away the goosebumps rising onto your skin.

“what do you think then?” he asked, his voice low and his eyes flickering down to your lips and staring there.

“of?” you answered with another question.

“you think i’m hot?” he was inching closer closer, surely this was another way to tease and taunt you. even so, your heart was beating out of your chest and you were shrinking away from him.

“mmm not really, you’re kinda ugly.” you lied. that was the biggest lie you’ve ever said out loud. you haven’t even admitted your little crush to your friends. you were denying it to your core but right now with him so close like this, his breath fanning against yours and his hands placed on either side of your chair — you were ready to give up.

“liar.”

“not a li-“

before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours. soft plump and warm. wet from the amount of times he’s licked over them with a hint of mint from his gum. you kissed him back, leaning forward to press your lips against his even more.

your entire body lit up, you could feel your knees grow weak and the butterflies in your stomach felt more like a wildfire. with every smack of your lips, there was another spark and more of that fire spread.

his hands found your waist, tugging you up off your chair and towards him. you accepted his instruction quickly and obediently. he pulled you into his lap, hands moving from your waist and towards your hips.

his thumbs rubbed at your skin, calloused fingertips colliding with your soft skin. hot and gentle. you moaned onto his lips, tilting your head to the side and bringing your hands from his shoulders and towards the nape of his neck.

shivers ran through him at your touch, the cold sweat on your fingertips and your manicured nails scratching at his scalp.

he ran his hot tongue along your bottom lip and you welcomed him. tongues finding each other in a heated and passionate battle. you moaned at the minty taste on his tongue practically melting into him.

his hands found the small of your back, pressing you closer to him until you could practically feel his heart beating against yours.

he reached down into his pocket, bothered by your buzzing phone. he threw it to the side and onto his desk, he couldn't care less where it landed, he was more focused on you. your gloss stuck to his lips, it tasted fruity like cherries and he could taste the smallest twinge of rum on your tongue.

he pulled away, one hand grabbing the back of your neck to keep you in your place, “drinking and driving, huh?”

you rolled your eyes, rolling your hips down into his, “it was just one shot.”

you kissed him again, feverishly. you were hungry and desperate, you never wanted someone so bad. even if he made you feel like shit, pretty privilege at its finest. you didn’t care if he tugged and shoved you around like a damn rag doll, it was hot.

you didn’t care if he insulted you, part of you really fucking liked it.

he kept his lips on yours as he let his hand run down underneath the curve of your ass and the other guided your thigh around his waist. he stood up taking you with him, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms wrapped around his neck.

you held him close, both of you kissing at a slow and deep pace. in all truth, you didn’t think Leon was interested in you in the slightest but judging from the way his hands traveled all over your body you were very very wrong.

his hands reached up beneath your top, feeling for your bra clasp but he was surprised to find none. you smirked against his lips.

“no bra, fuck that’s hot.” he sighed against your lips, copying your smirk.

he threw you down against his bed, watching your hair splay out around your head like a halo. your lip gloss was ruined, smeared all over your mouth and your lips were now plump and glossy with his spit.

you looked up at him, the fire behind your eyes and adrenaline running through every vein in your body. you propped yourself up onto your elbows, slowly scooching away from him as he crawled towards you.

his hands on either side of your frame, icy blue eyes staring right into yours. his lips were now swollen and pink, some of your lipgloss smeared all over his mouth.

“where you going?” he taunted, a certain tone in his voice. his hands reached for the hem of his sweatshirt, quickly pulling it over his head and throwing it to the side along with the rest of his clothes. you scanned your eyes up and down his built figure, who knew he was so muscular.

underneath all those sweatshirts and loose tees was a greek god. chiseled muscle and wide shoulders, his arms were thick and looked as if they could kill. no wonder he could throw you around like you weighed nothing. he was built like a fucking tank.

your eyes trailed down to the happy trail, you witnessed now and then. sharp v-line, light brown hair with a single vein running down.

his hand wrapped around your ankle, tugging you down the bed until his face hovered over yours. “my eyes are here,” he told you before placing his lips on yours. your hands ran up his arms and up to his shoulders, you sunk your nails into his skin creating little pink crescents.

one of his hands kept him up while the other worked with the button of his jeans. the minute he got the metal button off, he was tugging them down your thighs and you helped by lifting your hips for him.

he kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, and then your jaw. his kisses were wet and slow, his fingers playing with the hem of your panties.

“god, you’re beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, kissing your lobe. your body shook with excitement every time he touched you, your body immediately responding to any of his calls. you were under his control and his command.

“i need you,” you whispered to him.

“shh shh, how about this?" he shushed, removing his glasses and then throwing them onto his desk.

he smirked at his own idea, loving the sound of what plan just popped up into his head.

" if you get these answers correct you’ll get what you want, ‘kay?”

you threw your head back against his pillow, whining his name. he swatted your ass as a warning as he traveled down your neck with opened-mouthed kisses, “i’ll stop.”

“no! okay, okay.” you exclaimed. he smiled against your collarbone, sinking his teeth into your skin as his hand traveled up the sheets to play with the hem of your top.

“give me five different ways to collect data,” his hand traveled underneath your shirt, his thumb finding your perky nipple and swiping over the bud slowly. you shivered at his warm touch, your brain melting and your mouth opening into a silent moaning.

“answer me, baby.”

“um surveys, experiments,” you began, trying to focus on his question rather than his touch. he pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as his knee slotted between your legs and pressed against the gusset of your soaked panties.

he applied just the right amount of pressure and friction to your clothed cunt, earning him a small moan.

“an observational study,”

“good good,” he praised, lifting up your top and bunching it above your breasts. he watched them spill out and bounce, “so pretty, baby. give me two more.” he placed a soft kiss over your hard nipple and watched your body squirm for him.

“focus groups and- fuck and sampling,” you whined, arching your back towards him.

he grinned down at you, one hand cupping your left tit while the other stroked your cheek. “good job.”

he placed another hot kiss over your nipple, dragging his teeth ever so slowly over your hot skin.

this was killing him more than it was killing you. but he just loved teasing you, the excitement in your body, the hunger in your eyes, and the desperation in your voice. he loved having control over you.

“what’s the formula for a z-score?”

“Leon!”

he swatted your thigh as a warning, “say it.”

you pursed your lip, watching him place small kisses around your areola, purposefully avoiding your sensitive nipples.

“x minus x bar-“

“do it correctly,”

“sample size minus the mean, divided by the standard deviation!” you whined out.

he rewarded you by taking your nipple into his mouth, harshly sucking and dragging a long whine out of you.

you’ve never been so sensitive before but he was bringing everything out of you. your hips began to grind down against his knee, the smallest amount of pressure against your clit was all you needed. you were aching for him, clenching around absolutely nothing and dripping into the gusset of your panties.

his hand was splayed over your stomach, his thumb playing with the hem of your lace panties. his lips left your nipple with a pop and he looked up at you whilst biting down on his bottom lip.

“if the mean is more than the median,” he began kissing down the valley of your breasts. “how does the graph skew?”

you couldn’t focus, your brain was mush and you were very lightheaded. you couldn’t breathe and you were aching for him worse and worse every coming second. you tried to go over his question but every kiss he placed on your skin was a distraction.

“come on, baby you got it.” he said, now completely in between your legs. his hands were running up and down your thighs, keeping them at either side of his head. he placed a wet kiss on your inner thigh, sucking and then dragging his teeth over the small hickey.

your hips bucked up and your legs began to shake, “Leon, i don’t know.”

“i know you do, baby. come on,” he hummed against the skin of your thigh. the smell of your pussy was making him dizzy, it was right in front of him and god he needed it so bad. he could see how wet you were, just for him.

he wanted to rip these pretty lacy panties right off of you and devour your pussy whole, but he wanted to wait. he wanted to wait until you were at your limit, he wanted to watch your eyes roll back when you finally got what you both wanted.

“um, it skews right!”

he smiled against your inner thigh, placing a kiss on your abdomen and then moving your panties to the side. his cock jumped at the sight of your cunt right in front of his eyes, dripping wet and quivering just for him.

“answer this next question right and i’ll let you cum, ‘kay?” he said placing a kiss over your swollen clit.

“fuck!” you moaned out, hands reaching for his blonde strands.

“what is the empirical rule? and what does every single one of them mean?” he asked, prodding his tongue at your hole. his breath was hot against your clit, your whole body was shaking to the point you couldn’t take it.

“Leon, i-“ you stammered out with a tear running down your temple and into your hair.

“come on, we just went over this yesterday.”

“i can’t,”

he gathered a glob of spit onto his tongue before spatting it against your pussy, watching it drip from the hood of your clit and over your fluttering hole. “yes, you can.” he egged on.

“it’s mmm,” you pursed your lips and squinted your eyes close, you just needed to think and avert your attention away from him. “68% falls um one standard deviation of the mean,” your statement was more like a question.

he confirmed your answer by flattening his tongue over your slit and languidly licking upwards. he moaned at your taste, practically drunk on your pussy already. he shut his lids and let his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“95% is two and 99.7% is three!” your voice raised a few octaves as the languid strokes of his tongue became faster.

he was done testing you, for now. right now, he’s focused on making you cum all over his face. his arms wrapped around each of your thighs, holding you close to his mouth as he got to work. his thumb went to find your clit, rubbing small slow circles around your swollen nub.

“oh god,” you sighed out. his tongue prodded at your dripping cunt, messily lapping up at your juices mixed with his saliva. you arched your back, your fingers digging into his scalp both pushing him away and pulling him closer.

he applied more pressure to your clit, his tongue plunging in and out of your hole shamelessly. wet and sloppy sounds filled the room along with the sound of your messy moans and chants of his name.

“fuck, so good.” he moaned to himself, completely focused on your pleasure even if his hips were grinding into his sheets. he could cum just like this, to the sounds of your moans and the taste of your cunt.

he couldn’t wait to fuck you, to feel the warmth of your walls suck him in, and the sound of your moans directly in his ear. but he needed to be patient, he needed to reward you for doing so good in class.

he picked up his pace, taking turns fucking his tongue into you feverishly and sucking on your clit. your legs shook around him, thighs clamping around him and keeping him locked in place.

“yes, Leon! i’m close,” you moaned out, drool gathering at the corner of your lips and more tears spilling from your eyes. he kept his pace, not moving faster or slower but he just applied the smallest pressure against your clit that sent you over the edge.

you cried out, arching your back and curling his sheets into your fist. with your release, stars danced behind your vision and every muscle in your body contracted and then relaxed. he eased you down from your high, sucking at your clit lightly and drawing circles over the bone of your hip.

he looked up at you, lips swollen and slick with your release. he placed a kiss on your abdomen with a grin plastered across his cheeks.

his blonde hair stuck to his forehead sweaty and hair disheveled all because of you.

“you did so good,”

your whole body was worn out, your eyes shut ready to pass out but he wasn’t done. he tugged your panties down your legs, keeping them scrunched in his fist.

“i’m not done testing you baby,” he said placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Leon, please,”

he ignored your pleading working himself out of his sweats. you caught a peep of a dark grey splotch in his sweats, either from when he had his knee placed against your heat or his dripping tip.

“get this question right and i’ll fuck you, got it?”

you nodded excitedly, biting down on your bottom lip. you watched his cock spring out and god was he pretty. tip swollen and red, veins running up his girth, thick and long. god, of course, he was big.

“words, baby. i need words.”

“yes, yes, okay!” you snapped at him, very obviously sexually frustrated. he didn’t like your tone so he slapped your clit with the tip of his cock, sending a shock wave through you.

“watch your tone, i don’t have to fuck you, i don’t have to give you a second orgasm,” he grabbed your chin harshly and tugged your head up to face him, “understand?”

“yes,” you croaked out.

he placed a kiss on your lips, letting you get a taste of your juices still on his tongue.

he ran the tip of his cock through your folds, his shoulders tensing up and his hand twisting in his own sheets. it was taking everything in him to be patient.

“how do you find the three quartiles?” he asked, pressing his tip against your fluttering cunt. you opened your mouth to answer but nothing came out but a weak moan. he watched you closely, not breaking any eye contact.

his pupils were blown out, only leaving a halo of his blue irises.

“please,” you croaked out.

“come on baby, you got this.”

you gulped down a lump, getting rid of the dryness in your throat. “the first quartile is the 25th percentile,” you answered weakly.

he pressed his tip into your dripping cunt, hissing at how your pussy was practically ready to suck him in. your breath hitched at the stretch and a tear ran down your temple, he kissed it away, leaning his forehead against yours.

“keep going baby, you got this.”

“the second is the- the median. 50th percentile, the third quartile minus the first,” you rambled, looking up into his eyes as he nodded his head.

“good, good,” he moaned out, giving you just a few more inches of his cock.

“the third one is 75th percentile,”

with your final and last answer, he thrust his cock all the way in, until his tip was kissing your cervix. you sucked in a shaky breath, your thighs shaking as you adjusted to his size. he kept his tip pressed against your cervix, stroking your thigh with his large hand.

“s- so big, fuck,” you whined out, walls fluttering around his girth.

“shh shh, take it. take it.” he whispered close to your lips.

“lower fence versus upper fence, quickly.” he was struggling to stay still, he was torturing both you and himself. you choked back a sob. you could feel his cock pulsing inside of you and god you couldn’t even think.

“lo- lower fence is the first quartile, mmm,” you moaned out.

“come on,”

“first quartile minus one point five times the IQR,”

he sighed out against his lips, grinding his hips into yours earning him a whiny moan from your quivering lips. “one more baby,”

“upper fence is, shit, it’s the third quartile plus one point five times the IQR.”

he was done.

he pulled out and then thrusted straight back in, your whole body convulsed. every tense muscle in your body relaxing the moment he thrusted his cock back into you. he cupped your cheek, bringing your lips to his. he kissed you hungrily, invading your mouth with his tongue, moaning at the taste of you.

his hips continued to snap into yours, bullying his cock into you with no remorse. each thrust of his cock stroked at your g-spot and your body would jolt from the force.

“been waiting to do this forever,” he spoke into your mouth. “fuck, you’re so beautiful,”

you moaned out his name, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to you. his hands reached back towards your top, tugging it over his head and throwing it off the side.

he was quick to cup your breast, slotting your nipple between your two fingers and then slamming his lips against yours. you scratched down his back helplessly, the fresh polish on your nails chipping and blood seeping through the cuts you were giving him.

you couldn’t focus on anything else but him, not only did you really like him but he was also fucking you so good. his pace was perfect, his touch was intoxicating and his lips were hot.

there was a ring of white forming around the base of his cock, lewd noises spilled from both of your lips as you both found yourselves inching closer and closer to your highs.

your kiss grew sloppy and his pace quickened, “this pussy ’s so good, fuck,” he groaned out, moving the hand from your breast towards your clit.

your whole body shook once his two fingers began to draw figure eights around your clit. the slow pace of his fingers contrasting with the fast pace of his thrusts.

“god, look at you,” he breathed out, “all fucked out on your tutor's cock, huh?”

you couldn’t reply, only croaking out a moan of his name.

“fucking whore, came here for math help now look at you,”

his words only added to the tension in your abdomen, the burn in your stomach getting hotter and hotter.

“i’m gonna cum,”

“go ‘head baby, cum all over my cock,” he said, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips.

you whined out, chasing his lips for another kiss but he denied you with a shake of his head.

“i wanna hear you,”

you looked into his eyes, seeing a reflection of yourself in his glossy eyes. mascara smudges, lipgloss gone, hair a mess. all because of him.

“fuck!” you moaned out, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your head back. he was quick to guide your head to face him, he kept his eyes locked on yours watching your pupils dilate as you came undone.

your walls fluttered around his cock, clenching down as your orgasm hit you like a heavy wave. he pulled out quickly, finishing himself off with heavy and breathy moans.

you watched as he came. thick, white ropes of cum decorating your stomach and abdomen. his abs tensed up with each spurt of cum and his hips still bucked up.

he let out a final breath into the crook of your neck. both of your bodies shook against each other, hot, sticky with sweat and cum.

he leaned up out of the crook of your neck looking into your eyes and you watched as they gleamed, such a rare light in his eyes but you were glad you were able to see it.

he pressed his lips to yours, this time it was slow and deep. there wasn’t any hunger or lust, just pure passion.

“i’m sure you won’t fail that test,”

(divider creds to @saradika ,, photos off of pinterest & photo of leon from @/laughingwallaby on twitter)

notes: if you wanna be on my tag list pls message me hehe! or fill out the form below (just to make it easier on me :D)

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[godslino]

MIGRATION | bang chan first date series. strangers to lovers.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader word count: 5.5k genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3

“So…I know a guy.”

You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.

“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.

Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.

You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.

Long story short, it didn’t.

Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.

“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.

“And what would you know about that?”

“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”

This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.

“At least let me tell you about him?”

“No.”

“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”

Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.

“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”

A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.

Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.

Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.

“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.

And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.

But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.

“What’s his name?”

Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”

“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”

He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”

“Five.”

“��tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”

“Four.”

“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”

“Three.”

“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”

Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.

“You swear this guy is normal?”

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”

“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”

“No.”

“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”

“What the fuck? I just said no.”

“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”

“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.

“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”

Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.

“Deal.”

🎥🍿

Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.

You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.

When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.

Chan [12:32p.m.]

Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?

Something came up at the studio

I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time

Great. Already off to a rough start.

In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.

You [2:33p.m.]

no worries!!!

you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?

Chan [2:34p.m.]

Nope! So we should be fine

I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?

You [2:36p.m.]

sounds perfect

hope stuff goes well at the studio!!

Chan [2:40p.m.]

You’re sweet

Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)

You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.

Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.

To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.

It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.

The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.

You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.

You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.

Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.

You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.

He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.

He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”

It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.

“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.

“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”

You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.

“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”

Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.

Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.

🎥🍿

Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.

You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.

When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.

“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”

“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.

Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.

Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.

You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.

Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.

By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.

The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.

There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—

“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”

The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.

Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.

“Yup, that’s the one.”

Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.

“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”

You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”

“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.

“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”

Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.

“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”

First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.

Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.

“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.

“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”

You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”

When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”

Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.

The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.

“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.

“Doing what?”

“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”

Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.

There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.

Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.

Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.

About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.

“You okay? You look kind of tired.”

Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”

“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”

The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.

Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.

You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.

He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.

You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”

“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”

🎥🍿

“For you.”

Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.

“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.

After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.

“Oh, you don’t—”

“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”

Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”

You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”

It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.

The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.

“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”

Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.

“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”

Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.

Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.

“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.

“You don’t know me enough to say that.”

“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”

A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.

“You’re…”

“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.

“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”

You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”

“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.

“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not? I think you like it.”

Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.

“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.

“Is it bad if I say no?”

Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.

“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”

A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.

It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.

You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.

“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”

“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”

Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.

“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.

“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.

“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[buckysbabygorl]

Say It

Summary: Bucky hates you and the feeling is mutual. It didn’t matter if he was attractive, or heroic, he was a grade A pain in your ass. The petty insults and the constant staring. It unnerved you. But you know how to get under his skin….

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, enemies to lovers, swearing, gun use (no violence), begging, dom/brat dynamics

Sergeant Barnes was nothing more to Y/N than a nuisance.

He was always giving Y/N shit. At the compound, on the streets, during missions. He just never let up.

She did her best to avoid him, as being in the same room as him always brought out her worst.

He made her feel snippy and childish, resorting to constant defenses and quick retorts that left her with her head spinning afterwards.

It always felt like he got the final word, the last laugh, and it drove her crazy.

But with all his insults he dealt out, she had one solid retort. The one thing that could get under his skin… his army title.

Sergeant.

She wasn’t sure why, but nothing else phased him.

For him, it was the way she phrased it. Laced with disdain and contempt, throwing his authority back in his face.

His title be damned, she didn’t care. He may have been an authority figure in the army but he was by no means her superior. They were equals on the field and she made sure to remind him of that every chance he got.

She never called him by anything else, other than a few nicknames like asshole, dick, etc.

Never Barnes, never Bucky, never James.

Just sergeant.

And today was no exception.

Barnes and Y/N had both failed their firearms tests, or rather, neither had shown for their scheduled tests due to an emergency mission. Both were extremely skilled in their previous tests, but without passing the second time, neither of them would be reinstated as agents.

Not wanting to take any chances, Fury mandated bi-weekly training for the two. Why they had to train at the range at the same time, was beyond them.

“Your stance is off.”

Y/N huffed, glancing at Barnes out of the corner of her eye.

He stood to the side, arms crossed over his vest, gaze piercing under neath his protective glasses.

“Noted,” she chided, “Though your input wasn’t asked for, it’s noted.”

He chuckled, “Just trying to help. Wouldn’t want to fail your second time, would you?”

She reminded herself to unclench her jaw, nearly shattering her teeth in annoyance.

“I didn’t fail. I missed it. Same as you did.”

She sturdied herself, aiming for her target at the far end of the range.

She calmed herself, breathing in and out. In… and out… in—

“You’re gonna miss if you keep that stance.”

She growled, “Will you shut up and just let me shoot?”

“You need all the tips you can get, kid. No need to get hostile.”

A nickname she loathed, kid. He was always throwing it up in conversation, even when addressing her to other people. His constant reminder of how “young and inexperienced” she was.

“If you don’t stop talking, I’ll show you hostile.”

He stalked closer, leaning against the firing stall wall.

“Considering that you’re so inexperienced with a weapon, I don’t feel all that threatened.”

She disarmed her rifle and rested it, turning to face him.

“Right, right.” She said, “I have no experience with weapons. If only I had as much experience as you, tell me another fucking war story while you’re at it Sergeant.”

His face lost its smirk, dark blue eyes now glaring at her.

“You should show me some respect.”

She laughed, turning away from him.

“I should show you nothing, I don’t owe you anything.”

She picked up her rifle again, rearming it and getting set to shoot. She could feel his eyes boring into the side of her head. Her face grew hot, a trickle of sweat slipped down her temple.

Just breathe. Be steady, be certain. Fingers on the trigger, get ready…

“You gonna wait all day?”

That was it.

7 shots fired from the barrel, fast and paced with perfect precision.

7 holes left in the target’s chest, all she needed to pass.

She would be ready for upcoming test.

She disarmed her rifle once more, removing her tactical gloves and tossing them to the table.

“Anything else you care to say?” She asked.

His eyes had never left her form, and he smiled.

“Lucky shots.” He replied, “Hopefully they don’t clock your form on Friday.”

“Fuck you.”

She moved to walk passed him, her arm colliding with his shoulder.

He grabbed her wrist and whipped her back to the stall.

“Don’t talk to me like that. Be quiet and stand here.”

His hands gripped her hips hard, and he spread apart her legs with his. His stubble scraped her cheek, his breath hot on her ear.

He moved her as he spoke, his hands harsh and controlling. “Face the target squarely, feet shoulder width apart. Toes should face the fucking target flex your knees—”

His hips bucked against hers, “Lean forward towards the target. That’s how you take a fucking shot.”

He was breathing hard against her neck, his heart ramming against his chest. She hoped he couldn’t hear hers ramming too.

“That’s isosceles. I prefer the goddamn weaver stance.”

He didn’t move, and neither did she.

“Yeah?” He uttered, “You do that and you expose an area. Right here—”

His large hand wrapped around her torso, nearly encompassing her side.

“—that’s open from your armor. You get shot there, you die.”

She shoved him off of her, whipping around to face him.

“What difference does it make? They’re both accepted stances by the government’s protocol.”

“If you don’t give a fuck about your survival chances then why give a fuck about your test at all? Your stance matters.”

She stepped to him, her face inches from his.

“I give a fuck about my survival chances. Just because I don’t like your old school, traditional bullshit stance, doesn’t mean I don’t give a fuck about my test.”

“You refuse to take any criticism about your skills, it’s gonna get you killed.”

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Their chests heaved in unison, their eyes wild as they dared to look at one another.

“Then you wouldn’t have to deal with the hot-shot rookie that knows more than you, that could replace you in a heart beat.”

Discarding his eyewear, he scoffed in her face. As he stalked forward, her back inched towards the opposite stall wall.

“You think you’re so much better than me, than everybody on this team. You couldn’t replace me, I’m one of the strongest and most experienced members on this team. You’re nothing but an entitled brat with your head in your ass. I can do more than you could possibly imagine.”

Things were turning dangerous. She hated that he insulted her age, she hated that he called her inexperienced, she hated that he was constantly fucking with her head. She hated that he looked so fucking hot when he was this angry, standing right in front of her.

“Oh yeah?”

She grabbed the tactical gloves and shoved them into his chest.

“Then why don’t you show me how it’s done—”

He watched as her lips snarled, hand pressed against his chest.

Don’t say it. Don’t you fucking say it.

She smirked.

“Sergeant.”

His hands flew up so fast.

Gloves fallen to the floor, her hands were pinned to the wall.

He pushed her up with his hips, body taut against her.

Her eyes were blown wide, lip dropping in awe.

“Say it again. I dare you.” He growled through gritted teeth, noses touching.

She urged her body not to tremble at his grasp, heat pooling in her abdomen.

He was testing her. Playing some twisted mind game. He wouldn’t hurt her, he wanted to see if she backed down. She wouldn’t.

“Sergeant.”

Blue eyes turned black.

His mouth was hard on hers, fingers digging desperately in her wrists. He pressed his hips forward, pushing his hardness into her clothed core.

She gasped into his lips and he took the chance to battle with her tongue. He ground himself against her again.

He pulled away, taking in her shocked gaze.

“You wanna mouth off to me? Give me attitude?”

He ducked his head into her neck and she shuttered. His hips continued their bucking.

“No respect… I’ll teach you how to behave.”

Her head was spinning, thoughts running wild from the man in front of her. All this hatred, all this fighting, now his hands were releasing hers and stripping off her vest.

Her hands were free now, why wasn’t she pushing him away?

She grabbed his shoulders to stable herself, watching as his hand dipped into her waistband. The other gripped the underside of her ass, keeping her clothed pussy right against his hardening cock.

He laughed to himself, “Is this you showing me hostile? Look at you now, nothing to say.”

She stifled a moan as his fingers drifted across her panties.

“Barnes, I—”

He awed, “There it is. No ‘sergeant’ this time, huh kid?”

He rubbed at her clit through the fabric, watching as she struggled to keep her composure.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, and he hissed.

“Don’t call me that.”

He leaned in to her neck, fingers shifting her panties to the side.

His voice vibrated against her throat.

“You don’t like it? Be good and I’ll call you something else.”

She gasped as his fingers entered her, strong and purposeful.

He groaned at her wetness, licking the skin at the base of her neck.

Her legs clenched around his waist, he rewarded her with another finger.

“If I’d known fucking you would have shut you up, I would’ve done it sooner.”

She swallowed a sigh as his fingers pressed against that perfect spot.

“You aren’t fucking me. You’re teasing me.”

He bit her neck and she gasped again.

“Be patient sweetheart, I’ll fuck you soon enough.”

As his thumb circled her clit while his fingers pumped into her, her eyes rolled back. Head drawn back, she couldn’t help but moan.

Bucky hummed as he fucked her with his fingers, “You like that?”

She bit her lip as he continued his teasing, his face moving away from her neck.

He leaned back and grinned, “Is that what you want? Me calling you sweetheart while I fuck you?”

“I—”

Her moan interrupted her as he picked up his pace.

He tsked as he rested his forehead against hers.

“Use your words. You wanted to before.”

She whimpered as he withdrew from her, angry with herself for giving into him as much as she had. She couldn’t let him win like this, she had to bite back a little.

“No,” she huffed, “Try something else to turn me on.”

He smirked at the challenge, and his hands dipped back into her waistband.

She wasn’t prepared for him sliding her pants to the floor, hiking her up further onto the wall.

“Fine,” he said, “but you’ll have to ask nicely.”

He was as soft as before, his fingers moving at a harsher pace. The newfound angle left her crying out, desperately clawing at his arms in pleasure.

“What do you think, huh? Maybe baby?”

He dipped his head to her chest, sucking at the delicate skin.

He didn’t need to watch her to know what she liked, he could feel it in her body. The beating of her heart and the rapid breaths she gave as he pulled her closer and closer to her peak.

“Princess?” He drawled, “No, no…”

He curled his fingers, pulling another whimper.

“How about Angel?”

She clenched around his fingers and gasped as he bit into her breast.

“Oh god—.”

“Ask me nicely, Y/N.”

Her back arched against the stall, eyes closed as he edged her.

“Fuck, yes. Yes Barnes, yes.”

She cried out as he drew her orgasm from her, hips rutting into his hand.

He groaned as she coated him with her wetness, the mewing mess he had made of her.

This was so much better than training.

“I knew I’d get you begging. I fucking knew you’d be good for me.”

He pulled her away from the wall, and she stumbled into his arms. Her eyes were glossy, hair tussled and lips swollen. All from him, all his doing. Pride welled in his chest, but he wasn’t done yet.

He spun her around, leaning her against the table that faced the targets.

“Remember what I told you Angel. Feet apart, bend forward.”

He pushed her chest down to the table, hands raking over her backside.

She growled, “I don’t need another damn shooting lesson.”

Her ass stung as his hand spanked her.

“What happened to being good, kid?”

She propped herself up on her elbows, “I said, don’t call me that—ah!”

He smacked her ass again, “That fucking mouth again. Why don’t you put it to good use?”

She sighed as he pushed her down to the table again, “What? You want me to suck you off, that it?”

He chuckled, “No Angel, I’ve got something else in mind.”

His hands swiftly removed his belt, slipping down his pants and boxers to leave him in nothing but his vest and t-shirt.

Pulling out his cock, he teased her entrance. Slowly sliding his head along her glistening folds, listening as she moaned in anticipation.

“You’re gonna say my name.”

He dipped his throbbing head in, feeling her legs tense… her pussy clench around nothing.

He pulled back and she exhaled.

“You’re gonna beg me, and you’re gonna say my name.”

She attempted to rut back against him, desperately hoping she’d take him in.

She couldn’t say his name, she couldn’t beg. She’d never live that down.

His metal hand held her in place, not letting up.

“Say it Angel,” he demanded, “Beg me to fuck you.”

“Screw you Barnes—”

His thumb was harsh on her clit, and she yelped at the rough circles he drew into her.

“I’ll leave you here, a wet fucking mess. Don’t test me, Y/N. Say it.”

“Fuck,” she cried out as he teased her with his fingers. “Fine I—”

He put the head of his cock in again, stretching her entrance.

“Bucky, please.”

He hummed, “Better. But not what I want.”

She felt herself grow cold in her exposure, Bucky pulling away and hand leaving her side.

She whipped around, “What? I said it!”

He smirked at her, shaking his head.

“First name, Angel. And beg.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

He could see it in her eyes, how desperate she was. Yearning for more, but so damn proud.

“Just say it, Angel. All you have to do.”

She hissed through her teeth, so touch starved she could cry. This would be the death of her, her legs shaking and wetness pooling at her thighs. Fuck, she had to.

“For god’s sake James, please just fuck me.”

He strode forward with ease, pushing her back onto the table.

He knew she’d give.

“That’s my girl.”

Her hips were around his waist in a second, hands in her hair and kissing her roughly as she moaned beneath him.

He bucked his hips against hers, sliding his cock along her dripping entrance.

He lined himself up and thrust into her, her head rolling back in a loud cry.

He groaned as he filled her up, her pussy tight around him.

“Fuck, you feel perfect.”

He rutted into her at a relentless pace, unforgiving as his hands gripped her waist.

“So good, Angel. Could fuck you forever with a pussy like this.”

Her fingers curled into his hair, gripping tightly as he pounded her harder against the table.

“You want that? You want me to fuck you over and over? ‘Til you can’t say nothing but my name?”

She exhaled a yes, mind too clouded from pleasure to stop herself. She was melting in his hands now, completely at his whim.

“Say it Angel, say my name.”

She was going to cum again, her vision growing blurry as it pooled in her stomach.

“James, oh god, James!”

She came hard, the lights blinding her as her orgasm took over her body.

His thrusts grew harder, determined to keep her cumming until he finished.

“That’s it Angel, cum for me. So fucking pretty when you cum.”

His hips stuttered as she looked at him, a moaning mess with her pleading eyes.

“Cum inside me James, please.”

He was done for.

He finished with a groan, body falling limp against her. Their chests rose and fell in unison, their breaths filling the quiet room.

It was dawning on them now, the wild scenario that had played itself out.

How did they get here?

Too tired to question it, Bucky lifted himself off of her.

He gently wrapped his hands around her waist, guiding her to sit up.

Silent, they look at each other.

Their faces were unreadable, dripping with sweat and cheeks swelled with red.

She tried to discern that look in his eyes, she never knew what he was thinking.

Unless he was right in her face, snarling at her, then she knew what he felt.

Anger, frustration, hatred.

This look… now that was something new.

He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“Okay…” he started, “no more ‘kid’ and no more ‘sergeant’.”

She swallowed, not trusting her voice she responded with a nod.

He nodded back. “No more fighting. It’s exhausting.”

She was taken aback that, and he laughed at the look of shock on her face.

“C’mon. It is.” He pointed between them, “Our energy is much better spent on this.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Wow, just like that?”

He nodded. “Mhm, just like that. You drive me crazy but, I can’t say I haven’t been thinking about this since the day we met.”

Speechless again, she stared at him as he continued.

“You’re frustrating, you make me worried, you—hell you’re reckless and it scares me. Feels like I have to keep an eye on you all the time.”

“You are frustrating. You don’t trust me to take care of myself or the team.” She said

He shook his head, “Not true. You’re a great agent, but I meant what I said. You don’t take criticism.”

She scoffed, “And you criticize too much.”

Still shocked at the events prior, she didn’t shove him away as he moved to hold her.

She shocked herself further by wrapping her arms lazily around him.

“Well,” he said, kissing the top of her head, “we’ll work on that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sloppily written but hey, we get what we get and don’t get upset.

Taglist:

@pigeonmama

@dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable

@dumb-ass-3

@cuddlycalcifer @babyblue-07 @babybluereads @lonewolf471 @niiight-dreamerrrr @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms @rebekahdawkins @gentlybarnes

Bucky tag list:

@emmabarnes

[ncttytrack]

Valedictorian - l.hs (m)

He never knew that the nerdy-virgin thing you had going on would turn him on, but maybe it did. And he needed to do something about it. 

☆ Summary: Heeseung is your sworn enemy and you hate everything about him. You hate how he looks, you hate the fact that he gets better grades than you, and you hate the way he makes you cry. The problem however, is that you are his favorite plaything, and he couldn't get enough of you.

☆ Genre: Academicrival!Heeseung, Badboy!Heeseung, nerdy!reader, virgin!reader, SMUT

☆ Words: 5,2k+

☆ Warnings: Dacryphilia, a looot of crying, Dom!Heeseung, Sub!Reader, Manipulation, Heeseung is super mean, degradation (praising in the end though), chocking

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ───

You had always been at the top of your class, getting straight A’s throughout all of high school. You didn’t care that you never went to parties, never talked to boys, or the fact that everyone calls you ‘teachers pet’ behind your back. It’s you who are going to have the bright future you have always dreamt of, and not them. And, if you are at the top of your class at the end of high school, the valedictorian title would be yours, and the dream of attending a top university would be achieved. But it was one person that was ruining everything for you. 

Lee Heeseung. Even his name makes your blood boil. Lee Heeseung. Leeee. Heeeeseung. Urgh. He wasn’t always there, and oh you wish you could turn back time to freshman year when he wasn’t present in your life. When you first saw him, you didn’t think he was much more than a low-lifer like your other classmates. Black hair, eyeliner, tight black clothing? Ah so an emo then, probably too depressed to be good at school, spending all day rutting in his room listening to mcr. Or he was maybe a bad boy, spending all his weekends on parties and fucking girls without even knowing their name.

But you were so wrong.

You clearly remember the day when you realized Heeseung might even be smarter than you, which was also the first day you talked to him. You had just got back the result from a massive math test, and of course you got an A. You triumphantly look at your score, 96/100, not bad - you thought, could definitely be better, but surely no one else got as high of a score as you did. That’s what you thought until you squinted at Heeseungs table beside yours. 

Down on his desk you saw his exam paper, and you could not believe your eyes. To make sure you saw right, you adjusted your thick glasses. 100/100. What? How is that even possible? Was Heeseung a nerd?

Not realizing that your stare caught his eye, you get surprised when his voice interrupts your thoughts. “Jealous? People have told me a lot about you.” Wtf? You get startled by his dark voice, looking up at Heeseungs dark orbs with an irritated expression. You observe him. His body is tilted back against his chair, legs spread wide - as if he wants to show off his dominance. His ripped jeans and the shirt he was wearing was both black, which is the color he always wears. His black hair was peeking out from the same coloured bennie, and his ear was covered with silver piercings. You hate the fact that his bad-boy-emo persona makes your heart skip a quick beat. He is so annoyingly good looking that it hurts, hurts even more now that you know he is a smart asshole. 

“What the fuck did you say”, you say, trying to sound intimidating even while wearing your thick nerdy glasses. People have told things about me? What? His lips turn into a smirk, and with his elbow on the table in front of him, he leans his head down on his hand. His eyes look at you up and down to take in your appearance. You are wearing a neatly ironed shirt, paired with a pastel yellow thick sweater and a pleated skirt just above the knees. The skirt looks way too big for you, and way too long. How old were you, fifty? The tights that you were wearing were thick, making anyone unable to see your skin through the fabric, and your hair was far from styled - messy, as if you just woke up. Probably were up all night studying for the test he aced. You looked like a nerdy-virgin (which you were), and he couldn’t help but to imagine what you would look like under all that clothing. 

“Well, that you were supposed to be this wannabe smart-ass, and annoying, really…” Oh so he is not just a nerd, but also an asshole. In frustration you turn your whole body facing him, before standing up so you can look down on him - getting the upper hand. With a hand on your hip and another on your glasses, you really do look like a smart-ass. “So, what? Are you saying I'm not smart?” He chuckles at your attempt in challenging him and stands up, looking down at you. He tilts his head and pouts his lips at you. Fuck he is tall. Embarrassingly, you look down at your feet and begin to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. No boy has never been this close to you, especially someone like him, someone bad. 

“Maybe you are, but you are nothing compared to me, bunny”. Bunny. Ah hell nah. You quickly look up at him again with furrowed brows, oozing with anger. Did he just use a pet name on you? How dare he look down at you like this, and how dare he try to flirt with you. “Please, everyone knows that I am going to be valedictorian, dick” You say and cross your arms in front of your chest, puffing out air and looking to the side to avoid his gaze. What you don’t know however, is how your arms in front of your chest pushes your boobs up, making Heeseung able to look down your shirt. “Let’s see who gets that title, Sweetheart.” He bites his lips to hide the laugh he lets out, enjoying the state you are in right now. “By the way, cute bra. I love the color blue” he says and walks out of the classroom leaving you speechless. You look down. Fuck. You didn’t know that one of the buttons had opened up when you crossed your arms. You will never wear stupid this bra again.

This was just the beginning, and during the last years of high school Heeseung could not stop bothering you. And as the times passed, the hatred for Heeseung increased. The way he looked at you teasingly when you got something wrong in class makes you want to vomit, the way he would brag when he got a better grade, makes you want to punch him hard right in his face and the way he was watching you throughout class, making it impossible to concentrate, makes you want to scream in his face.

But that was not even the worst thing about him. He knew he was hot, and he knew that you thought so too. Therefore, at least once a day he would embarrass you, torment you, flirt with you. How could someone be this bad, this sinful disturbing a girl like you. He would always sit beside you in every class, even though you protested him not to. Occasionally you would feel his hand on your thigh sliding up and down, making you shiver. You would always immediately slap his hand away, ignoring him throughout the day. What was his deal? 

Another day you remember clearly, exactly a year after first talking to Heeseung. You were starting to get used by his daily torment, almost getting immune from his mean comments. I guess he wanted to step it up a notch, and decided to do it during a presentation in English. You were as prepared as you could be, wearing a neatly ironed blazer and a hair up in a ponytail to look professional during your speech. Your speech cards were decorated with blue paper, perfectly organized in order for you to ace the speech in front of your classmates. 

The teacher called up your name, you got to the front, and started talking. You were good, so good, and you could see the anticipation throughout the class. Your flow was on point, not showing a single sign of nervousness. That was until you met Heeseungs gaze in the back of the classroom. Heeseung hated to see you succeed, including this geeky english speech. He was even more annoyed when he saw what you were wearing. Again with the try-hard-good-girl clothing. The blazer? Too big. And could you not let your hair out for a single day? Nonetheless, he got bored doing nothing but listening to your nonsense, his speech was better anyways, but he couldn’t let you go away unbothered. 

With his legs wide apart, and a hand on his thigh he looked at you, smirking - licking his lips even. You begin to stutter with your words, losing the confidence you built up for the presentation over the last four days. You couldn’t look away, and continued to watch Heeseung grace his veiny hand up and down his leg. Everyone else noticed that there was something up with you - the top student stuttering during a graded speech? Still, you continued - and tried to calm yourself down, until you met his eyes once again. Now, he was sending you a wink, while biting his lips. You unwillingly let out a surprised gasp, his actions making you drop all your cards on the floor. In panic, you quickly let out a weak “sorry..”, before dropping down on your knees, picking up all the cards. 

The teacher looked at you concerned, “Are you sure you don’t want to do the speech again?” You looked down on your feet, too scared to look up knowing who is watching you. “No, it’s okay”, you say before storming out of the classroom. While you do so, you look back to see a laughing Heeseung.

Since then Heeseung could never stop bother you, he loved to see you so worked up. He loved the face you would make when seeing his result on a test, he loved how irritated you became when he talked loudly with his friends about how much better he was than you. But he also loved how quiet you would be when teasing you. Seeing your flushed face when being touchy, stuttering when he lowered his face towards your neck to whisper something in your ear, only for him to say how much of a loser you were - making you punch him away. He never knew that the nerdy-virgin thing you had going on would turn him on, but maybe it did. And he needed to do something about it. 

“Man, why are you always staring at her? Give her a break” Jake says, looking at Heeseung. He was sitting at a table eating lunch in the cafeteria with his closest friends. He had known all of them throughout high school, and they were even close now in senior year. They also knew his obsession with teasing, as Heesung himself likes to call you, his ‘loser classmate’. He looked at you, you were sitting alone reading a book - as always, eating a sandwich your mom probably made. You were wearing the same ugly skirt you always wore, with a blouse that was way too big. The thick glasses that were helping you read your boring history book, were resting low on your nose bridge. Sensing that someone was watching you, you looked up only to see Lee Heeseung staring at you. Urgh, Why does he always do this? He smirks when you look at him, biting his lips to make you nervous. As irritated it makes you - it works, making you look down at your History book you were reading for the massive test later the same week. 

Heeseung lets out a chuckle when Sunghoon punches his arm. “You sure love to tease her, why do you even do that anyways”. Heeseung looks at him and cocks an eyebrow, as if the answer to his question isn’t obvious. How can you resist making fun of something like that? “Because she is a loser, and the way she acts when I tease her is way too enjoyable for me to stop?” He says and takes a sip out of the cola in front of him, still staring at you. “Hmm, I don’t know Heeseung. Maybe she has a freaky side, all nerds do” Jay says and turns around to look back at you. Jay also staring at you is too much for you to bear, so you quickly gather your things and leave, looking back at Heeseungs table. That was when Heeseung got an idea, something that would sure really rile you up. 

“Of course she has a freaky side, Jay. Haven’t you heard?” He says and looks at the others. With wide eyes the boys look at each other, shaking their heads. “No, bro, what do you mean? '' Jake says with a curious expression, always a sucker for some high school gossip. Heesung signals them to lean in so he could whisper, and they do. “Last week y/n got a B on a super important math test - oh you should’ve seen her face, and because she was so desperate to get an A, she gave Mr.Park a blow job after the lesson in his office.” He lied, of course. He knew that you got an A from that test and would never suck off a teacher. But he can just imagine the look on your face when you find out about the nasty rumor. His friends let out a big gasp at his words, not believing that the school's good girl did something like that to get a better grade. “ No way dude, you are lying”, Jay says and punches Heeseungs chest. Heeseung brings his hands in front of his chest to defend himself. “No, trust me! I saw everything.” 

The rumor spread like wildfire, and It didn’t take long before everyone knew about it, including you. You already knew who would come up with something like this, and that’s why you are running towards the library to find him. He may have made everyone in school think that you went down on your teacher for a better grade, but oh but you were not going down without a fight. You hurriedly run down the hall towards the library.

With tears embarrassingly streaming down your face, you run up to Heeseung and his friends in the library. He looks up at you with a cocky expression, laughing when he sees your tears behind your thick glasses. He looks at Jake, “Do you see her? The way she cries? So embarrassing” You are now standing right infront of him. He continues, “What do you want? Do you want to suck me off too, bunny?” You swallow down your saliva, gaining courage to look deep into his eyes. “Stand up Heeseung” You say, your hands formed in fists. He looks around at his friends, laughing, before standing up crossing his arms in front of his chest. Heeseung looks down at you. You are wearing the same thing you wore the first day he talked to you, although now the sleeves on your shirt is wet from wiping your tears. Your face is red and puffy from crying, and small parts of your mascara are now under your eyes. He towered over you, making you feel small and fragile. But that was not going to stop you from standing up to yourself though.

“Why did you spread a rumor about me sucking off Mr.Park for a better grade?” You say, still looking at Heeseung. He lets out a chuckle and tilts his head to the side. He walks up to you, getting closer with any second. “Who said that was a rumor? What I know is that you went down on your fragile little knees and wrapped your dirty little mouth around Mr.Parks cock. I heard you were good too, really knowing how to use that soft tongue, and here I thought you were a virgin. Maybe you want to show me how you did it? Of coarse if you are even able to fit my massive cock in your mouth” 

Oh he was sooo dead. “What the fuck did you say to me?!” You scream at him, punching him in his stomach. He lets out a grunt from the pain. Right after, he grabs your wrist and lifts it up - almost making your feet leave the ground. You breath hitched, surprised by his sudden movement. His face is close to yours, making you feel his hot breath on your face. “Did you just fucking punch me?” If you thought Heeseung was scarry before, it was nothing compared to now. You immediately regretted punching him. Before the conflict could escalate any further, a teacher stormed into the library and separated both of you. “What is going on here? Y/n I thought higher of you, and Heeseung, why are you threatening another student! Detention, after school, both of you!” She says and storms away.

Detention. No way. You look up at Heeseung with tears in your eyes. “This is your fucking fault.” He only looks at you with a smirk on his face. “Let’s settle this in detention sweetheart” 

You were already crying when you walked to detention. You hate Heeseung. Hate the fact that he is so smart, even getting better results than you - probably making him earn the valedictorian title instead of you. You hate the way he looks. How can someone be so smart and look like that? Dressed in all black, eyes coated with black eyeliner, hair covered in a dirty beanie, his stupid piercing that made him look like a bad boy, stupid combat boots that would echo the halls when he stomped his feet on the ground, how stupid you felt for thinking he was hot, stupid, stupid, stupid! 

The classroom is completely quiet, the only people in detention being you, Heeseung and the teacher guarding you. You had brought your history book, still studying for the same history test - at least you were productive to keep your grades up. But still, this bothered you. Of course it was only you Heeseung in detention, wouldn't it be other students too? At least then you wouldn’t have to be alone with him. As if the devil heard you complain, the teacher suddenly stood up from her chair. “I’m just going down for a coffee break, don’t do anything stupid - I’ll be back in twenty minutes” She says and walks out, slamming the door after her. The classroom was at first completely quiet, before someone spoke up. 

“Twenty minutes?" That is a looong time”. You look besides you at Heeseung from across the classroom. His body is facing you and his hand is on his thigh, creeping up closer to his cock, the same way he did during your speech that one time. You were already weak, unable to look away from the thing you swore you hate. His tight ripped jeans hugging his thighs perfectly makes your mouth water, but the way he looks at you makes you want to run away. Stop it y/n! He is doing this on purpose! You were already trembling, your feet bouncing against the floor while biting your nails anxiously. You tried to read your book, tried to concentrate on the French revolution you were supposed to have a test on, but Heeseungs gaze was - something. 

Heeseung stands up from his chair, walking towards you until he is right beside you. You glance at him behind your glasses, still trying to concentrate on your studies, trying to ignore the weird feeling in your stomach. You really are a loser, only his presence makes you want to cry. “Look at me, bunny” He says and licks his lips. Oh, he loves this. Loves how he can see your bottom lip tremble. You didn’t look at him however, still reading your book. 

Irritated, he pokes the inside off his cheek with his tongue, and lets out a sigh before grabbing your chin, almost lifting up your entire body using his strength. The chair you were sitting on falls to the ground from his movement. Tears are already forming in your eyes, before sliding down your cheeks. Why is he so scary? “I said look at me? What is it in that demand that you don’t understand, sweetheart?” He says and backs you up, still holding your chin, making you sit on the desk behind you. You bite your lips trying to muffle your cries, but it was no use, Heeseung could still see how scared you were from your tears. “T-this is unfair!” you try to let out between hiccups, your thighs clenching together from being this close to your sworn enemy. Being this close to him, you are able to smell him - a mix of mens perfume and sweat filling up your nostrils. 

Heeseung looks down on you with furrowed eyebrows, he slides his thumb across your swollen lips. Damn you cry all the time, is it this easy to make you upset? “What is unfair, baby?” He says, trying to sound sweet, even though he is forcing you in this position, the thumb leaving your lip so he can wrap his hand around your neck. You let out a yelp, which makes him chuckle. Through sobs you try to let out an answer. “It’s unfair how much I've fought to be at the top of my class, only for you to barge in and be better than me. Not only that but you're so mean to me, using your strength to force me like this” 

First, he doesn’t answer, suddenly putting his hand on your thigh to spread them apart. You don’t even try to fight back anymore, lost in the way he looks at you. Heeseung grabs the end of your long skirt, and pushes it up to your thighs. “Mhm, using my strength to force you? Am I forcing you baby?” He says and bites his lips, his hand still playing with the hem of your ugly rolled up skirt. He tilts his head, and the hand leaves the front of your neck to pull out the ponytail you were wearing, letting your hair down. “I know how you look at me. Probably loving the idea of a bad-boy fucking the nerdy good girl up, making you sweat, making you tremble with my touch” The hand leaves your head and wraps around your neck again but from the back. His other hand is closing up towards your inner thigh, and the closer he gets to your core - the heavier your breathing gets. 

“That’s not true, I could never find someone as irritating, mean, annoying as you attractive. Even though your tal frame, your strength, and your black silhouette would make any other girl fall, I’m not like the others” He chuckles at your statement, you just exposed yourself by the way you described him. Suddenly, he leans down towards your neck, giving you kisses with his soft lips. The sudden contact, that you had never experienced before, makes you bring up your hands to Heeseungs chest to grab his shirt, trying to push him away. But he is too strong, and your grip loosens when you feel his other hand just above your core. 

You unwillingly let out a moan at the feeling. What is going on? “Oh, are you not? So you don’t like it when I touch you like this?” He says, pressing his fingers harder down against your clit, making your back arch. The humiliation is too much, and your entire face is wet from the crying. You hate how weak he makes you feel, and how much you know he can do to you, and how much you would let him. Your glasses are getting foggy, making Heeseung chuckle, before taking them off. The sight of your teary eyes without your glasses makes his cock twitch. “Aw, baby, don’t cry. I’m going to take care of you, bunny” 

You pathetically nod your head, before letting out a high-pitched moan at the feeling of his finger on your clit, making soft circles through the fabric. Only this could bring you over the edge, this being the first time someone touched you. Heeseung let out a chuckle when seeing how desperate you were, making him want to push you even further. Therefore, he stopped touching your clit to pull off your thighs under your skirt. “No- stop!” You say, trying to push him away for the last time, even though you secretly want him to continue. You can’t let someone like him touch you like this, your reputation would be ruined. 

“What baby, you want me to stop?” He says, while pulling off your panties and letting his finger come in contact with your bare skin. You don’t answer, too busy letting out sweet moans from his touch. God he was good at this. Your hand leaves his chest, and grabs his shoulders to keep yourself from falling back out of pleasure. Heeseungs other hand begins to button up your blouse, laughing when he sees the same blue bra you were wearing at your first encounter. 

“If you want me to continue, you have to actually beg for it bunny” Heeseung says, laughing in your face at the whine you let out when he stops touching your clit. Desperate to feel pleasure, desperate for his touch, desperate for him, you unwillingly get down on your knees in front of him. Heeseung gets surprised by this, thinking you would never do what he says. 

Through ugly cries, tears running down your cheeks in desperation, you clasp your hands together in front of your chest and look up at the man in front of you. Because of your open blouse, the tears from your eyes run down your neck, between your boobs, something that Heeseung can’t keep his eyes away from. He always adored your cries, definitely if it came because of him, definitely if it made you look like this. “Please Heeseung, please”

You sure knew how to beg like a bitch.  

“Don’t worry bunny, I’m going to take care of my nerd real good” He grabs the back of your hair and pulls you up to your feet- earning a loud whine from the pain you feel in your scalp. He flips you around so your back is against his chest and punches you down on the wooden desk, while throwing away your history book with his other hand. You let out a pathetic cough from the hard impact from the fall, feeling the air being pushed out from your chest. Knowing he does not have a lot of time to fuck you, Heeseung quickly wraps the hem of your skirt, dragging it down to your ankles. The sight of your bare skin makes him let out a groan, making you wet. He unbuttons his pants, pulling them down alongside with his boxers to let his hard cock free. He looks at the clock on the wall beside him, 10 minutes before the teacher gets back. 

The contact of his cock against your wet folds makes your knees buckle, only being able to stand up from the grip Heeseung have on your waist. The embarrassment you are feeling is still making you cry, feeling defeated with your bare ass up in the air in front of the biggest asshole you have ever met. Heeseung leaves his hand from your waist up to your mouth to cover your cries, he was maybe an asshole but he doesn’t want to get caught.  

Before you could protest any further, he pushes himself into you, making you cry out of pain and pleasure. He was massive, and if you weren't so wet already from his harsh words, then you would never be able to take all of him. “Shh, shh, bunny, I’m going to be careful alright? I know it’s your first time taking cock”, he says, while pushing in and out of you slowly. Everytime he pushes himself into you, your back arch, making Heeseung let out a chuckle from your pathetic movements.

The only sound coming from the classroom was your muffled cries alongside with wet slapping sounds from the way Heeseung fucks into you. But Heeseung can’t resist, he needs to hear more of you, so he removes his hand from your mouth so you can let out your moans free. When he does, he grabs your waist again, stabilize himself, before fucking harder into you - getting impatient by treating you like a fragile doll. 

His cock is hitting into you as deep as it could go, making you let out a loud cry. It's painful and you can’t feel more disgusting than what you already do, pushing back to make him go even deeper. He lets out a loud groan from your sudden movement. How did he turn this nerdy good girl into something so nasty? 

“You’re such a dirty girl, y/n” Heeseung says, not slowing down his pace. Too lost in the pleasure you agree, giving him a weak nod between moans. “Tell me you are dirty, say it!” He says, feeling how he gets closer and closer by any minute, looking at the clock between thrusts to make sure you don’t get caught. “Im a d-dirty girl, Heeseungie” The way you say his name could make him cum then and there, but for your sake he tries to hold back. 

He lets out a laugh at your response, realizing that he finally got you under his spell. “Say how much better I am than you, tell me that you are nothing, nothing more than my little nerdy loser to play with, say it bunny” Heeseung says, slapping your ass right after, making you cry even harder. The pain, the pleasure, the fury you feel inside of you is making your head fuzzy, not caring if the words you are about to say will make you look pathetic. “Yes! You are so much better than me, I’m nothing except yours Hee!”

The guilt you feel inside your chest is almost unbearable. Your worst enemy had just made you swallow your pride while fucking roughly into you over the schooldesk in an empty classroom. All this work to seem like a good girl, wasted, only to get dicked down by someone who makes you cry every night. He has taken everything from you, your virginity, your confidence, not to mention the dream to become valedictorian. Heeseung can feel the shame oozing out of you, and he hugs your body from behind to get a stronger grip so he can fuck into you harder. You feel his sweaty, muscular, chest against your back, and you lean your head back against his shoulder to feel some sort of comfort.

 “Fuck yes, your mine alright baby? Now cum all over my cock” He says, fastening his pace. You cum because of his words, his commands, and the feeling of your juices covering his cock brings him over the edge, making him cum as well. He doesn’t pull out however, fucking his cum into you for a few seconds before realizing that the teacher is back in any seconds. 

Heeseung pushes your body away from him, and you are too weak to stand so you fall down on the hard floor. Your whole body hurts, and you try to use your strength to stand back up, until you feel Heeseungs arms wrap around your body. He helps you to pull on your clothes, helping you sit down in your chair as he brushes your sweaty hair away from your red face. “You were so good baby, so good for me”. He says as he gives you your thick glasses, dirty from being on the floor. He gives you a kiss on the forehead, and rubs your cheek with his thumb. “You are mine now bunny, understand?” You give him a weak nod, before he walks away to his desk.

When the teacher got back, she had no idea that the schools ‘good girl’ finally got ruined by her worst nightmare.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ───

Finally another fic! Rebloggs are really appreciated :)

[cupid-styles]

I feel like grumpy H gives off a snow day vibes

and you're 1000% right for that

word count: 1.7k

content warnings: smut (dirty talk, mentions of anal and squirting, slight size kink, degradation if you squint, riding)

grumpy h masterlist

main masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Y/N thinks this may actually be heaven on earth.

She's bundled up beneath an array of cozy blankets, burrowed into a plushy bed, and every time she wakes up, she feels her boyfriend's chest pressed against her back. His slow, even breathing is always enough of a lullaby to get her back to sleep in minutes, but especially when the world around them is entirely silent, too.

It's only then that she shuffles a bit, stretching out her ankles and straightening her back. Beside her, she hears Harry stir, pressing a light kiss to the side of her head.

"'s a snow day," he murmurs groggily into her ear. "Go back to sleep."

"Snow day?" Y/N echoes, her eyes peeling open immediately. Harry grunts, though she knows he's just being dramatic, as he always is, as she rises up to her knees, pressing them into the foamy bed. She sits up and leans her elbows against Harry's headboard and peers through his curtains to see that he's correct — their small college town has been inundated with inches of snow, granting them a rare, unplanned day off in the middle of the week.

Y/N loves snow days. Mainly because growing up, the only people who loved them more than her were her parents. She's always been a busy bee, aiming for near-perfect grades, volunteering, tutoring, and working, supplying her with limited free time in her schedule. Even from a young age, Y/N demanded to be in multiple activities to boost her college application.

(Y/N's parents were never sure where such anxieties stemmed from, considering all they wanted was for her to be happy, even if that meant backpacking through Europe for two years after graduating high school.)

So when it snowed hard enough to the point where everything was canceled, Y/N's mom always had activities on deck as a source of stress-relief for her. Hot chocolate, face masks, fuzzy blankets, and her favorite movies queued up. So, naturally, when Y/N's face glowed as she told Harry about these fond memories the second the campus buzzed with the potential of a snow day, he did the same thing.

His girl worked too hard. She was exhausted every night, sometimes even falling asleep on the phone during their evening conversations when she was too tired to come over. While she was at her last class of the day yesterday, Harry quickly ambled to the grocery store, picking up ingredients for her favorite soup, matching pairs of fuzzy socks, and hot chocolate mix. He told her that he would pick her up from her lecture and bring her straight to his place, just in case they ended up getting snowed in.

(Realistically, the thought of having a day off without Y/N by his side all day sounded painful. He'd never admit that this whole plan was as much for him as it was for her. When his housemates snooped through the grocery bag Harry brought home, teasing him about the matching socks, he sent them a deadly glare, muttering out something about them being lonely, annoying assholes.)

Harry's not sure how long he lets Y/N inspect the falling snow through his bedroom window, but he does know that when he glances at the alarm clock on her side, it glowed an angry 8:02 a.m.

"It's way too early to be awake on a day off, lovebug. Come lay back down with me."

She huffs in discontent like a disappointed child. "'s so pretty though."

"You know what's also pretty, though?"

A hum leaves her throat, only to be quickly cut off by Harry grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back down to the bed. She squeals, a giddy, shocked expression on her face as she reaches out to gently bat at his naked chest.

"Harry!" she yelps.

"What?"

He delicately molds her to the side of his body, lightly pushing her head down so it's on his chest. He keeps his arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders, giving them a small squeeze.

"I could've gotten hurt." she mutters stubbornly, her words slightly muffled. Harry chuckles.

"I'd never let that happen," he presses a kiss to her forehead. "Are you gonna go back to sleep now?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "I don't think I can, to be honest. The snow makes me excited."

Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes, "You're like a puppy, I swear to god."

“Meanie.” Y/N murmurs through a teasing smile. He raises his eyebrows, tilting his head to look down at the girl below him.

“I’ll be mean if you really want me to,” he nearly purrs, trailing feather light strokes over her hip, “But a meanie wouldn’t fill your cute ass with a plug and make you squirt.”

She gasps at his crude words and it makes him smirk. Ever the innocent girl, she always acted as if she wasn’t just as filthy as him.

He makes quick work to roll her over onto his front, almost manhandling her as he parts her thighs to straddle his waist. Her cheeks warm and he chuckles, folding his arms behind his head. “You’re being mean.” She grumbles, hips twitching over his brief-clad length.

“How so?”

“Because!” She whines, swallowing tightly, “You know what you’re doing and you’re not doing anything to help it.”

Harry's chest vibrates with a low snicker, shaking his head at his girl's stubbornness. His hand slips underneath her — his — tee-shirt, his cold fingers sending a shiver down her spine.

"Baby, you know I never wanna be mean to you," he says softly, "I'll help you get what you want, hm? Does that sound good?"

She nods quickly and it makes him smile. Using his free hand, he nudges her sleep shorts to the side, cooing when he feels the damp fabric.

"Needy," he murmurs. "Take me out, puppy."

Wordlessly, she sits up a bit, granting just enough room for her to dip beneath his briefs and pull his hard cock out. The tip is already flushed pink with pre-cum bubbling at the top. The sight is a small ego boost, letting her know that she's not the only one being affected by their current position.

"Do you need any prep?" he asks quietly, jaw clenching when she makes a few slick passes over his tip. Quickly, she shakes her head.

"No— can put it in, I can take it."

He smirks. "Yeah? Not too big for you?"

"Harry—"

He cuts her whining off by nudging his hips up to meet her core, silencing her pouting with a breathy whimper. Despite the tightness, she's slick enough between her legs that he's able to slip in with minimal resistance. (Besides, after recent experimentations with anal, Harry's realized that she likes small bites of pain.)

They both moan quietly when he bottoms out, his length pressing deep into her g-spot. Her eyes flutter closed as his hands find her hips, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"I know, 's deep, isn't it?" he purrs almost mockingly, "Need me to help you?"

"P-please."

With a grip on her hips, he begins to help her bounce on his cock. Instantly, a series of mewls fall from her lips and he presses a hand to her mouth, a teasing smirk curling at his mouth.

"Those noises are mine, sweetheart. Try to keep quiet."

She nods quickly as he starts to nudge his hips upwards to meet her thighs, his other hand maintaining a stiff grasp on her skin. He's doing his best to keep his own groans in as she bounces up and down, but her tight, wet pussy is almost too much for him to take. He shuts his eyes, knowing he's already far too close to coming from the sight of her in his shirt riding him.

"Lemme— fuck, lemme grind on you," Y/N mumbles. Harry nods, slightly relieved from the intensity of their previous position. He removes his hand from her hip and she almost instantly reaches to intertwine their fingers together, eyes rolling back as she rubs her pelvis against his. His cock is still impossibly deep, feeling as though it's deep in her tummy, but now her clit is being stimulated against his pelvic bone, too. Gradually, her muscles start to contract faster, and she feels her orgasm beginning to grow in the pit of her tummy.

"You look so pretty like this, fuck," Harry mutters, lifting his hand to bite his knuckles. "So obsessed with you, baby, you're so good. Gonna make me cum."

"'m gonna cum," she slurs, echoing his words. "Y-you're so deep— feel you so deep, oh—"

He bucks his hips up once, twice, three times to meet her grinds and that's all it takes to send her spiraling. Her head ducks back as she moans out his name, her pussy spasming around the girth of his cock. He tries his best to keep his eyes open so he can watch her, his own personal wet dream, but the sensation of her muscles squeezing him triggers his own orgasm. Quickly, he pulls out, reaching down to pump his slick-covered cock once to paint her mound with thick spurts of cum.

"Oh!" she breathes, her pussy still contracting as he uses his tip to smear his cum over her skin.

"S-sorry," he stutters, swallowing harshly, "Didn't wanna come inside."

She nods understandingly as she catches her breath. They hadn't had that conversation yet, so she appreciated him being respectful of that, even if she wasn't able to finish around his cock.

With a deep breath, he sits up slightly to press a light kiss to her lips. "You always look so fucking pretty when you ride me."

She blushes. "Shush, you."

"Budge up, I wanna get you cleaned up," Harry murmurs, helping her part her legs so she can roll over and lay back against the bed. He gets up and grabs a spare towel, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. "Also, I picked up stuff for that soup you love. And hot chocolate... and I thought maybe we could watch some of your favorite movies and stuff."

Y/N's eyebrows raise. "Really?"

As he wipes the mess from her skin, he nods wordlessly.

"That's what my parents used to do with me—"

"I know, baby. You told me," he pauses to swallow. "I wanted to do the same thing for you. Or at least something somewhat similar."

A toothy grin covers her face. "Have I ever told you how perfect you are?"

"Hm, I don't think so. You can do it now, though."

[hairmetal666]

NSFW; Modern AU

Eddie feels like the luckiest man alive, that he gets to count Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley as his best friends, but he wasn't sure about it at first. No matter how often his new little sheepies praised Steve, Eddie remembered high school. He remembered the Steve that was a grade-A, top-choice asshole. But then--Robin comes out to him. And Steve knows. Steve knows and he's cool about it. So, Eddie comes out to them and Steve is cool about that too.

It fucks Eddie up a little, if he's being honest. Like, Steve, objectively, is hot, but Eddie's only ever been superficially attracted to him. He thinks the whole jock archetype just doesn't do a lot for him. Too much negativity attached to their whole thing. But he'd be lying if he said part of him isn't intrigued.

He doesn't develop a crush on Steve, though. Somehow, through all the charm and bitchiness and not-so-secret kindness, his heart remains unmoved. It must be the jock thing.

And then he's scrolling on Twitter. He's scrolling on Twitter and he's not looking for porn, not even in a "Oh no, I never look at porn on the internet" way, and there's this video.

The first thing he sees is the lowered waist band of a pair of 90's-style basketball shorts, Pacers logo just visible. Then it's the long fingers, the broad hands. They're skimming down a tanned, toned torso, not a six-pack but it's somehow sexier this way. Their path draws Eddie's eyes to the dot of moles, the spread of freckles. They're so kissable, Eddie's mouth waters. Those fingers, they linger against the trimmed thatch of dark hair just peaking out over the elastic, before pulling that waistband lower.

Eddie's hard. Rock hard. Fuck, he's so hard a wind gust could make him come.

The guy on screen, he's got his gorgeous dick in hand, giving himself slow strokes and thumbing at the tip to collect the obvious slickness beading there.

It's not really a decision when Eddie unzips and shoves his jeans just low enough to take himself in hand. On screen, the hand speeds up, the stomach shivering, breath coming in soft bursts, somehow almost more intoxicating than the jerking off.

Eddie times his strokes with the video, coming apart faster than he ever has watching porn. He can tell the guy is close, his grip goes tighter, his breath shorter. Eddie's about to go off like a fucking rocket.

The hand stills, the guy's cock fucking quivers, and he's ready for the money shot, will totally come at the same time, except--it doesn't happen.

The screen goes black.

Eddie comes all over himself.

"Fuck, shit, goddamnit," he hisses. He flails around trying to find something to clean himself up with and pause the video so he can read the fucking text.

As wiped up as he can be without showering, Eddie runs the video back a few seconds to see the words, "want the full experience? Subscribe to my OnlyFans."

He's never clicked a link so fast in his life. He's never really explored OnlyFans before, but he signs up for the free trial without a second thought.

The guy's username is KingJock016 and under usual circumstances, Eddie would be disgusted, but it's too late for that. He's already scrolling through thumbnails of hands and dicks and asses and butt plugs and dildos, pausing briefly at a preview of one where KingJock is bent at the waist, perfect ass--dotted with freckles-- framed by the bands of a jock strap. He's deliciously hairy, deliciously ripe, and Eddie is firming up again.

Without fully meaning to, he hits play, and the video starts with KingJock already rocking his cock into his fist. He's moaning in this one, full throated, almost desperate. And there's something about it, something that catches in Eddie's brain, but he can't focus on that when he's watching KingJock trace a finger around his own asshole.

It's insane that Eddie is this far gone without seeing the guy's face, that his toes are curling at the mere sight of KingJock fucking himself. The sounds are obscene, the slick and snap of skin on skin, the throaty moans, the creak of the bed as KingJock rocks into his fist and back onto his fingers.

Eddie's not even touching himself, and he's already standing at complete attention, a heady ache already starting in his balls.

And then KingJock flips his head back, revealing a shock of chestnut hair, the taut lines of a mole-kissed throat, the hard line of a jaw. One eye flashes open, looks directly at the camera, at Eddie.

It's fucking Steve Harrington.

Eddie comes all over himself again.

It's Steve. His best friend, Steve. His straight best friend. Making content clearly targeted for queer men? I mean, Eddie can't fault him. Like, nice work if you can get it, but Steve???

He hasn't done anything to clean up because his thoughts are spiraling too hard. How long has this been going on? Does Robin know? Should Eddie subscribe ? Leave a comment about how this video made him come untouched? Join a live? No, no, of course not. Steve was his real life friend. He couldn't hang out with him and then watch him fuck himself on a wall-mounted dildo.

He hits subscribe though. He'll hate himself for it later. It's only for the trial period, anyway.

He wipes himself off, but the come is already drying, sticky, against his skin and in his body hair. He needs a shower. He needs to practice being normal around Steve now that he--

Shit, Steve. They're going to the movies tonight. Steve's supposed to pick him up in, shit, fuck twenty minutes.

Eddie hurls himself into the shower, moves so quickly he doesn't really have time to think about Steve having an OnlyFans, about how hard he got off to his friend, about how he keeps having flashes of Steve's perfect body play through his head.

It's hard to ignore it when Steve is standing at his door in his form hugging jeans and little t-shirt and Eddie's done for, a dead man; here lies Eddie Munson. He's just standing in the doorway, smiling at Steve and he knows it's manic, but he can't slip it.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks. Eddie hears the words but all it does is remind him of KingJock's breathy moans.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" He keeps smiling.

Steve's eyes narrow. He leans into Eddie's space. "Did you drop acid again? We told you not to do it alo--"

"I didn't! Nothing's wrong."

"Your face is all flushed. You feeling okay? You could have a fever."

Before Eddie can react, Steve's resting the back of his hand on his forehead. Eddie flinches, swatting Steve away, which devolves into a brief slap fight.

"I don't have a fever, man. I'm fine. Hot shower, is all."

"If you say so. Ready to get going?"

Eddie nods. He can totally do this. He can pretend he doesn't know about the OnlyFans and the face Steve makes when he's about to come.

The drive is quiet. Too quiet. He thinks his bones are trying to rip through his skin.

He starts talking, isn't even tracking what he's saying. Dnd and then suddenly it's hobbits and then Star Trek for reasons even he doesn't comprehend. He glances over at Steve, and he's burnished golden from the light of the setting sun. He's so beautiful. How did Eddie miss it all this time? Why did he--

"Get any new subscribers lately?" He hears come out of his mouth.

Steve slams on the breaks, sending Eddie careening into he dashboard.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck," Eddie shrieks. The car behind them lays on the horn, then speeds past when it's clear they aren't moving.

"Why are you saying what the fuck at me?" Steve hisses back. He hits the gas, pulling the car to the side of the road. "Eddie--what the fuck?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he chants. He hides his head in his hands. "I didn't mean to--I'm so fucking sorry."

"How'd you find it?"

Eddie snorts. "One of your videos showed up on my TL. That's the algorithm for you."

"Jesus christ," Steve mutters. "You weren't supposed to--it's--"

"What are you even doing, man?"

"My Family Video salary won't cut it, if we're moving to Indy."

"You're not even gay."

Steve mumbles something, but he's looking out the window and not at Eddie at all.

"What was that?"

"Maybe I am!" Steve doesn't shout, but it's forceful.

Eddie's mouth drops. "Does Robin know?"

Steve stares forward, hands tightening on the wheel.

"And you didn't tell me?" It hurts, he's surprised how much, so much it takes his breath.

"It wasn't like that, Ed."

"Oh, no? Then what was it like?"

"It doesn't matter."

"The fuck it doesn't! I'm the first person you should've come to! I know exactly what it's like."

"No, you don't." Steve explodes. "You don't because you made me realize. And I couldn't talk to you about it because I like you. And, yeah, maybe starting an OnlyFans as part of my gay awakening is weird to you, but it's done a lot for me, okay?"

Steve said a lot of stuff just there, a lot of important things, but Eddie's glitched out on one part. "You like...me?"

"Yeah, like. Have you met you?" Steve slumps in his seat, like he's defeated. "You're fucking beautiful, dude. And smart and funny and passionate. Nerdy as hell. I didn't stand a chance."

"But I'm--" Eddie shakes his head. "I mean, look at me."

"I have." Steve nods. "A lot. I really like what I see."

"When I realized it was you in those videos, I came all over myself. Untouched," Eddie blurts. He flushes deep crimson immediately. "Oh my god, I can't believe I just--"

Steve is laughing, hands pressed over his mouth.

"Shut up, shut up," Eddie swipes at him. "It's not funny, oh my god."

When Steve gets it together, he finally looks at Eddie, and there's pink in his cheeks and a shine to his eyes. "That might be the most gratifying thing anyone has ever said to me."

"Yeah, well. It was humiliating."

"It's hot, Eddie."

His blush hasn't cooled even a bit. "Yeah?" His voice comes out deep, husky.

"I wouldn't mind, uh--that is, if it's cool with you--seeing it for myself?"

Eddie giggles. "You wanna make me come untouched, sweetheart?"

Steve shifts in his seat. "I'd really like that. Will you let me?"

"Uh-huh, absolutely, definitely. If you don't put this car in drive and get us back to my place, I'm going to literally die."

Steve laughs again, a bright, free thing, and he swings back onto the road. "Not yet, you aren't."

That sends a shock of pleasant shivers down Eddie's spine, right to his dick.

"Maybe we can even make a video together sometime."

Eddie, much to his deep embarrassment, whines, hips shifting with the sudden need for relief. "Oh, you didn't want me to die before because this is how you're planning on killing me."

Steve turns to him, a smirk on his lips and a devilish glint in his eye. "You have no idea what I'm going to do to you."

[devilander]

in teaching you will learn (chapter 1)

18+ 3k. homelander x tutor f!reader. employer and employee sexual tension. abuse of power. fingering. AO3 link.

You accepted a job proposal to work as a History tutor to Homelander's son. It suddenly turns out to be more than you had bargained for.

prompt sent by @plasticfangtastic, thank you so much! beta'ed by @flaggermuser, love you!

Ryan was a very smart child. Powerful and smart, naturally, as any of Homelander’s offspring would be. So, to sate his endless curiosity, tutors—from the best universities, Homelander would settle for nothing else—of all subjects were hired to teach whatever was needed, whatever Ryan liked.

You had never imagined yourself in this position, History tutor to the Homelander’s son. But when you received Vought’s call, and they told you the paycheck that’d come with it, you immediately agreed. A non-supe, you wondered what it’d be like to deal with such a special kid, if Homelander would disapprove of your ways and send you packing on the first day. 

Insecurities were never your thing—you had received a M.A in History and Literature, for god’s sake! This was your turf. 

But… teaching a child? Whenever you would envision your future, you always imagined yourself as a professor, strict and serious, dealing solely with adults or, at most, young adults. 

You'd rise up, though, you knew it—even if you needed to spend all of your nights, from dusk ‘till dawn, watching videos on gentle parenting, endless courses on “childhood education” and teaching young learners. You would do it, and you would do it perfectly.

On your first day, you had a whole speech prepared, something about how much of an honor it was, how excited you were, how many ideas you already had; your stomach fluttered as you looked at his clear blue eyes, beautiful nose—

Homelander barely let you start. 

“Now.” He raised his hands, effectively shutting you up. “Enough with the yada yada, ‘kay? Let's get some things straight—all of your ideas gatta be approved by me first. And Ryan.”

“I'm sure, sir, I only meant—”

“And you'll not be berating him, for whatever fucking reason. You're not the boss here. I am. And, well, if he complains about anything, anything really, you’ll be… dismissed. That understood?” He had a congenial smile on his face, though you swore his eyes shined red, if only for a second. “Take care of my son, huh?”

He patted you on the shoulder and left. You just stood there, fuming and exasperated. If there's one thing you hated with a passion was condescending men; interrupting and disregarding your words as inane silliness. 

High and mighty as he was, Homelander was cut from the same cloth as them, it seemed. If it weren’t for your student debt piling up, you’d turn around and leave. As it were, you gritted your teeth and stayed. 

After that, though, you hardly ever saw him, and when you did, he only gave you an indiscernible look and a nod. 

Fine by me, you thought bitterly, mad at yourself that he'd surely noticed your flushed cheeks and quickened breath at your first real sight of him.

Ryan was sweet though. Sharp and eager to learn whatever you presented him with, such that you moved on quickly from fifth, sixth, to a seventh-grade curriculum. 

You found a happy medium—keeping it fun and educational. And you knew, you knew, whenever you were there, Homelander was watching you. 

And he was. Of course he was. He’d had his fair share of tutors Vogelbaum would present him with. Condescending little assholes, always thinking they knew better, reporting every minor thing he did, lecturing and punishing at their pleasure. 

As if he'd let his kid suffer the same fate. 

Education was, however, important, so he hired simpering tutors—a school would not do, no place was fit for Ryan—and those who didn't know their place were quickly taken care of. 

Yet you, the third History teacher hired (the first one was such a fucking mess—snapping his neck as soon as he left Vought was not enough for having the gall to rudely reprimand his son) were doing well so far. 

Oh, he had seen how you blushed and stuttered when you two met, and he had seen how you gradually steeled your eyes at his words. 

He had also noticed the sway of your hips, your pink, heart shaped mouth, the addictive sound of your voice—your scrunched up nose as you looked at him in poorly disguised anger.

So, yes, of course, of course he was watching, for more reasons than one. 

One day, when you and Ryan were talking animatedly about the creation of the American Constitution, Homelander decided to barge in, almost knocking the door off of its hinges.

You nearly fell off your seat in surprise, for a second scared and worried, until you saw his face. He looked as happy as a kid. Well, happier than Ryan. 

“Wowza,” he said. “What party do you two have goin’ on here? I could hear you from the hallway.” 

He could hear no matter how loud you were, but you got the gist. Smiling, though miffed at the interruption, you crossed the room, and he met you halfway.

“I was showing Ryan this book. Look.” He leaned down, his face touching yours. Oh God, oh God, wrong move. “It contains all of Thomas Paine's pamphlets published during the war in its original format. We were discussing how Paine's thoughts impacted on the Constitution’s writing.”

“Very nice,” he said, still so close to you the pure heat his body radiated engulfed your senses. And your body kept betraying, and betraying, and fucking betraying you.

“Oh, I love this part.” You thanked the heavens your voice didn't quiver, and started to read out loud. “Tyranny, like hell—”

“Is not easily conquered.” Homelander completed, and you looked up, only to find him already looking at you.

His hand then rested on your arm, lingering for a few seconds too long, his eyes locking you in place. You gulped, heart thumping in your chest—

“Dad,” Ryan bemoaned. Homelander dropped his hand instantly. “This is my class. You're interrupting us!”

Homelander frowned, then almost pouted. 

“Geez, buddy, what a way to treat your old man.” He crossed his arms; you contained a giggle. His eyes glinted mischievously as he turned to you. “Can I be your student for the day? I promise to behave.” 

“I don't see why n—”

“No,” Ryan exclaimed, interrupting you. “No, no and no!” 

Though he tried, there was no convincing Ryan. He wouldn't share the time he had with you. Inwardly, you smiled at the kid’s innocent jealousy; and thanked the heavens for the save, you certainly needed it. 

Huffing and stomping his feet, Homelander left the room, but not without giving his son an annoyed glare and you a look you couldn't—wouldn't—name yet. Maybe ever. 

Weeks passed, classes going smoothly despite your warring thoughts. You were attracted to Homelander, because of course you were; lucky you. Your boss, supe, leader of the Seven. The man who had so far threatened you, talked with you, touched you… 

Fear tinged with desire, confusion with curiosity. He was equal parts charming and infuriating. Would you dare to willingly put your hand in the mouth of the tiger? 

It became routine for Homelander to participate—or interrupt—your lessons to share his own opinions, much to Ryan's chagrin. And you… you were endeared. 

“Think you could've done a better job than Theodore Roosevelt? Really?” Your disbelieving tone didn't seem to put him off, just the opposite.

“I'm certain I could.”

His playful smile and arrogant tone annoyed you. Enchanted you. 

“Well, you should try for president, then,” you joked, catching yourself turning fully towards him. “You'll beat the records of votes and rule this grand nation!”

He hummed, winking at you. “Yeah, no. Not really in my… interests right now.”

“Would you make a Shermanesque statement on that?”

Homelander laughed, shaking his head. 

“Nah, maybe I’ll change my mind.” His eyes roamed over your body. “Couldn’t have that.” 

“What’s Sherman—Shermesque,” Ryan piped in, furrowing his brows as he stumbled over the word. “What are you talking about?”

“If nominated, I will not run; If elected, I will not serve,” you spoke at the same time and giggled, giggled!, together. Stop giggling like a schoolgirl, you chastised yourself, but you couldn't help it. There was such a thrill about flirting with danger in the flesh. 

Turning to Ryan, you explained. “It’s something William Sherman said. He was a popular general during the Civil War and was being considered as the Republican candidate during presidential elections. He, however, refused!” When excited, your arms had a mind of their own, and you found yourself gesturing wildly, enthusiastically. “His words became really popular from then on, such that it's now called a Shermanesque statement, and sometimes used by politicians and the like.”

Homelander couldn’t help but stare while you talked, entranced by your passionate speech, flushed cheeks and shining eyes. You were so fucking cute, deliciously captivating—even in your pitiful stubborn act, or all the more enticing because of it. He wanted to savor each and every moment you walked about the room; wanted to catalog your breath changes, the rises of your voice, your moving lips. 

Would you be just as responsive in another, more interesting scenario?, he wondered. Maybe you would want to take charge, bossy little thing you are. Maybe he’d have to bend you just shy of breaking you only to see you beg—beg him to fuck you, to let you come on his fingers, mouth and cock. 

His filthy thoughts raged on, only interrupted when you announced your time was up. Ryan groans in disappointment and Homelander has a hard time not doing the same. He hungers for more moments with you. Alone.   

“C’mon, kiddo,” he says, noticing Ryan stalling to tidy up his books and supplies as he liked to do. “You gotta get ready for your shooting today.”

Ryan grumbles under his breath. “I hate these commercials.”

Before he can answer, you approach, tousling Ryan’s hair and leaning down to look him in the eyes. 

“Hey, sweetheart, it will be okay. Just play pretend like we talked,” you said. “And if it gets too much, I'm sure your dad will take care of it. I'll bring you a treat tomorrow, how about that?”

He should probably put you in your place for daring to presume you know shit about him and his son—as if your puny mind could understand the greater beings they were. And yet, and yet… Ryan was smiling, rushing to embrace you though his quick heartbeat betrayed how nervous he was. You hugged him back, and looked at Homelander with such sweet grin that he—fuck, he felt fucking breathless.

He wanted to kiss you. 

When Ryan left the room, you snatched your purse, seemingly wanting to leave as quickly as possible. But Homelander stood in front of the door, unmoving, his jewel-toned eyes intensely fixated on you. 

A sudden heat spread through your body, and you let out a breathy sigh. And he noticed; eyes tracking over your face and chest, like undressing you with his mind. 

Perhaps he was. He certainly could. The thought made you desperate, you needed to run. Your apartament wouldn't be enough, maybe you should catch a bus to Jersey. Or a fucking plane to—Russia, or farther—

“Want me to give you a ride?” You were so distracted you barely heard his words, much less the double entendre. 

“What?” 

He snickered. “I said—”

“No! I mean yes. I mean no!” You shook your head, dizzy. “No, sir, I wouldn't want to trouble you.”

“Ah but there's no trouble at all, it'll take a minute. I know where you live.”

“You do?” A shudder ran through you.

“Of course, you silly goose. It's in your resume.” He tapped your nose, a gesture so off-putting you snorted, suddenly aware he'd closed the distance without you noticing. “Let's go, little miss mouthy. Don't make me insist,” he declared, voice still cheerful, but you caught the edge of it, leaving no room for argument. 

“Okay, okay… But only this time!” 

Homelander simply laughed. 

Reaching the balcony, you looked down and froze. Too high, too high!, your brain screamed at you. 

“Hehe, on second thought…” You looked at him pleadingly, a weird laugh bubbling out in sheer nervousness. You gripped the banister as if your very life depended on it. 

“Ah, ah. No takesies backsies.” He wiggled his finger in your face, and, for a single moment, two, three seconds?, caressed your cheek softly. 

Before you could react, he grabbed you by the waist and took off. Panic stricken, you hid your face in his neck, dangling legs instinctively circling his hips; much like a koala, you held on to him in all ways you could—even your fingers found locks of his hair to grip mercilessly.

Through the rush of the wind, you felt, more than heard, his laugh. 

It took some seconds to catch on to the overwhelming closeness between you two—how every inch of your body was adhering to his, how you could feel the impressive strength emanating from him, how his warm breath was hitting your neck, leaving shivers in its wake. 

You could feel it all. No matter the padded suit, you felt the tension in his muscles, the upheaval in his chest as he drew you even closer and fuck you couldn't fucking help clenching your cunt and exhaling right next to his year—

In a second, Homelander had you on the roof of your building.

You didn't want to look up, fearing what he'd throw at you, anger and indifference or lust and temptation. Both shook you to your core. 

“Wakie, wakie,” he said, breathless, a certain roughness to his tone. His hands squeezed your back with surprising care. Each second was too long, and yet not enough. 

And then you felt it, as you started to disentangle yourself from his body, his cock, hard and throbbing, poking your stomach, dangerously close to where you ached for it the most. 

You looked up. 

There was no smirk, no mocking eyes—only a stare so intense your heart skipped a beat. 

“Thank you, Homelander, for the—for the ride. I appreciate it, despite you almost giving me a heart attack at first.” You giggled, trying to dispel the mood.

“How about you thank me by inviting me in? Y’know what they say, actions speak louder than words.” 

“No, I…” you hesitated, trying to think of an excuse but your mind went blank. “No.”

Homelander cocked his head, dazzling smile turning a little unnerving. “No? Is that right?”

“How about another day? I can—”

“I didn't fucking ask for a bullshit, out-of-pity mock invite, did I? What is it, hiding some terrorists in your shithole apartment? Or mommy’s dead body?”

If it weren't for his looming over you, you'd crack a laugh—his mind certainly went places. 

“Listen—” You started again, only to be pushed until your back hit the roof's door, knocking the air out of you. 

“You listen,” he ground out, eyes a kaleidoscope of red and blue. It was painfully exhilarating. “Don’t try lying to me. I can sense you, I can fucking smell you, your pussy is soaked.” To prove his point, he removed one glove and opened up your pants; your panties were shoved aside as he squeezed two fingers inside you. You whimpered at the burn of his intrusion, but you were so wet the squelch was loud even to your ears. “You either invite me in or I'll rip your clothes off and fuck you right here. Your choice, sweetheart.”

Homelander was being nice in giving you a choice, despite the fact you were a rude tease, and a liar to boot. His fingers kept pumping in and out of you, and he found it so fucking hard not to go all the way, not to have you against this door while you moaned so, so sweetly. 

He needed you—to feel you clenching on his cock as you did now on his fingers. And you wanted him. Fuck, you were whining and opening your legs so he could finger you better, clinging onto his waist as your head rested on his shoulder. Still, you dazedly shook your head. What was the matter with you?

“Oh, please, please,” you half begged, half moaned, raspy voice driving him crazy. “We can't, I can't…”

“Give me one good fucking reason why not, huh. One.”

Instead of answering, you kissed him. He seemed surprised at first, but reciprocated in an instant. And it was all you expected it'd be, messy and passionate and hot; he consumed you, drinking in every part of you, all you had to give, and what you wouldn’t give, he would take. 

You gathered his face in your hands, wanting a little bit of tenderness in the violent chaos of you, a little bit of love—if you could.

His hand kept working on you, thumb rubbing your clit in circles and, before you ran completely out of breath, you came so hard your legs gave out. 

Perfect for Homelander to catch, hold you onto his body as you rode the waves of your pleasure—so beautiful he was enraptured. 

After a few moments, you whispered. “I can't let you in. If I do, I won't think straight, I'll just let you do anything you want to me.” 

“Is that a bad thing, sweetheart?”

“I'm… not used to this, I don't… I haven't done much of this. You never even asked me out!” You laughed. The good humor vanished as you continued. “I can't lose this job. I need it, I like it. If we do… What will even happen to me?” You cursed your own inability to talk about this, all your eloquence going to the drain when you needed to speak of something other than History. In those moments, you always felt like mimicking some speech taught to you long ago, as if talking about your own feelings was an unattainable device. 

Yet Homelander found it amusing. Apparently he'd gotten you all wrong, or at least parts of it. For all your bravado in speaking to him, in challenging him—in your fearlessness and spunk—you were inexperienced. Innocent. Shy. Wasn't that his fucking lucky day. 

“So the baby wants me to take her on a date first, that it?”

“I didn't say that.” You raised a brow, crossing your arms. “And don’t call me baby.”

“Also I boy-scout promise not to fire you if you are a bad lay, but I doubt that, baby.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said, though there was no bite to it, only a timid smile on your face. “Okay, alright. This weekend?” 

“Friday. I’ll send someone to pick you up. Wear something nice for me.”

Before leaving, he kissed you deeply, hands nearly shaking with yearning. He wanted to take it all back and drag you to his bed, absconding with you for a day or two. But he’d waited this long and he could wait a bit longer—he’d savor every second and make it worth it.

As you walked down the stairs to your apartment you sighed, drunk in the haze of disbelief; there was no way you could run now. It’s clear you have a problem. What you should wish for isn’t what you want.

[kestisvrse]

headcanon collection: meeting & dating hockey player!frat!luke castellan

♫ - espresso by sabrina carpenter

· definitely had a meet-cute type situation

· at a frat party that silena had ditched you at, he wasn’t watching as he walked and your drink went flying all over yourself.

· he apologized profusely which you furrowed your brows at, expecting a frat boy to be an asshole.

“holy shit! i am so sorry, oh my god that is such a nice shirt too.”

· led you to his room as he turned around and you threw on one of his shirts

· you hung out in different groups so you never really saw him, to return his shirt

· one day though, out of pure luck he decided to try studying at the library, running into you as you were about to leave.

· which led to him admiring your room as you dug around in your clean clothes basket for his shirt.

“you cleaned it?” “well… yeah i just threw it in i didn’t… really think about it… sorry.” you mumble, “it’s okay.” he says, smiling.

· ever since then, you noticed him studying in public more often.

· airpods in as he hunches over a table, gaze flickering between his laptop and his paper, squinting every so often.

“what’s with the sudden public appearances?” “oh! i- uh, wanted to try something new?”

· it led to you both seeking each other out at the library, all you knew about each other were your names and the classes you studied for, you had no contact or attachments but you always sat together

· eventually he finally asked for your number and you started seeing each other outside of the library and actually getting to know each other

“hey do you maybe want to come to my game on friday?” a text from him reads out, to which you quickly reply “of course :)”

· it became regular, if one of you needed to study you both found yourselves at the library, and if he had a game you were sat front row wearing his colours

· your friends noticed your feelings before you did, you were always bringing up a story about him, or asking someone to accompany you to his game

· it was sickening

“i’m out with luke right now, i’m so sorry.” “that’s okay!”

· luke wasn’t much better

· except his friends didn’t know who you were

· at first they thought he was hooking up with someone, to which he quickly shut down (he didn’t want you to think that’s what he was telling people, because he wasn’t)

· but hearing them say this made it click in his head that even if you were hooking up, he’d want more with you.

“can i come over?” “always, why?” “i really need to talk to you.”

“he’s going to tell you he likes you!” silena predicted, jumping around your dorm, “no he won’t!”

· he did

· he was a mess at your doorstep, he wasn’t used to relationships, usually sticking to situationships but with you, he felt something entirely different

· he was breathing heavily as he spoke, taking his sweet time to say “i like you” and instead just blabbering out compliments and how he doesn’t want to ruin things.

· but when he stops for a breath to watch your confusion, he shuts up and spits it out.

“i really like you, i want to be able to bring you flowers, and kiss you when you get a good grade on something you thought you’d fail, i want to fall asleep with you in my arms watching movies.”

· silena who hid in the bathroom squealed, causing luke’s cheeks to turn pink.

“ignore her! i, um, i really like you too.”

· and his confession was right

· as soon as he finally asked you out for real (after he took you out to dinner.) he was all over you

· hands had to be brushing each other if he couldn’t hold it, or didn’t have his arm around your waist

· he sported a grin of awe when he watched you get excited over things

· picking you up and spinning you around when you said you aced a test

· you still studied together all the time, sometimes if its in your dorm you get a bit sidetracked (ykwim.)

· he couldn’t help but take every chance to kiss you, your lips slotted together so perfectly he cursed all the time he spent hanging out with you and admiring your lips instead of actually acting on his thoughts

“is that my cherry chapstick?” you ask after pecking his lips, “ummmm no?” he scoffs (it is)

· you still went to every game, wearing his jersey now instead of just the teams colours

· kissing him passionately everytime he ran off the ice, didn’t matter if he won or not, he was an incredible player and that’s basically what your kisses said to him, how proud you were.

“I LOVE YOU!”

it was your four months as you watched him run around his room frantically.

“oh my god i swear it’s here somewhere!”

“luke it’s fine, just come lie down with me again.” you ask in a soothing tone, it was like your voice had a spell in it that made it work, forgetting his worries and his legs dragging himself to the bed.

“aha!” he suddenly yelled, causing you to jump. he ran to one of his shelves and pulled out a small box hiding behind his books, “see! i told you i had a gift.”

“you’re ridiculous.” you giggled, sitting up as he handed you the box, urging you to open it.

the cover snapped off as your jaw dropped in awe. a necklace with the initial “L” laid in the box, “oh it’s beautiful luke.”

“hey and look.” you look up at his eyes, looking down at his neck as he pulls something out from under his sweater. a matching necklace with your initial.

“oh my god you’re so cute.” you giggled, taking the necklace out of the box, “put it on for me?”

you quickly shimmed so your back faced his chest, holding your hair out the way as he snapped it around your neck, he admired you in the mirror, his hands coming to rest on your waist and the back of you head rested on his shoulder.

he said your name softly to which you hummed in response, making eye contact with him through the mirror, fiddling with the new necklace.

“i love you.” your eyebrows raised in a soft shocked expression at the unfamiliar words, turning to look back at him.

“i love you too.”

[gremlingottoosilly]

Kruger telling his sister she'll be an idiot to not date König. And to stop being a prude, it's not like she has much options and he's sick of hearing König drone on and one about his sister

Being pushed into these relationships by your brother isn't something you expected or even wanted - but it's only logical when you think about it. Krueger is his best friend, as sociopathic as he is, and he kinda wants you out of his hair. He probably can't wait to turn the apartment into fuck drug house of his dreams once his dumb sister is out of the picture - so, naturally, you refuse to even talk to Konig, knowing that your brother's friends are probably the same grade of assholness as he is. However, you are a practical woman and you kinda want money. And normal life. And fucking move out of your brother's apartment without need to share a room with three other people if you were to move on your current budget...and Konig seems like an easy target. Hell, he is an easy target - can barely say two words when around you, the same degree as shyness as you are, and together you almost resemble a normal, functional couple. A perfect guy for someone like you - and you saw the kind of money he earns. A golden ticket into the nice life - as much as you hate proving your brother right, Konig isn't the worst option out there. Maybe second worst, on a bad day. Konig is...nice, when things are official. Yes, he is weird in bed, always trying to force you to do weird stuff like calling him sir in bedroom and making you act like his pretty soldier and a housewife, but the money is enough to make up for it. Almost enough to make you consider him as a serious option - he is asking about marriage, after all, dating for a month already made him think about tying the knot. You're not sure how to respond - everything moves fast, too fast for your liking, you just overwhelmed and tired and... Looks like Konig isn't really going to ask you though. You stare at the ring in front of you and you just fucking know why Kruger wanted his crazy friend out of his hair as soon as possible. You just didn't know he'd sacrifice his sister for it.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Ok, I have two alternatives, pick which one you like the best.

Reader get picked to tutor Eddie even though they have always been at each other's throat, she thinking he's a drama queen, pissed that the popular people doesn't like him and he thinks she's a stuck up bitch without humor.

So they go back and forth but maybe one day when she's having a bad day and Eddie says something and she starts crying he gets all "what, how, why? What did I do, please don't cry!"

Or, that he catches her reading a romance novel and outwardly she has always just read classics - books that are 'high education'

Request by @somethingvicked 🫶💞 went with the first option 💞

Warnings; Little bit of angst, meanish Eddie, fluff. Accidental kiss.

💌🎀💌🎀

"You've got to be kidding me?" you gawk at Miss O'Donnell who has called you back at the end of class. She's asked you to tutor someone and at first you were all for it.

That's until you found out it was Eddie Munson, Munson who is currently sitting at the back of the class with his feet up on the desk in front of him, he gives you a sarcastic little wave and you turn back to Miss O'Donnell and hope she comes to her senses.

"He needs a tutor if he wants to graduate. You're the best student in the class. It will look wonderful on your college applications that you tutored Mr Munson" shit there was really no getting out of this.

Reluctantly you turn to Eddie who already doesn't like you. In his honest opinion you seemed prissy and stuck up. The two of you spent half your time at each other's throats, it had been like that for so long.

Equally you couldn't stand Eddie either. He was loud, a show off and you were sure he was jealous of the popular people he claimed to hate.

How you would manage to tutor him for weeks on end was anyone's guess. One thing's for sure, you were dreading this.

"Meet me after school tomorrow and we can get started okay?" You say to him already grumpy at having to spend extra time with him. Eddie swings his legs off the desk and smirks, then bows.

"As you wish princess" ugh, you storm out but not before hearing Eddie's laughter.

Asshole.

🎀💌🎀💌

The first week of tutoring Eddie is as horrible as you expected. He's antagonistic, makes no effort and needles at your patience until it's paper thin.

"How can you be expected to graduate if you don't make an effort?" You snap as Eddie strums on his guitar.

"That old bat has it in for me, even when I try my best she still doesn't care" Eddie hisses back and you feel the beginnings of a headache come on.

"You just need to apply yourself better, if you want to graduate then you need to ace this Munson" he glares at you.

"Don't you think I know that? It's easy for you though isn't it princess, since your little miss perfect" the insult flares up your annoyance and you and Eddie devolve into your usual arguments.

"Don't you think I have better things to do then tutor you Munson? So do us both a favour and start paying attention, so we can go our separate ways sooner".

He huffs and places down his guitar with gentle care, grabs his notebook and

"Did you draw these?" you ask curious as you trace your fingers over the images on his notebook. He nods and looks at you like he's expecting you to give him shit.

"They are really good Munson, you could think about applying to an art course after graduation" Eddie scoffs and takes his notebook back.

"Yeah like anyone's going to take me with my grades" his tone is all annoyance and it pisses you off.

"I was only trying to compliment you, why do you have to be so touchy all the time" you look away from him stubbornly, he is silent for a few seconds and when he speaks again his voice is soft.

"I'm sorry, I'm not used to a lot of compliments from people" this softens you as well and you turn to face him and give him a small smile.

"Well you're really good" there's a faint tinge of pink to his cheeks when you say this. He nods and settles back down beside you.

"You know uh, you're pretty good with the whole writing thing, uh shit, you know what I mean" pleased and a little flustered at his compliment you clear your throat and mutter thank you, then get started with the book you and Eddie are reading for class.

🎀💌🎀💌

Today has been the worst day. You overslept, forgot to hand your essay in to your biology teacher, the rain soaked you completely as soon as you left your home and you've been verging on a cold ever since.

So the thought of having to tutor Munson again does not fill you with joy, in all honesty all you want is your bed and to sleep. You couldn't get sick, you had too much to do.

Of course from the moment you meet up with Eddie he's difficult. All because it's Friday and he has a Hellfire meeting.

"I have to set everything up princess, I don't have time to waste here with you" furious you round on him.

"You think that I want to be here? No. I'd rather be at home so sit down and let's get on with this so I don't have to sit with your annoying ass any longer than I have to"

"Well at least I'm not a stuck up bitch with no sense of humour and a permanent stick up my ass"

Eddie's words cut to the bone and you stiffen in response. Don't cry, don't cry you chant to yourself, but you can't help as the tears roll down your cheeks, Eddie's big brown eyes widen in shock as you begin to cry.

Humiliated, you're just about to leave when he steps in front of you. "Wait, what did I do?" The two of you exchanged insults on a daily basis and you had never cried before, Eddie begins to panic as your sobs continue.

"Please don't cry" he says, he hates seeing you cry. Your little whimper stabs at his aching heart and on instinct he reaches over to you and takes your hand, the gesture surprises you both and it dries up your tears.

"I'm sorry, I don't like seeing you cry, please stop" you sniff and wipe the remainder of the tears away, Eddie's hand is still holding yours and it's making you feel things that you never expected.

Eddie gently strokes your hand with his thumb, marvels at the soft skin and how your hand fits perfectly in his own.

Uh, shit. This was new. You smile at him, suddenly seeming shy. His heart skips a beat. Jesus h Christ.

"I didn't mean it" he stumbles over his words and you sigh sadly, peer at him with an expression that tugs at his heart.

"Yes you did" he shakes his head fervently and assured you that he didn't.

"I just snapped back without thinking, I'm sorry" he pleads with you and you hear the sincerity in his voice and calm down a bit.

"I'm sorry too. Today has been so shit, I'm tired and I feel like crap. I just want to sleep" Eddie immediately grabs his notebook and pencil and sits down, he looks to you patiently.

"Let's do half an hour and I'll cram as much as I can in my brain and then I'm going to drive you home okay?" relived you nod but still feel worried.

"Miss O'Donnell won't be happy" you tell him and he shrugs as if he doesn't care one bit.

"Leave the old dragon to me okay princess?" touched at his sweetness you take his hand and squeeze it as a thank you. Surprisingly the half hour passes by cordially and Eddie is still sweet.

Before you know it the half hour has ended and Eddie is true to his word and drives you home. You don't feel much better and your stomach is fluttering like crazy being so close to Eddie.

What the hell was happening? Was this some side effect of the flu? Eddie's big brown eyes meet yours, "Thanks for driving me home Eddie"

He shrugs like it's no big deal and on impulse you reach over to kiss his cheek. The only thing is he moves so you miss completely and end up pressing your lips against his.

His eyes widen and you pull away embarrassed, your heart is racing and your lips are tingling from the kiss. You stammer out an apology but Eddie waves it off, you race out the door and into your house.

All the while Eddie is touching his lips, his own heart is racing a mile a minute and all he can think about is that he really wants to kiss you again.

💌🎀💌🎀

[puckinghischier]

Chef’s Kiss

Nico x fem!reader, soft!Nico, domestic!Nico

summary: Nico fluff, basically

notes: i just really love soft nico and couldn’t get him out of my head so here’s this (also ignore the fact i keep using the same pics in my posts, i need to find more 💀)

[2k]

~

Nico was always trying to do little things to bring a smile to your face. Whether it was having the laundry washed, folded, and put away by the time you got home, sending you funny videos and silly selfies throughout the day, or simply having a glass of your favorite wine waiting on you as soon as you walked through the door, he loved providing small moments of happiness for you. He didn’t have time to do things for you often, his schedule getting increasingly busier as the season goes on, but today he had a completely free afternoon and wanted to have your favorite meal plated and waiting for you to enjoy as soon as you got off work. The idea came to him when you called him on what was supposed to be your lunch break.

“Neeks, I’m so sorry but I have to work late again. I’m having to re-do all of my reports for the day because my boss didn’t like the format that I used, even though it’s the exact format he told me to use three days ago! I swear sometimes he just wants to make my life a living hell. I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

Nico had a fond smile on his face, despite the nature of your call; hearing you rant to him about work was always something he looked forward to. While he didn’t love the fact that you were upset and that your boss was a grade A asshole, he loved being the one you came to when you were frustrated and just needed to blow off steam. It always made him happy to know that he was the one you called when you needed a mid-day pick me up on particularly stressful days. He had tried to tell you multiple times to just quit—that he makes enough for the both of you to live on – but you wouldn’t even entertain the thought. You’d always tell him no and that you needed to pull your weight with the bills and rent, too. You didn’t want to have all of the tears you shed while you were in college go to waste. To quote your exact words ‘I’m going to use this damn degree even if it kills me’. He admired your work ethic and that you didn’t want to have him be your own personal bank, but it was times like this he wishes you would just take his suggestion to heart and actually quit.

“I understand, but don’t work too late, schatz. It’s not good for you. Tuck and I will be here waiting on you when you get here,” Nico looks over at the cat quietly snoozing over on the couch. “I noticed you left your lunch in the fridge; do you need me to bring you something? I don’t have to go back to the rink today for anything, so I could pick up something from that sushi place you like and we could have a little lunch date? Give you a few minutes to reset and recharge?”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t have time to eat today anyways. At this point working through lunch is the only way I’ll be able to come home before midnight. Thanks for the offer, though, Neeks. I have to go, my boss is calling me, probably to tell me something else I did wrong. I’ll text you when I leave, love you,” you hang up the phone, not giving Nico a chance to respond. He knows your boss hates when he catches you taking personal calls on company time, so he just sends you a simple “I love you, too. Please eat something and don’t work too hard” text since you hung up before he had time to tell you himself.

As soon as he pressed send, Nico grabbed his keys and took off to the grocery store. He really only went to pick up the ingredients to make dinner, but he couldn’t help making a quick stop at the local florist, grabbing a small bouquet of daisies he knows you’ll love. As he was driving home, he remembers this bakery you had told him you’ve been wanting to try, so he finds himself in said bakery picking out a few baked goods for you to taste test (and maybe a few for himself, too). By the time he had made it back home it was well past five, when you typically leave your office for the day. Once he brought his haul of groceries, flowers, and pastries in the door, Tuck greeted him by meowing loudly for his food.

“Sorry, Tuck, I’m late for dinner, aren’t I?” Nico asks the cat as he walks over and fills the hangry cat’s food bowl. “Now that you’re fed, I need to get to work on feeding your mom. That is, if I can manage not to burn anything.”

Nico got to work immediately, turning on the cooking playlist you had made and grabbing his ‘Kiss the Swiss’ apron you had jokingly gifted him for Christmas. He pulled out the recipe book that your mom gave you two as a house-warming gift when you first moved in. Just last week you had been talking about how you missed your mom’s famous pasta, so he decided that was his attempted dish of the night. He laid out all of the ingredients and followed the recipe as closely as he could, paying special attention to all of the little notes your mother added in the margins of the typed recipe. About an hour into Nico’s cooking you sent him a text that you were nearly finished and would be home soon, but he was so busy trying to perfect making pasta from scratch that he never even looked at his phone. When he was on his third attempt at the pasta dough, he heard the front door open.

He looked over at the clock to see that it was nearly seven-thirty. He heard your keys hit the bowl sitting on the small table beside the front door and your sigh of relief once you took your shoes off. He could hear the soft thuds your feet made on the hardwood while you walked into the living room. He looked up from the counter to see your tired body drift over to the couch where Tuck laid sound asleep.

“Hey, Tuck. How was your day? Did you catch a lot of Z’s? Dream about catching mice? Poop on your dad’s pillow again?” Nico heard your soft voice say, chuckling at your last question.

The poor kitten had, somehow, got locked in yours and Nico’s bedroom a few weeks ago and neither of you noticed until it was well past feeding time and the little furball hadn’t come running into the kitchen screaming for his dinner. It took the two of you twenty minutes to hear the soft meows coming from your bedroom, the TV in the living room having drowned them out for most of the day. As soon as you opened the door Tuck came sprinting out of the room as fast as he could, acting as if he’d been in there for days. He ran straight to his food bowl and turned around, glaring at Nico and yourself. Later that evening the two of you made your way to the bedroom to settle down for the night only to find that Tuck had left a nice, smelly present on his pillow. Nico was appalled, to say the least. Gagging and holding his pillow out with straight arms as if it was poisonous. You, however, were doubled over with laughter. You fell onto the bed and were laughing hysterically when Nico finally came back into the room, no pillow to be seen.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing; it’s disgusting! The cat shit on my pillow!” Nico expressed, standing in front of the bed with his arm crossed, looking like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

“Neeks, it’s hilarious! Out of all the places in the room he could’ve shit, he saw your pillow and thought ‘Ah, yes. Dad’s pillow. I think this will be my new bathroom.” You wipe the tears from your eyes, slightly out of breath from your laughing fit.

“Well, of course it’s funny when it’s not your pillow! If he would’ve shit on your pillow, you would be as upset as I am.” Nico huffed, still in his childish stance.

“Wait, where is your pillow?”

“In the trash.”

“You threw away the whole pillow!?” you exclaimed, starting to laugh all over again.

“Of course, I threw away the whole pillow! I’m not about to sleep on that thing tonight! It’s contaminated!”

“Nico, you could’ve just gotten a new pillow case. You didn’t have to throw your whole pillow away! What are you going to sleep on tonight?” You asked him, amusement clear in your voice.

“Well…I didn’t think that far ahead,” Nico said, his stance deflating a little.

He ended up sleeping on a throw pillow from the couch that night, picking up a new pillow on his way home from practice the next morning. Since then, the two of you have always made sure to keep your bedroom door open anytime Tuck isn’t in his usual spot on the couch.

Nico smiles at the memory, completely forgetting the fact that he was supposed to be kneading the pasta dough in his hands. By the time his thoughts circulate back to the task at hand, he hears you ask the cat “Where’s your dad, huh?” followed by the sound of your clothes rustling as you move to get off of the couch.

“Nico? You in here?” you call as you walk around the corner of the living room into the kitchen. “Neeks- Oh, there you are. What are you doing?” You stopped in the doorway of the kitchen when you took in the scene in front of you. The pots and pans on the stove, the steam coming from a pot of boiling water, the smell of chicken in the oven, and the bouquet of flowers and box of pastries on the counter next to them. Then your eyes move over to Nico, noticing he was absolutely covered in flour. He had flour in his hair, on his face, on his apron, in the floor, and all over the counter.

“Nico, what the hell are you doing? What is all of this?” you asked him once the two of you made eye contact.

“Well, I was trying to have dinner waiting on you when you got home because I know you’ve had a shitty day, but I’ve just now realized that I don’t know how to make pasta from scratch.”

“Why are you trying to make pasta from scratch?” you walk towards him, laughing at how distraught he looks.

“You said you’ve been craving your mom’s pasta recipe, so I thought it would be a good way to cheer you up after the day that you’ve had,” he replied, grabbing a towel to wipe the flour off of his hands.

“Nico, I love you, I do. And I appreciate the effort, but please throw that ball of…whatever that is in the trash and just use dried pasta next time,” you look over at what’s supposed to be pasta dough, reaching him and placing your arms on his shoulders, hands coming together to rest on the back of his neck.

“I try to make you a nice meal and this is the response I get? No ‘nice try’ or ‘wow, it smells great in here!’” he jokes, looking down at you, attempting to look offended, but his eyes only reflect love and amusement.

“You’ll get real praise when you learn how to make pasta from scratch. For now, consider this your compliment,” you stand on your toes, pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“You call that a compliment? Read the apron and try again.”

You laugh before meeting him halfway for a real kiss this time, thinking to yourself just how lucky you were to have Nico in your life.

[d1xonss]

Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?

Pretty When I Cry

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 1

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Angst/Fluff

✧ Word Count : 4k

AN ~ This is a very cute idea. I've been wanting to write something for season 1 Daryl because he's just such a cutie pie, but I didn't really have any good ideas. Though I think if he were to ever snap and "be mean" it would surely be in the beginning; his sassy era lol. But thank you for the request, hope you enjoy!

In an instant it seemed like, all of humanity was completely flipped upside down. You were on your way to work when the chaos all erupted, dead people coming back to life and the military taking matters into their own hands. Bombing places left and right even if that meant killing the ones who weren’t infected. The entire thing shook you more than you were ever willing to admit, after all, you were more fragile, soft and clearly not built for whatever the world was suddenly turning into.

But to your surprise, you made it out alive. Traumatized, sure, but alive.

You seemed to count your blessings every single day since then, thankful for every little thing that had happened to you since. Luck seemed to shine down upon you as you weren’t alone for long, finding a small group camped out in the high mountains merely days after everything went down. They all welcomed you with open arms, clearly taking a liking to your kindness and wanting as many people to come together as they could get. After all, it’s all that was left of the world. People you could rely on.

You grew to love the tight knit group, forming friendships with people you never would’ve guessed you’d meet in a million years. You also tried to keep yourself busy, wanting to be as useful as possible and provide what you could for the others. Not because you felt obligated to, but because you simply wanted to. Things like cooking, collecting berries and mushrooms, doing laundry, anything you could find to help contribute. 

Something you seemed to be ashamed of however, was that you couldn’t really do any of the “heavy lifting.” You had never fired a gun in your life, that alone narrowed down the list. Not being able to stay on watch, not being able to hunt, and…not being able to take care of the dead things that sometimes wandered all the way up here. At first, the thought of you being weaker than the others never even crossed your mind. It was only brought to your attention when a certain man began to poke fun at you because of how small he saw you.

Merle Dixon was a grade A asshole to put it bluntly. Ever since he and his brother showed up to be a part of the group later on, he had made it his mission to annoy and harass you whenever he saw the opportunity. You couldn’t figure out why you were his main target, his main source of entertainment, but you could only guess it was because he always got under your skin in a way he was able to see. That, and he tended to make you cry. He even gave you a nickname because of it after a while, one that you absolutely hated. And he knew it too.

Although Merle was someone you couldn’t stand, his brother Daryl however was…different. He could still be snappy and hot headed just like the other one you supposed, but he had never acted that way towards you surprisingly. His main target was Shane, and honestly, who could blame him? There were many times where the man would take things too far and Daryl would put him in his place, unaware of the watchful wide eyes that watched the interaction. He never seemed to care, wanting to tell everyone how it was without a single ounce of regret. You sort of envied him for that small little thing.

You had never stood up to anyone in your life, always too scared of the outcome and you hated being yelled at more than anything in the world. So it was safe to say you avoided confrontation at all costs. Clearly, as you hadn’t found the strength to stand up to Merle since he got here. But though neither of the brothers particularly cared for you, you were still kind to them just like you were to everyone else. You didn’t miss how the others in the group would almost look down on them in a way you couldn’t understand, so you wanted to be the one who provided just that little bit of kindness. It really went a long way, or at least that’s what you believed.

Though you had to admit, it was a little difficult sometimes. There were moments where you just wanted to yell in frustration, curse at Merle for how he always treated you and how Daryl typically sat there and did nothing. But you always managed to cool off, reminding yourself that they most likely acted like this because of something from their past. Something they couldn’t control. Who were you to treat them differently because of that? It was hard to stay strong at times, but in the end, you always seemed to send them a small smile.

You currently busied yourself on just the outskirts of the camp past the trees, finding and picking a few berries to bring back seeing as the group was running a bit low. And every bit of food counted these days. Your gaze stayed down as you chose the ripest ones, placing them in the little woven basket you brought to gather as many as you could for the time being. Though upon your hunt for different kinds of plant based things you could eat, your eyes happened to catch a mere glimpse of something colorful a few feet away.

To your surprise, it was a small patch of wildflowers growing together, each a different beautiful color and only a reminder to you that the world wasn’t completely dead. There were still many beautiful aspects along the way, even though a bit of hope may be lost, it was little things like this that brought a smile to your face. So you decided to wrap it up, bring back the things you’d collected along with picking one of the small flowers, putting it behind your ear for now to take back and put in your tent with the rest of your things. You had the idea of pressing it into one of the pages of a journal you kept.

You then found yourself slowly trailing back towards the site, almost dreadfully as you could predict what was coming next. You could practically hear it in the back of your mind like it was burned into your memory. Merle’s phantom voice echoed in your mind, knowing he would most likely call out to you the moment he noticed your presence reenter the space. But again, you reminded yourself to just try and be kind. It was the one thing you were best at.

Slowly but surely you made it past the treeline, and only about eight seconds passed before you heard a loud wolf whistle from your left along with the same booming laugh. Like he amused himself or something.

“There she is!” he called from the space in his and Daryl’s separate camp away from the others, “It’s weeping willow.” he smiled widely in hopes to get a reaction out of you.

You sighed as you sent him a small smile, “Still not my name Merle.” you reminded as you just tried to walk past him.

But it wasn’t that easy. It was never that easy. He easily stepped in front of you to block your path, the smirk still plastered on his face. “Close enough.” he waved off, “Besides, I wanna see what you so kindly brought back for me.” he said before quickly snatching your basket out of your hands.

Your eyes slightly widened as you tried to grab it back, but he pulled it away faster. “Merle.” you huffed as you attempted to reach for it again, but he only moved it away quicker. Every move you made, he would make as well, purposefully keeping it from you as he started to walk backwards for you to follow.

Like dangling a damn carrot in front of your face.

Your frustration grew as you continued to follow and reach for it as he laughed, watching your attempts and fails. You could feel your cheeks beginning to heat up in embarrassment now, sensing Daryl’s eyes watching the interaction as he made a few bolts by the small fire they had set up. He sat there still, doing nothing as per usual as he watched the interaction unfold right in front of him.

“Merle, please. It’s for the group.” you tried as you reached for it again.

But he pulled it out of your reach as you stood face to face, “Well, I’m a part of that group ain’t I? I think I deserve this just as much as the next bastard. Unless of course you have a different opinion bout that…” he trailed off as his smirk grew.

You sighed, “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. It’s for everyone.” you clarified kindly.

The man only laughed at you, and you quickly began to feel the familiar lump forming in your throat, trying desperately to swallow it down and not let your emotions escape. It was obvious you were sensitive, but also having to fight the same fight over and over again, it got old quicker than you would admit. You could hardly stand these interactions anymore without at least tearing up a little at his teasing and taunting.

Finally after having enough, you reached out quickly and managed to snatch the basket back from him in one quick motion, placing it on your arm as your brows furrowed a little in frustration. Merle’s eyes widened a bit at the fast unexpected action, before he started smirking all over again once he caught the expression on your face.

“Oooh look at that. I almost got ya to snap.” he poked as he swayed a little clumsily on his feet, most likely a little drunk or high would be your best guess.

Sighing to yourself again to calm down, you shook your head as you knew of his only goal, “I’m not snapping.” you stated calmly.

Though he clearly didn’t believe you, wanting to push you even more. His eyes traveled away from your eyes as he grinned wickedly, pointing to your ear. “What’s this lil thing?” he asked. Your eyes widened a little, but before you could even react, he quickly snatched it away all while pulling your hair a little in the process. 

Your hand reached again, “Merle, come on, please.” you spoke desperately as you moved to keep up with him, before your frame accidentally stepped a little too far to the left.

In a fit of embarrassment and clumsiness, your foot accidentally knocked over a bucket that was sitting a little too close to the fire. The only problem was, Daryl’s freshly made bolts were sitting in there, now being engulfed in the flames. Your eyes widened in horror as you quickly scrambled back, watching Daryl instantly stand to his feet in an attempt to save what wasn’t ruined. But it was too late.

“Son of a bitch!” he cursed loudly as he bent down to pick up the bucket.

One of your hands came up to your mouth as you couldn’t believe what you had just done, freezing in place as you now didn’t know what to do. You knew you were in deep shit already, but when Merle suddenly paused just as you did, you knew you were royally fucked as the two of you just watched Daryl stare down at the fire motionlessly.

Eventually you found your voice, stepping forward a little to reach out to him, “Oh my God, Daryl I’m so sorry-”

But your words clearly didn’t mean a thing. He slapped your hand harshly away from him as his head snapped up to look at you, a fire of his own growing in his eyes. “What the hell is wrong with ya?!” he screamed.

You instantly flinched back at his sharp tone, the lump once again forming in your throat as you desperately tried to keep yourself together, “It was an accident-”

“Do ya even know how long it took me ta make those?” he asked angrily, not even bothering to wait for an answer. “Nah…course ya don’t. Cause you don’t do anything around here! Always just sittin in yer own little fairytale, smilin without a goddamn care in the world, when in reality you just fuckin ruin everything!”

His words cut through you like a knife. But not one that was sharp. One that was dull, just sawing back and forth relentlessly and hurting you even more than you could’ve ever imagined. Your eyes quickly filled with tears, not even knowing what to say as he was clearly about to blow up even more with how angry he grew. 

He scoffed once he saw how speechless you became, “Just get the hell outta here.” he spat harshly as he got up closer to your face, aggressively pointing off into the trees.

Tears began to pour down your cheeks at the last of his words, not even wasting another second as you dropped the basket from your arms before taking off in the other direction in a flash. Your chest heaved as you moved quickly through the trees, not being able to get alone fast enough so you could finally let everything out. You almost couldn’t believe the things that just happened, how everything got so messed up after you swore you were making progress with the two of them. But you weren’t. And perhaps you never would, that being something you would just have to accept.

Though finally after feeling like you walked quickly for miles, you came to the clearing of the large quarry, slumping down near the water before you began to sob all by yourself. You let everything out, every built up emotion poured out of you like a rush of water. You could’ve sworn you cried so much that you could fill a quarry of your own, knowing that those emotions were really the only thing you were good at. Crying could be an olympic sport, and you would win first everytime given the chance. 

But that thought only got you thinking more, making you stew over Daryl’s words. Maybe he was right. Anyone could say that it was the heat of the moment, his anger, insults just spilling out of his mouth that were simply not true. But in a way, you knew how true they were. You had to admit that you did feel useless as you hugged your knees to your chest, covering your face as you sobbed even more. You didn’t have useful skills like some of the others, not being able to prove yourself as you truly were weak when it came to a world like this. All you ever wanted to do was be kind, provide for the people you cared about most. But your outlook got ruined in an instant, quickly replaced with a new one that you would surely think about forever.

It was funny, you thought. You once heard Merle’s faint voice playing in your mind repeatedly, but now…you only heard Daryl’s. His insults, his harshness, it was something you never would’ve guessed or expected from him. But now you knew that you had just ruined everything, when all you wanted was to help.

You didn’t know how much time you spent alone, crying off and on to yourself the more you allowed your mind to run, but you could only assume it was a fairly long time. The sun was beginning to set in the sky, the little bit of light that was left shone over the water in front of you, making it sparkle as your tears continued to blur the scenery. You sniffled as you wiped your cheeks over and over again, wanting to pull yourself together enough to be able to show your face again back at camp. But the embarrassment was still weighing heavily, almost a crushing pressure.

But then all your attention was pulled to a shuffling noise coming from behind you, causing you to whip your head around in a panic to see where it came from. Though the sight was more surprising than you could’ve ever prepared yourself for. Daryl slowly emerged from the trees with a hesitant look on his face, and your eyes widened as you quickly turned your head back in the opposite direction. You didn’t want to look at him. You couldn’t even bring yourself to understand why he had come out here. He had already done enough, he made his point crystal clear. You were just silently hoping he didn’t come out here to yell at you again.

Daryl on the other hand felt an immense amount of guilt. His chest tightened a little as he caught barely a glimpse of your red, puffy eyes and your tear stained cheeks, knowing he was the cause of it. He couldn’t describe how it made him feel, but all he knew was he was wishing he could take it all back if it meant not having to see you cry. His brother already caused you to break down enough, he didn’t want to be the cause of that too. And yet, he was.

The man slowly walked up to where you sat near the blue water, the rocks crunching beneath his boots louder and louder as he approached. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you just prayed he would go away, not wanting to interact with him after everything. But Daryl was stubborn, and he didn’t want you out here all night just because you were nervous to come back.

“Dinner’s almost ready.” he said a bit awkwardly, stopping just a few feet away from you. You heard him loud and clear, but you said nothing, not really in the mood to eat. Facing the group after they surely heard the scene that went down, it all sounded like a nightmare.

Daryl sighed heavily as you didn’t respond, you didn’t even look in his direction. Acting as if he wasn’t here at all. “Hey.” he called.

“...Why do you hate me?” you whispered, still not facing him as you spoke.

He almost questioned what you had said, but then it seemed to hit him all at once just how badly he had fucked up with all this. The one girl that showed him a kindness he had never seen, now thought he wanted nothing to do with her from the projected words he spat at her.

He let out a soft breath as he closed his eyes momentarily, stepping up a little closer, “I- I don’t…I don’t hate you.” he said quietly.

You didn’t react, so he managed to push himself a little further than what he was comfortable with. He moved to slowly sit down beside you, keeping some distance, yet he wanted you to know he was there. That he meant it. “I don’t hate you.” he said again.

“You act like it.” you were quick to say as you turned your head to look him in the eye, “I…I don’t even know what I did…” you said, your voice quiet and broken.

The man stared at you for a long moment, before slowly shaking his head, “Ya didn’t do nothin…it’s…it’s hard to explain. But I guess I never really understood…why yer so nice. Thought maybe ya just wanted somethin from me…I dunno.”

You shook your head a little in disbelief, “I’m nice because I care…that’s it.” you assured as you didn’t want him to think otherwise. But you supposed hearing his reasoning out loud made a little more sense, seeing as how you truly were the only one nice enough to show your kindness to the brothers. He was skeptical because no one had done that for them before, the thought nearly broke your heart.

A long moment of silence passed between the two of you, before you were the one to break it, “Listen…I’m so sorry about what happened. I didn’t mean to ruin what you worked so hard on, it was an accident.”

Though Daryl quickly shook his head, “Nah, don’t be. If anythin, I should be apologizin for what I said. I…I didn’t mean none of it…”

You stared at him with a soft expression, “But you were right…everything you said-”

“Everything I said was bullshit.” he said bluntly, looking at you with a seriousness in his eyes, “I say a lotta stupid shit I don’t mean when m’ angry, and this ain’t no different, ya hear me?”

“But it’s true.” you argued gently before looking back out into the water, “I don’t know how to help out…how to survive in a world like this. I always try to do what I can, but it’s never enough.”

Daryl paused as he saw the sadness behind your eyes, a sudden feeling overtaking him as he wanted to say or do something that would get you to smile again. “Hey, that ain’t true. Ya go out and scavenge, ya help cook the food that’s brought back��ya even helped stitch Glenn up when the dumbass hurt himself.”

His words caused a small laugh to escape your lips as you looked back over to him, “Well I knew he would somehow mess it up even more if he did it himself…I didn’t have a choice with that one.”

“Nah…ya did.” he said seriously, “Ya always have a choice, and I see ya puttin others before yerself all the time. That’s somethin ya should give yerself credit for.”

Your eyes softened the longer you looked at him, a small smile forming on your face just seeing how much he cared. Even if he wasn’t willing to admit it out loud just yet. “Thank you.” you said quietly.

Daryl felt his face grow a little hot as he ducked his head, clearing his throat a little awkwardly, “Yeah, no problem…” he muttered before it looked like he suddenly remembered something. “Oh, and uh…I brought ya this.” he said before revealing the hand that sat behind his back.

You looked down to see it was the same small flower that Merle took from you, sitting in the palm of his hand as he held it out to you. Your eyes widened a little as your small fingers delicately took it from his grasp. “You got it back?” 

“Uh, no that one was all smushed by the end of…everythin. So I went and got ya a new one…hope that’s okay.” he explained a bit quietly.

Your smile grew as your eyes lit up at the simple kind gesture, one you would have never expected from him. “It’s perfectly okay…thank you.” you said sincerely, raising it up to place it behind your ear.

He nodded a bit awkwardly as he watched you for a moment, chewing the inside of his lip. “Alright, well come on.” he muttered as he stood back up to his feet, “Best be gettin back.” he spoke, hesitantly extending a hand out to help you up.

His actions surprised you a bit, but that didn’t stop you from taking his hand, letting him help you stand before the two of you slowly headed back through the woods. You half expected complete silence as you walked side by side with him, but he managed to keep a conversation with you as if he suddenly enjoyed your company. Though maybe he always did, he was just cautious as he didn’t always trust people as easily as you did. But you were growing more hopeful as he slowly came around, finding you had to be patient to see how much of a gentle person he really was.

From that day on, you and Daryl had slowly gotten more comfortable with each other. You wouldn’t really call it a friendship per se, but it was something the two of you very clearly cherished. But that wasn’t the only thing that seemed to change.

Merle’s attitude toward you seemed to have completely flipped from what you had grown accustomed to. He rarely ever spoke to you again after that day, and if he did it was always something short and simple, not an insult in sight. Though you were a little surprised, a part of you had a feeling who changed his mind about you.

~ Thanks for reading!