#oh yeah for people not in the know for the Content Box:

[noosayog]

gravitate ft. miya atsumu

wc: 4.1k, part 1 of 2

contents/warnings: fwb dynamic, fluff, heavy on angst, suggestive but sfw, reader uses she/her prns, referred to as girlfriend, wife, reader has minor social anxiety

when i said this, i was referring to this

--

Of course it’d be the one time you say yes to the many invitations you get from Hinata to celebrate a post-game win with his teammates and other close friends. 

Even though you’ve met a handful of Hinata’s volleyball friends and teammates before, the prospect of being in an enclosed space with people you don’t know still makes you anxious. You pay a bit closer attention to your outfit before heading out. 

A 15-minute commute and one deep breath at the door later, you’re sat next to Hinata at the table as he introduces you to the rest of his current Black Jackals teammates. 

“You know Kageyama and my old high school teammates already. That’s Bokuto-”

“Hey!”

“That’s Sakusa-san,” 

A silent nod. 

“Hoshiumi-san,”

“Hello.”

“And Miya Atsumu-kun, our setter.” 

“Hi,” you nod shyly to everyone. The immediate halt in the conversation leaves you feeling like you need to bust out a joke or something. Luckily, everyone quickly turns their attention back to the menu, leaving you to catch your breath even though all you’ve done was say a one-syllable greeting. 

You spend much of the first half of dinner talking only to Hinata, racking your brain for topics for small talk, and speaking up only when you’ve been talked to first. 

A few drinks help loosen you up a bit and dinner ends without a hitch before the group decides to move to a nearby bar. 

You’re content to watch the group and their antics quietly, before excusing yourself to get another drink at the bar.

“‘Scuse me.” 

“”Oh,” you say, shying away from the voice. “I’ll move over.” 

“Thanks,” the unfamiliar voice responds. 

You stand awkwardly at the bar as you and the stranger try to flag down the bartender. You feel the prickly sensation of a stare at the side of your face and when you glance over, you find the stranger’s gaze on you. 

You give him an uncomfortable smile, before averting your eyes again. 

“Busy night, huh?” 

You glance at him again, giving him one nod of acknowledgement. 

“What’cha drinking?” 

“Oh, uh… just a beer, I think.” 

“Yeah? What kind?”

“Uh… I don’t know. Just whatever,” you say, hoping he takes the hint. 

“Can I make a suggestion then? What do you usually like to drink?” You glance back towards your group and accidentally make eye contact with Miya Atsumu, the setter you had met at dinner. He looks away just as quickly. 

You close your eyes in defeat before turning back to the bar, being careful not to make eye contact with the man beside you. “No, I’m okay. Thank you, though.” 

He inches closer, arm almost touching yours now. “Aww, c’mon. Just tell me. It’ll be on me.” 

You lean further away, the back of your thighs now pressing against the bar chair behind you. “I-” 

“Hey! Gettin’ another drink?” 

The said bar chair suddenly gets yanked away, leaving you stumbling back a few steps, but a hand comes up on your shoulder to steady you. You look up to see Miya Atsumu. He places one arm between you and the other man, angling his body to face you. 

“Oh! Atsumu. Yes, I am,” you can’t contain the relief in your exhale. 

You notice Atsumu inching backwards to give you more space and simultaneously box out the other guy. His back pushes into the other guy’s arm, who gives a weak protest. 

Atsumu looks behind him and offers a flippant, “sorry, buddy,” before flagging the bartender down with no issues.

“Another beer for me and…” Atsumu looks to you. 

“Make it two.” 

The two of you stand side by side while the bartender fills up the mugs and you rack your brain for things to say. 

“Sorry if I was bein’ a busybody,” Atsumu speaks first. “Just didn’t look like you were enjoyin’ it.” 

He juts a thumb behind his back to gesture at the guy, now a distance away. 

“Oh yeah- I mean, no. Uh, thanks. Yeah…” 

Atsumu laughs. “No worries and… there’s no need to be nervous around the guys. We’re a rowdy bunch, but all good people, I promise.” 

You pick at your fingers. “Was I that obvious?” 

“Little bit,” he chuckles. “Seems that the drinks are loosenin’ you up a bit though.” He gestures at the glass that the bartender dropped off in front of him and hands his card over. 

“I can pay…” 

“Nah, on me. You can take the next one if you feel bad.” 

You thank him and take the glass. 

Atsumu sits down on one of the bar chairs facing you. “So, how do you know Shoyo-kun?” 

Still standing, your eyes flicker to your group, still huddled around the same table where you left them. 

“Are…” we not going back? The question dies on your tongue when you turn back to Atsumu and see the way he stares, eyebrows raised as if he knows what you’re thinking and curious as to what decision you’ll make. 

You sit down in the bar chair next to him and he’s so easy to talk to and one thing leads to another and before you know it, you end up in his bed later that night.

– 

You wake up the next morning with foreign sheets tangled around your legs and an unfamiliar body warmth under your cheek. When you tilt your head up, you're met with Atsumu’s brown eyes. He’s awake and blinking lazily down at you, one arm still wrapped around your waist. 

It’s instinct, the way you look back down, embarrassed at having been caught and shy despite the state of your undress.

A raspy chuckle shakes from his chest where you have one palm flat against as your brain awakens its overthinking engine. 

You have no experience with hooking up with strangers, but he wouldn’t be looking for a no-strings attached type situation if he’s cuddling you in the morning, right? Or maybe you should’ve left last night?

But at the same time, isn’t poor etiquette to kick your partner out of bed the second you’re done? So maybe he’s just being polite by letting you crash here? And the cuddling, as comfortable as it is, is just him being a decent man? 

“Hey,” his gentle voice shakes you from your thoughts, one finger coming below your chin to meet his eyes. “Good mornin’” 

“Morning,” you mumble demurely, eyes desperately looking anywhere but him, even as he holds your face close. 

He drops a light kiss on your lips. “Last night was great. You feelin’ okay?” 

Your legs twitch in response. You belatedly realize that your legs are pushed between his. “A little sore, but I’m okay.” 

“Good. Wanna take a shower and we can talk over breakfast?” 

“‘Mkay.” 

You reluctantly take your legs back, relishing the last bit of his body heat, but Atsumu has other ideas. In one sweeping motion, he flips his duvet off and tosses you over his shoulder. 

“Atsumu!” 

He gives your thighs a pat before walking you over to the bathroom. You thank every god out there that you had some sense to pull your panties and one of his shirts on before passing out. 

He drops you off on the toilet seat. “Use anything you want. Fresh towels are in that drawer. There should be a new toothbrush under the sink.” 

“I could’ve walked myself.” 

He presses another kiss to your lips, the contact making you realize you’ve been pouting. “I know. Take your time, darlin’.” 

You make sure the door clicks shut behind him before you grab a fresh towel, hold it tight against your face and scream into the abyss. 

– 

A hot shower revives you. The ache between your legs stays but  the hot water helped, so you wobble your way to the kitchen. Two plates of toast and eggs sit on the dining table already as you watch Atsumu fill up a glass of water. When he sees you, he gestures for you to sit. 

“Hey, how was the shower?” 

You give your own body a once over before frowning at him. “I could’ve worn my clothes from yesterday.” 

A clean t-shirt was sitting folded for you on the toilet seat when you came out of the shower, so that’s all you were wearing over yesterday’s underwear. 

“And can you put on a shirt?” you add. 

He grins. You’re already getting used to seeing that expression on him. “Why? Am I distractin’ you? And in case you forgot, you spilled water all over yourself at the bar yesterday, so your clothes are still wet.”

“We should’ve put them in the dryer or at least hung them up last night…”

He walks over to you and pulls you towards the dining table. You let him coax you into a chair. “Well, we were a bit preoccupied when we got inside, yeah?” 

“Whatever…” you deflect, jabbing at the scrambled eggs on your plate. 

“So…” he starts, after putting the dishes in the sink and refusing your attempts to clean up. “About last night.” 

You tense up, clenching your fists. 

“I had a really good time and I really enjoyed talking to you.” 

Enjoyed, past tense. A part of you relaxes. At least you know the general direction he wanted to take this in. 

“Me too,” you respond. 

“And I don’t wanna give you the wrong idea, but I’m not looking for a committed relationship right now. I need to focus on volleyball and I mean, you’re Shoyo-kun’s friend, so I don’t want that to be weird either.” 

You nod. “I get it.” 

He looks startled at your easy response. “Really?” 

“Yeah. I really enjoyed talking to you too, but I’m not expecting us to start dating or anything.” 

He blinks. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” you ask, wondering if you should be offended by the reaction. 

“It’s not that I’m surprised. Well,I guess I am a bit. You don’t really seem like the type who’s used to casual hook ups.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I just mean-”

You laugh. “I know what you mean. I’m just playing with you.” He relaxes a bit. “You’re right. I don’t really do this,” you gesture between the two of you, “often. But like you said, I think we both really enjoyed each others’ company and we can leave it at that.” 

“Okay, then.” 

“Yep.” 

An awkward breath passes before he speaks up again. “I hung your clothes up to dry earlier this morning. They should be good now.” 

You’re not positive that he means it this way, but you take the hint anyway. “Thanks. I’ll get changed and get going.” 

He gets up after you. “Can I walk you back?”

You put a hand out to keep some distance between you two. “Atsumu. I think I can manage.” 

He smiles, unsure, but nods anyway. 

At the door, he opens his arms and you file in robotically, giving him a loose hug before saying goodbye. 

You feel slightly bad at the obvious distance you were putting between the two of you, and you’re sure Atsumu can pick up on it, but it’d be far better to make things a little awkward than to let him get any closer than he already has in just one night. 

– 

It takes another afterparty hosted by Hinata for you to see him again. You had kind of figured that the unspoken rule was that if neither of you reached out, it really meant nothing. Even though the two of you never exchanged numbers or social media, you’d be lying if you didn’t have a little hope that he’d ask someone for your social and DM you. But days, weeks, went by with your messages and DMs dry, so you packed up your foolish hopes and chucked them to the furthest corner of your brain. 

This time, the gathering is hosted at Bokuto’s beautiful lofty apartment, fully furnished with a modern kitchen, balcony overlooking Tokyo, and massive living area. 

Even though you know pretty much all the attendees today, it doesn’t keep you from feeling a bit nauseous on the elevator ride up. Once again, at the front door, you raise your finger to press on the doorbell, pausing to take a deep breath before pushing the button. 

When the door swings open, the loud chatter of the inside makes it clear that this was not the small gathering you were expecting. The apartment is packed with people, many of whom you don’t recognize. 

“Hey! You made it!” 

“Welcome to my place!” 

Hinata and Bokuto, with one arm around each other, greet you loudly at the door. 

You awkwardly push your gift of red bean mochi in front of you. “I’m so sorry… I thought it was going to be a small thing, so I only brought a pack of 12.” 

Bokuto laughs heartily, plucking the gift from your hands. “This is great! Akaashi loves red bean mochi, so thanks! We’ll just keep it to our close friends instead of sharing it with the entire party,” he winks at you. 

Hinata grabs your arm and ushers you to the kitchen area, which is slightly less packed than the living room and balcony. “Are you drinking tonight?” 

“Yep, I’ll have something.” 

He produces a can of beer and pops the tab for you. 

“Lemme introduce you to some of the people here. You already know the usual Karasuno alum. You met most of my current BJ teammates last time. Oh, yeah,” he interrupts himself. “What happened to you last time by the way? We were all at the bar and then I don’t really remember seeing you go home at some point.” 

Not seeing any particular reason to keep it a secret, you tell him about going home with his setter. 

“Ah.” Hinata says. 

“What?” you ask warily. “Maybe… has Atsumu asked about me?”

Hinata shakes his head. “No, not really?” 

You scowl. “Then why’d you say ‘ah’ like that?” 

“Did I? My bad!” 

You roll your eyes, having momentarily forgotten that your friend hardly thinks about much else other than volleyball. 

He introduces you to some other people, mostly other volleyball players before dropping you off at the kitchen since you said you needed another drink. 

“You sure you’re going to be alright on your own?” 

You try to smile reassuringly. “I’ll be fine. Go have fun.” 

He leaves, so you busy yourself rummaging through the fridge for another drink. When you find nothing of interest, you look around the room, eyeing what people have in their drinks. The longer you spend looking around without a drink in your hand and in your own company in the crowded room, the more you feel out of place. With that, you grab the first unopened drink on the counter and snake your way through the crowd in search of a familiar face. 

And it just so happens that the first familiar face you find is Atsumu. 

“Hey, stranger,” he says easily to you. 

“I’m not the one who’s a stranger,” you blurt out the first quippy line you could think of. 

His eyes widen. “What-” 

“It’s just a joke.” you cut him off. “I didn’t mean it in any special way.” 

He doesn’t buy it, expression sobering up quickly. “Didn’t sound like a joke to me.” 

You scramble for words, your social anxiety not helping. “I really just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. You know I get really nervous at these group things…” 

He stares at you. A couple of seconds go by and you contemplate just turning around and walking away to mourn your social ineptitude somewhere private. But Atsumu breaks out in a small smile. 

“You were pretty nervous at that time, huh?” 

“Exactly!” you eagerly add on. “Atsumu, I really didn’t mean anything by it.” 

“I believe you. But…” 

You stiffen. 

“Wouldn’t blame you if you meant it in a special way. I hear I’m pretty unforgettable.” 

You punch him in the arm. 

He laughs good-naturedly and offers a crooked arm. “Another drink?” 

You look down to see your bottle empty. You take his arm and let him lead you to another drink which turns into four. 

Atsumu’s presence is massive and it makes meeting new people easier. He introduces you (as Hinata’s childhood friend, of course) to new people, resting a heavy arm over your shoulder as he gets more drinks in his system. 

The gesture doesn’t alarm you. After all, men who are interested in someone would put an arm around your waist, right? Friends do shoulders, just like how Hintata and Bokuto had greeted you at the door. 

But just like last time, he melts your worries away and before long, the two of you are giggling into each others lips and sneaking out to go do something other than talk. 

–

And it happens again, and again, and again. Before you know it, every single dinner, afterparty, night out becomes an opportunity for the two of you to get together. You always somehow find yourselves all alone where you always talk for hours and enjoy each others’ company too much, and fail to resist the temptation of falling into bed together. And each morning, you wake up, act like lovers until breakfast, before parting ways to radio silence until the next time. 

Your mutual count of offenses gets into the double digits before you really realize you’re in hot water. 

–

The next time it happens, it’s when Hinata invites you to watch an official game. You show up wearing a plain black top to show your support for the Jackals. As you settle into the seats Hinata offers up to you and some ex-teammates, he spots your group and gives you his usual sunny smile. 

The rest of his team notices you and now that you’ve met them a couple of times, a natural smile comes easier when you meet each of their eyes. When your gaze finally falls upon Atsumu, he gives you a silly grin, not unlike the one you’re getting used to seeing over breakfast, and holds his fingers up in a corny heart. You roll your eyes playfully and he clutches his heart dramatically in response. 

A giggle escapes your lips, keeping a ghost of a smile on your lips until Tsukishima, who decided to join you to watch the game, catches you with one eyebrow raised. 

“What?” you ask defensively. 

“Nothing.” 

From there, you make sure to keep your expressions reigned in. Sure, your eyes may follow him a bit more than any other player, but that’s not something to read into. He’s the setter, after all. They touch the ball the most so it only makes sense that anyone watching the game would watch him the most. 

The Jackals end up losing in the close third set. You meet the players outside afterwards to tell them it was a great game and when the group emerges, it’s sans the setter. Mustering up a reassuring smile, you give each one of them a hug before sneaking away back to the gym to check up on the one you’re most concerned about. 

After your first hookup with Atsumu, he had told you that volleyball was the reason he couldn’t be in a committed relationship at the moment. To anyone, that would have sounded like an excuse. But after getting to know him more, you could tell he really meant it. So it’s not a surprise to you when you find him still on the court, practicing serves even when his eyes are rimmed red. 

“Atsumu,” you call out. 

He jumps and slams another serve, as if he hadn’t heard you. 

“Atsumu,” you say a bit louder. 

You step closer and closer, taking tentative steps until you’re right behind him. As he picks up another ball, you put your hand on his arm to stop him. 

“Atsumu,” you say softly. 

He doesn’t shake you off so you take the chance to pry the ball out of his hand, letting it bounce to the ground as you circle around to face him. His eyes stayed glued to the floor, fists clenched. You bring your fingers to his, lightly uncurling them from where they make angry crescent imprints in his palm. When his hands relent, you let them fall limply back to his side before pulling him in for a hug. It only takes one second of hesitation before he returns the embrace fiercely, crushing you against him. You swear you can feel a dampness on your shoulder that isn’t sweat. 

“You need to rest,’ you whisper. 

He nods, letting you guide him home, where something in him seems to snap. His hands and lips are all over you even in the hallway of his buildings and it leaves you with barely enough sanity to dig  his keys out of his gym bag to unlock the door before he takes you against the door, on his couch, and one last time in bed. Maybe you imagined the “thank you” he whispers to you before you pass out cold. 

It’s sometime in the middle of the night when you come to, somewhere between awake and asleep. You stir to the sensation of Atsumu’s fingers brushing against the crown of your head. 

“Hey sleepy,” you hear him murmur. 

You hear yourself make some incoherent noise, curling your body closer into the warmth of his body. 

“You awake?” 

“No.” 

He chuckles. “Up for another round?” 

“‘Tsumu… I’m tired.” 

“I like you calling me that.” 

You open one eye. “‘Tsumu?” 

“Yeah,” he says before leaning down and kissing you. It’s not a close lipped, innocent kiss that he often gives you the morning after. It’s languid but still urgent. You can feel your reservations slipping away. He slips a warm palm under your shirt and as he ghosts over your stomach, ribcage, then higher. 

There’s something intensely intimate about the way he touches you tonight: his forehead pressed to yours, vocal in the way he insists that you keep your eyes open. That intimacy fills your insides with something warm, and at the same time, dangerously hot. It trips some sort of alarm in your mind, but all your reservations fly out the window as he starts to move. You can’t think. 

Definitely not when he keeps kissing you up until the moment you fall asleep and you fade away to the feeling of his lips pressed to yours. 

–

For one of the first times ever, you wake up dreading the morning-after routine with Atsumu. Because this one feels different. The way he says good morning with a lazy smile, the way he strokes your forehead, the way he stares when you stretch, the way he carries you like a princess to the bathroom. 

By the time it’s time for you to make your exit, you’re convinced he feels it too. His stares linger too long, too hot to be casual. He says goodbye with a longing that is hard for even you, in all your inexperience, to ignore. 

And you have to know. 

You turn back right as you’re leaving. “Atsumu.” 

“What happened to ‘Tsumu?” he teases. 

“Can I come watch your next game?” 

“Hm? ‘Course you can. Shoyo-kun usually gets you tickets right?” 

You test the waters: something subtle but gets the message across. 

“Would it be okay if I wore your jersey?” 

His laughing stops abruptly. 

If he laughs it off and makes a joke about you joining his army of fans, you’d take the hint. This would still be casual and you’d need to re-rectify your barriers. But if by chance… 

He looks at you for a long, excruciating moment, before offering a small, shuttered smile. 

You tense up. It’s not the answer you wanted, but you always knew there was a chance this would happen anyway. You’re just grateful you waited until it was time to leave before bringing it up. 

“No… I don’t think you should.” 

That takes you by surprise. 

“I mean, I don’t want our friends to think that-” 

“That what?” you bite back with a bit more aggression that you wanted. 

Atsumu stands up straight from where he was leaning lazily in the doorway. A quiet, but stern calling of your name snaps you out of whatever reverie you’ve been in for the past couple of months. “I thought we both agreed that this was a casual thing. It goes without saying that I don’t want our friends to think we’re together. That would only complicate things.” 

Complicate? You want to scoff. As if being the outlet for his frustration last night wasn’t complicating things already. As if every kiss and touch from just a couple hours ago wasn’t complicating everything. 

But, you take a breath, composing yourself. 

“Right, sorry. I just wanted to… let you know I’m here for you. Like last night.” you bite out. 

He winces slightly. 

“See you around, Atsumu.” 

He doesn’t stop you when you walk off. In fact, everything remains the same. No texts, no calls, no messages.

[veritasangel]

Give me stalker!Simon please! Where he never goes far but treats you like a sugar baby and you're left clueless! He knows everything about you! From the way you like your toast to your favourite bra or even your period time. Please please please! Sabrina Carpenter please!!

a/n: whenever people request stuff, i always overthink what they want so i hope this is okay !

warnings! fem pov, contains nsfw content {mdni}, stalker simon, spying/cameras, obsessive, mentions of vibrator/masturbation ↣ wc: 1k

Your neighbour, Simon Riley, quiet, keeps to himself, and always has a dark brooding expression on his face. You never pay him much mind except for the occasional polite wave whenever you pass by. Little do you know, Simon is more than just your neighbour; he is your shadow, a silent protector, and he knows more about you than you could ever imagine.

It started with small, subtle things you wouldn't even notice: how every time you were out of bread, he had claimed he ordered too much and dropped a loaf by for you. Or how when your period was due, you opened the door to him holding a care package of sorts with everything in it that you could want. He said something about winning a lucky raffle and not needing it, so he gave it to you.

It was as if Simon just appeared whenever you needed him, but never intrusively so. He was just always in the right place at the right time, and you'd brush off the odd coincidence with a grateful smile.

“Oh ah, yes, I was just on my way home, grabbed these biscuits from that local bakery, still hot out of the oven. Thought you might enjoy them” Simon said politely, and handed the box to you.

You smiled a little taken aback by the gesture. "Oh, thank you, Simon. You really didn't have to do that."

He shrugged, his eyes on you for a fraction longer than was necessary. "It's nothing, really. I know you've been busy with work, thought you could use a treat.”

But you couldn't explain the expensive gifts that began showing up. A bag here, a delicate piece of jewellery there. No notes, no explanations-just beautifully wrapped boxes left at your door. You assumed it was a mistake at first, maybe some mix-up with a neighbour's delivery, but when the gifts continued, you couldn't help but be puzzled.

They were all things you had admired in passing, or things you needed and just hadn't gotten around to buying. In fact, most of what showed up was already on your wish list that you had definitely written down on a piece of paper lying around somewhere in your house.

Simon was always there, but you never realised just how often your paths crossed. He popped up everywhere you were, the shop, at the park, even at the gym. In your mind, he was just that quiet neighbour who happened to have a similar routine as you.

"Fancy seeing you here," said Simon as he approached the treadmill.

You looked up startled to see him in the same gym at the same time. "Oh, hey, Simon! Didn't expect to run into you here."

He gave you a casual nod, his face as unreadable as always. "Yeah, trying to keep up the regular workouts since I've been off work. Anytime you wanna’ train, just let me know, I’ll help out." he offered, his voice casual though his eyes watched you closely.

“I might just take you up on that," you said, smiling, pleased with the offer. It was nice, you thought, having a neighbour who was kind, yet also seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you.

What you didn't realise was just how involved Simon was in your life. You'd brush off the strange feeling of being watched as paranoia. You didn't know that Simon had eyes everywhere, cameras hidden in places you'd never think to look. 

He wasn't just your neighbour; he was your stalker, though he preferred to think of himself as your guardian. Simon would never say he was obsessed, he merely wanted to care for you in ways you didn’t know you needed.

He noticed the little things, like how you furrowed your brow when you were stressed or when you curled up to a specific pillow after waking from a bad dream. Though it was so much more than that. 

He knew everything from your favourite brand of tea to the exact shade of lipstick you wore, your favourite vibrator, and the cute little sounds you made every time you used it. He loved watching you grow frustrated whenever your fingers failed to get you over that point of release you so desperately craved. Oh, how he could fix that, and one day, he will.

"How was your date last night?" Simon asked nonchalantly, but there was an undercurrent of something darker beneath the words.

"It was…okay," you said with a shrug, minimising the disappointment that was still in your mind. You had expected more, but actually, the evening just let you down.

Simon nodded, his face unreadable as he listened. "Just alright? Well that's a shame. You deserve better than just 'alright.'”

Of course, Simon had already known just how your date had gone; he'd listened to the lousy conversation from a man who was so in love with himself that he couldn't see how great you were. He let it slide and he even ignored the stupid flirting as the evening progressed. 

But what he couldn't handle was the fake moans you were letting out by the end of the night. There he was, ready to imagine it was him making you feel good, and then he heard the first noise you let out, fake and pathetic, almost. After that, he already knew the night was going to end with you so unbelievably unsatisfied that he almost stormed right over to help you out.

Simon made sure your life was comfortable, but he did it so smoothly that you never even questioned it. You were clueless, you knew nothing, and you lived blissfully unaware that it was Simon who was behind all of it. He treated you like a treasure, showered you with luxury and attention, yet kept his true intentions hidden behind a mask of neighbourly politeness.

He was always there, a constant presence, growing more obsessed with each passing day. He loved the sense of power he had, knowing all the intimate details in your life, feeling as though you were already his. Because to Simon, you were. You’re his to take care of, his to protect and his to watch over, whether you wanted him to or not. 

And so you continued with your life, oblivious that Simon was never too far away, watching and making sure you were always comfortable and happy, just the way he liked it.

༄ cod m.list

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[tulip-room]

✧.*Cheat Day*.✧

Pairing: Sakusa x Fem! Reader

Words: 1.3k

Content:  Sakusa forgets his lunch at home and you bring it to him. One problem, you guys forgot to tell his friends you were dating. 

a/n: This is part of my Sweet Treats writing series! The first installment so keep an eye out for the other parts and the taglist for the other stories are open!!!

All you had wanted to do was bring your boyfriend lunch because he forgot it at home. Of course you had also been baking a new recipe and needed feedback on it, so the obvious choice was your boyfriend. You had texted him letting him know you would be stopping by practice with his lunch and a small treat. Once you had reached the doors of the gym though it all seemed to go down hill. You weren’t yet ready for work so you had left the house in one of his hoodies and a simple skirt. 

You had completely forgotten that his teammates weren’t made aware of your relationship when you stepped through the door, bento box and clear container of cookies in hand. Unfortunately for you Atsumu was the first to see you. He made his way over with a smile while you stood at the door looking around for your boyfriend. “Aren’t you a cute little fan!” Your eye twitched as he approached and readjusted the mask on your face. You didn’t really want to interact with more people than necessary but here you are. You smiled before remembering the mask on your face obscured it so you lifted your hand to give him a small wave. “And who might those cookies be for? Me?” You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his overconfidence.

“No.” Your eyes continued to scan the gym but still no sign of your boyfriend. How you couldn’t find Sakusa was a mystery to you since he usually stuck out like a sore thumb. Atsumu gathered your attention again by waving a hand in front of your face. 

“How you wound me. So who might the cookies and lunch be for then cutie?” He was starting to annoy you a little bit with his blatant flirting. Couldn’t he see how uninterested you were? You thought you were making it fairly obvious. Luckily though you catch a glimpse of your tall boyfriend. It seemed he had gone to the locker room to grab something, his phone. He looked almost as annoyed as you. Your face lit up when you saw him though. “Oh?” Atsumu followed your line of sight. “Sorry to disappoint but Omi Omi doesn’t really take gifts from fans.” You rolled your eyes and pushed past him to your boyfriend. 

Atsumu looked in shock as he saw a smile spread across Sakusa’s face upon seeing you. Was he opening his arms for a hug? Now he was really confused. Atsumu rushed over to watch the interaction. “Who is this Omi Omi?”

Sakusa sighed and kept one arm around your shoulders as you leaned into him. He would’ve been happy had the short outburst from Miya not collected the attention of the rest of the team. “My girlfriend dimwit.” He scoffs as you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky. The team is in shock, Sakusa? Brooding, cold, uninterested Sakusa has a girlfriend before them? How did that happen? 

“What?!” Atsumu lets out a yelp in surprise. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? I look stupid now!”

“You don’t need any help with that,” Sakusa tsked. 

“I’m so sorry for flirting with you earlier.” Atsumu bowed towards you. Oh, there was that scowl he was so used to seeing. 

“You flirted with my girlfriend?”

“How was I supposed to know she was your girlfriend! We didn’t even know you had one until a few minutes ago!” 

“Maybe look with your eyes at the hoodie she’s wearing,” Sakusa scoffs and motions to your hoodie. Upon first glance it looks like a regular MSBY Sakusa hoodie but Atsumu can see it’s one of the ones the team was gifted. Instead of the usual black the hoodie is gold with the mascot on the chest and the number 15 in black across your midriff. He’s sure if he looked on the back it would say Sakusa. Atsumu visibly deflated.

“It’s not my fault Omi! I thought she was just a cute little fan!”

“Yeah, my little fan.” Sakusa rolls his eyes. You let out another small laugh at the exchange and shake the bento box and cookie container. 

“I need you to taste test these cookies my love,” you say gently as Sakusa leads you over to the bench where the two of you sit down. Atsumu is still upset that he didn’t know his friend had a partner and that he made their first meeting awkward by flirting with her. 

He still thought it was unfair that Sakusa had a girlfriend to bring him lunch and sweet treats when he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Sakusa eat a sweet before. He’s sure the other boy has but Atsumu has never been witness to it. Sakusa takes the container gently from your hands and takes a cookie from the box. They’re simple but you wanted to make sure they were good. Sakusa isn’t one to sugar coat anything so you always trust his opinion. 

It’s a chocolate cookie with sprinkles in it like a confetti cookie. Sakusa takes a small bite and gives you an even smaller smile now that he’s aware of the eyes on him. “It’s good, maybe add more sugar though the sweeter they are the better they’ll probably sell.” Sell? Atsumu takes another look at you. You nod at Sakusa’s review and smile as you stand up. 

“You’re more than welcome to share with the rest of your team. There should be enough in there, also don’t forget your lunch next time. I won’t always have time before work to bring it to you.”

“How do you know I didn’t leave it on purpose just to see you again?” This causes your face to grow much warmer than it was a minute ago. Sakusa flirting always caught you off guard, you don’t think you’ll ever be used to it. 

“Kiyo, silly boy.” You shake your head and ruffle his hair slightly. He shakes his head and fixes his hair. “I have to go, but play nice with your teammates. I’ll see you at home.” You pull your mask down and kiss over his moles before quickly leaving. While Sakusa isn’t one for PDA he can’t complain about your sweet treats and even sweeter kisses. 

“So, Omi Omi. What did you mean by "sell better?”

Sakusa rolls his eyes. “You really can’t be this dense can you?” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “She owns a bakery. I taste test her new stuff so she knows whether she should sell it or not.” Atsumu rolls his own eyes.

“Right, and you taste test everything?” Sakusa nods, a small blush taking its place on his face. “But I’ve never seen you eat anything sweet.”

“I didn’t used to. I used to hate cheat days but I love my girlfriend and want to support her as much as she supports me.” Sakusa turns his face away at his confession. 

“Aww! Omi Omi! You’re really a big softie no matter how you usually act!” 

“Only for her.” He states, this doesn’t stop the coos Atsumu lets out. It in fact makes it worse.

“You’re such a simp Omi!”

“You’re just jealous I have a girlfriend and you don’t.”

Atsumu clutches his chest as he gasps in shock. “I’m hurt Omi! How could you say such a thing?” Sakusa stands up and rolls his eyes again, Miya really does give him a headache sometimes. 

“Get back to practice Miya.” 

“Whatever you say Omi Omi! Your girlfriend seems nice though, you should bring her to ���Samu’s so she can properly meet everyone.” Even if Miya gives him headaches he’s glad his friend likes his girlfriend though. If he’s being honest he was scared you and Atsumu wouldn’t like each other. No matter what he says he does value his friend’s opinions even if he does forget to tell them important things.

I have no self control so when I finish fics they immediately get posted lol. Next is an Ushi fic that I've been wanting to write for a little bit, it's going to be short and sweet. Feel free to check out some of my other works or even leave a request :)

taglist: @hiraethwa

rules masterlist

[charliemwrites]

Mafia!au part 5!

A bit of fluff, a bit of drama, a bit of Soap!

Content: Attempted Gaslighting, Violence

“Gooood morning, sir!” you sing as you sweep into Mr. Price’s office. “And happy birthday!”

His head shoots up from whatever he was brooding over, brows arched high in genuine shock. Surprise is a good look on him.

“How the bloody hell did you know it’s my birthday?” he demands, sitting back in his chair.

You beam, sauntering right up to his desk. His eyes flick to the round white box balanced on top of your tablet. Nothing big, a little something you baked at home after a couple dissatisfying trials.

“It’s my job to know,” you reply easily.

He blinks– a habit you flatter yourself thinking he might have picked up from you. “What else do you know about me?”

You tilt your head at him, a smug curve to your lips.

“Just the basics. Your full name and birthday,” you demure. Hold up your free hand and start rattling off on your fingers. “Height, allergies, tea preference, pastry preference, blood type, drink of choice…”

You set the box in front of him and resettle your tablet in the crook of your arm. He stares at you for a beat, expression bleached from surprise to outright shock. You spin your stylus around your fingers.

“Which is why I made you a marble cake with whiskey instead of rum.”

His eyes lock onto the unassuming white box. It’s not a big cake by any means, about six inches in diameter and only one layer. Just a small something for Price to have for himself. God knows the rest of the boys (and Farah) get enough treats from you as it is.

“You made this?” he asks, leaning a bit forward.

“Yessir,” you declare, “and I’m pretty good at it too. Perks of stress baking.”

He runs a hand down his face, as if his beard got ruffled. “Christ, you need a raise.”

“Yes. Anyway – I’ll get you a plate after I’m done,” you say, swatting at his curious hand. He huffs but sits back to give you his full attention. You smile in reward and begin reciting his schedule for the day.

He listens, only interrupting when he needs clarification on little details. You try not to be too endeared by the way his eyes occasionally flick to the covered cake. When you finish, you twitch your nose at him knowingly.

“I’ll get you a plate before I get started on that expense summary,” you say, turning on your heel.

You hum in surprise when a large, calloused hand catches your wrist. It’s not the hand of a businessman, you think, but a man used to work. A man who does the hard things for himself. Before meeting John Price, you would have scoffed at the thought of a rich man knowing labor. Price though… well, he’s been proving to be a welcome exception since the very start.

“Thank you for this, love,” he says, voice hitting that tone and pitch that makes your insides squirm. He caresses his thumb over the tender skin before releasing you. “Really.”

You can already feel the blush climbing up the back of your neck, over your ears, creeping onto your cheeks. Can’t ever catch a break with him.

“Well, don’t thank me ‘til you’ve tried it,” you try to deflect.

“Weren’t you the one saying you’re decent at baking.”

“Yeah, well… maybe I poisoned you or something – for that time you closed my skirt in the door.”

He sputters a bit. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling at the indignance on his face. Such a handsome, almost regal man. You love to rile him up.

“I apologized. Profusely.”

And offered to buy you a new skirt entirely. The way you’d shrieked that that was not an appropriate response made Soap choke with laughter as people stared.

“Yeah, well, I hold a grudge,” you reply, shrugging.

It’s true, but not about things like that. Graves and his assistant? Oh, that’s practically a blood feud at this point. A silly little accident where your boss left a crease in your fourth favorite skirt? That’s not even something to forgive him for, but you sure as hell will never forget. Especially when he still seems mildly sheepish about it.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” he grumbles. You’re not sure if he’s talking about grudges or poisoning, but the dramatics finally make you laugh.

“But I could be the last,” you call over your shoulder as you flounce out.

Not for long though, returning with a disposable fork from the breakroom. There’s something amusing to only you about a man in a thousand-pound suit using cheap plastic.

“Come to see me keel over for yourself, then?” he asks.

“Well, I can’t have you getting cake crumbs on the expense reports,” you reason.

He’s already got the lid open. No icing on the cake – you’re shit at decorating, so you chose a recipe without icing. The flavor of the whiskey and sugar should be plenty. To make up for it, you folded a tiny placard and wrote “Happy Birthday, Boss!” in your best loopy cursive.

He takes the fork, fingers brushing yours in the process. You remind yourself not to snatch your hand away like a scandalized Victorian lady. Christ, you really need to get it together.

“Tell me how you like it,” you say, making to leave again.

“Come try it yourself,” he protests.

You pause, give him an amused look. “I didn’t actually poison it, sir. You’ve not done anything that heinous. Yet.”

He snorts, carefully digging out a respectable bite from the edge. “If you see fit to toss a little rat poison in, then I’ll likely having it coming.”

You hum. “Arsenic is more my style. Classic.”

In the corner of the room, Simon makes a little noise you’ve come to recognize as repressed laughter. You shoot him a quick, amused look, before shifting your attention back as Price gestures with the fork.

“Regardless, you should get a little taste of the fruits of your labor,” he offers.

The fruits of your labor, you think with a bit of regret, will be his enjoyment of your baking. You’re not sure when his admiration became your favorite part of the day, but you’re spoiled for positive feedback from your otherwise stern boss.

“You first,” you insist, “it’s your birthday after all.”

He keeps unnerving eye contact as he brings the bite to his mouth, tongue flicking out to catch any spare crumbs. He hums, eyes closing a for a second in enjoyment, before opening and fixating on you again.

“That’s bloody brilliant, love.”

He scoops up another piece, brings it right to your mouth. You hurry to put a hand beneath in case it falls; don’t even think before parting your lips. Sugar and whiskey, chocolate and vanilla, burst across your tongue.

“Oh!” you hum, hiding your mouth while you chew. “That is pretty good.”

It only occurs to you as he takes another bite for himself, a twinkle in his eye, that you just ate after him. Used the same fork like it was nothing, like that’s an acceptable thing to do as his assistant. You’re not squeamish by any means, no. It’s just… it’s gotta be crossing some sort of professional line. You can’t imagine any of your previous bosses ever sharing with you like this.

“Let me tell you, if you did poison it,” he muses, “I wouldn’t mind it being the last thing I ate.”

You roll your eyes, swat lightly at his arm again. “I told you; it’s not poisoned.”

“I know, you just took a bite,” he answers smugly.

You click your tongue at him, playing at exasperated. “I’m going to work now.”

“Ta, love.”

--

“Oi, li’l miss?”

You glance up at Soap curiously.

(Recognize, in the back of your mind, that it’s a nickname that’s not only spread – thanks, Simon – but that you’re responding to as quickly as your own name now. You should probably feel some type of way about that. Probably righteously annoyed or something. You don’t.)

Soap is standing at your desk, shifting from foot to foot. Uneasy. But the expression on his usually friendly face isn’t nervous. It’s… something else. Something you don’t know how to decipher but makes you sit up a bit straighter, alert.

“What’s up, buttercup?” you ask, voice light.

“There’s some bloke down in the lobby, says he’s got a date with you?” he explains, frowning deeper than you’ve ever seen.

It gets deeper – and angrier – when he sees the blood drain from your face. You push your chair away from your desk to hide the tremble that’s trying to infest your hands.

Absolutely not. This is your place of work, dammit. Where you’re calm and collected, the person anyone can turn to for solutions. You’ve worked so hard to craft this sleek vessel of professional grace and you’re not about to have it sullied like this.

“He does not have a date with me,” you state, keeping your voice flat and tight. “Would you come down with me, please?”

“’Course,” he replies instantly.

You stop by Price’s office, knock twice, then poke your head in when he calls for entry.

“I’ve just got to pop out for a mo’,” you explain, “I’ll be right back!”

He nods and you duck out again before he can notice anything amiss. For a rich bastard, he’s too observant of others. (Especially you.)

“What’s he here fer, then?” Soap asks in the elevator.

You let out an annoyed puff of air. “A reality check, I assume.”

He side-eyes you but doesn’t ask any further before the doors open.

Sure enough, standing in the lobby, is the last man you want to see. Your ex, Brandon.

“There you are, bunny. You’ve been keeping me waiting for—”

“One, do not call me that. It’s inappropriate,” you interrupt, crisp and sharp. “Two, I haven’t been keeping you waiting, because there’s nothing to wait for. Three, get out.”

He rolls his eyes, that smarmy curve to his lips never leaving. You don’t think he’s even noticed Soap just behind you yet.

“Look, I know you’re still in a mood about everything,” he says, “but that’s why I’m taking you out. To smooth things over. Clear the air, and all that.”

“You’re not taking me out,” you repeat. “Get out.”

He crosses his arms, tilting his head in that condescending way you’ve always despised. It sets your teeth on edge, makes you burn with anger.

“This isn’t your building,” he goads, “you can’t kick me out.”

“Might as well be hers, mate,” Soap interjects, “she could kick out the goddamn queen.”

Brandon’s focus shifts to him. You feel a curl of vindictive satisfaction when his expression curdles a bit. Soap may not be a particularly tall man, but he can be intimidating. Built thick and strong, doesn’t bother to conceal his physique at all with his sleeves rolled up his forearms. And you’re not oblivious to his looks either. Soap is a handsome man. A walking ego bruise for a man like your ex.

“Fine,” he huffs, “then come outside so we can talk like adults.”

You click your tongue, fold your hands behind your back to conceal the way your fingers clench into fists. “We did talk like adults. You just failed to listen like one.”

And ohhhh, the petty satisfaction that bubbles through you at the way his teeth click in shock, a flush of embarrassed anger curtaining his face.

“Now, I’ll ask one more time and then my coworker is going to toss you out himself.” Soap chooses that moment to crack his knuckles. “Leave this building. You’re not welcome.”

You drop your arms and turn on your heel, ready to get back to work and compartmentalize this until you’ve got a fuck-off sized glass of wine in front of you.

“Hey, we’re not—”

Even if you did see what happened, you don’t think you could have followed. It happens so fast. One second, Soap’s eyes are on you. Burning with questions and fury on your behalf, checking that you’re okay. The next, he’s darted past you. There’s a scuffle, fancy shoes squeaking on polished floors, a thick, wet pop. Then Brandon is shouting in pain.

You jump, twist to see what the commotion is. Soap’s got a white-knuckled grip on Brandon’s extended wrist – though now it’s bent at an awful angle, you realize he must have been reaching for you. Your skin crawls.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid,” Soap growls, shoving Brandon back roughly.

He doesn’t fall on his ass but it’s a near thing. With the eyes of reception, a few employees, and you on him, he spits a curse at Soap and retreats. You stare after for a moment, lips parted in shock.

“All set, miss?” Soap asks, adjusting his sleeves.

“Um, yeah,” you say. Blink and pull yourself together. “I mean, yes. Let’s head back up before the boss misses us.”

He places a hand on the small of your back on the short walk back. It feels grounding rather than proprietary; you’re grateful for it. He lasts until the doors close before turning to you.

“The hell was that about, lass?”

You sigh, smooth your skirt down for lack of anything else to do. “That was my ex. He wants to… reconcile, I suppose. And he’s quite keen on getting his way.”

Soap mutters a few choice words under his breath. Scottish slang, you suspect. You’ll have to get him to teach you sometime.

“Anyway, thank you for your help,” you continue, eyes on the elevator doors. “I can’t believe he showed up here. I’m so embarrassed.”

“You’ve nothin’ to be embarrassed about, hen,” he protests. “He’s the creeper here.”

You sigh. “I know, I just… you don’t think less of me, do you? That I didn’t… take care of him myself.”

Soap’s expression softens. He draws you into a quick one-armed hug. “You did take care of ‘im, far as I’m concerned. I was just there to enforce. No need to mess up yer pretty nails, aye?”

You smile, small but genuine. “Thanks, again.”

“Anytime, li’l miss.”

The elevator chimes as it reaches the top floor. You turn to Soap just before the doors open.

“Oh, and please don’t tell the boss.”

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[danrifics]

good morning i have slept a total of 2 hours here’s my spoiler breakdown for terrible influence antwerp

they start by playing a text to speech voice who welcomes us and the straight boyfriends and the dads (they’re a bit obsessed with the dads i’ll be real) the voice tells us if we film she’s gonna sue are asses. text to speech lady she is an icon

dnp come out and they’re like yo this is cool it’s the first show, you guys are gonna see what we’ve been up to and then they’re like it’s the first show so we can use you guys to decide if we change anything

they they’re like there’s probably people in the audience who don’t really know us so they do a 15 years of dan and phil lore breakdown with dolls of themselves in little set of iconic dnp locations (made by pj and sophie btw) they put these sets in a table in front of a camera and it shows on the big screen, (for 1 section of this the screen doesn’t work for the first part lol) also phil makes the dolls kiss and they also make the dolls hump the breakfast bar cos of course they do

i can’t remember what happens next or maybe it jumps right into the next thing i mention

they play a game show called role model or no-model which is a madlibs style game where you have to decide if the version of dan and phil the audience creates is a role model or not these are compared to real dnp. we had homophobic furry lawyer dan and linguistics dr phil wo has a thing for hamsters. just an fyi for this dan is really good at hearing what the audience is saying and phil is not at all and im pretty sure he made his up cos he couldn’t understand what we wanted

okay so after this iirc they start talking about the youtube landscape and what they’re gonna do after tour and how to keep people entertained and they go on a little adventure through different genres of youtube like minecraft lets plays, vtubers and then they pretend to be mr beast and pretend to give away a bunch of stuff that they don’t have, they cure us of any mental health issues and they cure us from being gay <3

then they decide to have a boxing match cos obvs that’s what youtubers do, they ask us to cheer for whoever they want to win and it has cool intro to it! i’ll be honest this boxing match goes on for entirely too long like it spans the end of the first half and the start of the second but they have like choreographed fighting and OMFG it’s very gay and like suggestive and they do many times look like they’re gonna have sex 😂 like one of phils moves is to hit dan with his ass while dan is holding him from behind so… yeah. anyway dan thought he won ours and then phil knocked him out with a tv, as he should!! also before they end the first half they’re having an insult match where phils tells dan hes gonna burn his house down only for dan to say they live in the same house and i was dying it was so funny, phil also calls dan a dickhead and this is where he also calls him a cunt and that’s how the first half ends. oh also phil has a fake 6 pack on and that’s the $300 dollar silicone btw

okay second half after dan is dead they have a sincere moment and then they’re like you guys keep telling us you want load of long unedited content and they ask us to tell them a topic to monologue about and someone shouts feet and they rant about feet lmao phil excitedly tells everyone he has a better wiki feet rating than dan

then dan goes on a rant about being discriminated against as a millennial (can’t remember how we got there) and phil gets bored and starts watching subway surfers and i’ll be real honest as a gen z i instantly got distracted by subway surfers and didn’t listen to what dan was saying (that was the point tho) and phil keeps turning up the volume and dan gets mad and he storms off

we have a nice sincere moment with phil but idk what tf it was cos neither did phil 😂

then suddenly a voice, oh here she comes, she asks if we’re ready to confess our sins and out comes sister daniel, everyone fucking loses it, if you heard me screaming so loud no you didn’t.

anyway they read some confessions (phil is father philip) and they read out a few including one from @dnphobe !!! phil has a water gun that he didn’t have when he was meant to and couldn’t find and then found and he was spraying it at people to cleanse them of their sins which is what they meant by people being in the splash zone btw also phil sprayed it at dan it was kinda cute

okay so they say they need to go and get changed and they head off stage and there’s a gag where they leave the microphone on and they’re purposely making it sound sexual and it’s so funny and then dan comes out and phil doesn’t cos he’s struggling with his leather fucking trousers that was a completely unscripted part for sure

then they talk about the hiatus a bit and how dan left us and they keep calling us their family and brb while i cry my eyes out

then they pull out a fucking banger of a song, like i can’t even explain to you how good it is, it has a fully like kpop style dance to it that im gonna fucking learn lmao and dan was so good at it like im not even kidding that man was pulling moves!! phil was doing great too btw but he definitely wasn’t as confident in it as dan was but damn it’s the best song yet imo!!

also i forgot to write the conspiracy bit because i forgot where in the show it is but on one of them they were trying so hard to make us say the opposite one but we were literally forcing tour bus on them and yes they confirmed they shared a bed on that tour bus!! and they played it off like its okay for friends to do that (cos it is) but they way they said it was that thing again where they blur the line a little so we know what they actually mean but still pretend they mean something else

okay some little things i remember that i didn’t write above

- “i can’t imagine my life without you”

- “it’ll be 15 years in december” (if you know you know)

- the absolute silence after they confirmed the bed thing cos none of us were actually expecting it

- dan had to prompt phil a little to remind him what to say next but it was very cute

- they kept looking at each other in *that* way

- phil lied to us about when norman died cos he had norman merch coming out

- sleepless night with phil 3 is fake!!

- they showed *that* video of phil asleep on the tour bus

- there were multiple times where i thought they’re gonna kiss right now???

-phil called dan kinda sexy

- ALL IS FORGIVEN, ANYTHING FROM THE LAST WE MIGHT HAVE DONE IS FORGIVEN THEY LOVE US WE ARE A FAMILY THEY ARE LITERALLY OUR DADS

[chelseeebe]

still into you

after abruptly leaving hawkins (and you) seven years ago, eddie munson, ex-boyfriend turned rockstar, makes a grand return. how will things pan out when your lives couldn’t be further apart?

this has been in the drafts for god knows how long and you can definitely tell where my writing started to improve as i came back to it.. hope y’all enjoy anyway! this is so long good lord. also includes a bit of bestfriendism with stevie!

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of alcohol. eddie is a dickhead. no use of y/n!

read part two here.

‎♡‧₊˚

‘you know he’s coming back next weekend?’ steve mutters, nodding towards you as you rip the sellotape from the brown box, beginning to stack the cans of soup.

‘is he? oh my god oh my god,’ feigning excitement with a straight face.

you’d already known he was coming back, you’d received the invitation just like everybody else. except, you’d swiftly put the gimmicky piece of paper into the trash and got on with your day. confused why everyone else seemed to be losing their goddamn minds over it.

he huffs quietly, helping you with the heavy tins, ‘are you gonna go?’ steve didn’t actually work in melvalds but came in on his breaks purely to chat and distract you from your work.

‘am i gonna go? hmm, let me think.. no.’

‘he wants to see you.. you should come,’ prodding his elbow into your side, collapsing the box into a flat piece of cardboard.

‘you spoke to him?’ ears perking up. you didn’t care if he’d mentioned you. no, really.

‘yeah.. he called a few weeks ago, y’know when the invitations got sent out,’ picking up the next box to start filling the shelf.

‘oh! it’s nice to know he called you and just hilarious to know i never got a phone call,’ getting frankly quite sick of hearing about eddie fucking munson and his grand return.

once upon a time, eddie had actually been your boyfriend. must’ve been 7 or so years ago by this point.. anyway, that was before he’d got his big break and decided that he was going to completely forget about hawkins.. and about you. you’d still been together after his first tiny tour, excitedly waiting for him to come home when he just.. never did.

he’d had the decency to at least call and tell you that he was breaking up with you.. we’re just in different places right now.. it’s not you.. i don’t want you to ruin your life waiting for me..

it was essentially a whole bunch of bullshit, because the very next month he was spotted with some bottle blonde model looking suspiciously close at some club he’d have absolutely hated the year prior. it was like a punch to the gut, flicking through the pages of the trashy magazine just knowing that you hadn’t been enough for this new lifestyle of his.

from then on, you’d decided to disengage with any and everything about him. turning the tv off when corroded coffin came on one of the morning talk shows, leaving the room at parties when one of his song’s inevitably came on and just completely blanking out of the conversation when his name was brought up. it was easier that way, saved your feelings and the awkward glances you’d get.

at some point things had become slightly more complicated and you’re not sure how exactly it had happened but you had wound up pregnant. and by jason carver no less. maybe it was your shared disdain for eddie that had brought you together. who knows?

but it had happened and now you had to deal with it. and although jason may come in a close second to world’s biggest assholes.. you had gained a beautiful daughter from it all and had become quite content with your single mom life.

people had come and gone, robin jetting off to some fancy college in california.. jonathan and nancy ending up in new york at some hot-shot newspaper.. the kids you’d sort of gathered had all gone off to various colleges, becoming adults themselves. all except for steve.

steve had stayed in hawkins like you, begrudgingly following his father’s footsteps, getting a job at his accounting firm. it was good money and kept his dad happy so he couldn’t fault it really. he’d even got his own place just down the street from your house and at some point you’d just accepted that he was probably your only friend in hawkins.

it had brought the two of you undeniably closer and maybe you’d even call him your best friend now. well, except for right now as he was beginning to piss you off with all this fussing over eddie.

‘you have to come.. it’s not just for him, everyone is going.. it’s a reunion,’ steve continues to pester you despite your efforts to shut him down.

‘steve, i’m not going and that’s that.’

he sighs, staring at you with a blank expression, ‘okay, well.. i’ll tell him it’s a maybe,’ checking his watch before frowning, ‘shit, i’m late.. i’ll see you later,’ throwing the empty cardboard to the floor before dashing off down the aisle, giving you an exaggerated wave as he disappears.

you just knew that he was not going to drop this until you agreed to go. but he could kick and scream as much as he liked, you had absolutely zero desire to go this flimsy reunion and even less desire to see eddie in the flesh.

-

it’s another dull week of stacking shelves and managing a team of absolute morons and before you know it, it’s the day before that fucking reunion and steve is still as incessant as ever that you must go.

‘my mom can look after ella.. please just come,’ he sounded like he was a second away from getting on his knees to actually beg you to go.

you’d started to just ignore him now, getting on with whatever you were doing, choosing to give him the silent treatment. he hated that.

‘you’re so annoying,’ he scoffs, still helping you unbox the bags of chips, ‘will you just come for five minutes.. you don’t even have to talk to eddie, it’s the first time we’ll all be together again.. puh-leaseee,’ breaking into a weird sort of sing-song tone.

you exhale through your nose, visibly frustrated by the man, ‘i’m going to ban you in a minute,’ raising your eyebrows, taking the same tone you used when ella was being a brat.

‘no you won’t,’ furrowing his brows, ‘what if i promise to stand in between you the whole night? i’ll beat him with a stick if he even tries to talk to you,’ completely serious with what he just said.

you chortle, covering your mouth as one of the elderly customers walks past, slightly bewildered by the noise that just escaped your mouth, ‘couldn’t you just beat him with a stick anyway?’

‘ehh.. not really, he is paying for the whole thing,’ straightening the bags of air he’d just placed on the shelf, ‘i mean, i could if you really want me to.’

you roll your eyes, of course he was. he’d rented the fanciest restaurant just outside of town for your gaggle of pals. any chance to flaunt the fact that he’d made it out of this hell hole and left the rest of you in the dirt.

‘i have a child, steve, i can’t just go out and leave her at home.. some of us aren’t free like you are,’ turning to face him with a stern hand on your hip.

‘i just told you my mom’ll look after her.. she hasn’t seen her in so long and.. and you can stay at mine and i’ll take you to her first thing in the morning,’ his eyes are round, glimmering in the harsh overhead lights.

‘i don’t have anything to wear,’ shrugging, you really didn’t. becoming a mother isn’t quite so glamorous and a lot of clothes you’d once fit into had become a little tight.

‘when d’you finish?’

narrowing your eyes at him, ‘two..’

‘great.. okay well, i’ll take a half-day and we can go shopping.. on me,’ wiggling his eyebrows at you. the thing about steve is that he believes that most problems can be solved by throwing money at it.

he wasn’t wrong, of course.

because you reluctantly agree to go shopping with him on the condition that you weren’t definitely going to this thing. you were just going to try on dresses. that was it.

-

you get a cab to the restaurant, there was no way in hell you were doing this sober nor did you want to subject steve to being sober for your sake. palms clammy as you clamber out of the vehicle, immediately regretting your decision.

no one would care if you didn’t go, right? you could quite easily just get back into the taxi and go home without forcing yourself to endure the night.

steve’s one step ahead of you, grabbing your hand so you can’t run away. throwing him an awful glare but you weren’t really mad, just annoyed that he’d succeeded in persuading you to come.

‘c’mon.. it won’t be so bad once you’re in there,’ smoothing down his fresh shirt as he begins to walk up the winding path, dragging you along behind him.

he’s wrong. it’s so much worse inside. the place was huge, extravagantly decorated and full of people you’d once regarded as your best friends, all too busy in their own conversations to notice you and steve walk in.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard from them, it had just been through occasional letters and christmas cards rather than seeing them face to face. robin would call sometimes, fill you in on whatever she had been up to and beg to speak to ella who absolutely loved it. you were sure they were on the same wavelength.

you look to steve with wary eyes, digging your fingertips into his hand, ‘we could just leave right now.. no one would even know,’ tugging gently on his arm.

‘hey,’ he whispers, ‘it’s okay.. look, robin’s coming over, we’ll say hi and see how you feel,’ using his spare hand to wave at the bubbly girl, dropping your hand to give her a hug.

‘oh my god,’ she rushes, ‘how are you? you look so good.. and i don’t mean you,’ pulling away from steve to throw her arms around you, her gentle hands rubbing on your back.

‘hah, it’s nice to see you too,’ steve rolls his eyes, grabbing two of the champagne flutes being ferried around by fancy waiters.

she pulls back, ‘i didn’t think you were coming.. how are you doing? how’s ella?’ the words falling out of her mouth at super speed, it was as if her mouth moved before her brain did.

‘i wasn’t gonna but i wanted to see you guys,’ you nod, taking the glass from steve’s outstretched hand and taking a lengthy sip, ‘i’m okay.. ella’s okay.. you’ll have to come and see her before you leave.’

‘i will i will! i literally landed like two hours ago and had to rush but i’m back until friday,’ her hands flying around as she spoke, ‘come and say hello..’ her arm intertwines with yours as she leans in closer to your ear, ‘he’s staring y’know..’

your eyes roll back on their own, not even wanting to search the room for him, ‘i’m not speaking to him so he can stare all he likes,’ straightening up as you approach the group robin had left.

nancy’s talking to max about something in incredible detail but is quite to stop when you approach, mouth in a small ‘o’ as she hugs you, ‘you came? i thought we were gonna miss you,’ grinning wide when she pulls back.

you give an overdramatic sigh, ‘of course i had to come.. you’d all miss me too much,’ waving to the rest of the group.

there are a lot of small pleasantries swapped, asking about their journey’s here and how they’d been.. standard small talk. but then el asks to see a picture of ella, ecstatic that their names were so similar. you’d come prepared, pulling the creased picture out of your bag.

they all gush and coo over her, it was a picture you’d snapped from her first day of kindergarten, cheesing with her pigtails and pink hair bobbles. passing it around the gathered group, still steadily sipping on the bitter champagne.

‘who’s that?’ eddie asks, you hadn’t noticed him sidle over to the crowd, stood peering over lucas’ shoulder at the photograph.

your eyes meet his, seeing his face for the first time in what felt like centuries. he looked older, obviously, still sporting the same long curls except now it actually looked as if it’d been styled. he’s in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, forearms now littered with tattoos and a nice looking watch. your heart just about stops beating when you realise you’ll now have to explain exactly who that is.

‘uh.. that’s ella,’ you nod, not quite meeting his eyes, ‘..my daughter,’ taking the photo from lucas’ hand, the atmosphere had quite suddenly shifted and people begin to scatter, starting their own conversations so they don’t have to bare witness to this one.

‘oh.. oh, right.. well, congratulations then,’ the shadow of a smile on his lips, could he feel how fucking awkward this was?

‘thank you,’ giving him a half nod, startled as steve’s hand brushes the small of your back. he’d seen that you were in conversation and had left dustin to fulfil his security guard promise.

‘it’s nice that you two found each other.. you have a beautiful daughter,’ still not fully committed to smiling but he was getting there.

your face contorts, immediately looking to steve before letting out a god awful cackle, ‘oh no.. she’s not steve’s,’ covering your mouth before another taunting laugh comes out.

steve is trying to stifle his grin but fails, reaching his hand out to shake eddie’s hand, ‘ah man, no ella’s not mine but she is beautiful, isn’t she? how are you?’

you’re eternally grateful that he he’s managed to sway the conversation and you aren’t forced to explain why or how you’d had a child with jason fucking carver. turning back to robin as you hear steve ramble on about work and corroded coffin’s new album, something you had absolutely no care about.

‘shall we get another drink?’ robin asks, eyeing the open bar and your empty glass.

‘please.’

the rest of the night is going.. relatively well. it’s kinda unsettling to watch the younger kids drink legally, getting more boisterous and loud as the night progresses. it’s nice, if not a little sad just thinking about how you weren’t really able to enjoy yourself at their age because you had a newborn.

you must’ve been deep in thought as you don’t even notice eddie creep up to the empty table, standing awkwardly besides your chair, ‘can we talk?’

your eyes shoot up to meet his, baffled by his presence, ‘what could we possibly have to talk about?’

he exhales through his nose, ‘uh.. a lot? we don’t have to do it here.. i have a room upstairs or.. outside?’

‘no,’ gripping onto your glass of wine, desperately trying to grab the attention of someone behind eddie to come and save you, ‘i don’t want to speak to you.’

he’s exasperated, clutching onto his beer with strained white knuckles. how were you ever supposed to move past this when you wouldn’t even give him the opportunity to explain himself. but that was exactly it. you didn’t care about any of the silly excuses you’re sure he’d conjured up, he did what he did and that was that.

‘i’m trying here..’ sounding exasperated, ‘how ‘bout dinner? sometime this week, on me,’ his voice is deeper now, raspier. you figure as a result of constant partying and chain smoking while on tour.

‘i have a child and a job.. i don’t have time for dinner with you on top of that,’ swallowing the rest of the sweet white wine, putting the empty glass back on the table with a forceful slam.

you make brief eye contact with will who was passing behind eddie and decide to take the opportunity to pounce, standing from your chair and rushing over the second he nears your table.

‘will.. hey,’ speeding to catch him up, mouthing a small save me, clinging to his arm as you move away from eddie who was stood deflated at the table.

will thankfully catches your drift, steering you towards the bar, ‘you okay? i was just about to leave..’ placing his empty glass onto the bar with a soft sigh.

‘what? no.. if i can’t go then you’re not allowed either,’ talking sternly to the boy even though he now towered above you and just about everybody else in here.

he screws up his face, looking over to the dance floor, ‘it’s just..’ sighing once again, ‘awful, isn’t it?’ following his gaze to an intoxicated mike performing an elaborate air guitar routine in the middle of the floor.

it wasn’t exactly the same, but you could empathise with the difficult situation and that foul feeling in your stomach that you were sure he could feel too. you could imagine that it wasn’t easy to see the man you’d once, or perhaps still loved after so long. in fact, you didn’t really need to imagine at all.

deciding it was better to change the subject, distract him from the unraveling scene on the dance floor, ‘d’you smoke?’

he looks around quickly, watching out for a listening jonathan, you assume before he nods quickly, ‘but no one can know,’ a hint of a smile creeping onto his face.

you return the devilish grin before hooking your arm in his, pulling him towards the door where you could get the hell away from annoying men and their long black hair.

-

it’s gone three by the time you get back to steve’s, genuinely having to coax him from the party and into the cab you’d shared with a belligerent dustin, making sure he had got home safely.

‘i wasn’t too mean, was i?’ snuggled up in steve’s blankets, facing each other in the low light of his room.

‘nooo, no you were on fire,’ he laughs, he was still tipsy and slightly reeking of booze as he lay next to you.

‘really? you’re sure?’ he was definitely just drunk and blabbing on but you’d take it.

‘yes.. it was perfect,’ he hiccups, interrupting his sentence, ‘buuut.. and i’m not the only one who said this so don’t kill me..’ kissing the back of his teeth, ‘you’re not gonna like what i have to say.’

‘what? what is it?’ prodding his shoulder with a quick jab. knowing eddie, he’d probably gone round the party whispering some bullshit about the two of you.

‘well..’ holding his hands in the air, ‘there’s still chemistry there.. y’know i could see it,’ raising his eyebrows, hands collapsing onto the blanket.

‘right, i’m going to sleep.. you’re drunk and just saying stupid shit now,’ rolling your eyes as you settle into the soft pillow, closing your eyes so you no longer had to entertain his idiotic nonsense.

he chortles, hiccuping mid-laugh which makes a horrid choking noise, ‘i’m not that drunk.. robin said it too,’ the lamp clicks off, darkening the room, ‘and dustin..’

‘go to sleep steve,’ unamused and tired.

‘okay okay.. goodnight,’ he calls, you can hear the smile in his voice as he turns to face the other way, taking that as your opportunity to rest your head on his back, nuzzling into the soft cotton t-shirt.

-

monday is particularly awful and you’re reminded exactly why you don’t drink often. two days on and you’re still exhausted, half-heartedly filling the shelves and just trying to make it to two o’clock.

in your tired state, one of the bottles of shampoo you were putting out, falls out of your hand and rolls off somewhere down the aisle. you sigh, a deep, fed-up, exhaustive sigh and get up to go and fetch it when the bottle appears before your face, a tattooed, ring-filled hand latched onto it.

‘carver? really?’ eddie frowns, watching you from above, eyebrows furrowed together.

you place the bottle onto it’s rightful spot on the shelf and choose to ignore him. if he’d come all the way down here just to piss you off about your poor life choices then he could get fucked.

‘when’d that happen?’

blanking him again as you continue to put stuff onto the shelves. this was the easiest way to guarantee that you weren’t going to get yourself fired for being rude to him.

‘you gonna ignore me? i just wanna know,’ still poking and prodding, he clearly wasn’t very good at picking up on context clues.

nothing.

‘fuck, can you just talk to me for five minutes?’ your silence was driving him crazy, aggravating him to no end.

‘i’m at work, so no,’ hurriedly trying to finish the stock you had so you had an excuse to rush out the back and away from him.

he was fortunate that it was a quiet monday, the store full of mostly older ladies who had no idea who he was. you sorta hoped that he’d get mobbed and would have to hurry off and leave you alone.

‘why jason? out of literally everyone else in this shithole you choose jason?’ screwing his face up in disgust.

you slam the box cutter down with a loud clatter, causing a few turned heads and raised eyebrows. fuck ‘em. if you had done what you’d really wanted to do, you’d be locked up forever.

‘i don’t know if you remember this but my boyfriend of like, two years ran away and never came home so yeah.. that kinda fucked with me a little and lucky for me, jason carver was there and also hated my ex’s guts.. so it was perfect, you know?’ staring flatly at him, you were not dealing with his shit today.

eddie scoffs, ‘so you had a kid with him? and now.. what? you play happy families just to spite me? is that it?’

‘yes eddie, i had a whole child just to piss you off.’

he gawps back at you, clearly also did not possess the ability to sense sarcasm.

‘no,’ scowling at him, ‘it was an accident and now he’s.. i dunno, coaching basketball at some school in ohio or some shit.. why don’t you go and bother him?’

‘so you’re not together?’

you can only roll your eyes in response, in sheer disbelief that he’d made such a fuss because he couldn’t just outright ask if you were single.

un-fucking-believable.

you’ve had just about enough of this conversation, pulling your little trolley back towards the swing doors that lead to the warehouse. at least he wasn’t allowed in there.

‘wait! wait..’ he grabs onto the other side of the trolley, stopping you from walking off, ‘have dinner with me tonight or.. tomorrow?’ eyes big and pleading.

‘now why would i do that?’

‘because i want to explain myself.. i need to.’

one of the younger shoppers notices who he is and begins trying to talk to him, coming over to where you two stood rather excitedly. eddie is kind enough to smile and give her a few polite words, eyes still latched onto yours despite the ecstatic woman beside him.

‘okay,’ honestly just wanting to get away from all this commotion, ‘tomorrow.’

his scowl subsides, replaced by a gleaming grin, ‘six o’clock.. pino’s, i’ll sort it, okay?’ already starting to walk away from the crazy woman.

‘right,’ you nod, pulling your trolley away and into the back warehouse, leaning against the concrete wall. the whole exchange was tiring, knocking whatever tiny bit of energy out of you.

were you actually gonna go?

absolutely fucking not.

-

by the time six rolls around the next night, you really had forgotten all about it. rushing to get ella her dinner after swimming lessons, already worrying about paying for yet another field trip she’d sprung on you earlier. you’d begun to wonder if they even taught in the classrooms anymore with the amount of permission slips she brought home.

she’s finally settled into bed, after much protesting and a lot of coaxing. you’re just about to finally relax on the couch when someone hammers on your front door. and if you weren’t already pissed off with ella’s whining, you were most definitely about to be with whichever mindless prick was banging on your door.

‘what do you want?’ you hiss, jerking the door open to reveal a pathetic looking eddie on the other side, face forlorn and dejected.

he’s in that white shirt again. it makes you sick to your stomach to admit that it really does look good on him. his arms now more defined, the cotton sticking to his muscles, briefly showcasing the new tattoos underneath. maybe he’d actually got off of his ass and did something other than smoke weed all day.

‘oh so you are alive, d’you forget about something?’ he’s snarling now, having conjured up some elaborate excuse in his head as to why you hadn’t showed, only to find you at home, seemingly with no care in the world.

‘oops,’ the corners of your mouth twitching into a smile, you hadn’t even actually meant to stand him up, you were just gonna call his hotel and cancel but the thought had just completely slipped your mind.

and even if it shouldn’t, it really did feel good. knowing he was the one sat waiting for you for once.

‘oops? i sat there for an hour waiting for you and then spent the last hour trying to convince dustin to give me your fucking address.. and all you can say is oops?’

you shrug, ‘feels pretty shitty to be forgotten about, doesn’t it?’ tilting your head, watching as his face falls. he’d been got.

‘okay.. okay, i get it, and i’m sorry.. there’s not a day that goes by that i don’t feel like shit for how i treated you,’ his head dips low, looking particularly sorry for himself.

and for a second you do too. not that he deserved it. quickly having to remind yourself exactly what he had done to you, which was not at all helped by the fact that he now had everything he’d ever wanted in life.

and you couldn’t fault your life. truly. but fuck did it sting sometimes, to know that your life had stagnated, stuck in the same shitty town you’d grown up in while he was on the other side of the country, more money than sense and a hoard of doting fans that would do absolutely anything he’d ask of them.

‘good,’ you bark, going to slam the door shut only for it to bang against his black boot wedged in the door, ‘if you don’t move your foot i’ll- i’ll call the police.’

‘no you won’t,’ his hand reaches out to grab onto the other side of the handle, he could’ve easily pushed his way in if he’d really wanted, ‘let’s talk.. like adults,’ begging you now, ‘please.’

you huff, this would end with you either letting him in or being forced to wake ella after you bashed his head into the doorframe. it was easier to just accept the first option and you’d find some bullshit to get him to leave later on.

opening the door wider to let him in, keeping your eyes square on the ground as he walks through, peering around at your home. probably comparing it to his mansion in the hollywood hills the pretentious fuck.

‘nice..’ he nods, leaning in to look at the photo of you and ella a few christmas’ ago, she was tiny then, sporting a miniature santa hat.

‘yeah well, she’s asleep upstairs so.. make it quick,’ you frown, closing the door behind him, watching as his eyes take in the cluttered room, smile fading when he catches sight of the singular picture you have up of jason and ella.

‘i can’t believe you chose to fuck jason of all people.. i mean, i’ve made some shitty decisions in my life but..’ he stops himself from going any further when he sees your face, if looks could kill, he’d be long gone by now.

‘did you come here for a reason? or are you here to talk about my life decisions.. because i really don’t want to hear it from you,’ crossing your arms over your chest, wanting him out of your house.

‘no.. no, shit- i’m sorry,’ he shuffles on his feet, banging his head, ‘i wanna talk.. properly.’

you roll your hand to motion for him to continue, ‘go on..’

he inhales, chewing on the inside of his cheek, trying to psyche himself up to actually say what he wanted to say. it wasn’t that he didn’t know what to say, he just couldn’t string it together to make sense.

‘i’m sorry for the way i treated you.. it wasn’t right and i know that now,’ his hand coming to rub the back of his clammy next, why was your house so fucking hot?

‘okay.. apology accepted, was that everything?’ you say flatly, glancing up the stairs to make sure ella wasn’t awake and out of her room.

his face falls, ‘can you just.. just let me explain,’ his adam apple bobbing as he swallows, ‘why don’t you sit down..’ motioning towards your ratty couch.

you relent your stern stature, hesitantly going to sit on the couch, trying to ensure that he couldn’t possibly sit next to you by sprawling your legs out onto the empty cushion. so he takes the seat furthest away, running his hands down his tight jeans. designer, no less.. the only person you knew stupid enough to spend thousands on designer jeans just to tear holes in them.

‘when i ended things with you, i wasn’t.. well, it was me, but i had my manager screaming in my ear that it’d never work and he could hook me up with some fuckin’ model.. it’d help the band.. so that’s what i did,’ and for once, he looked genuinely remorseful, fiddling with the loose threads on his expensive jeans.

‘so you sold out? that’s your excuse?’

his head shoots up, mouth hung open with absolute disgust all over his face, ‘i am not a sell out.’

which is incredibly refutable, you’d heard a snippet of one of their recent songs on the radio at work and it had sounded exactly like the commercial shit he used to rag on when you were together. not a touch on the corroded coffin you sat and watched practice for hours on end.

‘oh? so you didn’t break up with me to further your career? you just wanted to fuck hot models? which one is it ‘cause i’m a little confused here,’ completely losing it, springing up from your slouched position.

‘okay, yeah.. yeah i did, i broke up with you because i wanted to fuckin’ make something of my life.. and look at where i am and look at-,’

‘-don’t you dare finish that sentence,’ you snap, gritting your teeth together as you near his face, positively shaking with rage.

‘what’re you gonna do? you gonna hit me? do it,’ his chin tilted to match your elevated position, eyes glued to yours.

‘i should.’

his lips twitch into a smirk, ‘you won’t.’

and before your brain has the time to really process your next movements, he balls his fist into your t-shirt, causing your chest to collide into his as his lips smash into yours, knocking the air out of your lungs.

scrambling to find his shoulders for balance, sliding one hand onto his stubbly cheek. it’s all teeth and tongues, he’s ravenous and unrelenting, letting go of his grip on your shirt to place his hands on your hips, ‘move,’ mumbling against your lips as he attempts to manoeuvre you onto his lap while twisting around.

he slides down the couch, keeping a solid hold of your body as you find the right position. your legs are either side of his waist, sliding into the gap between his body and the couch sitting right on his crotch. wasting absolutely zero time in connecting your lips against, honestly not wanting to run the risk of him opening his mouth and ruining this.

his large hands find solace on your ass, creeping up to remove the oversized shirt you’d thrown on. you place your hand above his, restricting him from moving any further. it’s not that you were embarrassed- okay, maybe you were a little. but your body had changed since becoming a mom and eddie had become accustomed to gorgeous models and perfect women that he’d certainly not want to see your boring, frumpy mom body.

he groans in protest, trying again to lift the shirt further only for your fingernails to dig into his hand, ‘no,’ speaking into the filthy kiss.

eddie pulls away from the kiss, fingers coming to gently brush the hair from your face, ‘you can’t be serious? i’ve seen it all before,’ he grumbles, fingers itching to try lift it again.

‘not like this you haven’t.. i just.. want it on, okay?’

‘no- why won’t you let me take this off?’ fingers curling around the hem, already trying his luck with getting it up again.

you sigh, meeting his blown out eyes with your glossy ones, ‘i don’t even know what i’m doing.. fuck,’ attempting to climb off of his lap while the spare hand he has on your ass clamps you down, keeping you pressed to him.

‘hey.. hey, keep it on.. i don’t care,’ already trying to chase your lips, ‘i’m just saying, you don’t need to,’ the denim covering his growing erection starting to rub against your throbbing clit, the sparse material of your pajama shorts were not leaving much to the imagination.

‘jesus christ, just take it off,’ giving up in your protest, it was useless against eddie’s persistence.

you press your lips to his the second your shirt is off, there was no time to judge your body if he couldn’t see it. pulling at his jacket to get it off, the metal buttons digging into your now bare skin.

‘i didn’t.. i didn’t mean.. what i said..’ babbling through the kiss as he shimmies out of the jacket, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

‘shut up,’ you whine, running your hand along the length of his chest until you reach the hem of his black shirt, gripping your fingers around the fabric and lifting it slightly, exposing his midriff, the soft trail of hair ascending the skin.

his head jerks backwards, allowing you to tug the shirt off, finally allowing his eyes to wander to your chest. ‘holy shit,’ he remarks like he’d never seen a pair of tits before. it’s futile for him to pretend that he hadn’t seen some amazing boobs in his time so you scoff, rolling your eyes.

working your hand at his belt buckle, fiddling with the metal until it pops undone. he’s hard already and it makes you groan, brushing your hand over the raised denim. this week seriously must’ve been difficult if he was getting hard so easily over you.

it doesn’t ever occur to you how much of a mistake this was. and even if it did, you didn’t have much time to ponder on it as his hands are grabbing at your breasts, palming them as his lips suck at your jaw and down onto your neck softly. guaranteed to leave a lovely violet mark that the old ladies at work would certainly gasp at.

he’s helping you with his jeans, one hand gripping onto your waist to keep you steady as he lifts his hips from the couch and the other hurriedly yanking them down just enough to reveal his boxers. that’s the next port of call, fingers grabbing at the thin black cotton, pulling them down his thighs as his cock springs into action.

eddie’s lips are still on your neck while you mindlessly wrap your hand around his cock, pumping your fist as you shuffle upwards. his breath hitches in his throat, still peppering sloppy kisses to the sensitive skin.

‘oh god,’ he whines into your collarbone, feeling his eyelashes flutter against your jaw. for a man who had been painted as womaniser in the media, he sure was still just as pathetic as he used to be underneath you.

you’re a little annoyed that it’s you who’s taking control right now. after so many years of disrespect from his end, you think he at least owed it to you to take charge.

your hand grabs onto his shoulder, pulling his face from your neck, ‘be quiet, okay?’ sitting taller to position yourself comfortably, the harsh fabric of the couch grazing your knees.

he nods, sliding his hand up your waist and back to your hip, taking in the sight of you. you wouldn’t ever admit it aloud, but truthfully, you really did miss him sometimes. missed the way his pretty pink lips looked after being glued to yours or the way he gazed at you doing the most mundane tasks.

you cant your hips, sinking down onto his length slowly, biting down onto your bottom lip as his cock fills you to the hilt. his eyelids flicker, fingernails digging into your doughy hips. it’s been a little while since you’d done this so you have to take a second to become accustomed to the slight stretch. it’s good, in the most masochistic way.

your hands cling onto his shoulders, watching his slack jaw, tiny breaths escaping from his mouth as you attempt to move. painstakingly slow at first, knees beginning to shake as you try to remember what you should even be doing. your cheeks flushing, feeling so incredibly embarrassed. the man was fucking models and then you’re here, pitifully trying to ride him. it’s awful, you know it’s awful.

his arm comes to snake around your waist, taking matters into his own hands and flipping the two of you around, your back suddenly pressed into the couch. holy shit. you appreciate the initiative, wrapping your legs around his waist, readjusting your grip on his shoulders.

‘need you a little faster than that darling,’ large hands digging into the couch either side of your head. you’d feel utterly mortified if you weren’t thoroughly enjoying the sight of him looming over you, his hair falling beautifully into your face.

eddie starts slow at first, moving his hips slowly, obviously well versed. your mouth opens but no noise escapes, well aware that you weren’t the only ones in your house. instead you pant softly, desperate for his lips to grace yours again.

it’s not long before he’s quickening his pace, unable to contain himself when you feel so perfect around him. ‘i missed you- fuck, i’ve missed you so much,’ he groans, keeping his voice low despite wanting to start screaming.

you don’t reply, too fucked-out to even think about words. eyes drooping as his cock nudges against the soft spongy spot no one other than him had been able to reach.

the couch creaks beneath you, the old thing unable to keep up with his rutting hips, the top of your head knocking into the arm rest every time his hips collided with yours. your living room had never bore witness to such filth and as quiet as you were trying to be, the sounds are indistinguishable.

having to bite down onto your lip when his thumb meets your clit, legs tightening around his waist with every soft circle he draws around the sensitive bud. eddie was never bad in bed but holy shit, maybe money had done something right for him.

he sits up, soft sighs falling out of his lips as his hand disconnects from your clit, sliding toward your knee and positioning your leg onto his shoulder. your nails press into his forearm, willing yourself to stay quiet even now he’s seemingly trying to kill you.

and through it all, he’s smirking. relishing the way you’re writhing around, trying not to cum when he nudges against that sweet, spongy spot this position allowed.

his thumb finds your clit again, ‘holy shit sweetheart.. you gonna cum?’ grunting softly with every thrust.

you’re positively wrecked beneath him, face pressed into the couch cushion as your stomach flips. panting into the fabric, incoherent ramblings of eddie’s name and a bunch of curse words fill the room.

‘cum for me baby.. shit,’ struggling to keep his own pace as you tighten around him, leg trembling around his neck as your orgasm takes over. pleasure overtaking your limbs as your hips buck instinctively, thankfully muffled by the couch.

‘oh my god,’ you breathe, struggling to see straight when your eyes eventually reopen, gazing up at eddie above, certain he’s about to draw blood from his teeth digging in to his lip.

‘where.. where shall i- shit,’ he squeezes out, feeling his hips begin to stutter, eyes rolling to the back of his head. he’s just about quick enough to pull out, thick ropes of cum paint your thighs. narrowly avoiding the couch.

if you had the energy to get annoyed, you would’ve snapped, but in all honesty, your brain was still reeling and anger was the last thing you felt.

eddie reaches over, ever the gentleman and grabs his shirt to clean his mess. didn’t matter to him obviously, he had more than enough money to buy another.

and there it is. the bitterness filling your body again the second he’s no longer on top of you, or inside of you rather. you attempt to bite it down.

‘you wanna talk now?’ he asks, pulling his boxers back up to a more respectable position.

‘i’m tired eddie,’ and you are, on a school night like tonight you’d have been fast asleep by now.

he sighs, shoulders slumping over. even after you’d just had the most mind-altering sex, you couldn’t speak to him. ‘please,’ pleading with you almost, desperate for one more chance.

maybe it’s the exhaustion or maybe the dopamine still pumping through your brain but you concede, pulling your shirt back over your head before motioning for him to speak.

‘i don’t have any excuses, i’m just-,’ he sighs, turning on the couch to face you fully, ‘i’m sorry for hurting you, i was wrong and i know that,’ his eyes are dipped, peering at you from underneath his spindly lashes, ‘why d’you think i’ve avoided this place for so long?’

‘i don’t know? because you’re a pussy? because you’re too scared to face me?’ letting the words rattle off your tongue without much thought.

‘because i’m embarrassed,’ he corrects, without much offence, ‘because i’m ashamed and feel like i owe you more than some dick and a shitty apology.. i just didn’t know how i could ever make it up to you,’ half-moon eyes glossy in the low light.

your heart thumps in your chest, blood echoing through your ears. eddie munson, world renowned rockstar was sat on your couch, apologising for something you should’ve forgotten about a long time ago.

the years of hatred and avoidance come tumbling down in a millisecond. all you’d ever wanted was to hear him say sorry. to admit that he’d fucked you over for a life of fame and now you had it, you weren’t exactly sure what to even do with it.

‘okay.. now what? are you gonna make it up to me? because i want to believe you eddie, i do.. but you can’t just traipse in here and expect me to forgive you like that,’ the tears roll over, sliding down your warm cheeks.

he nods, grabbing onto your hands in a last ditch gesture to show his sincerity, ‘i’m going to.. i-i want to,’ he’s still nodding, bringing his face closer to yours, ‘tell me how, i’ll do anything,’ adam’s apple bobbing with every word.

‘stay here,’ your eyes are trained on him, ignoring the blurred vision, ‘not forever, just for now,’ lips pursed, ready to be broken once more.

you half-expect him to come out with some sorry excuse, tell you he had to get back to his hotel so he couldn’t possible stay here.

but he doesn’t.

eddie takes your hand, tugging it gently and with words you don’t register, babbles something about bed. so you follow him, allowing him to guide you to your room and slide in between the sheets next to you.

everything is so gentle, soft and pure. something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

-

‘hey.. sweetheart,’ eddie’s hand gently shakes your arm, whispering into your ear, ‘you awake?’

you squint in the dim light, feeling his hand descend onto your waist, chest pressed against your back, ‘i am now,’ you grumble, it was early.. early even by ella’s standards.

‘i gotta go.. you got work today?’ he asks, making no effort to actually get up and leave your bed though.

you nod into the pillow, rubbing your sleep heavy eyes. in your sleep hazed state, you shuffle, moving backwards against him.

‘okay.. shit- don’t do that,’ strained as you shift against him, unknowingly brushing against his cock, ‘i’ll be back.. after you..’ he’s losing it a little now, ‘after you finish..’ lips pressed to your ear.

you were moving deliberately now, just ever-so-slightly rocking your hips back and forth, you could feel him growing against your ass.

‘i can’t..’ he groans, grip tightening on your hip,

‘please,’ you breathe, reaching backwards to find his mop of curls, taking a fistful for leverage as his own hip’s thrust into your backside, his low growls only spurring you on.

you had been on your own for so long now, could he really blame you?

eddie doesn’t leave for another hour, creeping out of your house with his head low and a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

-

the key turns in your door as you’re loading the dishwasher. you’d given steve a spare for emergencies but it seemed to get used for anything but.

he slinks into the kitchen where you stand with your back to him, ‘hey,’ already knowing who it was.

‘well hello,’ announcing his presence, something about his tone of voice already seemed off, he sounded short, annoyed almost, ‘how have you been?’

‘i’m good..’ you spin to face him, puzzled by his strange demeanour, ‘how are you?’

he’s holding onto something behind his back but you can’t quite catch a glimpse, ‘actually.. i’m a little pissed off,’ you can tell he’s not completely serious by the hint of a smile on his face.

‘hmm? why’s that?’

he looks around the room expectedly, ‘oh i don’t know.. you don’t have anything to tell me, do you?’ shaking his head, still gripping onto this mystery object.

‘no..’ narrowing your eyes, determining whether he knew what you thought he knew.

he did, he one hundred percent did. holy fuck. he’d figured you out already. eddie had opened his big, stupid mouth and told dustin, who would’ve told steve and god knows who else. fucking moron.

‘no? soo..’ his pulls the magazine from behind his back, flipping it to the page he’d already saved, ‘this isn’t real then?’ shoving the glossy pages into your face, ‘because to me.. this looks an awful lot like eddie.. at this very house,’ he jabs his finger at the pixelated image, ‘and this little blob here.. that’s you, no?’

you’re utterly gobsmacked. mouth hung open in pure shock. because that most definitely was eddie.. and your house.. and you. you hadn’t seen anyone with a camera, hell, you hadn’t seen anyone on the street at all.

‘and correct me if i’m wrong, but is this not our friend eddie leaving your house the next morning?’ showing the next image of him leaving your house the day after, hair unruly and messed up, holding his denim jacket in his arms as he climbs into his car.

your mouth moves but no words come out, croaking as you struggle to meet steve’s eyes. completely speechless, there was no feasible excuse. you had been caught with your pants down. literally.

‘i can explain,’ waving your hands around while steve stands smug against the kitchen counter. ‘..no i can’t,’ shoulders slumped as you blink at your best friend, no you really couldn’t. suppose you could’ve come up with some lie about a look-a-like you’d been seeing but that would’ve made you look particularly strange.

‘were you ever gonna tell me?’ he’s almost hurt that you hadn’t ran to him to tell him immediately. this was true best friend gossip and you’d kept him from it.

‘i was! steve.. i don’t even know what happened- he came over to apologise and then we were arguing and then.. then we had sex and it’s not my fault..’ you’re trying, and failing, to contain your smile, flashing your cheeky grin to your best friend in the hopes he would let this slide.

‘i can’t believe you didn’t tell me!’ jutting his bottom lip out, ‘so, you’re getting back together?’ his eyes sceptical yet sparkling with a sense of hope. you’re grateful that all he seems to care about is the fact you lied. or actually, withheld the truth as you preferred it.

‘no.. well.. no, we had dinner together yesterday and he might’ve stayed over but no..’ shaking your head, ‘he’s leaving again soon and we both know what happened last time..’ you shrug, leaning back against the counter, ‘i guess i don’t hate him now, that’s good isn’t it?’

steve looks perplexed, ‘wait wait wait.. so you’re just.. screwing around? and then he leaves again, that’s it? what’s the point?’ taking a seat at the small kitchen table, fully engrossed in the conversation.

‘i dunno.. i guess that’s it?’ you hadn’t really thought about the fact that he’d be leaving again, in fact, you hadn’t really had time to think much at all about what was happening.

you’d just sort of acknowledged that at some point he’d go back to california and you’d stay here and whatever was happening would.. end? it wasn’t as if you were going to be super upset about it like you once were. lots of people fuck their ex’s.. this was fine.

because that’s what this is, right?

just sex with an ex?

‘that’s it?’ steve reiterates, looking completely flabbergasted that the woman who once left the room whenever eddie munson’s name was mentioned was now being so casual about this.

‘yeah,’ you shrug, not wanting to make a massive deal out of it though you could always rely on steve to be over dramatic on your behalf.

‘no,’ he straightens up in the chair, ‘all of this can’t be for nothing,’ sounding utterly exasperated, ‘you two obviously belong together so why don’t you go for it? i could see you living it up out in la.. big house, big car-,’

you cut him off before he can divulge into his delusions any further, ‘i think you’re getting ahead of yourself steve,’ shaking your head at his ludicrous attitude.

you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it once or twice but it seemed silly to start imagining this crazy life together after all these years. he’d barely just made it into your good graces again, you were hardly going to run off to california with him. it was utter delusion.

‘okay okay..’ he scoffs, ‘but i still think you need to talk to him. i don’t want you getting hurt again, okay? just make sure that you’re both on the same page,’ nodding as he stands from his seat and begins to rummage through your cupboards for something to eat.

he was probably right and you knew it deep down. you weren’t keen on being the one to bring the conversation up, not after that first night. after you had sobbed in his arms in bed, letting him soothe you to sleep with a bunch of probable empty promises.

-

when eddie lets himself into your house a few hours later, steve’s eyebrows fly up his forehead but he doesn’t say a word. instead, he nods at the man, keeping his opinions to himself.

the pair of you resemble an old married couple, except you’re the grumpy old man with your wife cuddled into your side. your wife being steve that is.

‘oh.. is this uh, something that happens often?’ eddie asks, settling into the empty chair across from you. slightly miffed that steve was nestled into your side.

‘yup,’ you nod, smiling at him your chin resting on steve’s head. he hadn’t a reason to be jealous, you’d really rather poke your eyeballs out with a fork than do anything remotely sexual with steve.

‘right.. yeah okay,’ eddie says, looking perplexed but sitting back in the chair. if he was going to stick around then this would have to be something that he got used to. because you sure as hell weren’t going to stop being so close with steve for the guy that broke your heart at eighteen.

‘you want a drink?’ you ask, realising that you should probably be a good host even if it was only eddie.

‘yeah sure.’

you untangle yourself from steve and trundle off into the kitchen. steve takes this as the perfect opportunity to grill eddie on his intentions, sitting up straight and making sure that you were really gone before beginning his interrogation.

‘so.. you two?’

eddie shrugs, not wanting to get into it with steve after such a long day.

steve sighs, leaning toward eddie, ‘i’m gonna say this once.. but if you hurt her again, i will kill you,’ staring the other man down. contempt in his eyes. he was dead serious too.

‘i’m not- i’m not gonna hurt her,’ eddie sits up, praying that you’d hurry back with this damn drink.

‘i mean it eddie,’ raising his eyebrows, ‘you didn’t see how she was after you left.. i’m not going through that again, i’m not letting her go through that again.’

‘steve-,’ eddie blinks, stopping himself as you re-enter the room. hoping that you hadn’t heard their conversation, he’d only just got you to stop hating him. he wasn’t prepared to go back to that like, ever.

‘what’re you talking about?’ placing the bottle of beer in front of eddie and collapsing back into your spot on the couch.

‘football,’ steve answers quickly, groaning as he pushes himself off of the sofa, ‘i’m gonna head home, got work in the morning but i’ll see you tomorrow,’ he smiles, winking at you from above.

‘okay,’ you utter, sounding more like a question than a statement, watching carefully as he gathers his things without so much as a glance at eddie. you can only imagine what was actually said but that was truly none of your business.

you’d just grill eddie later to make sure steve hasn’t been too much of an asshole.

‘byee,’ you call out behind him, already eyeing a sheepish eddie. this’d probably be it. you’d known it was coming at some point, you just weren’t sure of when.

if steve’s sudden departure was anything to go off, you were probably right.

the door clicks shut and you turn your attention to eddie who was still sat on the solemn chair. oh god. maybe you had got a little used to having him around again and now to know that it’d all be coming to an abrupt end once again.. yeah you felt a tad shit.

‘what’d you say?’ you ask outright, it made zero sense to beat around the bush.

‘me?’ he looks almost offended, ‘i didn’t say shit.. didn’t get the chance to,’ but he’s smiling ever so slightly and your heart relaxes.

christ you were so stupid. letting him back into your life just to let him walk away a second time. perhaps you’d done something horrific in a past life to deserve this same fate twice.

‘so what did he say?’ you press, unsure of if your even wanted the answer.

eddie sighs before coming to collapse on the couch next to you, ‘it wasn’t important.. look, i wanna be honest with you,’ his hand comes to grab yours and you freeze, bracing yourself for what was inevitably going to come next. ‘you mean a lot to me and.. and i don’t want you to think that i don’t care or that i’m just leaving you again,’ his eyes are focussed on yours, full of what you hope is sincerity.

you don’t reply, instead you nod slightly and urge him to continue. this was it. the kicker. 

‘i’ve gotta go back to la next week,’ his grip tightens around your hand, ‘but i’m coming back as soon as i can, okay?’ he’s serious too and you’d like to believe him but if the past was anything to go by, you weren’t eager.

you nod silently. fuck this. once again, you were sat before eddie munson, listening to his plans to jet off to la. it felt like the cruelest case of deja-vu. if anything, you want to kick yourself for even allowing him to wiggle his way back into your heart. most people know better after the first time.

‘it’s three weeks.. maybe a month, but i’m coming back, i promise,’ he pleads, hanging his head low. he knows there’s absolutely nothing he could say to you that would make you believe him but he had to try.

you hum, frowning just a little before finally replying, ‘i’ve heard that before,’ not meaning to sound as snarky as you did, but it was true.

‘i’m serious, i’m not.. not gonna lose you again, i’ve learnt my lesson,’ his eyes are big and pleading and you’re thrown right back to being eighteen, listening to him convince you how going to la would be the best decision.

‘so.. what? you’re gonna come back to hawkins just to see me? i don’t-,’ you sigh, as much as you wanted to believe him, it just wasn’t plausible in your mind, ‘i just don’t understand, are we together or are you just coming back to fuck? you don’t have to, you know? i’ve made peace with it all and i’m fine.. you don’t have to lie to me anymore.’

if anyone was going to fuck this up, it would be you. that’s for certain.

‘what the fuck?’ he exclaims, genuinely flabbergasted, ‘this is me telling you that i’m serious about this.. about you,’ he takes your hand into his properly, scooting around to face you fully, ‘i love being here with you, and ella and there is nothing out in la worth more than this,’ you think he might just start crying, or you might. or perhaps both of you.

you sniff, not wanting to speak in fear of bursting into hysterics. it was all just so confusing and weird. you’d grown accustomed to eddie being on the other side of the country and now suddenly he was back in your life with what seemed like a a declaration of love. it was just too much to handle. and maybe you blame yourself a little, for not truly thinking about the implications of fucking your ex that had abandoned you years prior. but now it all just seemed to be hurtling in the most intense direction.

you were the one that had told him to stay after all. because really, you could’ve kicked him out, refused to ever even acknowledge him again. but you hadn’t.

‘are you telling me the truth?’ is all that you manage to squeak out. baring resemblance to a small child.

you really must’ve looked pathetic, eyes brimming with tears, bottom lip quivering as you hold in the implosion of emotions. it’s always scary being vulnerable with someone, let alone someone that once meant so much to you.

he still did. as much as you’re absolutely petrified to admit it, he’d weaselled his way back into your heart and now here you are, a mess of emotions and perplexing feelings that are too complicated to handle.

‘i promise you,’ he sighs, clearly fed up of your whining, ‘i’m coming back this time.’

and maybe you’re stupid. maybe you’re still hung up on some high school relationship that ended long ago but you can’t help it, you nod.

idiotically believing him because what else can you do after letting him into your home and your heart again.

[1-800-kami]

4:23 pm | the adventures of dad!gojo

content: 0.9k words, fem!reader, dad gojo, megumi is your son, silly crack fic

gojo satoru is a man with very little fears.

in actuality, people are afraid of him. a mere gaze from those cerulean blue eyes of his sends people running off to the opposite direction, so the adjective “intimidating” was quite the understatement to describe him. some might even say that he’s the strongest, so he possesses no fear at all.

despite that, gojo has one thing he’s deathly afraid of: you–his wife, when you’re angry.

“suguru, help me out here!” geto can physically feel his bestfriend’s panic through the phone. gojo explained the situation in a fast ramble–geto could barely understand what he was saying, but he thinks he got the gist of it: you went out to run some errands and entrusted gojo to take care of your two year old child, megumi, while you were out. gojo conjured up the genius idea of keeping megumi entertained by handing him a paper and markers–so that they could surprise you with megumi’s amazing artistic abilities once you came back home.

it had gone “so well”, gojo said earlier, picking up the paper and studying it. “i think this is a drawing of a cat? or a dog, i don’t really know.. still, it’s made by my son, and it’s the peak of art and i think everyone should see it!”

gojo was so busy trying to decipher what megumi had drawn that he didn’t realize that his son still had the markers in his hands. when he peers over to look at megumi again, he just about screamed.

“gumi- no- GUMI!” he shrieks, snatching the markers away from his son’s hold. megumi, not having a paper to draw on anymore, decided to use the wall as his canvas instead—sketching a poorly drawn house with a bright red marker. “you’re not supposed to draw on the wall! aw fuc-ahem, freak… your mom’s gonna kill me…”

“gosh suguru, some advice would help!” satoru’s never been so afraid in all his years of living. you’re coming home pretty soon, and he has no idea what to do. he’s already imagining the look on your face–and it’s pushing satoru to the brink of passing out. gojo satoru–the renowned sorcerer who’s fought the king of curses, been sealed away in a box and has had multiple near death experiences–all of these things have happened to him yet none can compare to the fear of facing his wife when she’s angry.

“hmm? what is it, nanako?” satoru can hear his bestfriend trying not to laugh over the phone. suguru knows an easy solution to his problem, but he thinks that leaving satoru in the dark is funnier. it’s rare to see the strongest sorcerer like this, so geto revels in it with pure amusement. “you’re hungry? okay… let’s see what i can make for you, yeah?”

“you heard her, satoru~ one of the twins are hungry. i’m afraid i have to go… good luck about the markers, yeah?” suguru hangs up before satoru could say a word. he curses under his breath, but feels his heart stop when he hears the door unlock.

you’re home.

“mama!” megumi yells, clapping his hands and slowly crawling over to the front door. you happily greet your son, placing the grocery bags on the table.

you walk over to your husband, kissing him on the cheek before noticing the piece of paper that he’s holding. “oh? what’s this?”

you grab the paper from his hands and satoru regains a little bit of his composure once he hears you coo at your son’s drawing. “thought it would be nice for me and megumi to surprise you while you were gone… it’s a drawing of a cat-”

“horsey!”

“...a horse. yup, that’s what i said!” he sheepishly ignores his son’s glare, mentally preparing himself to tell you about the wall.

“i love it! oh my gosh, megumi, aren’t you just a little artist?” you say, ruffling your son’s hair with a big smile. “this is definitely going on the fridge.”

“...there’s one small problem, though…” satoru refuses to meet your gaze.

“what did you do this time, satoru?”

“hey, it technically wasn’t me!” he says, this time being the one to shoot the glare at his son. “so hypothetically…what if i told you that gumi thought it would be a nicer idea to use the wall as a canvas instead of the paper?”

“...”

satoru perceives your silence as his death sentence. “look, i’m sorry! i was trying to figure out what he drew and i forgot that he still had the markers in his hands-”

“satoru-”

“and the next thing i know, he drew on the wall before i was able to take the markers from him-”

“toru-”

“and suguru wasn’t giving me advice either, but then-”

“satoru!” your final yell finally breaks him from his ramble. he’s surprised to see that no, you don’t have a look of murder on your face. in fact, you’re actually smiling—looking more amused than anything.

“satoru, they’re washable markers.” you take a baby wipe from your purse and walk over to the wall, wiping away the bright red marker strokes easily with a few swipes. you’re trying not to laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “did you not know that?”

now he’s the one stunned into silence. “...”

“no, no… i definitely knew that…!”

“yeah, sure you did.”

being a father is so difficult.

[rynwritesreid]

I am obsessed w Ryan Gosling wearing a necklace with his wife’s initials on it to the Barbie Premiere!!!! Can we see Spencer doing the same thing, maybe to the office or a team dinner ? 😍

A/N: this is such a cute idea, and if I am being honest this is defo something early to mid season Spencer would have done. Thank you for the request:)

Summary: it’s basically as requested. I have added in some detail about other women flirting with him and that’s why he decides to wear it, but he does still wear it to the office.

Content: fluff. Fem!reader. Other people flirt with Spencer, but he doesn’t reciprocate.

Masterlist| requests are open| navigation

Spencer was aware he got attention from other women; he knew he was attractive. He never flirted back, or really gave anyone else the time of day and he was very open with the fact he was in a very committed relationship with you. You were also not prone to jealousy, you didn’t really like other people trying to flirt with Spencer, but you understood he was an attractive and very intelligent man. 

Spencer though, he had become to hate it. He didn’t understand why people didn’t care he loved you, that he was in a relationship with you, and only wanted you. He, being the ever-intelligent man he is, had come up with a solution.

“Hey, I have something to show you.” Spencer reached into his pocket and pulled out a medium sized box. “Before you get too excited, this isn’t a ring. It’s a necklace with your initials on it.” 

“Are you going to wear that?” you asked with a smile, feeling a warm flutter in your chest as you looked at the delicate necklace in Spencer's hand. The silver chain glinted under the soft glow of the evening sun filtering through the window, and the initials intertwined beautifully, a testament to your bond.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. I want everyone to know who my heart belongs too.” 

And with a tender smile, Spencer carefully fastened the necklace around his neck, the cool metal resting against his warm skin. As it settled into place, he stood up and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a tight embrace. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, steady and sure.

"I love you," Spencer whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "And I want the whole world to know that you're mine."

*

The next day, Spencer turned up to work wearing the necklace. JJ was the first to notice, her eyes scanning the necklace, wondering why he had suddenly started wearing jewellery.

"What's that, Spence?" JJ asked, tilting her head in curiosity. Spencer smiled, his eyes lighting up as he adjusted the necklace instinctively.

"It's for Y/N," he replied proudly, his voice tinged with a newfound sense of determination. "I want everyone to know that she's the one I love."

JJ's gaze softened as she took in his words, understanding the significance of the gesture. She nodded approvingly, a small smile playing on her lips.

"That's sweet, Spencer," JJ said, her tone genuine. "I'm happy for you both."

Derek had overheard what JJ had said to Spencer, and while he also did think it was cute and he would never tell a man that wearing any jewellery wasn’t masculine, he still wanted to tease Spencer a little. 

"Hey Pretty Boy, since when did you become a fashion icon?" Derek teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he sauntered over to Spencer's desk. Spencer rolled his eyes good-naturedly, used to Derek's playful banter.

“Oh, you think I’m a fashion icon because this, Derek?” Spencer grinned, a playful glint in his eye as he adjusted the necklace once more. "Well, let's just say I'm setting a new trend."

Derek chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Alright, Reid, if you say so. Just don't let Garcia catch you. She might think you're stealing her accessory game."

Spencer laughed at the thought of Garcia's reaction, imagining her excitement at seeing him embrace a new fashion statement. It felt good to have his friends' support and light-hearted teasing about his gesture towards you.

No one else seemed to care, Garcia had done a squeal of excitement when she saw the necklace and realised the initials were yours. But other than that, no one seemed to fuss over it.

*

Though he had noticed that he friends and colleagues didn’t seem to care about his necklace anymore, he had noticed how other women would interact with him. They seemed to glare at the two initials dangling around his neck and back off.

Spencer found himself almost amused by the reaction of the women who used to flirt with him. Their glares held a mix of disappointment and frustration, as if his simple act of wearing a necklace had somehow dashed their hopes. He couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at their reactions, knowing that he was making it clear to everyone where his heart truly belonged.

~join my taglist~

~taglist~

@purplepistachi0 @iluvreid @nomajdetective @drspencieee@ms-ks-world@evvy96 @oliviah-25 @starkid024 @emalyntgtgfhvgg@krokietino @julllliiia @xohoneybun @spencerreidwifeee@pleasantwitchgarden @Theillestvillian3@bitchassbecky691 @piperb400@queermaxwooo @gemofthenight @cham9ions @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @Catsareawesomek@anna-belle-xd@drreidsfavwhxre@Oureternalbond@beth-gallagher22 @firstunmannedflyingdeskset @waywardhunter95 @r-3dlips @k3nzxx @keiva1000 @peppersapro @just-a-harmless-patato @miss.daianaa@spenxerslut @skulliecadaver-blog @svnfully @reidsgirlhottie @bluepuppethidinginafilingcabinet @lover-of-books-and-tea @indigosamsblog

[sturnioloskyline]

Hey, how are you?

Would you like to ask Chris for something, something where the reader is stealing his clothes? sweatshirts, shirts and etc... and maybe people even make tiktok about it? Maybe they notice an old video of Chris, where he is wearing one of his sweatshirts, and in the new video you are wearing his sweatshirt that appeared in the old video? sometimes even matching clothes?

thanks!!

secret’s out

pairing: chris x fem!reader

warnings: secret relationship, language, time jumps, kissing, cuddling, not proofread

summary: you and chris were in a secret relationship, but your clothes might have given you away.

thank u for the request, anon! 🫶🏽

"okay, can you hurry up? we got everything set up and i just want to get this over with," nick was on facetime, only the top half of his face showing. you had your phone propped up on your desk as you rushed around your room, gathering your things.

"chill, im about to leave," you rolled your eyes, walking over to your phone and picking it up. nick adjusted his angle so his full face was showing, giving you an unamused look. you stuck your tongue out at him. "okay. i'm gonna hang up now, be there in a—"

"wait!" a voice called from the background of the call. you watched as nick looked up from his phone to someone in front of him. "is that y/n?"

"yeah?" nick replied with a suspicious tone. suddenly, a face appeared at the top of the screen, upside down and peering at the phone.

"hi y/n!" chris grinned. you couldn't keep your lips from turning up into a smile.

"hi chris," a light blush dusted over your cheeks at the sight of him. nick's eyebrows furrowed as chris's grin only grew wider.

unbeknownst to nick and matt, you and chris had been dating each other for the past few months. you had been best friends with the triplets for years, but you've always known that your relationship with chris was more than friendly. when chris had finally admitted the feelings he had for you, the two of you agreed to keep your romance a secret. matt and nick were very protective over the both of you, and if either of you told them that you were seeing someone, they would go ballistic. plus, given the size of the triplets' audience, being in a public relationship with chris could end up incredibly messy. chris and you were content with keeping everything a secret though, enjoying the lack of judgement from others. and sneaking around was fun too, of course.

"you guys are weird," nick said, tilting the phone back down so that only he was in frame. "see you, y/n."

nick hung up and you tossed your phone into your bag, slinging it over your shoulder and headed out to your car.

...

"NOOO!" chris yelled out, putting his face in his hands. the four of you were making a disgusting food roulette as a last minute effort for the video that was supposed to come out tonight. the randomizer nick was using had chosen chris to drink coconut water, arguably one of the worst drinks on the planet. you, matt, and nick burst into a fit of laughter, knowing that this would get a big reaction out of chris.

"c'mon chris, drink up!" matt teased his brother. chris reached for the box, bringing it up to his face. he used his other hand to plug his nose, bringing the drink up to his lip and quickly taking a big gulp. he immediately let out a loud gag, only causing you and nick to laugh harder.

chris made a face at the taste lingering in his mouth. he groaned, rushing over to the kitchen sink to rinse out his mouth with the open container of coconut water still in hand. however, on his way to the sink his body slammed into yours at full speed, sending you tumbling to the floor as coconut water shot upwards. before you knew it, the coconut water had come splashing down on top of you, all over your shirt.

"CHRIS!" you yelled through giggles. nick had doubled over in laughter, and matt clapped his hands over his mouth.

"oh my god! i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry!" chris apologized frantically, immediately leaning down to your level to help you up. "are you okay?"

"yeah, just fucking drenched in coconut water!" you whined playfully. "ew! i can taste it!"

the four of you stayed laughing uncontrollably for a few moments, before you headed over the bathroom to clean up.

"i brought an extra shirt, i'll just change really quick," you told the triplets, shutting the bathroom door behind you. you pulled a black and white t-shirt out of your bag, swapping it with the wet white tee you were wearing. you adjusted it as you slipped it on, looking at yourself in the mirror. you noticed the pattern, images of betty boop scattered across the shirt, the top reading 'hollyboop'. you couldn't really remember where you had gotten the shirt from, but it was cute so you just kept it.

you made your way out of the bathroom, tossing your bag on the couch and joining the boys behind the counter. chris's eyes scanned over you, and you took notice. you glanced up at him, giving him a 'what's wrong?' look, but he just shook his head, biting back a smile.

"okay, let's continue," nick ordered, and you guys finished up the video.

...

when it was time for you to leave, you gathered your things and gave matt and nick each a hug goodbye. "goodnight guys!"

"goodnight y/n," the two of them said in unison, heading to their rooms for bed.

"i'll walk you to your car," chris said, opening the front door for you. you smiled at him, checking to make sure matt and nick couldn't see you before placing a quick kiss on his cheek. you stepped outside, chris shutting the door behind you. you made your way to the driveway, where your car was parked. you opened the backseat and threw your stuff inside, shutting the door and standing outside of the driver's seat. chris stood in front of you as he paced his hands on yor waist, pulling you into him. you wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling into his shoulder.

"do you have to go?" chris whined. you chuckled, pulling bak to look at his face.

"what am i supposed to do, spend the night here when your brothers are home?"

"can't i just go to your place for the night? i wanna spend more time with you," chris mumbled, leaning down to kiss you softly. your heart fluttered in your chest, and as much as you knew this was a bad idea, you just couldn't resist.

"fine, get in," you rolled your eyes, watching as a goofy grin took over chris's face. he quickly pecked your lips again before heading over to the passenger seat, eager to go to your place.

...

the next morning, you woke up to chris's phone violently buzzing on your nightstand. chris was fast asleep, his shirtless torso sprawled on top of you.

"babe," you groaned, pushing him off of you. chris whined in response, slinging an arm over your body. "pick up the phone."

"no," chris rasped out, pulling you close to him. "let it go to voicemail."

you sighed, too tired to argue. soon enough the buzzing ended and you shut your eyes, ready to fall asleep again.

then the phone started ringing again.

"what the fuck," chris mumbled, reaching over you to pick up his phone, staring at the caller id. his eyes widened at the screen and he sat up, pulling away from you.

"what?" you asked chris, slightly annoyed that your sleep was being disturbed.

"it's matt," chris explained, clearing his throat and bringing his phone to his ear. now it was your turn for your eyes to widen. you leaned up to chris in an attempt to hear whatever matt was saying. "hello?"

"chris, where the hell are you?" matt asked, his voiced laced with worry.

"uh, i, um," chris stuttered, unable to form an excuse. you slapped your hand against your forehead.

"are you at y/n's?" matt asked. you fully sat up at the question. how in the world did matt know?

chris looked at you, not knowing what to say. you let out a sigh, taking his phone from his hands. you put the phone on speaker.

"uh, yeah. it's y/n. chris is here." you bit your lip. chris placed a hand on your leg, rubbing his thumb up and down your skin. a moment of silence passed.

"so it's true?" matt asked ominously. you furrowed your eyebrows.

"what's true?" you asked in response, confused as to what matt was referring to.

"have you guys checked twitter at all since last night?" matt asked carefully. you looked at chris with worry, handing him his phone and grabbing your own from your nightstand. you opened twitter, only to see that your inbox was overflowing. you clicked on a notification as it popped up at the top of your screen, leading you to a tweet.

'THERE'S NO WAY' the tweet read, two pictures attached. one of photos was a screenshot from an old car video of chris, in the same betty boop t-shirt that you were currently in. the second photo was a screenshot from last night's video, after you had changed into the shirt.

"fuck," you whispered, scrolling through your feed to find hundreds more tweets noting the shirt, as well as other times that you and chris had shared any item of clothing.

'is this why y/n's fresh love is always oversized?'

'OMG I KNEW IT'

'i remember chris had y/n's hairtie on his wrist in one of the car videos'

'if u go to 14:17 u can see chris put his hand on y/n's back'

'every time chris and y/n have shared clothes, a thread'

you turned your phone to show chris, who ran a hand through his hair. "shit."

on the other end of the line, matt had rushed to nick's room. "nick! chris and y/n are together."

"see! i told you," nick yelled. chris furrowed his eyebrows.

"what do you mean 'i told you'?" you asked.

"you guys are so obvious," nick scoffed. "i always knew you had a thing for each other."

you groaned, bringing a hand up to rub your temples. chris wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in so that you rested against his chest.

"how long has this been going on?" matt asked.

"we've been dating for nine months," chris mumbled, still sleepy.

"NINE MONTHS?!?!" matt exclaimed. you sighed.

"yeah, nine months. listen, i'll bring chris back in a bit. we're going back to sleep." chris smiled down at you, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

"wait—" chris cut matt off by hanging up the phone, turning on do not disturb and placing it back on the nightstand.

"i'm sorry, i didn't know that was your shirt," you mumbled into chris's chest. chris brought a hand under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

"you have nothing to be sorry about," chris whispered, leaning down to kiss you. you smiled softly, bring your hand up to the back of his neck. chris pulled back, lying down and pulling you down with him. he tucked some of your messy hair behind your ear, kissing your forehead. "we can worry about all of this later. for now, let's just go back to sleep, okay baby?"

"okay," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes and laying your head on chris's shoulder. chris ran a hand up down your back, lulling you to sleep.

"i love you," you spoke into chris's shoulder as sleep took over your body.

"i love you too, so much." chris let his head fall against yours, relaxing and letting himself fall back asleep next to you.

...

author's note: i hope this was what u wanted 😭. im a little swamped rn, but i promise i see all of ur guys's requests and they will be coming soon!! also im seeing drake 🤭

[hqbaby]

six — i believe you

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.7k content. profanity, sukuna is a little gross, reader’s a bit of a menace

Satoru had heard about you. You had cultivated the perfect image for the public, the diligent, hardworking, sweet girl on the tennis team who had a smile for everyone. Most of them loved you, and those who didn’t were apparently only one conversation with you away from falling head over heels. He’d heard about you, but he didn’t buy it.

He had quite a reputation himself. Some kind of golden boy, a god among mere mortals. But he was well-aware that the whole facade was built on a few bouts of witticism, a few flirtatious jokes, a steady stream of good grades, and nothing more. People liked to believe in the idea of someone, so he never really bought the idea of you.

Until he saw it for himself.

He and Suguru had spent the morning on the basketball court. They’d been on a week-long bender of parties, nights out, and copious amounts of alcohol. Classes were starting up again in a few days and they decided they needed a reset. Get some fresh air. Touch some grass.

They were heading to the locker room when they passed by the tennis court. There was a small crowd gathered, mostly children who couldn’t have been older than ten—and you.

Satoru knew what you looked like. He’d seen you from across the hallway, a few tables away in the cafeteria, on the walkways between buildings. Friends had pointed you out on occasion, launching into gossip about the people you turned down, the matches you’d won over the weekend.

But when he saw you there, right beneath the blazing heat of the last bits of summer sun, crouched in front of a kid who was crying, holding a broken racket, he couldn’t help but think that you looked different. Better than how most people described you. 

Absolutely beautiful.

He must’ve looked stupid when he suddenly came to a stop on the other side of the fence. But he didn’t care. He was watching an angel come down to earth.

You were nodding as the kid cried, explaining what had happened to his racket. When he was done, you ruffled his hair and offered him the gentlest of smiles. You walked over to a bench, took out a racket from a bag, and handed it to the boy.

The kid’s eyes were wide. “But this is yours!” he said, holding the thing in his hands like it was made of gold. “I can’t use this.”

“Who says?” you told the kid playfully, patting him on the back as you steered him in the direction of the other children. “Come on, we’re here to have fun.”

“What are you doing?” Suguru snickered behind him. “You know, watching little kids is creepy. Just saying.”

Satoru shoved his best friend and shushed him. “Will you be quiet for once in your life?”

Suguru slung his arm around his shoulder and sighed. “You’re not gonna get her, you know,” he said. “Many have tried. None have succeeded.”

“Oh, yeah?” Satoru said, walking away. He glanced back at you one more time. You were standing now, calmly telling the kids not to whack each other with balls. “Watch me.”

“I don’t get it.”

Sukuna trails behind you as you load the grocery cart with boxes of Capri-Sun. The thing is already half-full with loaves of sliced bread, deli meat, and an assortment of vegetables. All of this, he decides, is worth more than what he spends on groceries in a week.

“I told you not to come,” you remind him. “You can fuck off if you want.”

You almost lose your balance as you lift a 24-pack of bottled water, but Sukuna’s quick to grab the thing from your arms and set it down with the rest of the groceries.

He smirks at you, grabbing the handle of the cart before you can get to it. “I dunno, tiger, seems like you need me here.”

You flip him off and march down the aisle to grab a few more things.

“You’re not even getting paid to do this,” he tells you. “Why are you putting so much effort into these kids?”

You shrug, leading him to the register. “They need to eat.”

“Their parents can feed them.”

“Some of them don’t.”

That shuts him up for once.

Sukuna has never questioned the fact that you’re a way better person than he is. He’s known you since high school, he’s watched you volunteer your afternoons to tutor elementary kids, seen you go out of your way to make sure your teachers got the best Christmas gifts, been with you as you attempted to make cupcakes for school bake sales. 

He always brushed it off as things you did to pad your resume, but he always knew it had something to do with you having better intentions than him.

This weekend gig of yours that you started in your second year of college is just another thing on your long list of “good deeds” that Sukuna keeps track of in his head. But he never realized how much thought you put into it until now.

“I can carry that,” you tell him as he grabs the grocery bags from you. “Sukuna, seriously.”

He just shakes his head, sprinting away to your car as you attempt to catch up after him. “Too slow!”

Your best friend has never been the best person. But you’ve always made him want to be.

He loads the groceries into the back of your car and pats himself on the back for a job well-done.

You glare at him as you close the trunk of your car. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

He boops your nose. “Nope.”

The two of you are about to get into the car when someone calls Sukuna. You both look over at the source of the voice.

A girl.

Pretty with freshly manicured nails, hair in perfectly blown-out waves as she runs over to your best friend. “Baby!” She squeals, pressing herself against his chest. “I haven’t seen you in so long!”

Sukuna tries to place the girl. Someone he met at a party maybe? From one of his classes? A match on one of the many dating apps he’s on?

“Oh, hi,” he says, blanking on the name.

“It’s Mari,” the girl says, fluttering her lashes at him. She pouts, pink lips jutting out as she looks up at him with doe-eyes. “Do you not remember me?”

Mari. Right. 

Yeah, she was a good fuck. Some of the best tits he’s ever seen. He bent her over on a bathroom counter at a rager once and… well, the rest is history.

“‘Course I remember you,” he says, smiling. He pulls himself away from her and looks over at you. You’re grinning, clearly amused by this whole interaction. What a whore, you’re probably thinking about him. “Listen, Mari, I gotta go.”

The girl whines and wraps her arms around his waist. “But why?”

“Yeah, why?” You raise your brows at your best friend, a laugh bubbling beneath your words.

Mari looks at you, barely registering your presence, then looks back at him for an answer.

Sukuna peels himself away from the girl and goes over to you, placing an arm around your shoulder. “This here’s my girl, Mari,” he says. “And we’ve got some errands to do today.”

“Your girl,” Mari says slowly. She looks at you again. It clicks. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Sukuna says, opening the car door for you. “So we gotta go.”

The girl’s eyes scan your body. She takes a moment, probably decides that she’ll get Sukuna back real soon. He’s never been the type to stick to anyone, she knows this. 

“Okay!” she says chirpily, already turning a heel. “See you around, ‘Kunie.”

As soon as Mari’s turned her back, Sukuna’s shoving your laughing form into the car and rushing to the passenger’s seat.

“It’s not funny.” He groans as you double over in laughter.

You wipe the tears of joy from your eyes. “You don’t even remember her name!”

“Shut up.”

“Your face! God, you should see your face!”

“I will kill myself.”

“And the nickname!” You howl. “What did she call you? Oh, fuck, right! ‘Kunie—”

His hand reaches for your chin and pulls your face right in front of his. Your eyes are wide as he tilts his head, leans forward, and… doesn’t kiss you.

“That shut you up, didn’t it?” he says, smirking at the stunned expression on your face.

You push him away and shake your head, starting the car. “You’re so stupid.”

“Yeah, well, you’re annoying,” he says as he leans back in his seat. “And, for the record, I’m not always that much of an asshole with girls.”

“Sure, sure, whatever you say.” You hum, backing the car up. “You know you don’t have to turn them down.”

“What?”

You glance over at him. “Just because you’re helping me with this whole charade,” you tell him. “You don’t have to stop… doing the things you usually do. I don’t mind.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not doing this for you.”

“Right, because you would rather help me make sandwiches on a Sunday morning than go out with Mari.” You turn the car onto the road. “I’ve never approved of it, but I know who you are, ‘Kuna. I’m under no illusions of us actually playing house.”

Sukuna goes silent. He looks out the window with his arms crossed over his chest, as if he’s in deep thought—but you know him and Sukuna’s never been in deep thought for a second of his life. You’ve probably hit a nerve.

“Sukuna—”

“I’m not gonna let people think you’re getting cheated on so I can get my dick wet,” he tells you. His tone is serious. “I’m still your best friend, and if you think I’m gonna let you get hurt like that—”

“You’re not actually cheating on me though,” you remind him. “This is all for show.”

“I made a promise,” he says. “Let me keep it.”

When you look over at him, he has his eyes on you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Sukuna look this determined before and it almost frightens you.

You swallow. “Okay,” you say. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“Okay,” you say again. There’s something happening here. Something solemn. Like a promise between two children made in the dead of night. One that no one else can be privy to. One that belongs to just the two of you. 

“Okay, ‘Kuna. I believe you.”

notes. the burn is so slow but i’m having so much fun with it 😩 you guys are gonna have to love it too you don’t really have a choice 😩 also we’re getting more insight into reader and gojo’s relationship so the angst is gonna hit us like a train real soon

[babydollmarauders]

IN THE LIGHTS — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which y/n and Jack are decorating the tree, and he finds another use for the christmas lights

warnings: fluffy cheesiness in the beginning, NSFW CONTENT, bondage, p in v (unprotected), fingering, degradation, praise, spit. (4k words)

notes: welcome to day 7 of the 12 days of kinkmas! where i wrote this smut in…not at all at christmas time! it’s no surprise to me that this is my favorite one because… it’s Jack.

“please, Jack?”

i’ve been begging for a week. pleading with my boyfriend to finally decorate our christmas tree.

usually, when i was back in my own apartment, i would make a fun night out of it with my friends. all of us getting together to listen to christmas music, drink spiked hot cocoa, and decorate my tree before hunkering down for holiday movies with big bowls of popcorn; that were meant to be used to make garland, but somehow always ended up with more in our mouths than on the string. but now i live with my boyfriend and his brother, and i had hoped we could decorate the tree together; starting a new tradition.

Jack seemed to love the idea when i brought it up, knowing how excited i get around the holidays and how much i loved the season. but with his hockey schedule being so busy, we haven’t exactly had the time to decorate it amongst roadies and the various home games and practices.

but now it’s December 20th, five days away from christmas, and he has a rare free night at home.

logically, i know Jack is probably dreading the decorating. my tidy boyfriend will surely hate the various boxes of ornaments around our living room and the sparkly tinsel that always seems to shed onto the floor. i know he’ll probably complain about my putting on the chipmunks christmas album, and the fact that i’m so anal-retentive about the placement of the ornaments and how the lights are spiraled around the tree.

but i also know that he’ll do it to make me happy. i know that although he’ll complain about some things, he’ll smile when i bring out the christmas cookies, and he’ll tease me about how the stockings have to be hung just right on the entertainment center or i’ll get chills and have to fix them while he sleeps.

which is exactly what i’m banking on to persuade him to say yes to giving up his relaxing night of sitting on the couch and watching hockey in order to help me decorate.

Jack looks over at me, situated under his arm on the couch, my cheek pressed to his shoulder as i make my best puppy dog eyes up at him.

“yeah.” he finally sighs, shaking his head as a bright grin breaks out across my face.

“thank you!” i squeal, quickly shifting from his hold. i sling a leg over him, straddling his lap and cupping his face in my hands. i pepper kisses all over his cheeks, forehead, and nose.

“alright, alright!” his face turns pink as he giggles, playfully trying to push me away.

i pull back just long enough to give him some reprieve before swooping back in and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“i love you.” i remind him sweetly, winding my arms behind his neck.

“i love you too, kiss monster.” i laugh at his teasing nickname, leaning forward to press my lips against his once more.

his hands come up to hold my ass and he chuckles into the kiss as i squirm a little at his touch.

“oh, c’mon guys, really?” our moment is broken by Luke’s voice, and i pull back to find my boyfriend’s brother walking through the living room, pulling a hoodie over his head. “other people live here, you know? i don’t wanna see my brother fondling his girlfriend in our living room.”

Jack’s head tips back in laughter, “fondling?”

“yeah, you know, what you were just doing?” Luke raises his eyebrows, pointing at his older brother’s hands that still rest on my butt. “i know you didn’t go to college but that’s like a fifth grade level vocab word, dude.”

“get outta here, you cock-block!” Jack huffs, one hand leaving my body in order to give Luke the middle finger and then shoo him off.

the younger boy shrugs, snagging his coat off the hooks by the front door.

“oh!” i pipe up before he can leave, garnering his attention. “where are you going? Jack said we could decorate the tree tonight! do you wanna join us?”

Luke’s eyes flick from me to his brother, and i look back at my boyfriend to find him looking at his younger sibling with the ‘be nice or i’ll convince Nico to make you skate extra laps’ look.

it’s a pretty oftenly used facial expression between the two, ever since Jack found me crying in our closet early this year because i thought Luke hated me after i moved in. that was also when i learned that Luke doesn’t dislike me, he’s just an extremely blunt person.

“i’m sorry, y/n/n, i have some friends from U of M in town for a couple days. we’re gonna hang out and catch up.” Luke explains nicely, obviously trying not to hurt my feelings. “i look forward to seeing it when i get home though! Jesper said your tree designs are legendary.”

“okay.” i give him an understanding smile, nodding my head. “have fun! and be careful!”

he gives me a thumbs up, heading out the door. as it clicks shut, i look back at my boyfriend, who’s already looking at me with a pitiful smile.

“i’m sorry,” he starts, rubbing a comforting hand up and down my back. “i know you wanted it to be all three of us.”

i shrug, “it’s fine. he should catch up with his friends.”

“it’ll be just us then.” Jack smiles, “a new tradition for us.”

“a new tradition for us.” i repeat, grinning as i lean forward to peck his lips.

**

it took another couple hours for Jack and i to finally get up and drag out all the decorations i had brought when i moved in; the boxes being stuffed in the back of the storage closet.

“jesus, babe.” he huffs, setting the final box down on the coffee table. “i knew you brought a lot, but six boxes?”

i shrug, already pulling the first box open, finding a wide array of ornaments inside.

“a box for everything.” i explain to him, pulling open a second box. “two boxes of ornaments, a box of lights, a box of tinsel, a box of stockings and their hooks, and a box of all my stuff for garland making.”

Jack rolls his eyes, pulling open another box. he reaches his hand in, pulling out a red and white knitted stocking with an embroidered ‘J’ on it.

“is this… for me?” his voice is soft as he looks at me in questioning.

“yeah! i made it after you asked me to move in!”

“you made this? just for me?” he steps in closer to me, a prideful smile on his face. “my girlfriend is magical with her hands.”

i chuckle, pulling the stocking from his grip.

“oh, don’t act like you didn’t already know that.” i wink and he pulls me in by my hips, pulling me flush against him.

“oh trust me, i knew it.” his words drip with lust, his head dipping down to capture my lips in a kiss, but it’s in that moment that the christmas song that fills the air switches, now playing ‘The Chipmunk Song’.

Jack groans, pulling away. “even the music is cock-blocking me tonight.”

the laugh that slips through my lips is quickly followed by a snort, which makes my boyfriend grin, crinkling his nose.

“let’s just start decorating.” he nods at my statement, letting me step away from his touch.

as i begin fluffing the tree branches, making sure they’re nice and spread for the decorations, Jack opens the last few boxes. i glance over for a second, watching him pull out two more stockings, matching his, these ones with Luke and i’s initials on them.

the corners of his lips quirk up as he sets them on the entertainment center, more than likely not wanting to risk hanging them without my guidance.

i finish fluffing the tree, pulling a can of spray snow from the tinsel box, and Jack throws me an odd look as i begin spraying the tree.

“what’s that?” he questions, coming over to join me by the tree.

“it’s spray snow.” i tell him as i continue spraying. “see how it gives the tree a white dusted look, as if it’s been in the snow?”

he nods, his brows still threaded together as he watches. i can feel his eyes on me as i bend over to spray the bottom branches of the tree, making sure no spots are left bare.

but when i stand back up, my boyfriend is stood right behind me, his hands coming down on my waist and pulling my ass against him.

“you know what you’re doing.” he hums, and with the feeling of his semi-hard bulge against me, i have a feeling he doesn’t just mean with the tree.

“Jack.” i scold playfully, turning around in his grip. “the lights please?”

he sighs, letting his hands fall back down to his sides as he steps back.

“right.” he huffs, turning back to the boxes and pulling out a string of perfectly untangled lights, thanks to my storage hack of wrapping them an empty paper towel roll.

he begins unraveling the lights, and once he has the entire string of them into his hands, he sets them to the side.

turning back to me, a smirk is glued to his lips, a dark look in his eyes. i squint at him, crossing my arms over my chest.

“what are you thinking?” i ask suspiciously, scanning him up and down. but he just shrugs, feigning innocence.

“who? me? i’m not thinking anything.” he could possibly be convincing, if i didn’t know that exact look all too well.

he’s been horny ever since we were on the couch, and this is his ‘i just got a dirty idea’ face.

“i’ll tell you what,” i start, holding a finger up to stop him mid-step forward. he hums, urging me to continue.

“you’re horny, i’m horny, we both want sex right now. but, you know how much doing the tree means to me. after we finish the tree, we can do whatever dirty little thing just popped into your head. but first, i want the tree done.”

Jack nods rapidly, “deal!”

i giggle at his excitement, watching as he turns back around and grabs the lights again, walking over to the tree.

“alright, how do we do this?”

i guide Jack through plugging the lights in before spiraling them around the tree, from bottom to top. once that’s done, Jack lifts me up, letting me place the topper on the tree.

“what’s next?” he asks me, standing in front of all the open boxes, his hands on his hips.

“draping the tinsel.” he groans at my words, pulling the tinsel out of its box.

we work together to spiral it around the tree, making sure it doesn’t cover the lights, before we finally start on ornaments.

with the two of us, it doesn’t take too long, but i can tell my boyfriend is getting impatient. especially with the way he keeps having to lift me up to put ornaments on the top branches, my body pressed against his as he does so.

the last thing we do is the stockings, me guiding Jack on how to space them out so that they’re evenly spaced at the front of the entertainment center.

when we finally finish it all, about an hour and a half later, i stand back, looking over our finished project with a smile.

Jack stands behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist, my back pulled against his chest.

“it looks great, baby.” he compliments, pressing a kiss to my cheek. blood rushes to my face, biting my lip. “Jesper was right, you really are legendary.”

“thank you, love.”

he wastes no time, squeezing my waist tighter as he speaks up again, “so…”

“yes, Jack.” i laugh, nodding my head. “now we can do whatever you thought of earlier.”

he excitedly pulls away, spinning me around and gripping my chin, making me look up at him. his eyes are dark, his voice low as he speaks.

“go to the bedroom, i want you naked and on the bed when i get in there.”

i nod, speeding off to the bedroom. as soon as i step through the threshold of our room, i’m tearing my sweater over my head, letting it drop to the floor. as i walk over to the bed, i unclip my bra, throwing it to the side as well. i stop at the edge of the bed, peeling my jeans down my legs, along with my panties, leaving me bare as i crawl to the middle of the bed.

i sit quietly, my legs tucked under me and my hands clasped on my knees.

the soft flow of christmas music from the living room stops, and i can hear Jack’s footsteps down the hall, getting closer and closer. i squirm a little in excitement, shifting my weight around and squeezing my thighs together.

he steps into the bedroom, one hand behind his back, smirking when he sees that i did what he told me.

“good girl.” he gruffs, stepping up to the edge of the mattress. “give me your hands.”

i hold my hands out, and it’s then that he brings his own out from behind his back, a spare string of lights in his grasp.

“what are you doing?” i ask, but my question is answered by his actions.

he grips my hands in one hand, pressing my wrists together, and begins wrapping the lights around my them.

“is this okay?” he asks softly, looking me in the eye as he speaks. i smile at his care, grateful to have a boyfriend that makes sure i give explicit consent to what he’s doing.

“yeah.” i nod, “this is okay.”

“you remember your safe word?” he finishes tying the lights around my wrists, not too tight, but just enough that i can’t slip my hands through.

“assist.” i tell him, and he smiles in confirmation.

“good.”

and like a flip of a switch, the soft and gentle Jack is gone, replaced by a dark and dominating one.

he allows me to watch him pull his hoodie cover his head, bringing his t-shirt with it, before he pushes me back on the bed. he crawls slowly over top of me, pushing my arms above my head and dipping down to lock his lips with mine.

the kiss is rough and dominating, his tongue pushing past my lips to tangle with mine. he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, pulling back with it caught between his teeth before letting it pop back into place.

he trails hot, wet kisses down my jawline, sucking gently at my neck as his hand grips my breast harshly, pinching my nipple between his fingers and pulling.

my back arches, pushing my breasts up towards him, a moan sounding from my throat.

“Jack.” i whimper as his hand begins to trail down my abdomen, getting closer and closer to where i need him.

i can feel him smirk against my skin, dipping his fingers down to find my clit. my hips buck against him, my hands pulling against the lights in attempt to separate so i can grip his back, and i whine when they can’t.

he begins to circle my clit with his thumb, rubbing in figure eights, and the high pitched sounds escaping my lips bounce off the walls of the bedroom.

my eyes squeeze shut, my chin tipping up towards the ceiling, and Jack pulls his lips from my neck, staring down at me and admiring my blissed state.

while his thumb rubs, he runs a finger through my wetness using it as lubrication to slip one finger into my heat.

my walls clench at the intrusion, my eyes rolling back as he crooks his finger inside of me.

“Jacky, please.” i breathe out, grinding myself down upon his hand. my own hands grip the pillow above me, the only thing i can think to do with them restricted.

“such a slut. you wanna come so bad, don’t you?” he spits out, “wanna make a mess all over my hand.”

i whimper, nodding my head rapidly as he slips a second finger into me, thrusting and curling them to push against my g-spot.

pressure builds in my stomach as he continues fucking me with his fingers, stretching me with a third digit. my toes curl, my walls clenching around him, and i know he can tell i won’t last much longer.

“you wanna come? say it.” Jack leans forward, whispering in my ear. “say you wanna come on my fingers like a fucking slut.”

i gasp as he thrusts his fingers in again, my orgasm quickly approaching.

“i’m a slut.” i squeak, a moan falling past my lips. “i wanna come on your fingers like a slut.”

i pry my eyes open, my boyfriend hovering his face above mine, and he nods.

“come.” he commands, and as if he summoned it out of me, my climax hits, my breath catching in my throat as the knot in my stomach disperses, my eyes rolling back and my hands struggling against their restraints.

Jack’s fingers still, only his thumb continues moving against my clit, and he leans down to kiss me. pulling away once my orgasm is done.

he sits back, pulling his fingers out of me and leaving me clenching around nothing, feeling empty. his hand smacks my thigh, and i open my eyes again to look at him, watching as his hand rises to his lips, sucking his fingers clean of my release, one at a time.

i release a shaky breath as he hums, my eyes falling down to find his erection straining against his sweatpants.

“you taste so sweet, baby.” he whispers, bringing my attention back to his face. “you want a taste?”

my lips part, nodding, and he smirks; but instead of pushing a finger to my lips, he dips down to eye level with my pussy, his tongue darting out as he starts licking through my arousal. my hips wiggle, bucking up against him, and he pushes them down before pulling away.

he crawls back over top of me, squeezing my jaw open, and spits, letting a slow string of my cum drip down onto my tongue. he closes my jaw, raising an eyebrow at me, and i swallow before opening again, sticking my tongue out to show him.

“such a good girl for me.” he praises.

my arms ache, and i contemplate asking him to untie me, but instead i wait for him to crawl off of me before i lower them back down to my stomach.

i watch with baited breath and a bitten lip as he drags his sweatpants down his hips, his boxers going with. his cock springs free, slapping against his lower stomach as he kicks his bottoms to the side.

my whine echoes through the room at the sight, longing to feel him in my hand, and Jack finds amusement in my torture, slowly walking back to the bed.

“you want my cock so bad, don’t you?” he pouts, mocking me. “you want me buried in your tight little pussy, filling you up?”

i let out a strangled whimper, nodding my head.

“please.” i beg, already knowing where this is headed. “please, Jack, i want you. i want you to fuck me so bad.”

he climbs onto the bed, cupping my cheek as he settles over top of me.

“you made me wait, maybe i should make you wait too.” he teases, beginning to pull back, but i quickly lock my arms around his neck, holding him in place. my tied up wrists helping in my endeavor. i shake my head.

“no, please. i’ll be good.” i plead. “i’ll be so good, just please fuck me.”

Jack nods, pressing a kiss to my lips. “okay.”

he uses his knee to spread my thighs further apart, one hand wrapping around himself, guiding his dick through my folds. my legs wrap around his waist, my back arching as his tip rubs against my swollen clit.

“you ready?” he stares down into my eyes, raised brows as he questions me.

“yes,” i start, “plea-”

i don’t even get to finish my words, cut off as he thrusts deep into me. i squeak, my eyes rolling back as he wastes no time; pulling almost all the way out before harshly snapping his hips against mine again.

“shit!” he curses, and i blink my eyes open to watch his head tip back in pleasure. “squeezing me like a fucking vice, baby.”

his voice is strained, and my hands grip his back to ground myself, my nails digging into his skin, surely leaving crescent shaped indentations.

his strokes slow before speeding up again, getting rougher with each thrust. my breathing quickens, and i use my arms to pull his lips back to mine.

our lips move in tandem, his tongue poking through to taste mine, our connection occasionally broken for a moan or a breath. i trail away from his lips, dragging the tip of my tongue along his jaw until a reach the end, placing an open mouthed kiss below his ear.

he groans, my hips bucking up to meet his thrusts, and i suck his earlobe between my lips before i go back to his.

our kisses are messy, teeth clashing with our rushed movements, but it fits the scene perfectly. his hand comes down to cup my breast, pinching and pulling my nipple as our skin slaps together.

the pressure begins to build again, a knot tying in my stomach, and my abdomen tightens, my walls clenching around him.

i’m still oversensitive from my first orgasm, and i can feel my second rapidly approaching.

“fuck, you gonna come on my cock?” he grunts, and i shake my head ‘yes’, speechless at the feeling that’s washing over me.

“do it.”

my body tenses, the sensations of him thrusting inside me while playing with my nipples throwing me over the edge. my nails dig deeper into his back as i finish, and his thrusts become sloppier and hurried.

within a minute, his hips stutter, his body tensing just like mine had moments ago, and he quickly pulls out, ropes of cum painting my stomach as he finishes.

our heavy breaths are the only sound left in the apartment, Jack bowing out from under my arms and flopping down on the bed beside me.

we take a few moments to replenish the oxygen in our lungs and Jack gently unties my wrists, pressing kisses to the skin there, despite them being perfectly fine.

as soon as my hands are free, i’m swiping a digit through his release on my stomach, looking over at him as i lick his cum off my finger.

“fuck.” he drags out, lust rejuvenating in his eyes. “baby, you’ve already had 2 orgasms, don’t make me wanna give you another.”

i bite back a smile, shrugging my shoulders, and he gets up, stalking into our en-suite bathroom, coming back a second later with a wet washcloth. he kneels on the bed, wiping my stomach clean before disappearing again.

when he reappears, he holds one of his t-shirts from our closet in our en-suite. he pulls on some clean boxers from his drawers, pulling another pair out, before coming back over to me. he helps me into the extra boxers, before i sit up.

“arms up, baby.” i follow his directions, letting him slip the t-shirt over my head before snuggling back into my pillow.

he climbs back into bed, pulling me closer until my head rests on his chest, and i mellow, listening to his heartbeat.

“so, is that part of the tradition too? or just the tree decorating?” he jokes, making me giggle in amusement.

his arms tighten around me as he places a kiss to my hair.

“check back next year, i’ll decide then.”

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

When the Levee Breaks pt.1

pairing: Remus Lupin x reader

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

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

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

word count: 6.4k

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

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

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

“Antsy?” 

“No.” 

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

“Whatever you say, jitterbug.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Rem. You should know…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Did I really?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you exhale. 

“I don’t remember that happening.”

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

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

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

Your cheeks warm and so does your heart. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Remus,” you laugh and shove him playfully. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1971: the year you met. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I remember.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready, sunshine?”

“Mhhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mere,” you whisper to him.

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

“Down here!” you whisper-yell. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why would I be?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t stop,” he whispers. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you?” 

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

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

“About my crush.” 

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

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

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

“Of course I did.” 

“What happened?” he echoes. 

“Nothing,” you confess. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Other times?” 

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

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

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

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

“I thought you were enjoying it.” 

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

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

“Moony?”

“Hmm?” is grunted into your cunt.

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

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

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

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

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Am not,” you giggle.

“Are,” he teases.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything,” you smile. 

“I love you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” His voice is a desperate sigh. 

“Yeah.”

“What were you thinking about?” 

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

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

“Yes,” you moan. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready, my sunshine?” 

“Mmhhmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

pt. 2!

[flem17ng]

Oblivious: Mapi Leon x reader

note: this is for the anon who asked for mapi leon fic! I hope it’s what you had in mind xx

Summary: Reader is absolutely infatuated with mapi and she has no idea. Luckily some friends decide to help out.

content: mild age gap but not really

word count: 1.4k

“do the drill y/n! you can drool over leon later!” Patri sighed as she watched you, yet again, get distracted by the older player. This had been happening more and more frequently: everyday it seemed you were found gazing at Mapi from across the field. today was no different as you watched her sprint forward, tap the ball with her toe into the air and volley it across the field. 

clàudia slapped your arm with a grin. 

“one of these days she’s going to notice how in love with her you are hermana” 

“shut up” you grumbled, turning back to the drill. It was true that you made it pretty obvious. It seemed like the whole team knew about your crush on mapi except mapi. It’s not like you had a chance anyway! she was older than you, more experienced and probably the single most attractive woman you had ever seen. So yeah, you didn’t think you really stood a chance. 

“don’t be silly Pina, we both know Mapi wouldn’t recognise y/n’s crush if it slapped her in the face” Patri laughed with a shake of the head.

“can we change the conversation please” you whined suddenly finding the drill a lot more interesting than before

“change what conversation?” 

You whipped around only to find yourself face to face with the very girl you’d been looking at only seconds before. Mapi smiled at you (a sweet lopsided grin that made your heart speed up). 

“oh nothing! Just y/n and her big, ga-“

“my dead grandma” you almost shouted causing a few people to look at you in confusion. Mapi raised her eyebrows. 

“we where talking about my very dead grandma! that’s all!” you gave Patri a stern stare. 

“oh…” Mapi looked between you and the two other girls. “oh i’m sorry I didn’t know. um… well it’s water break now” Mapi backed away a few steps before turning and walking towards the drink bottles. 

“y/n what the fuck” Clàudia muttered. You looked at her, mortified. you needed to pull yourself together. 

***

It took you a whole 2 days to embarrass yourself even further. So maybe you weren’t able to pull yourself together like you told yourself you would. 

The game was a stunner. 9-1 to Barcelona. It was no secret that Mapi was the most valuable player on the pitch that day either. She was everywhere she needed to be. The final goal was something you knew you would never forget: Playing attacking mid, you raced into open space managing to lose your marker just as you neared the box, a second later you could see Mapi weave past the opposing striker and boot the ball towards you. Time slowed down as you jumped, letting the ball hit the top of your head, giving it the slight redirection it needed to skid into the top corner of the goal.  

You wasted no time turning at running towards the tattooed defender who’d assisted you. Her smile in the moment was better than the whole crowds cheering put together. When you crashed into her with a hug, you didn’t even think before kissing her cheek. 

“Mapi! I did it! I swear I could kiss yo-“ you cut yourself off when you saw Mapi’s eyes go wide. The awkward silence didn’t last long as the team descended on you both with loud cheers and slaps on the back. 

***

“you what!!” yelled Patri when you where safely in the car home.

“don’t make me say it again” you groaned, sinking further into your seat, covering your violently pink cheeks with your palms. 

“no i’m going to make you say that again! You said you could kiss her? Jesus y/n!”

Patri shook her head while Clàudia laughed from the backseat. 

“what did she do!” Pina laughed, clearly finding your embarrassment very amusing. 

“she just stared at me! god she’s going to think i’m a freak” you sighed. You could brush it off as heat of the moment, but you know it wasn’t. You could kiss her. Hell you wanted to, everyday you wanted too. 

“you guys are friends! she’s not going to think you’re a freak” Patri laughed

You just sunk further into the leather of the car seat, hoping it would swallow you up. 

***

Mapi was pacing the change-room the next day after training. The thought had been grating on her mind all day. Ever since you avoided her in the car park that morning. Usually you arrived at similar times, chatted about your morning, music, life, but that morning you had parked as close to the building as possible and practically ran inside at the sight of the older player. 

Mapi had shrugged it off but then during training you seemed to be making a visible effort to avoid her. It made her gut twist to think you were upset with her. hell, it made her feel sick to think you were upset at all but no one needed to know that. 

“god it’s just painful to watch at this point” Patri groaned to Alexia as she entered the change-room, only to stop short when she saw Mapi staring at her. 

“hey Mapi! I thought you would have gone home by now” Alexia smiled, much better at playing a poker face than Patri. 

“oh uh, no. I wanted to check on Y/n” she muttered. 

Patri smirked, “oh and whys that?” Alexia slapped her arm to be quiet. 

“she just seemed weird today. Like she avoiding me or something” Mapi groaned. It was weird seemed her like this, so unlike her usual bubbly self. 

“you really have no idea?” Alexia asked. Not teasing, but a genuine, gentle question 

“no idea about what?”

“she likes you Mapi! she has for a long time. If she’s acting weird around you maybe it’s because she’s losing hope.” Patri explained, watching mapis mouth fall open into a little ‘o’. 

“i didn’t realise” she whispered. Inside she could feel her heart speeding up like a kid. she smiled excitedly, “she really likes me?”

“oh god your oblivious sometimes leon” Alexia laughed. 

***

Anger couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt when she told you. embarrassment, mortification, rage. You didn’t even have the energy to yell at her when you got the text from Patri telling you that she had told Mapi about your feelings. You simply sent a text to your coach telling him you were sick, locked your phone and cried. 

You knew people would try to get in touch with you, hell some even tried calling your landline but you ignored it all.

How could you show your face at training again?

after a day or so you unlocked your phone. 

4 missed calls from patri, 3 from alexia, a large paragraph from clàudia and-

one text from Mapi Leon. 

You tapped the notification. 

today, 10 mins ago. 

mapi 🦁:  I wanted to kiss you too. 

You almost dropped your phone when you read it. and then you re-read it. and then you really did drop your phone when a loud knock came from the front door. 

“please y/n. It’s me” you heard her voice float through the hallway. Her tone was pleading and you could picture her expression: soft but with a wrinkle in her brow that only appeared when she was worried or upset. 

When the door opened, she stepped inside without hesitation. 

“y/n” she said breathlessly. Her cheeks were pink as if she’d been running and, just as you had imagined, her brow was crinkled with worry. 

“mapi? how did you-“

she cut you off with her lips, cradling your cheek with her hand causing you to gasp. 

she pulled back, looking from your eyes to your lips for permission to kiss you again. 

“Mapi…”

“i’m sorry i didn’t realise sooner. I’m an idiot i know”

You smiled at her and shook your head, finally giving in and reaching up to smooth her worry lines. 

“just kiss me again león” you laughed. and she did just that. Pulling you closer by your waist and kissing you deeply right there on your doorstep. 

Maybe you were an idiot, maybe she was oblivious, but hell she was a good kisser. 

shit, You needed to thank Patri.

[rebeliz7]

LITTLE PIECE OF HEAVEN

Natasha Romanoff x Pregnant Reader

Word Count: 1881

Request: Hey! Could you do a Nat fic where reader is pregnant and Natasha is so scared of hurting the baby that they don’t have sex anymore and reader gets frustrated?

Warning: 18+ content - NSFW

“Are you looking for something specific?” A girl no older than twenty three asks you, and you have to admit that the look of utter kindness on her face makes you want to run in the opposite direction. 

You’re an adult for Christ sake, surely you can buy a sex toy without getting flustered like this. 

You smile at her before setting the red dildo back on the stand, and when the thing wiggles you blush a vibrant red, almost matching it. 

“Not really.” You speak, and clear your throat immediately after. God, this is mortifying! “My wife usually does the shopping.”

The girl in front of you nods understandably, and you look down at your feet hoping that the ground would swallow you whole. 

“Don’t worry.” She says, and her voice is quite soothing. You realize that she’s one of those people that makes you feel comfortable and safe, no matter the situation you’re in. “My name is Jane, and I’d be happy to help you find something, if it’s okay with you.”

“Please.” You practically groan, and as she smiles her eyes fall down on your belly for a second, and your hands immediately come to rest on top of it. “I’ll be seven months along next week.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.” She apologizes quickly, and it’s your turn to placate her. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve gotten quite used to it.” You tell her as your baby begins to move, your guess is that she’s turning over. “She’s moving.” You smile, and Jane’s smile is delightful. Even more so when you take her hand, and place it on your belly. Which has become a habit of sorts as of late. Your wife’s friends are always eager to feel your baby moving after all.  

“Oh my God.” She smiles, as your baby kicks and you do too. “That’s amazing.” Jane says, taking her hand back.

“Yeah.” You nod, but the moment you look to your right and find a purple dildo the size of your arm you remember where you are, and why you came here. 

“You and your wife are very lucky.” Jane says, and you huff without really thinking about your answer. 

“I wish I was getting lucky, if you know what I mean.” The moment Jane’s eyes widen you realize what you just said, and you’re back to blushing madly. “I’m so sorry. That was so inappropriate. I don’t even know why I said it. I’m so sorry.”

“You know what?” Jane interrupts you, still cool and collected. “I know just what you need.” She says, and with a grimace you follow her to the back of the store. 

…

The moment you get home you’re a hundred percent ready to break in your new acquisition, and you don’t even feel bad about it. It’s been months since you had a decent orgasm, and you need it, you so need it. 

You have a quick shower, and make sure the cat has food and water before you lock yourself in your room. You turn off your phone so nothing can interrupt you while you do what you have to do. It’s a matter of health at this point, because you’re losing your mind, no question about it. 

First you sit down with your laptop to do a bit of research, and your anxiousness only gets worse the more you read the reviews on your new toy. It seems like you got yourself a very useful item indeed. 

Without waiting another second you go about undressing yourself before opening the box with the new toy in it, and if you’re blushing it’s okay because no one can see you in the privacy of your own bedroom anyway. 

“Okay. Let’s do this.” You murmur as you lay down, and  God you should be ashamed of how wet the sight of it is making you, but you’re not. 

You take a moment to rub it in your hands to warm it up, but the more you rub it the more your mind goes places, and you wish your wife was here. You wish she was kissing your neck, her hands on your breasts, her naked body rubbing against yours…

But Natasha is simply not interested in having sex with you now that you’re showing. 

“Not going there.” You murmur to yourself, because you don’t need to dwell anymore about why she’s so afraid of having sex with you nowadays. You just want to get on with it because on top of everything, it seems like your libido is off the charts too. 

Closing your eyes, you finally let your hand dip down between your legs, your index finger brushing against your already swollen clit. 

“Oh God.” You moan softly, and even more so when you find yourself dripping wet. It’s been months since you had a decent orgasm and that’s all you can think about. 

With your free hand you take the toy between your legs, letting its prominent head rub over your slit before you gently insert it. 

“Oh, God!” You scream, as it rubs you exactly where you need it. You squeeze the sheets with your free hand as your hips push against the mattress, and you push the toy a little deeper. 

With a feral scream ripping through your lips, you come unexpectedly, and so incredibly fast that you immediately throw the damn thing away in fear. 

That thing is surely witchcraft!  

“Oh my God!” You scream in your empty room as the toy hits the floor, and your inner walls continue to shiver, and clench around nothing. “Oh my God!”

Once the force of that first orgasm begins to fade away you realize that in your frenzy you completely relocated to a different part of your bed. And you’re squeezing the living hell out of a pillow but once the surprise, and slight terror of the strength of that orgasm is completely gone you decide that you want more. 

Witchcraft or not. 

…

It’s between your fifth or sixth orgasm that the door to your bedroom is kicked in, and your wife rushes inside with a gun in her hands, and the sight makes you come harder than any of the previous times did. 

“Are you serious?” She half yells at your direction, but not even her anger is enough to wipe the smile off your face right now. 

“I thought you were gonna be late.” You tell her, as your entire body shivers and you finally, set the toy on your nightstand. 

You’ll clean everything up later. God, you’ll clean the entire house later. You’ll cook dinner, and arrange your wedding photo album too. You’ll bake cookies, and go visit your mother too. 

“You weren’t picking up your phone. I thought something happened to you!” Natasha says, as she goes about your bedroom, gun still in her hands, swallowing thickly when her eyes can no longer ignore your naked body.

“Something did.” You smile goofily up at her. “I found the perfect dildo, Nat.” You chuckle, and she sits down on the edge of the bed, her upset slowly turning into amusement. 

“You did, huh?” She asks, eyeing said item on the nightstand as she places her gun next to it. “I can’t believe you went shopping without me.”

“It was either that, or die of sexual frustration.” You point out.

“Come on.” She says as she looks away, and you grab her arm to pull her closer. 

She leans forward willingly, her eyes taking in your chest, your lips, your glistening skin, and a spark runs in between your legs at the sight of her darkening gaze trained on your lips. 

“You don’t think I’m sexually frustrated too?” She asks softly, her hot breath ghosting over your lips as she speaks. “You have no idea of how badly I want to fuck you right now.”

“Why don’t you?” You ask, as you pull her harder, and her full lips finally press against yours in a heated kiss. 

Your breath leaves you when she kisses you like this, forceful and urgent, as if she wants to devour you. As if this is exactly what she wants to be doing now and forever. 

“What if we hurt her?” She asks suddenly, and she’s already pulling back, a deep frown forming on her forehead. “What if something happens?”

“Natasha, stop it.” You order her, and her lips fall shut but the frown on her face doesn’t go away. 

“I just don’t want to hurt her.”

“You’re hurting me!” You pointedly tell her. “I had to go to a sex shop today, on my own. I had to go and get something to masturbate with because my wife is too afraid of hurting our unborn child to even touch me with a ten foot pole.”

“You know I love you.” She tells you, pointedly too. “And I want you. You’re the only person I want to be with but...”

“When you say ‘but’ right there, Nat... fuck! I don’t know what’s wrong with me, or why I’m so horny lately. Maybe it has to do with the pregnancy or something, but damn it! I should be able to count on you. You’re my wife!”

“You can count on me.” She tells you, and you notice the hurt in her voice.

“No, Nat. I had to count on a girl named Jane who recommended I buy a freaking toy, and the reason why you’re seeing me naked right now is because you thought someone was attacking me.”

“That’s not - ” she trails off. 

“That’s what it is.” You tell her, but not unkindly. 

“I want you. I do.” She says as you sit up, and maneuver yourself onto her lap.

“Then show me.”

“Tell me you understand where I’m coming from, please.” She begs as you cup her face, and her hands fall on your waist before she’s touching every inch that she can reach. 

“I do.” You assure her, and not because she needs to hear it but because you really do. You know how fiercely she loves you, and how uncontrollably she desires you. You know because she does show you in so many other ways that aren’t sex. 

“I’m yours. Every part of me is yours. You know that, right?” She pleads to know, and God! You love her so much. Even though she’s denied you sex for the last couple of months, because of a fear that goes way deeper than what she’s letting on. 

“You’re gonna be a great mom, Romanoff.” You grin down at her, and her green eyes spark with joy as her hands pull you harder against her. 

“You just want to get laid.” She teases you, the mood changing once more. 

“Sorry, babe. But you have to know that your mouth, and fingers have nothing on that little piece of heaven.” You tease her right back. 

“Oh, really.” She taunts, and when you reach out to grab the toy from the nightstand she flips you, pinning your hands down on the mattress beneath her. “We’ll see about that.”

Ok, so maybe buying a toy, and using it home alone was part of a very meticulously thought out plan, and maybe that plan worked out perfectly for you.

…

[jilixthinker]

i always know

=͟͟͞♡ seungmin × fem!reader

=͟͟͞♡ fluffy period sex

word count: 4K

content warning: smut, explicit sexual content, established relationship, kinda sub!seungmin, period sex, unprotected sex (piv), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), it's grafic and fluffy

a/c: i wrote this for my pure enjoyment because period!sex should be debunked and seungmin is just so... fitting. enjoy this ♡

=͟͟͞♡ please, consider reblogging if you like my works!

"What do you need again?"

Seungmin's voice is ruffled and far. You can hear people talking in the background and the annoying beeping sounds of cash registers.

"Just the regular pads I always buy." You huff, hot bottle strategically placed on your lower stomach and phone on speaker. The fact that you had to do anything today is literally a crime. You had to go to work, 8 infinite hours of cramps and shivers, and then grocery shopping. And, of course, you forgot to buy your pads.

Seungmin finished his shift 30 minutes ago, and he called to check on you, asking if you were feeling like eating Chinese for dinner. That's when it popped into your mind.

"Uhm. The purple ones, right?". You can hear him searching through the boxes to find the right one.

"Yes, just those." You mutter, another dart of dull pain spikes through your abdomen, making you curl on yourself.

The painkiller you took with lunch wore off hours ago and you cannot take another one without eating before, or it will upset your stomach.

"Okay. 10 minutes and I'll be home. I am so sorry".

You roll from your side onto your back, hugging the hot bottle tighter to your tummy and drawing your knees towards your chest. Kim Seungmin is the best boyfriend in the entire world, a true angel, and you know it. That's why you say it all the time.

"Kim Seungmin, you are the best boyfriend in the entire world."

Seungmin's laugh is quiet and shy while you hear him paying for your box of pads.

"I'm not. Coming."

You close your eyes trying to relax, but it doesn’t work. You watch your own chest rise and fall in the overwhelming quiet of the room until the silence is too much, and you look for the remote, stuck under the million of cushions on your sofa. You put one of your favorite kdramas on, and you lazily start to watch it until you hear the sound of keys just outside the door.

You sit up, keeping your hot bottle on your stomach. The sound is followed by the shuffle of footsteps and the sound of Seungmin's soft voice.

"Hi." He waves as soon as he sees you, splayed on the couch.

"Hi," you respond. You try to keep the discomfort out of your voice, even if Seungmin knows how much painful your periods can be. Your pale face doesn't hide anything as well.

He rounds the corner and he tilts his head at you. His new blondish hair partially covers his puppy eyes, but it makes him look so soft and cuddly that you don't mind.

"Are you alright?". He asks you while he starts to set the table for the take-out.

"Yeah, fine". You rub your face and move against the arm of the couch. "Always the same".

"Mhm." Seungmin nods and places two napkins and your chopsticks on the table before heading for the kitchen. You watch him opening two boxes of stir fried noodles and one of caramelized tofu, together with some mushrooms and veggies.

"Ready." He smiles and comes toward you, offering his hand as a support for standing up. When you both sit at the table, he fills your plate before his.

"Why are you so sweet today?" You ask, picking up your chopstick and starting munching on some veggies.

He ducks his head with a cute wink. "I am always sweet. Also, you are hurting." He squeezes your hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. You stuff a piece of tofu inside your mouth.

"I am not hur-".Then another cramp twists through your lower belly and you groan.

"Oh, love." He coos, and looking up, you realize he has a worried look in his eyes. "Wait, let me help you eat".

Before you can mount any protest, he takes your chopsticks from your hands and bring a piece of tofu and mushrooms in front of your mouth. You look at him steadily.

"I am not a child." You huff, but the pain humbles you quickly with a sharp cramp.

"How many times have you mothered me when I was sick? Let me pamper you every once in a while." And then he looks at you with the softest eyes he could master. "Please?"

You lift your legs to place them on his laps and you silently open your mouth. The flavorful taste of the food calming your senses just a little. Seungmin alternates one mouthful of food for you and one for himself for a few minutes. The vision is so caring and sweet that makes your heart ache.

When you both finish eating, Seungmin places a tiny kiss on your cheek before starting to clear the table. You patiently wait for him to finish and, when he is done, he hands you a big glass of water with one of your painkillers.

"I feel awful". You admit after chugging the pill together with half of the water.

Seungmin nods, and he gently circles your hips with his arm, helping you standing up again. He rests one of his hands on your hipbone and caresses it. "What can I do?".

"Nothing, Min." you reply. "I'm not dying. It will pass, eventually. It happens every month". You glare and hope he can stop worrying that much before you start feeling guilty.

"Why don't you choose something nice to watch while I prepare the bed and make another hot bottle?"

The thought of you two cuddling on your warm bed until the painkillers kick in and you can fall asleep is very tempting.

"Sure. I am gonna change my pad real quick and put my pajamas on."

Seungmin smiles and you pick up the box he bought for you from a shopping bag, heading to the bathroom.

After taking the quickest shower and putting a fluffy set of pajamas, you enter in your room. Seungmin turned on just the background lights, the softer ones, and he is waiting for you under the covers. He created what it seems to be a nest of blankets, soft and warm. You snuggle next to him and he covers you with one of them, the hot bottle waiting for you.

You hug his chest and he places one arm around your shoulders, pressing the bottle on your stomach and making sure you are all covered with the blankets. The TV in front of your bed is already on.

"I don't deserve you." You whisper, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck. He smells nice, fresh and clean as always.

"You deserve any of this and more". He turns his head to press a peck on your forehead, and he tightens his hug. You puff some air while snuggling up. The warmth of his body feels just right against your aching stomach, and in just a few seconds you begin to feel better already.

"How can you always find out what I need?" You ask, the sound of your voice is muffled by the skin of his neck, and Seungmin lets out a tiny laugh.

"Well, it's simple. I love you. I always know." He murmurs, settling his hand on the nape of your neck. Your eyes slip shut, you still  feel an uncomfortable tightness in your lower stomach, but it's definitively decreasing.

Seungmin finds the remote control and clicks on the same episode of the drama you were watching before. His touch melts down your skin, warm and soft, soothing the tension of your muscles and bringing you the relief you’ve been craving the whole day.

The voices of the drama seem far while you bring your right leg to straddle Seungmin's.

"This feels so nice". You whisper on his skin.

Seungmin smiles and starts to hum a lullaby. The vibrations are low and you start to think you might even fall asleep like this. Then, another cramp hits you and suddenly you are wide awake again.

"That bad?" Seungmin's hands settle on your hips and travel to your back, massaging your spine in tiny circles, trying to help you with the pain.

"Uhm." You reply. His fingers catch on the hem of your pajamas shirt and he starts to press the pads on your bare skin. He keeps the pressure consistent and your back arches slightly into his. You shuffle closer to him. The heat of his hands on your back is a pleasing distraction from the ache spreading through your pelvis.

"Does it help a little?" He whispers while pressing another kiss on your temple.

"It feels good." You mumble. The noise is muffled in the soft fabric of Seungmin's sweater.

He nods, and for a few minutes he keeps alternating between applying pressure to your back and running his hands up and down your spine. You hum from deep in your chest as you feel yourself go loose in his arms. The cramps on your abdomen lighten and you tilt your head to the side to face him.

"Kiss?" You demand, voice all groggy and low.

Seungmin lowers his face to press his lips against yours. They are plump and soft, and they taste like mint. You lazily open your mouth and let your tongue lap his lower lip. He lets you do it for a bit, until you start nibbling at it and you feel getting restless under the warm covers.

"Getting better?" He asks without letting your mouth go.

You nod and his right hand comes up to cup your cheek. The other one is still on your lower back, caressing the skin over your pajama pants.

Seungmin hums slowly and the sound vibrates into you. He parts his lips and licks into your mouth while your grip on him becomes tighter.

"Can I try something?" He breathes on you. The pressure of his hand on your back is firmer than before, and his fingers feel hot against your sensitive skin.

"Something like?" you stop to look up to him. He looks a little bit flushed, but you're sure you look worse.

"Something than can help you. And something that I wanted to try for a while."

You feel a slight shiver on the skin of your back. You nod and lower your face to press your lips on his cheek, leaving an open mouthed kiss on it. Seungmin cups your chin again and slips the tip of his tongue inside your waiting mouth. You hum pleasantly, trying to deepen the kiss, until finally Seungmin gives in and lets you.   

Your lower stomach is still throbbing with pain, but you quickly feel a wave of warmth spreading on your belly. It feels like Seungmin is making everything hot, every little part of you that he gets to touch. He starts to drag his warm tongue along your lips while his hands tease the place where your skin meets the fabric of your pants. When he starts to play with the elastic band underneath, you lazily detach your mouth from his.

"Min?"

"Uh?" He leans back a little, but his lips find the tender spot under your ear and he begins to kiss you there.

"I am getting really horny." You admit. Your eyes slip shut and you lean on his touch.

"That's perfect." He murmurs, sucking a tiny portion of skin into his mouth and bringing his hands to cup your ass over the fabric of your pajamas. You moan at the touch and you press your body firmly against his.

"Is this okay?" He asks, sucking another bite into the skin of your neck.

You roll your head back onto the pillow under you, giving him more space. The soft light reflects on his brown eyes, glazy and dusted with arousal.

"Very."

Seungmin licks a stripe up your throat, all the way to your ear, and he gently rolls you on the bed until you are laying completely on your back. Even if his touch is light, you wince when he lays a hand on your stomach, slipping his fingers under your waistband. He dips his head to kiss the corner of your mouth, and then at the exposed skin of your collarbones, where the collar of your pajamas has slipped to the side.

You gasp when he slowly slips his hand underneath your pants and his fingers find your underwear. You stop tensing your legs, letting them fall apart slowly, and his fingers brush lower, over your inner thighs.

You’re so sensitive like this that you feel you could explode any moment now. The warmth of the room, combined with all the hormones flooding your body, heighten every little touch.

Seungmin's knuckles brush against the fabric of your cotton panties, and he slips a finger under the elastic band, finally pulling them off together with your pants. The induments fall on the floor, and that's when you remember your conditions.

"Minnie... I think we should grab a towel."

Seungmin kneels on the mattress in between your parted legs, and grab your knees to keep them open. "I don't care about the towel."

You are about to protest when one of Seungmin's hands slips lower and you feel the first brush of his fingers on you. A moan escapes from your mouth and your eyes flutter shut. And when he finally touches you, you keen.

He cups you fully, his palm resting over your pulsating core and thumb starting to rub your clit. You feel his pad tickling the tight bundle of nerves before dipping his fingers lower to tease at your entrance.

"Fuck."

You smell your own blood and arousal thick in the air, and it's so primal and raw that you feel lightheaded.

Seungmin presses in, his fingertip just dipping into you, and you drop your head against the pillow with a long a whine.

"You look beautiful." He murmurs. He inches his middle finger deeper and you can feel the squelching noise your pussy is letting out. The gushing sound reverberates in the room and it makes your head spin.

He presses the heel of his hand down and grinds it against your core, while he places his other hand on the lowest part of your belly.

"You look so good between my legs." You breathe out, circling your hips into his touch. His finger is fully inside inside you, but you are so wet that you need something more to feel stuffed.

Seungmin chuckles and he kisses your abdomen, pushing his finger in and out and pulling lewd noises out of you.

"Give me another one."

"Yes." He eases another finger into you, circling your folds with his pad before fucking it into you.

"Good boy."

He holds your body steady with his arm around your left thigh. He crooks his fingers to rub against the spongy spot inside you and your leg twitches. Your whole body is thick with desire and you feel so sensitive that you could come just from the obscene sound of Seungmin fucking your own blood into you.

He keeps you open like this for a few minutes, thrusting his fingers inside, and then smearing all of your liquids around your folds. Then he curls them again deeper into you.

When he slides his third finger in, you can feel yourself dripping on his wrist. And it should be gross, it should be revolting, but the only thought your brain can produce is hot hot hot hot. You bring your hand down and grab Seungmin's forearm, regulating his pushes and feeling his muscles flexing under his skin as he fuck you steadily.

"I wan' taste." Seungmin hums after a minute. His chocolatey eyes are staring hungrily at the way you pussy ingulfs his fingers.

"Yes, fuck. Taste me." You moan, the noises stuck in your throat come out groggy and low.

You drop the hand that was holding his arm and Seungmin just leans in, tongue lolling out of his mouth before he brings his lips on your pussy, flicking his warm muscle on your clit.  

You hiss and your body tense up feeling Seungmin get lost in you. He closes his lips around your bundle of nerves and he sucks, hard.

"Seungmin."

You moan, hips bucking into his face while he dips his tongue against your entrance and you let out an audible gasp. Your eyes flick down to meet his, fully blown out with arousal. He pulls his tongue out and he keeps giving kitten licks, as if he was savoring a rich glass of wine.

Your head fall back on the pillow as you let him continue. Seungmin brings his fingers to your entrance once again, and he push just his index in, licking a fat strip from your entrance to your clit, purring with enjoyment.

"Taste good?" you ask, and you sound out of breath. Everything is so hot around you and you feel more drops of blood gushing out of you.

"You cannot believe how good." Seungmin whispers, looking up to meet your eyes and licking you deep at the same time.

The whole room is almost dark, the few lights that are still on don't allow you to see Seungmin in his interity. But it's enough for you to see him almost suffocating himself in your drooly cunt with your blood smeared on the corner of his mouth.

"Baby... Min, god. Need you inside."

Seungmin hums against your folds and sucks one more time before he wipes his mouth on his own wrist, pressing a wet kiss on your inner thigh.

He reaches down to fumble with the elastic band of his pants, clumsily tugging his erection free from the constriction of his underwear as he leans into you and smashes his lips against yours. You moan loudly when he opens his mouth and swirls his tongue inside, the metalic taste of your blood filthy and intoxicatic. Seungmin bites on your lower lip, and then he soothes it with his tongue. Everything is so raw that you feel yourself getting close already.

"It's not gonna be impressive." He whispers, bringing his hand down to messily stroke himself, thrusting into his own fingers just a couple of times. You can feel his tip bumping into your hip, all red and puffy, precum dribbling on your skin.

"I didn't touch you". You huff on his lips, licking his cheek and biting it lazily.

"You tasted too good. I almost came." He admits. He brings his cock in front of your pussy and he slides its chubby head on your clit. There is a mess of blood, spit and slick all mixing together and you moan at the feeling.

"Don't care. I am close. I jus' need your cum."

Seungmin swallows, fidgeting a little as his cock taps against your swollen clit. You circles your hips against him and your pussy catches the tip. You kiss him.

"Baby, Minnie. Wanna see my blood and your cum leak out of me after you fuck me nice and hard?"

Seungmin lets out a small noise at that, biting his lip. You can tell he is close by the way his breathes come out staggered.

"Yes, please". He agrees, finally pushing himself inside of you in one thrust, trying his best not to come immediately.

You moan pleasantly at the strech as he bottoms out. You feel his swollen balls rest on the fat of your thighs and from the sound you hear, you are making a mess on the bed sheets under you. You try to remember why is this the first time you are doing this, and you cannot find a reason.

Seungmin is shivering on top of you, and he delivers a first shallow push. You sigh in pleasure and he starts rocking his hips against yours. The wet sounds fill the room together with Seungmin's sweet hiccups. He held back for too long, and now he cannot help himself no more.

You cup his chin with your hands and you press a light kiss on his lips.

"You like it Minnie, uh? How long did you wait for this? You could have asked, you know. I would have said yes from the first time. I would have let you shove your cock inside me and cover it in blood. All nice and wet for you. Nasty boy."

Seungmin blushes heavily as you open youd legs, lowering a hand to spread apart your folds.

"Cum inside me, c'mon."

His thrusts are messy and errating, unable to bring himself to look at you in the eyes out of embarrassment. You dig your nails into his broad shoulders and he whines loudly as he pushes frenetically into you.

It is just a matter of time considering how close both of you have been from the start. The wet sounds that come with every thrust, together with the sight of your pussy stretched around his cock, are so sinful that Seungmin has to look away, a tight ring of slick and blood forming on his girth.

"G'na cum." He stutters, giving a few hard thrusts.

You nod and bring your hand in between your bodies to start rubbing at your puffy clit. The pressure combined with Seungmin's thrust is enough to bring to to the edge in a few seconds, and with your free hand you cup his face and you kiss him deep.

"Cum, baby boy. Fill me up."

Seungmin trembles and gives two final pushes inside of you before hitting his limit, groaning out as he cums. His fingers grips tight at your legs as he spurts hot cum all over your walls.

You whine as you feel his sperm coating your insides, dragging your nails down his back and letting out a loud moan as you finally cum around him, pussy swollen and tight, milking him till his last drop.

After what it seems to be hours, Seungmin collapses onto you and pants on your neck, his soft bangs all sweaty and curly on his face. You catch your breath for a few seconds before feeling him pulling out.

As his softening cock is pulled out of you, you feel all of your liquids leaking out of your entrance, mixed with his cum. You whine and Seungmin kisses your chin.

"Did I hurt you? Are you alright?"

"You didn't hurt me. I am great." You move your head to face him and he kisses your cheek. Then your nose. Then your lips. "I am just concerned about the state of our bed."

"Oh, well. I think Jeff Dahmer had a cleaner bed." He chuckles, after taking a quick look at the sheets underneath. "It's my fault. I will clean them myself."

"You better." You laugh. Seungmin laughs with you and it's a soft exhalation of breath that tickles your cheek.

"Yes ma'am". He shifts a little in your embrace, and you turn over so your cheek can rub against his shoulder.

"Does it still hurt?" He asks.

You let it out on a satisfied sigh, your cramps long forgotten. “Nope.”

"Good." He smiles softly and he kisses you on your forehead. You wrap your arms tightly around him and bite his shoulder.

"How can you always know... wait, no, it doesn’t matter."

The voices of your kdramas are still a background noise.

Seungmin chuckles. "I told you. I love you. I always know."

©️ jilixthinker, 2024. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.

[yndrgrl]

katsuki bakugo has a glow up during summer break, & now he has a lot of girls' attention

fluff. ooc! bakugo. bits of jealousy. sfw. x reader. acquaintances to lovers. long ass fic.

a/n: the horny content will continue after this message :) also i kinda got nerdy so just ignore my rambles about fighting haha

the whispers & murmurs buzzed like bugs throughout the halls of u.a. you couldn't help but eavesdrop when you heard lower classmen gush about how good katsuki looks, how he definitely had a summer glow up.

it's not that he was bad looking before, that's just not the case. so, when you heard that he somehow got hotter over the span of a few months, you grew curious.

your best friend, ochaco, began to rave about him. "no, you don't understand, y/n. have you seen him yet?"

"i haven't yet, but it doesn't matter! he's still rude as hell!" you told her. "besides, aren't you still going after midoriya?"

"yeah, but i can still appreciate attractive people," she retorted, shoving the rest of her her breakfast-on-the-go in her mouth. you fished your phone out of your school cardigan pocket to change your music when, like a kdrama (or a shitty fanfic), you ran into something-- no, someone.

speak of the devil. "oi! watch it!" the abrasive blonde spun around & met your eyes. his harden glare soften oh so subtly.

"i'm sorry," you quaintly apologized. it's the first day & the first hour of the next 180 days, & you're not going to get in a fight.

"it's whatever, just make sure where you're going next time," katsuki responded. his tone was still harsh, yet what he said was almost nice.

he walked off into the both of yours' classroom, leaving you & ochaco stunned. you both stared at each other, mouths agape. "what just happened?" she finally spat out.

"i have no idea."

"WAS HE JUST NICE?"

a week later, you sat in class, listening to mr. aizawa drone on about something so utterly boring, you'd rather stick your head in a toilet & flush it yourself. you let your eyes wander around the class. for the most part, everyone stayed the same.

then, your eyes landed on katsuki, who was seated by the window. now that you had time to think about it, he did change. his jawline was a tad sharper, his hair appeared more soft, & his shirt clung onto every inch of his upper body. he definitely bulked up during the summer.

his skin is clear, he must've also began caring for a sense of style because his fingers displayed grunge rings, & his eyes were somehow a darker, more alluring shade of crimson. wait, his eyes... were staring at you.

no, he was staring at you staring at him.

god, you felt like a creep. you were expecting him to yell at you, scowl through gritted teeth, but no. he didn't do any of that. he shot you a smirk, then went back to jotting notes.

confusion settled in after embarrassment. you couldn't help that a light pink dusted your cheeks. it wasn't noticeable though, thank goodness.

the subtle, weird antics didn't stop. maybe he's just playing with me or something, you wondered. or maybe i'm looking too much into thinks.

when passing him in the halls, he'd acknowledge you by giving you a small nod-- even if his friends were talking his ears off. he'd hold the doors open for you & only you, but would walk away quickly. he was treating you differently then he treats everyone else, & you don't know why.

"bakugo~" a girl you barely recognized greeted. "you look handsome today!"

he & his friends sat on the other side of your friends' long table. you were the closest to his squad, only three seats away from them. they could hear your conversations, but that means you could hear theirs.

"shut it, & eat your food," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. with his chopsticks, he picked at his bento box.

"ooo~ what did you pack?" she pressed as she inched closer to him. "aww, did your mom make that?"

"no, i did," he raised his voice. she wouldn't take the hint though.

she merely giggled, asking, "could you feed it to me? i wanna try some~" she crossed her arms under her breasts to intensify her cleavage. she was picture perfect, to say the least. any other guy would be drooling at the sight of her.

not bakugo though. he was goal-oriented, focused on the future, & not into dating from what you gathered. a small part of you is bummed out that he isn't interested in romance. he was practically everything you wanted in a guy after all-- just minus the whole "jerk" part.

"what are you looking at, bakugo?" you didn't realize you were staring -once again- until the girl whipped her head around & caught your gaze. her cattish smile dropped into a thin line. "quit staring, idiot-"

"don't call her that, bitch."

both yours & her eyes widened at the quickness & unexpected defensiveness spewed by bakugo. he stuck some of his egg omelette in his mouth, unbothered.

"wh-what? i don't think i heard you, bakugo."

he swallowed his food, ran his tongue across his top teeth, and started to pick up more food with his chopsticks, reiterating, "don't talk to y/n like that, got it?" he put the food in his mouth.

she scoffed, humiliated. "i have to leave," she said, voice dropping at least an octave. your eyes trailed her as she sat with her friends, & they immediately began gossiping. how could you tell? the way they all looked back at you with a nasty expression on their faces.

you returned your attention back to bakugo, who had both your friends & his friends floored with what just happened. "thanks for that," you started. "you really didn't have to do that."

"i know i didn't, but someone had to shut her up."

you replied, "i mean, i'm sure there was a nicer way."

"i tried," he told you with that small smirk on his face again. "she didn't get the hint, i have to be more obvious."

"yeah, in more ways than one," a friend on his side, sero, snickered.

"hey, what's that supposed to mean?!" classic katsuki, reverting back to yelling.

ever since that happened, your friends haven't stopped talking about it since. "guys, c'mon. it's almost been a week," you groaned. you were all getting ready in the school locker room to do hand-to-hand, no quirk combat with a celebrated instructor.

"i think bakugo likes you~" ochaco teased in a sing-songy voice.

you tried to reason, "maybe he was just annoyed with her, & it has nothing to do with me."

"i don't know, y/n," momo laughed, pulling her hair into a ponytail. "he seemed pretty into you."

"no way, not bakugo-"

"well, why not bakugo?" mina, who just so happened to be good friends with said man, asked while she slipped on her shoes.

"because we all know what he's like. he doesn't really scream the dating type, you know?" you grabbed a water bottle & locked your back into your locker.

mina shrugged, & ochaco said, "you said one time that bakugo was the closest to your type... do you like him?"

"WHAT?"

the rest of the conversation was cut short when tsuyu pointed out they should be in the training room by now, causing all the girls to scramble out of the locker room.

the instructor, once the bell rang, introduced himself. he was a nice man seemingly. he was a well-seasoned martial artist who knew what he was talking about.

after his brief speech, he had his assistant -a younger, more egotistical guy- be his dummy when explaining a move. "does anyone have any questions?" he asked. no one answered. "cool, find a partner, & try it out."

everyone scurried to find their partners. pair by pair, no one chose you... all except-

"hey you, be my partner," bakugo practically demanded.

"me?"

"no, the wall behind you. yes, you, y/n," he joked, the same smirk only you get to see on his face. this time, however, it was a full-blown smirk.

"are you sure?"

"yeah," he scoffed, dragging you by the arm to an empty space. he studied how your face contorted from surprise to concern. "listen, if you think you're gonna drag me down or whatever, you're not-"

"no, it's not that," you interrupted. you felt your pride inflate slightly.

"then what is it?"

"i just don't want to hurt you."

it was his turn to be shocked. what did you mean by that?

the first hour went by, techniques were taught, & moves were learned. however, now it was the time that really put things to the test: open spar. it was at this time in training when things got heated. everyone in the room gives it their all no matter what, so the atmosphere turns into something animalistic, yet so empowering.

but before that, is a small water break. speaking of water, where did you leave yours? you swear you brought it in. bakugo must've seen how confused you appeared when he offered (or told you), "here, take some of mine."

too thirsty to even care the open-mouthed expressions from your peers, you took the bottle from his outstretched hand. "thank you!" you cheered, taking a few sips then handing it back to him.

"was that even enough? you barely drank anything," he jested. it sounded like he was teasing you, but, again, he said something like he cared about your well-being.

"yeah, i'll be fine. the worst that can happen is i'll faint."

"you better not. i need a good training partner."

"oh whatever, you're getting a good training partner."

suddenly, the instructor boomed, "water break is over! get back with your partner for sparring!"

once everyone huddled back with their partners & got situated, the instructor explained briefly that everyone will be grappling ("no striking" he repeated ten times as well) five minute rounds, switch partners, another five minute round, & so on so forth. "alright got it?"

"yes sir!"

"good," he nodded to his assistant, who got the stop watch ready, "3, 2, 1, go!"

yoy & katsuki go into your stances. one thing about being shorter than him is that, in the game of wrestling, you're at in advantage at first. "don't go easy on me," you told him, it was meant as a warning

"i was just about to tell you i wasn't." the moment he finished, he took a double-leg shot. it was executed near flawless-- emphasis on the near.

you sprawled your legs back, collapsing your body on top of his. you drove your shoulder into his neck, which resulted in bakugo's face smushed against the mat. he might be strong, but no one's neck is that strong to hold up an entire person. you heard him audibly groan "fuck!"

you caught his arm & his head with one of yours. the two of you were on your knees, but your goal was to get him flat, stomach down. with his trapped arm & leg, you pulled him out from under you & quickly sped towards his back. you mounted him, keeping yourself close to his. you gazed up at your instructor, who gave you a knowing nod of approval.

like a good fighter, katsuki sprung his head up. he missed your nose, instead having his skull collide with your cheek. it hurt, but you had to keep going. "since when did you learn how to wrestle?"

"what do you mean?" you thought everyone knew. you swore that you've mentioned it in front of the class.

"you're fucking good, you know that?" he praised as he fought of your hands.

"you're not too bad yourself," you told him before you crossbody locked him.

"no, i'm being serious. you're too damn good. you're gonna be my partner every time we grapple."

you & bakugo, now you call him katsuki, have only grown closer since then. he would take time out of his study session to ensure you understood the material. before he could finish, the library assistant -a girl around your age- would ask if he needed help with anything, shy blush on her face.

other times he'd walk with you back to your dorms when a group of girls would ask for his number.

it was a constant occurrence; girls notice him, ask for something, then ultimately get rejected. it wasn't in a nice way either. he always degraded & humiliated them, but they'd let him because of how handsome he was.

it was a saturday afternoon where you & katsuki got food from a nearby convenience store & sat in the park. no scheduled training or overwhelming amounts of homework. he insisted on paying for you, & who are you to reject free food?

"okay, but i really have to ask," you started, eating your food, "why aren't you dating anyone?"

"i don't know," he simply put it, downing a bottle of a protein drink.

"you do know, you're just not telling me." you actually didn't know if that was true, you were just bluffing.

"fine, i'm just waiting for a some girl to realize i like her," he admitted so nonchalantly, as if he didn't drop a mind bomb.

your mood dampened. he was your dream guy, the more you hung out with him. you might have developed a crush on him, yet you didn't even realize he liked anyone else.

"no way! who?" you had to sound enthused or he would know something was up.

"no one, forget i said anything," he cleared.

"i want to know~ i can help find out her favorite flowers or something so you can confess!"

"really?" he asked, brow quirked. you nodded your head.

"tch, alright. what's your favorite flower?"

that didn't make any sense. "what?"

"you said that you're gonna help me confess, so what's your favorite flower?"

"katsuki, i don't think she has the same favorite flower than me."

"oh my god, you're so fuckin' dense," he muttered under his breath. "i want to know your favorite flower, y/n, so i can confess." his cheeks reddened as he gave you intense stare, studying your expression. it was still confused.

"confess to who-" he cut you off by putting his hand behind your head & pulling you into a kiss. it was gentle, passionate, & truly shocking to you.

"confess to you, idiot," he panted when the two of you pulled away. "i'm already here," he said with a fuck-it attitude.

"y/n, i've liked you for a long time, a really long time. i thought i made it obvious but you never really caught on cuz you're a dumbass or something."

you laughed, & he smiled at you.

he continued, "so then shitty hair told me i had to make it even more obvious, so that's what i've been doing this entire year."

"but all those girls-"

"yeah well i didn't know i was getting a fan club this year. honestly, they don't fuckin' matter though. what matters is you & i," he told you, his face still so close to yours. "so tell me, if you feel the same."

"i-i do," you stuttered out. in your defense, you were not used to such close proximity to anyone, let alone a sculpture chiseled by ancient greeks themselves.

"say it again," he said, voice deep & eyes half lidded. "i need to hear it again."

"i do, katsuki," you repeated per his request. "i really, really like you."

he pulled you into another kiss, & you both felt each other smile. it felt right.