#there is one last smut prompt but i think i'm somehow smutted out for the night

[reiderwriter]

🧺 Any More 🧺

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: spencer realizing that he’ll never love someone as much as he loves you. (whether that be because of a case or what have you), his mind is absolutely blown with how much he worships you and how much you love and care for him and he shows you that with the softest most sickeningly sweet sex you and him has ever done. <3

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Discussions of case details, case burnout, very close friends to lovers, oral (f receiving), vanilla sex (p in v penetration). Discussions of mental health, and two idiots in love.

A/N: I'm hitting the prompt Vanilla for this one, so please don't be scared off by the KinkBingo tags! I had a lot of fun writing this one (and adding Pride and Prejudice quotes into the smut scene because HELLO). Let me know what you think in the replies~♡

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You hadn't seen Spencer in 100 days. Which in the grand scheme of things wasn't that long, trapped in the purgatory of a ‘what if’ the way you had been for the last eight years. 

You'd lived without him for longer than 100 days before. He'd been in prison, you'd been on assignments, you'd lived an entire life before meeting him, but now somehow 100 days was too much time, and you were exhausted. You understood why Spencer had to take some time away from you, from the team in an official capacity after everything he'd been through. You supported him even. 

But when even your free time didn't overlap anymore, you wondered if your relationship would ever be the same again. 

Spencer was a friend, your best friend, probably. You'd arrived on the BAU team, he'd rattled off some statistics, stammering the way through them, and you'd immediately warmed to the man. He was brilliant, funny, and fiercely loyal, and you tried your best to protect him even when the job seemed designed to break people like him into thousands of little pieces. 

You'd tried to convince him to leave before, after Maeve had died. You didn't want to see him heart broken again, but no one else had seemed to agree. 

“Reid needs purpose,” they'd said. “Reid needs something to do.” 

What Reid needed was to not end up dead before he had a chance to be happy, and happiness didn't come often in your field of work. 

You'd been almost vindicated a year later when he'd been shot again, almost fatally. Vindicated, maybe but distraught and inconsolable. Morgan had to carry you screaming and clawing out of his hospital room multiple times. It sounded stupid enough to yourself that it was only then you realized your feelings for the man. 

You wanted to be Spencer Reid's happiness, which was why you were so lost without him. 

He was coming back on Monday, and at least you had the weekend to sort your feelings out about everything.not just about him, but about the job you'd found didn't fit you well enough anymore, about the team you loved like family, about the relationship you knew would likely never come to fruition. 

You dumped your bags at your door when you'd arrived in your house that night, pushed yourself into your bedroom and let yourself collapse on your bed, balling up into as cozy a position as you could. You didn't even bother taking your jacket off, you just let your brain haze over and sleep rush in. 

Three quiet raps at your door lifted you up and out of bed again, not an hour later. 

You grabbed your phone, grabbed the second go-bag you kept at your house, put your shoes back on, and opened the door, expecting Emily and a new case. 

“Where are we going?” You said, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, not even looking up at your guest. 

“Hopefully, nowhere? I brought takeout.” 

Your eyes widened then, taking in all 185cm of Doctor Spencer Reid, tweed jacket and plastic bag full of chow mein included. 

“Spencer,” you breathed out, like a sigh of relief, letting the bag drop to the floor next to the first one and letting yourself into his arms. 

He held you carefully there for a second before leading you back into the apartment, wrapping an arm around you and ruffling your hair. It was brotherly, and it made you sick to your stomach. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Emily said you were back from a case,” he started, unpacking the takeaway from the containers. “And it feels wrong to eat this without you.” 

You rolled your eyes and followed him into the kitchen, pulling two forks out of the drawer nearer you and stabbing them in the top of your two cups. 

“Hey, I can use chopsticks now,” he said, defending himself against an inside joke. Spencer was always useless with his hands. 

“I don't care if you can use them, I care that they don't accidentally end up stabbing me,” you said, taking yourself back to your bedroom, Spencer following. 

“You'd hardly die from being stabbed by a wooden chopstick, maybe a papercut or a splinter but-” 

“But you're just bad enough that I don't want to risk it.” 

You kicked off your shoes again and climbed onto your bed. Spencer followed. 

“Remind me again why we aren't sitting on your couch?” 

“Uncomfortable.” 

“Or at your breakfast bar?” 

“Glorified filing cabinet right now. Eat.” 

He shook his head but complied, leaning back against your pillows as you both began carefully eating. Silently, you pulled your laptop onto your bed, opened it up, and pressed play on a movie, one you'd seen more than once, and you'd forced Spencer to watch before as well. 

In a comfortable, friendly silence, you finished your food. You stretched out in a yawn once and then curled into his side, letting his mumbling voice, repeating the movie lines as they were spoken, lull you softly into sleep. 

Spencer knew he had to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to wake you. The movie had finished hours ago, he'd closed the laptop and turned off the bug lights, but he couldn't leave. 

Unlike you, he hadn't counted the days that you'd been apart. He hadn't needed to. He knew you'd be waiting there for him when he returned, knew you'd give him a smile and a pat on the back, and immediately start bouncing ideas off of him. It was what he loved about you. 

As he laid next to you in your bed, a place he'd absolutely been before, his heart thumped. Just once, but hard. 

Even in sleep, you looked exhausted. Your shirt was crumpled, hair a mess, you were still wearing makeup, and he knew he'd probably get an earful for letting you sleep like that in the morning. You were a mess, and he still wanted you. 

The thought came to him suddenly, another painful thump of his chest echoing in his mind. He rubbed absent mindedly at his chest as if experiencing heartburn. In the dim light of the room, he let his head drop to the pillow and wrapped two shaky arms around you and pulled you in closer. 

The two of you were a picture - both in suits, both with badges still somewhere on your person, both dearly clinging to the person they feared losing the most. 

When you woke the next morning, it was actually the afternoon. 

“Spencer,” you groaned, melting under the heat of his embrace. Somehow, during the night, he'd rolled on top of you, pressing you into the bed with a delightful pressure, head nuzzled into your neck, arms tucked around your waist. 

“Spencer, we should get up,” you said again, forcing your eyelids apart as your mascara tried to glue them together. 

“Mmmmhh,” he groaned, moving to pick himself up off you for a minute but lowering himself again. If asked, he'd blame your hand in his hair, stroking the rogue curls gently, as if he were a prized pet and you their carer. 

“Spencer, its 2pm.” 

“On a Saturday.” You laughed at how pouty his voice sounded, but he complied and rolled off of you slightly, arms still wrapped around you. 

“Come on. Get up. I've got some clothes that might fit you, let's get you out of the tweed.” 

He huffed but nodded and lifted himself halfway to upright, eyes still closed lazily as he let in the light millimetre by millimetre. 

“God, my face feels horrible,” you said, itching at your nose. “How did we even sleep so long like this? My belt is still on, Spencer, my belt.” 

“If you were still wearing a weapon, then I'd be worried,” he smiled. 

You shot him a sarcastic look and finally detangled yourself, only to clasp his hands and pull him forward as well, letting him trail you to your closet. 

“Here, change in the bathroom,” he nodded and walked away, following directions with eyes still closed, as if it were really his apartment and not your own. 

100 days without him, and it was as if it had only been 100 hours. Your entire body chemistry changed when he was around, the stick holding your spine rigidly in place, dissolving into calm, into a smile and a free giggle. It felt right again, and you almost forgot you'd ever felt wrong. 

After briefly changing, you swapped place with Spencer, who'd exited the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and wet hair. 

“Dry it for me?” He asked, sitting on your couch, and you nodded your ascent. A shower and a quick change later, and you were doing just that. 

As much as he tried to keep his head upright, it kept lolling onto your thigh, yawns stretching out of him as he nuzzled closer to you. 

“Spencer, you're like a big kid, keep your head up.” 

“I'm not a kid,” he laughed, hooking his arms behind your knees and nuzzling closer into your soft sweats. “I'm just tired.” 

“You're right. A child would probably be better behaved.” 

“Our child would be,” he sighed, but you'd already turned the hairdryer back on, drowning out everything. Everything but that thump again. A child, he was thinking about children, and more importantly, he was thinking about your children. With him. 

He'd always imagined himself with a family, knowing it would ultimately stay in his imagination. But for a second, his visions changed. It wasn't just a child or two. It was you. Thump. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. 

He only released the image when you finally pushed his head off of you and stood, turning away from him to get a glass of water from your kitchen. 

“So, any plans today? Books to read, papers to mark, undergrads to run away screaming from?” You let the ice water cool your hot cheeks, but kept your back to him. You were hot, embarrassed, and you were looking at him in a sickeningly sweet way that could only be described as love struck or struck dumb. 

“No, no, I finished all my obligations at the college yesterday,” he said, following behind you and picking up your cup when you set it down, taking a sip himself. 

“I was… I was actually hoping we could spend some time together? Unless you had plans, which is totally fine-” 

“No, Spencer, yeah, I have no plans, that's…. Well I have to do laundry, which is a bit boring but, no. No plans.” 

“Laundry?” 

“Two week case in Florida, I don't know how you didn't smell me yesterday, Spencer. I'd be running for the hills.” 

He laughed and stepped away again, grabbing the two go bags by the door and coming back into your space. 

“How about we get this done now so we can spend the day in a Who-Trek marathon?” 

“Make that a Who-Greys Anatomy Marathon, and you have yourself a deal.” 

He pouted again, and you snorted at the sight, taking another sip of water to calm yourself before you could react safely to that face. 

“Come on, you know you've been dying to know what happens next at the Grey Sloane Memorial Hospital.” 

“I thought it was called the Seattle Grace Mercy?” 

“Oh we better get to that laundry now. You have a lot to catch up on.” 

Grabbing a bag in one hand and his free hand in your other, you made your way down to your building's laundry room. But despite the man by your side and the relaxing day threatening to stretch ahead of you, a gloom caught you in the corridors. 

You'd worked for two weeks, practically solid. You'd killed a man two days ago, or at least someone on your team had multiple shots having been fired. Another day on your job, another unsub felled, and everyone else was content with this just being a part of the job description. 

It felt like each step towards the laundry room, each thing you did that was normal, that was regular, threw back in your face the pain you endured to save lives. 

The bag in your hand weighed you down, pulling you lower and lower by the second. 

You reached the laundry room, and you found the weight almost unbearable, stopping just before you could step in. You didn't have to think about what came next though, because suddenly the bag was out of your hands and Spencer was sorting your laundry for you. 

“It's a Saturday, so your neighbour's won't complain if we separate the darks and lights into two machines, will they?” He asked, not looking up at you as he worked pouring out the fabric softener and the detergent. “Y/N?” 

You hadn't noticed the lightness in your body until the tears hit your cheeks, the weight gone with his support. 

“Y/N, what is it? What's wrong?” He said, hands cupping your face, because of course he was immediately at your side. 

“I-I can't do it, Spencer…” your voice shook, pitching upwards, your vision blurring with tears. 

“Can't do what, Y/N? Talk to me please, let me help?” 

“I can't do laundry!” You said, finally bursting into a full fit of tears and burying your head in his waiting chest. 

“L-Laundry?” He said, trying not to laugh, but the smile slipping out anyway now you were holding him. 

You only sobbed again, nodding into his shirt, aware you were probably leaving snot all over it but not being able to care. It was your shirt anyway. You would just have to add it back to your laundry pile. 

The thought set you off on another wave of sobs, and Spencer set about comforting you again. Keeping an arm wrapped around you, he put his quarters into the machines and set them off before quickly ushering you back up the stairs into your apartment. 

“Y/N? Y/N, please talk to me,” he begged, smoothing your hair out of your eyes as you tried to gather yourself.

“I don't…. I can't….” You took a breath again, aware of the way your breathing hitched in your chest as you did. 

“I don't think I can do this anymore,” you said, and his eyes widened quickly. 

“This? Y/N, if you mean this as in us, then I can't-” 

“This job,” you clarified, hands digging into the soft flesh of his arms further as he held you, finally sitting back on your couch. 

“The job. Okay, the job. That's okay. We all feel like this at some point.” 

You sniffed again and refused to meet his eyes. 

“But this isn't like the other times this - It's like my whole b-body is protesting, and I can't sleep, and if I don't, then I might get sloppy and an unsub could-” 

“Y/N, focus on my voice. You're spiralling. Listen to my voice, let's take some breaths, and think about this for a second.” 

He guided you through some breathing, a hand on your back tapping out beats even as his voice grew quiet. 

When you finally relaxed, you were sat on top of him, his hand rubbing circles into your back. 

“I think it started when you left,” you whispered. “When you went to Mexico, and then, you know,” you've voice thickened, and you couldn't get the words out. 

“And then these last 100 days they've just been…difficult.” 

“100…difficult,” he echoed, almost breathless as he listened to you. 

“It's like I can't do it without you. I never had to try to do it without you, and now I get what people say when they say this job is shitty, because it is when your best friend isn't there.” 

You gave him a weak smile and wiped away your tears, trying to climb from his lap. But his firm arms held you still, and you didn't really want out anyways. 

“When I get home, everything is different, and I can't make myself do anything. If you weren't here, I wouldn't have done that laundry. I'd let it sit and avoid it for weeks. Do you understand?” 

“Y/N, lots of people feel depressed sometimes-” 

“It's not - Spencer, I don't think this is something I can medicate my way out of. I don't know what to do because I can't do my job without you, and I can't be happy doing my job, and if I leave my job I'll be without you and then-” 

Your voice cracked again. 

“And then I still won't be happy.” The words were barely a whisper, but they were a plea, too. You weren't sure what for. 

“You can't be happy without me?” He asked, but it was more a statement than anything else. Spencer felt horrible in that moment as his chest rattled, gleeful that he was your happiness. 

“I love you,” he said, outloud finally after eight years. 

“I love you, too, Spencer, but-” 

“No, Y/N. Listen to me. I. Love. You.” The thumping of his heart set the tempo for the choir that was his senses to begin singing, as he finally leaned forward and kissed you.

“I love you, and I don't care if you're working at the BAU or if you're avoiding laundry at home. I, god, you're amazing and wonderful, and you're a human being, and you've our yourself under so much pressure for the last decade to keep me alive, to keep all of us alive really and….” 

He took another breath, leaning into kiss you one more time. 

“And you deserve a break.” 

“W-When we take breaks, people die.” 

“Did anyone die when I was teaching for the last three months? When JJ went on maternity leave?” 

You shook your head, but your brain was still a mess. 

“You all had reasons, I-” 

“You have reasons, too. Y/N…. Y/N, let me be your reason.” 

For a moment or two, Spencer truly thought you were going to say no. He thought you would get up and walk away, or better yet, ask him to leave and never come back. 

So when you pressed your lips to his, he was sure that this was a dream. 

But to you, it was salvation. Spencer Reid's love was the lifeline you'd been thrown, and it was buoyant enough to make you start floating. 

His hands kneaded the flesh at your hips as he pulled you closer still to him, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore every part of you there. 

“Y/N… love…you,” he mumbled with each spare breath he caught, and you only detangled your lips to hear him say it again as he pressed similarly heated kisses against every inch of your exposed skin. 

When Spencer's mind lost its ability to create original speech, he leant back on a lifetime of information, of learning love through books and people and marathons with you. 

“I know that all I know right now is that I love you. And I know that I always will,” he whispered, lifting you and carrying you back to the bed you'd only crawled from an hour hence. 

A hand slid under your shirt, and slowly pushed it over your head, letting it slowly drop to the floor as he held you tenderly. 

“To me, you are perfect.”

His mouth found one nipple, and he gently kissed, then suckled at it, hands softly caressing your stomach, feeling along every ridge of you as you writhed under him. 

“Of all the FBI Units, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.” 

“Spencer,” you said, voice still thick with tears, but these ones more tender, more joyful. 

His hand eased your sweats over your ass and off, his hips settling between your legs as if he found the place he was made to lie forever. 

“The truth of it is, I’ve loved you from the first second I met you.” 

His mouth trailed lower until his tongue hit your clit, brushing against it languidly, as if it was his deepest desire to taste you and nothing else ever again.

His tongue flattened and flicked and pushed inside of you as you replayed his words again and again and again. You found yourself repeating them with him. 

“I love you,” you echoed as he pushed a finger inside of you. 

“I.. love you,” you gasped as he added another. 

“I love you,” you screamed as your back arched up off the bed, finding your pleasure in his tongue, just ad you'd found love in his words. 

“You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love….” He freed his cock from his pants, and took it in hand.

“I love…” With another kiss, he pressed the tip of it against you, asking for permission silently as you nodded your head. 

“I love you.” He pushed in slowly, but it wouldn't matter how he did it because now you knew how he felt, and you didn't want to return to a time of not knowing. 

Hooking your legs around him, Spencer dropped his forehead to yours and looked you directly in the eyes as he began moving. In and out, he thrust, mouth open in a moan of pleasure, likely mirroring your own.

The poetry, the movie lines, they were gone now, and Spencer was left with nothing but you, and love, and love for you. 

“Spencer,” you moaned out, and he felt his chest swell. Pride. His name on your tongue, his body pressed to yours, claiming you as his ad you claimed him as yours. 

He came with a shudder and you were not far behind, his undoing sending a shiver up your spine as his fingers grazed your clit again. 

You sat panting for a minute, still attached, still forehead to forehead. 

You weren't sure if it was him who giggled first or if it was you, but you were glad it was one of you. 

You spent the rest of the night, the rest of the weekend, wrapped in his warmth, dressed in his love, taking each day a step at a time as you basked in his adoration.

[superblysubpar]

Sincerely, Yours:

bestfriend!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a movie night, a confession, an offer, your Calvin's bunched up on the floor of your best friend's BMW...and other places | 18+ Only, NSFW | main menu

the song: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds - all of steve's music

6.6k words

warnings: "inexperienced" reader - in the form of never really making out/receiving none/not great foreplay - masturbating for comfort/ease before sex, SMUT (public - in the back of Steve's car - "caught" by Hopper when you're done, oral, fingering, steve cums in his levi's cause I'm a sucker for doing this to him, what can I say?)

A/N: Once upon a time, I asked for requests, and I failed to fulfill many of them (you may have heard this story before), but this one sat in the drafts for many many months, and then I really chickened out posting it for a long time. Everyone say thanks to @palmtreesx3 - I owe her and the request for the prompt "we're not really just best friends, are we?"(which isn't even used in this, but you get the picture) and The Breakfast Club for this fic 💛

He didn’t hear it at first, over the last remaining popping kernels. 

“What?” He called around a mouthful of the snack he was already dipping into before it was finished. 

In the other room, your attention was strictly on Judd Nelson, but you tried again, with no real power or meaning behind the words. 

“Want me to pause it?”

“No,” he shook his head and rolled his eyes to no one but himself in the kitchen, “Don’t think you need to pause the movie I’ve seen three times…this week.”

“I’d love one, thanks!”

Steve snorted at your response that made no sense, it becoming apparent you weren’t listening to him at all.  He should have known this was his fate after the way you acted when it was showing at The Hawk. You saw it with him, then Robin, then Nancy, and Steve put his foot down when you tried to drag him down there for a fourth time.

Now here he was, dumping the popcorn into a large bowl and watching it again. He didn’t even know what number of views he was on with you, which had him worried about your sanity, ‘cause you had to be watching it without him too. 

Steve snagged two cans of Coke out of the fridge, assuming that’s what you’d love one of, and kicked the door closed with his heel. 

He cradled the popcorn bowl against his side and held each of the cans with one hand and spread fingers, socked feet slipping on the hardwoods when he rounded the corner and saw you again. 

Despite becoming incredibly bored by the movie, he did love watching you watch it, because somehow, it’s as if you’re watching it for the first time every time. 

Your white tube socks were stark against the dark wood of the coffee table, bunching around your ankles that led him to the exposed skin of your calves. Which led to the way your blue skirt fanned over your thighs all nice, then the Queen shirt he got you for your birthday tucked into it, your thumb between your teeth with your eyebrows bunched together. 

His best friend was really fucking pretty. 

He almost said it out loud, which had him flopping onto the couch a little quickly, a little too heavy with his fall. Careless in his aim of the cushion and causing popcorn to spill from the bowl into your lap as his shoulder jostled yours. 

Before he could even say sorry, you were grabbing the popcorn from your lap like it was the bowl, blissfully unaware it wasn’t, all the while making heart eyes at dreamy Bender.

“Thanks,” your appreciation came out heavy around the buttery and salty handful of the snack, the Coke you’d love sitting on the coffee table, already forgotten.

Steve hummed, his amused lips twitched in a losing fight against a smile at your captivated stare fixated on the screen. He suppressed an eye roll at the scene about to happen, as he swiped condensation off the cool metal of the can with his thumb. 

He popped the drink open with a loud hiss, slurping his first sip - a habit you’d normally swat at his chest for - but you were too busy focusing on the words about to leave Judd’s mouth. 

“Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth?”

They sort of just tumbled out of Steve too, while his eyes glanced over the popcorn bowl, searching for a perfectly buttery piece. Which is why he didn’t see that he, your best friend, quoting the scene that has dialogue that got you all hot and bothered more than others, had your entire body freezing. 

Steve tossed the acquired piece into the air, catching it in his mouth before he turned to face your profile. He found you with widened eyes, chest rising and falling a little too quickly, and he grinned. 

“Have you ever been felt up…over the bra…under the blouse…your shoes off, hoping to god your parents don’t walk in?”

He’s simply delighted when he quotes the scene again and your body shifts, toes curling as you arched your neck away from. You kept your eyes on the screen, not giving him the satisfaction of eye contact because of what he was slowly, finally, realizing.

You were totally turned on and he couldn’t wait to tease you about it forever.

Steve leaned in closer, whispering along with the movie, “Over the panties…no bra…blouse unbuttoned…Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?”

He’s gearing up, about to tease you, make some dumb boy comment about being hot for the school freak, when your quiet, barely a breath response had him pausing. 

“No.”

Did you just say that out loud?!

Your head turned to find Steve blinking at you, creases in his forehead deepening beneath the stray locks of hair that fell forward. 

Looks like you did.

“Ste-”

“What? What do you mean no?”

Your eyes closed when you both spoke at the same time, avoiding his curious stare. Hands roamed to your cheeks to hide your face as your head fell towards your knees. 

As you shook your head no, your response gets muffled into your skirt. “I meant no.”

Steve’s hand nudged at your shoulder, prodding for clarity and for you to sit up. He failed to sound casual when his question came out incredulously.

“No, you’ve never kissed a guy?”

Your hands still covered your face as you fell back against the couch with a groan, “No, I..I have. I just…”

Steve pulled at your hands, his heart racing like it was overtime. All these years, he thought you’d been with all these other guys, his quiet jealousy seething under the surface of his tinged green from envy skin. 

A breath, well, more of a huff really, slipped past your lips as your gaze dropped to the hands holding yours in your lap. “I’ve never really made out with anyone? Just like…a quick kiss or two. I don’t even know, can you even count it as kissing? Over before it starts kind of thing…”

The ramble trailed off, the room silent save for the movie still playing and the giant, loud, big, fat, zero response from Steve. You counted the threads in the carpet, the pieces of popcorn in the bowl as your skin grew hotter and hotter from the reveal he’s left just hanging there until he  finally sputtered out a sorry excuse for one.

“Are you shitting me? We’re like…old.”

It doesn’t come out how he meant it to at all, he’s just shocked. He’s wincing almost immediately as the words reach his ears and brain, he knows how it sounded. He wishes he could take it back when your head whips up, hurt eyes meeting his as you ripped your hands away from him. 

“Yeah, Steve,” you scoffed, jaw pulsing as your voice dripped with sarcasm that tried to cover  the embarrassment, “I’m shitting you. Thought it’d be real funny to trick you into thinking your best friend is a loser who’s barely been kissed even though she’s so old.”

Pieces of popcorn fell from your lap as you stood, not letting yourself wonder where they came from as you stomped around the coffee table and towards his entryway. 

“No, honey, wait-” he stumbled after you, spilling Coke down the front of his shirt as he did, “Shit.”

He patted at his chest like it’d do anything, shirt damp and sticking to his skin as he rounded the corner and found you lacing up your converse and shaking your head. 

“It’s fine, Steve. I’m fine. I just don’t feel like talking about it. I’m gonna go home. Don’t worry about it. Girl stuff.”

“No, please, I didn’t mean-”

His words stopped just as abruptly as your body, when the front door swung open to reveal an out of nowhere downpour. 

Your head fell as you started to ask, and he was already one step ahead of you.

“Can you please-”

“I’ll grab my keys.”

He was tripping up his stairs by the time he finished saying it. When he returned, it was in a clean shirt, jumping from the second to last step as he swirled the keys around his pointer finger. 

The light blue fabric of his new shirt pulled at his shoulders that hunched when your glare remained unwavering despite the apologetic puppy dog eyes he had going for him. 

You understood Steve didn’t mean for the comment to start the hole he was digging, and you knew you weren’t being fair for being so upset. It’s not like it was his fault, it was just your own insecurities manifesting in an anger towards him. 

The nagging feeling of being some sort of freak who’d never made out while even the little twerps who clung to Steve were, while your best friend was Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High only grew stronger. The thought of Steve thinking you were some sort of weirdo for being old and never making out had something in your gut churning, had a familiar sting behind your eyes forming that you tried your best to ignore. 

When Steve opened his mouth, about to try to make it all better again, you simply turned on your heel and stalked out into the rain. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at the way you stomped through it, pretending to not be drowned. 

He quickly rushed behind you and got to the door first and swung it open, to which you rolled your eyes at, but slid in and got comfortable while he closed it for you nonetheless. 

Unsure why he went and changed as he raced around the hood and shot into the driver’s seat, totally soaked through to his skin now. He cranked the heat before swiping fingers over his eyes, a large hand ran through his hair and pushed it back only for it to fall into his eyes again. Steve reached over with wet and shaking fingers at the same time you held yours up, both of you pausing and glancing at the other’s hands. 

Steve was about to cup your fingers between his and blow warm breath onto them, just like he always did, but you ripped your hands down to your lap, and curled your body against the door, like you needed to be as far from him as you could be. 

Your damp forehead touched the cool glass of the window as he sighed, “Please don’t-”

“Just take me home, please?”

The tone in which the words were said has something in his chest breaking. Like you were really fucking sad, embarassed, it was a real plea to just take you home and leave you alone. 

So he wasn’t gonna do that, ‘cause he never was a great listener, so why start now?

He pretends though, he backs out of the driveway and heads in the direction of your apartment. He lets the radio fill the space and he turns the heat down when the air inside the car is heavier and warm despite your cold shoulder. The orange glow of the street lights slanted inside the car in a soothing rhythm as his wheels spun over the pavement until he was coming to the last four way stop before your apartment. 

It unfolds just as he had planned, when he’s still stopped at the deserted intersection, as your breath fogged up the glass when you asked, “Harrington, you planning on leaving the intersection anytime soon?”

His bottom lip wobbled as his teeth continued to press into it, thick fingers rubbing at a scruff dotted jaw as he thought out loud in an attempt to sway you. 

“Well, you see, I could go straight and take you home-” he started. 

“Right. Let’s do that.” You waved your hand towards the direction of the apartment that held the ice cream you were desperate to eat and wallow with while watching Pretty In Pink. 

“Or,” Steve interrupted right back, tapping on the steering wheel with his finger as he did, “I could go to the right. Pull into the diner. Buy you a milkshake and say sorry?”

The thing was, he was gonna go to the right regardless of your answer. He knew once you pulled into the parking lot there was no way you’d not at least go in and get fries and a shake, if not a whole burger. You’d done this dance before, him putting his foot in his mouth was not a new occurrence. 

Your lips twitched, but your arms stayed crossed as he hummed and whispered, “Tough choice…tough choice…”

Shoulders fell in defeat, but your mouth stayed downturned in a forced frown as you grumbled, “And fries.”

Steve smiled, turned on his blinker and nodded. He cleared his throat.

“And fries. Definitely.”

“And none of that you order yourself a vanilla shake and I order strawberry and you drink half of mine because it’s better and eat all the fries shit.”

“Of course,” Steve scoffed, “I would never do that.”

Steve slipped his straw into your shake, pulling the glass across the sticky tabletop as you did the same with his. He tried not to smirk around the straw when you did, dipping a fry in his vanilla he ordered for a reason despite the strawberry being better. 

“Do you think Claire is a prude for never doing anything?”

He shook his head no almost immediately, swiping at stray ice cream from the corner of his mouth with his tongue. 

You fiddled with the straw wrapped between your fingers and narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Would your answer be the same if, say, Eddie was sitting here asking you? Not me, your best friend, who you have sudden pity for?”

He blinked at you and sighed, “I don’t have pity for you.”

“Your mouth and your eyes are telling two different stories Harrington,” you waved a fry at him as you spoke, gesturing to his face with it. 

Your gaze stayed on the fry you were ripping in half, focused on watching it sink into the sweet vanilla as he dared to say, “I just don’t get it.”

“What, that I haven’t done that and I’m so old,” you tried to tease, to move past it. 

But the way you were licking salt off your finger had him wondering if he swiped his own through the salt on the tray and pushed the pad against your lips if they would part like they were now, if he could taste it on your lips if he just leaned forward and-

“No, ‘cause you’re so fucking pretty.” 

He definitely said it out loud that time. 

You blinked at him, cheeks suddenly too warm for the cold and damp Spring that had been surrounding you all day.  

“Ste-”

“And so smart,” he licked his lips, leaning forward, unable to stop now that it was out, “And funny. And…and sweet, you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know, I just don’t understand how guys aren’t falling over themselves, unable to do anything but make out with you, or more or-”

“I never said I didn’t do more,” you whispered, ignoring all of his compliments that made your chest feel all tight and sticky and choosing to argue with him instead because that was easier. 

“But you said…if you haven’t made out with anyone…” 

Your body slipped lower against the squeaky seat, embarrassed as you shrugged and Steve felt too hot in the tiny little booth, thinking about all those guys’ hands on you again, and then what you said, what it meant, really clicked. 

“Hold on…how…how’d…you didn’t, build up to it?” He asked softly, eyes bouncing over your face with worry. 

“Steve,” you grabbed for the other shake, and sat up straighter, “We don’t need to talk about this. It’s not import-”

“It’s so important,” he grabbed your hand and squeezed your fingers lightly, “Half the fun is all the build up to it. And,” he swallowed, forehead creasing with deeper worry, “And then it, it doesn’t hurt. ‘Cause tell me if I’m wrong, but if they weren’t making out with you, were they doing anything to make sure you felt good?”

You squirmed in your seat, fingers pushing up against his mindlessly, aimlessly, as you shrugged again. “It’s only hurt a few times. I learned that if I…um, If I got myself ready beforehand, that I was, uh, more comfortable.”

Steve’s fingers let go of yours with the excuse of grabbing a fry, because he was trying not to be a gross guy, but all he could think about was you in your bedroom, with your fingers between your thighs now. Did you play music? What song? Did you have underwear on? What color? With a shirt that your nipples were visibly hard through as you touched yourself and maybe it was his shirt or maybe you said his name or-

“Right,” Steve nodded, “Um, right. And that’s great, lots of people do that for a date, so like if you need or want to beforehand that’s not…that’s great. It just shouldn’t be the only thing, you know? They should be putting in the work, they should be wanting to. And dates! They should watch a movie with you, and dinner and drive around and then kiss so much you feel dizzy and then if you want, more.”

He finished his rambling speech and you smiled softly, unsure of what to say, because you knew he wasn’t wrong, it’s just that they had. 

“They did,” you sighed, “Well, not Paul.”

Steve scowled at the table, “Yeah, well, I’m sure you weren’t missing much. Who wants to yell out Paul?”

“Oh,” you laughed, “And Steve is so much better?”

He looked up at you, your smile sweet and kind and your eyes a little sad, but trying not to be and he wanted to say yes. He wanted to tell you that if it was those lips and that voice saying it, it was better, because how could it not be? Like his name only had the best letters, like it belonged to the best guy in the world, one that belonged to you and no one else. 

But you were swiping at ice cream on your lips and sighing, saying something that made his chest ache instead. 

“They were nice dates. And it’s not like the sex was bad. But,” you looked out the window, eyes tracking the droplets of rain twinged neon from the light hanging above you both, “The kissing till I’m dizzy sounds nice. Is it…is it fun?”

“Yeah,” Steve whispered, admiring the way the red and blue lit up your profile before you turned to face him. 

And then he was saying something before he really thought it through, because god you weren’t just fucking pretty, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever met and no way in hell was he letting anyone treat you the way you’d been ever again. So this was his chance, and he was taking the leap.

“I could…” he blew out a breath and smiled. He sat up straighter, and he searched for some sort of lingering king steve confidence he could latch onto without all the douche as he asked, “I could show you?”

To both of your surprise, you’d said yes, and he paid and you were in the car, driving, and parked somewhere in what felt like seconds. Now your best friend sat across from you, both of you facing the center console, but not daring to do more. 

The rain beat against the roof of the maroon car, each drop a punctuated tick of a nonexistent clock - a meter for how much time was passing without movement, without words. Just both of your breathing filled the space. First exhaling, then desperately inhaling for more air as your chests rose and fell ragged. And then, like in some unspoken agreement only best friends can have, you both started to lean forward cause you just knew. 

Your heart’s thrum threatened to drown out the rain, building and building, screaming to break out of your chest, pounding in your ears while your cheeks grew warm and your stomach dipped as Steve’s tongue slipped out quickly and wetted his lips. 

But then he leaned and his eyes started to close and you giggled, fingers slipping over your lips as his eyelids shot open. 

“Sorry,” you gasped and shook your head and your hands out as you tried to be serious, “Your ‘I’m about to kiss you’ face is real cute, Harrington.”

Tried being the definitive word. 

“Cute?” He groaned, smiling, “Not sexy?”

You leaned in, faster this time, a smile matching his as you shrugged, “It’s nice. Never thought I’d be on the opposite side of it, is all.”

It’s easy to tilt your head and welcome the hand that reached up to cradle your jaw as he softly promised, “Your ‘I’m about to be kissed face’ is really cute too.”

The pad of his thumb brushed over the apple of your cheek in the tenderest touch you’d ever felt, before his fingers curled under your jaw and tilted you gently, slowly, up so his lips were right over yours. 

It felt like he was handling you like the most precious and fragile thing, like a prized possession that he’d only ever hold with care and never let another soul touch. 

His breath fanned over yours, warm and sweet smelling, vanilla and cherry just out of reach for you to taste as you dared to quip back again. “Alright, I’m gonna have to cross reference these lines with other girls you’ve promised to make dizzy, Harrington, cause if that’s the first time you’ve used that, I’m afraid it’s far too smooth…”

Steve’s heart felt like it was trying to claw out of his chest as you laughed, smiling at him when he responded, “And, I think that’s enough out of you.”

Which you couldn’t help but reply back to with, “Yeah? Have some fancy trick to get me to stop talking?”

He laughed, low, muffled and deep in his chest. “A few.”

A sharp inhale slipped past your lips when his nose bumps yours, not realizing how close he’d gotten while you joked back and forth nervously. There wasn’t a protocol on how to let your best show you a proper make out, on how to just dive in and start, you just knew you wanted to. 

Steve’s swallow bobbed his adams apple as the leather beneath you creaked from shifting weight, needing to get closer. And as you did, his eyes found yours, mossy and dark in the low light, the browns and golds washed away in the rain. Their gaze flitted down to your lips, back up to fluttering eyelashes, and then his own eyelids were closing. 

All it took was another breath in, an exhale out, and his lips were on yours. A simple, slow press, holding your top lip between the both of his. Strawberry and vanilla teasing you, and soon he was moving, now bottom lip between his and you got it. Your mouths parted together, lips slotting in a rhythm that came naturally, that clicked. 

Something in your stomach fizzled and crackled like the sparklers you lit every year in his driveway on the fourth as the sigh from his nose hit your cheek. Body warm and sticky in a way that was usually reserved for Summer when his fingers skated over your jaw, up and around your ear, until they were cradling the back of your neck and pulling you closer. His mouth moved with yours in a way that could only be described as frantically graceful - needing more, hurried, hungry, but with the promise and precision of someone who knew what he was doing. It had your stomach dipping, like a freefall, like the greatest and scariest thing you’d ever felt. 

If he’d have opened his eyes, he’d have found you with your hands suspended between your bodies though. Fingers not quite brave enough to reach up and get lost in his hair, but not content to just sit in your lap and do nothing either. 

And if you'd opened your eyes, you’d have found his other hand gripping the center console like he was hanging on for dear life. ‘Cause holy shit was he trying to go slow, but kissing you was like chasing the last few minutes of sunlight in July - sweet and fleeting and magic - something you needed to make last, to soak up every last drop of until you couldn’t any more, not by choice, but because the sun has to set and he has to breathe.

In a shared gasp for air, you parted, but his lips were back on yours immediately, making your stomach swoop even more, like an entire family of butterflies had decided - hey, we live here now and we’re gonna make a ruckus so get used to it.

You didn’t mind. 

Steve’s fingers found yours and without breaking his rhythm, he tugged, guiding them to his shoulders that were practically on your side of the console now, which wasn’t doing something great to his already somersaulting stomach. 

He slowed down as your fingers brushed over and back on the collar of his shirt and his hands cradled both of your cheeks, pulling you off of his lips regretfully. You were both breathing like you’d run a marathon, his forehead pressed to yours as he gasped out, “Dizzy yet?”

“No,” you lied. 

He grinned, tip of his nose tracing the bridge of yours as he admitted, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like that.”

You couldn’t even respond, couldn’t tell him you wanted that too, couldn’t tell him that it was something you only dared let a daydream or two convince you it could happen before you were shutting it down, cause he was still talking. 

“And now that I have,” he swallowed, his thumbs glided down opposite sides of your neck as he shook his head, “I’m never stopping.”

Then he was kissing you again, and if you thought he was frantic before…

You had this feeling that even if those other guys had made out with you, kissing them wasn’t and never would be the same as kissing Steve Harrington. 

Soon one of your feet was on the seat, the other bracing yourself in the footwell. He had a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck and yours were finally starting to dare to journey past their spot on his shoulders and then your skirt was caught on the gearshift and he was stopping you again. 

“Honey, what are you doing?”

“So was that ‘never stopping’ just a nice sentiment or are you planning to back it up with action?” You huffed, distracted by pink lips that twisted into a crooked smile as he looked at your pretzeled body. 

Your shoulders fell as you nodded your head towards his side of the car and admitted, “I just want to be closer.”

“Oh, right.” Steve swallowed, and you wondered if it’d be weird if you kissed every freckle and mole you could find on his throat. Something told you he wouldn’t mind when he asked, a little more eager than you’d heard tonight, “Backseat?” 

And you clambered out of the car, the slowing rain soothing to heated and flushed skin under the mussed clothes, and then you were both meeting in the backseat, but the nerves returned. The way you both glanced at the space between you and were immediately and acutely aware of the lack of anything between you except doubt and fear. Was this a mistake? What about your friendship?

Steve looked at the space, at you, and then held up his finger in the symbol for one sec as he said, “Hold on,” and half climbed back into the front seat. His torso draped over the console as he loudly opened the glovebox and rummaged around inside, before he was fiddling with the radio, and falling back into the seat. 

His cheeks pink, but his smile wide as he looked at you again. “Hey! I’m so glad we could do this tonight. You look beautiful. Ready to watch your favorite movie?”

“Wh-what?” You laughed, totally and utterly confused. 

He tugged on your fingers, and pulled you to the middle, until you were slouched next to each other, shoulders touching as he shushed and said, “The Breakfast Club is starting.”

And the music playing over the radio,Simple Minds, a cassette he must have put in, had your chest swelling with something that was sure to burst and explode and kill you, because the boy was actually pretending you were on a couch, on a date, in a living room, watching a movie - it was perfectly Steve and you, and the best first date you’d ever been on. 

His left hand picked up yours, resting it on your thigh and played with your fingers. The pads of his traced up and down and over your hand as he stared at the windshield, his temple resting against yours. The music played, and his fingertips swooped between the curves of each finger aimlessly, the sides of his fingers running down yours and back up making it really hard to concentrate on the non-existent flick. 

When you finally relaxed into his side, when you flipped your hand over so he could draw little loop de loops on your palm, he quietly asked, “Who’s your favorite?”

“Brian,” said without hesitation. 

Steve groaned, in pain, “Ugh, you would like him the best.”

You laughed, turning to look up at him a bit from where your head had fallen to his shoulder, “Don’t knock him Steve,” you spoke softly, fondly, “You’re a lot more of a dork like him than you think.”

Steve made a pft noise, fingers now interlaced with yours as he turned his head, the tip of his nose touching yours as he looked down at you with the sort of look the guys give the girls in the movies, one that should be illegal from the way it had that family of butterflies shouting about their presence again and fluttering around. 

“Hey Steve?” 

“Hmm?” He hummed, eyelashes fluttering as he sighed when your thumb brushed over his knuckles.

“This is a really great…first date?” You asked, hopeful that it wasn’t just an offer, that you weren’t some game, that the guy next to you was just as crazy about you as you were him. 

“Yeah?” He smiled, proud, and then bragged, “Wait till the second one.”

It was your turn to hum, to look into his eyes and get a little lost as his mouth parted and you both scooted closer, waiting, as he squeezed your fingers wrapped around his. 

“You’re making the ‘I’m about to kiss you face’ again, Steve,” you whispered, lips brushing his as you did.

“Right,” he whispered back, bottom lip catching yours as he suggested, “Which means you should probably stop talking again.”

This kiss wasn’t as easy and smooth, made difficult by grins of fools who were totally in love but wouldn’t admit it just yet, but how could you both not be after years together?

But you smoothed it out quickly, and soon he was swiping his tongue over your bottom lip as his hand gripped at your waist a little tightly. He traced over your top lip as your entire body turned towards his, like a plant in search of sunlight, his body on yours fundamental to your survival.

He gasped as you straddled him, your mouth swallowing the sound as his hands roamed up your sides, taking the hem of your shirt with it so his fingers could scrape at the skin just under your ribs before they dared to drift along the band of your bra.  

You let out a sound that he’d never forget as long as he lived when you finally lowered yourself, skirt fanning over your laps so the sinful way he pressed up against your pristine soaked Calvin’s was slightly hidden. The unclip of your bra and the removal and toss over the seat was fluid, and you couldn’t think about it because the way his hand on your chest felt, the thumb over a pebbled nipple was something you’d only let yourself think about in moments of need before a date that wasn’t him. 

Steve was wrong, the build up was more than half the fun.

The way his hands buzzed against your spine like the air after fireworks, the way his tongue brushed yours, the way he couldn’t help but guide your hips to rock against him. Denim hitting cotton in the exact right spot so the nerves underneath it got the friction they were aching for, while your mind ran away from you, thoughts about how this was just getting started. How there was more. 

His lips left yours and his smile pressed to your jaw when the action got a soft whimper to fall from you. He tutted into your neck, lips grazing over an erratic pulse as he whispered, “Can I touch you?”

“Is that,” your breath hitched around the words as his tongue licked a thick stripe over your neck that extended, “Is that a part of making me dizzy or the more, when I’m sufficiently so?”

“You’re not yet?” His teeth scraped at where his tongue had just been. “I like when you say words like sufficiently, ‘s’hot.”

You laughed as his lips kissed the same spot, and then he was sucking, skin beneath his tongue warm and sending a message to your brain that you liked that a lot. 

“Yeah,” you hiccuped, eyelids fluttering in their view of the car’s roof as you arched and his hands gripped your hips, “Yeah, touch me.”

He didn’t have to be told twice, arm around your waist holding you steady while the other traveled under the hem of your skirt. His mouth moved to below your ear and as his fingers glided up your thigh. He sucked and kissed, and sent that message to your brain again, having you say his name and god’s in the same desperate sentence. 

Steve wasn’t gonna last much longer. 

Especially when his fingers met the wet cotton and you moaned, so much filthier than he’d have thought possible. Especially when he circled over your clit through the fabric and you rolled your hips with the movement, far dirtier than he thought you were capable of. 

“Fuck baby, you’re soaked.” He mouthed at the collar of your rucked up shirt, looking down at the way your hips rolled over his but he couldn’t quite see what was underneath. 

You hid in the crook of his neck, hot, and you didn’t know if it was because the windows were fogged and Steve was so fucking good at this or because you were embarassed by how turned on you were from his next words. 

“Please, I gotta,” he slipped a finger under the fabric and you shuddered as it ran down your slick and back up, “I gotta taste you. I need to put my mouth on you. Let me make you feel good, yeah?”

You were on your back, Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat, with Steve crouched between your thighs not even a minute later. 

Thick fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt from his spot, blown out pupils taking over his stare up at you. One of your converse pushed to the other side of the car against the door as your fingers curled around the base of the sweating window above you. 

Steve kissed your knee, and made his way higher between your legs slowly, until he was flipping your skirt up and swallowing as he stared at the space like it was a fucking artwork. 

You giggled, nervously under the intense awestruck stare, squeezing your eyes shut as he strained to get out, “Fuck, honey, you’re trying to kill me.”

He was mesmerized, the way you clenched around nothing, his thumbs spreading you so he could see just how wet you were for him. 

He was really not gonna last much longer. Straining in his jeans painfully like a teenager. 

And that was before you whimpered, before you said:

“Steve, please.”

“Only,” he swallowed, leaning down so his breath hit your cunt in a way that had your hips wiggling, and him closing his eyes, “Only cause you asked so nicely.”

His thumbs held you open, massaging the sides as his tongue licked once, slow and broad, following the path of his nose up to your clit. He did it again, and again, and again. Until his fingers were slipping inside of you, pumping in and out of walls that held him tightly and his mouth sucked at your clit. Then you tugged, forcefully at the curls at the back of his head and practically screamed his name. Like it was full of only the best letters. Like it was yours. 

Your stomach burned, the butterflies angry and in your chest now too, on fire, but happy about it. Steve’s fingers inside of you and mouth on your clit better than any orgasm you’d ever had, and you couldn’t help it when you came without warning, toes curling inside of your converse that kicked at the door and his thigh, while your fingers slipped on the window and your chest ached for a breath as it yelled his name in a way that the whole world would have to know how you felt when they heard it. 

He didn’t pull away until you were gasping and your thighs were shaking and your fingers loosened in his hair. His cheek pressed to your thigh as he stared up at you and gasped out a proud, smug, “I’d like to see Bender of Brian do that.”

You laughed, tired, but happy, and he crawled up your body, kissing any part of it he could find while he ignored the uncomfortable wet patch in the front of his Levi’s. 

Except you noticed and raised your eyebrows at it, a little smug yourself as you said, “Bet Claire couldn’t do that.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but then you were both flinching as a loud smack of something hit the back window. He glanced up and cursed under his breath, rolling down the window slightly as he called out from on top of you, “Hey, Hop.”

There was a loud, deep, sigh from outside as you both sat up with apologetic faces and Steve rolled down the window further. 

Hopper’s cigarette smoke wafted in as he looked at the pair of you with a touch of surprise when he saw it was you next to Steve in the fogged up beemer. He shook his head, frown under the mustache forced.  “It’s past eleven. On a weeknight. Have some decency and do this at home in front of a movie like normal people next time, yeah?”

You both nodded, your teeth pulling at your lip in a terrible attempt at not smiling. 

He walked away, and you and Steve slapped hands over each other’s laughs and snorts, but you still managed to catch the quiet, “Bout damn time.” 

And when Steve dropped you off at home, with a kiss to seal it all and a promise of a real date tomorrow that he’d pick you up for, you shoved the bunched up Calvin’s in his front pocket with your own promise, whispering in his ear the words “Sincerely, yours” before you left him with his mouth open on the front steps, watching you walk away. 

[lightningandfireinmybones]

Ugh your smut prompts are fucking fire 🔥🔥🔥 well done! I’m a proud prisoner of this horny jail we are all stuck in 🫠😆

THANK U I LOVE U

there's room for all of us in horny jail, pls make yourself comfortable happy to have you<3

[officialaemondtargaryen]

is it casual now?

Prompt: You and Eddie totally aren't dating, right?

Characters: Eddie Munson x Reader, brief mentions of Steve Harrington x Reader.

Word Count: ~5.5k

Author’s Note: Happy birthday @felteppsters

Playlist: Casual by Chappell Roan

Warnings: Smut & fluff.

If you had a dollar for every time someone asked if you and The Freak were dating, you'd have made four dollars this week alone.

And it's only Tuesday.

You didn't go out of your way to spend time with Eddie Munson, and he never once asked if you wanted to hang out outside of school, but somehow you always managed to find yourself getting fingered in the back of his van in the parking lot during study hall. And he was known to drop a note in your locker on occasion asking you to meet him in that one bathroom that no one ever used for a quickie during lunch.

But that was neither here nor there.

The point was that people were beginning to notice.

It wasn't a bad thing. It's not like dating Eddie would ruin your reputation- despite what some people would say. It was just that when people asked if you and Eddie were dating, you didn't know how to answer because you, yourself, were not exactly sure what that answer was.

So you just said no, and you probably said it a little too defensively.

Does hooking up occasionally count as dating? No. In order to be dating someone you had to at least go out on an actual date, right? The night he took you to his trailer to 'fuck you in a real bed' and ordered pizza delivery didn't count, either, no matter how long you cuddled with him afterwards.

"I heard a rumor," it was Robin. She fell in step with you as you both exited fourth-period Algebra and headed toward the cafeteria. "And I just need a little bit of clarification, so forgive me if what I'm about to ask is-"

"I swear to God, Robin, if you're about to ask me if I'm dating Eddie Munson," you held up your hand and cut her off, stopping short in the middle of the hallway; your boots scuffing the speckled white tile floor, causing a slight traffic jam of bodies.

"What!?" She gasped. Either she was a really great actress or she genuinely hadn't heard. "There's a rumor going around that you're dating Eddie Munson?"

"No?" you deflected and picked up the pace. "What did you hear?"

"That you're dating Eddie Munson." With that, your face fell and she pulled her lips between her teeth to keep herself from laughing. "Well, is it true? Because Maria Fuentes heard from Charlie Dawson that Tina saw you guys in the parking lot last Friday and she did not hold back on the details."

"First of all," you said stopping at your locker. "I feel violated."

"Well, you were, you know-" Robin held up her fingers and made a lewd gesture causing you to cringe.

"Second of all-" You began again, only to be cut off by a folded piece of paper falling from your locker to the floor as you opened the flimsy, metal door. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as Robin quickly bent down and snatched the note from under you before you had the chance.

"You were saying?" She asked, a playful smirk pulling at her lips as she dodged every one of your attempts to take the note back from her. "Meet me. You know where. Signed, E.M." She read aloud. "Oh, look, there's even a little heart. That is so cute!"

"Second of all," you repeated after you had snatched the crumpled paper from her hands. "We are not dating."

Eddie's lips were on yours the moment the bathroom door closed behind you; before you were even able to flip the lock. You hadn't seen him since last Friday, and you could easily tell that he had gotten needy over the weekend. You wanted to enjoy the moment, but all that you could think about was this rumor.

He took a few steps forwards, pushing you back to the double sink until you were sitting on the counter; pushing himself between your legs, his hands falling to your sides, fingertips digging into your flesh. His lips were everywhere, biting and sucking hungrily as he squeezed every inch of your body he could get his hands on.

You placed your palm firmly on his chest and lightly pushed him away from you. He took a step back and you took in his appearance; tight denim jeans, a flannel wrapped around his hips, t-shirt just slightly messy enough to reveal a scruffy happy trail below his navel. His jeans were especially tight in the crotch, and his eyes were dark with desperation as he returned your gaze. He ducked his head to meet your lips once again, but you turned your head and ensured his lips fell to your cheek instead.

"Something's definitely up with you," he said softly as he placed another kiss on your temple.

He looked so good and made you feel so good, you just wanted to pull him back down to you and fuck him in this bathroom for the umpteenth time, but you couldn't. He stepped back and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket; looking so cool as he placed one between his lips and took a long drag, sending smoke billowing around the tiny room.

"You haven't heard?" You asked. He shrugged. "Someone saw us Friday in your van and now the entire school thinks we're dating."

"Oh," he let our a sarcastic chuckle. "And that's a problem for you, I guess? Can't be seen with the freak, right?"

"No," you rolled your eyes at the fact that he would even suggest that. "I just didn't know if- are we?"

He shrugs again, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I thought it was just casual."

"Casual?" You ask, and he nods. "Okay, well, I have to go. My next class is all the way on the other side of the building and I don't want to be late."

He can tell by your tone that you're upset.

"What do you want me to say?" He asks, making one last attempt to make you stay as you pick up your book bag from the floor.

"Nothing."

"You're pissed," he actually reached for you this time, but you shrugged him off.

"No," you replied. "I'm just-" you paused for a moment looking for the right words. "I'm casual." He winced. "Have a good day, Eddie."

You wanted to slam the door in his face, but it wasn't that type of door, so you opted for storming off loudly. As you rounded the corner you knocked shoulders with some girl from the Cheerleading squad who yelled at you to watch where you were going, but you didn't care to respond. Your legs were carrying you as quickly as they could without breaking into a full sprint down the halls of Hawkins High.

It wasn't a lie when you stated that your next class was on the other side of the school. You were sweating by the time you reached your desk. Robin had gotten there first, slumped back in her assigned seat with a smirk on her face as you sat down, trying to catch your breath.

"Long commute?" She asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Shut the hell up, Buckley." You snapped.

"Uh oh," she held her hands up in defense. "Must be some trouble in paradise."

"I told you earlier, Eddie and I are not dating."

"Roger that."

The last bell couldn't come soon enough. All that you wanted to do was get home and get into bed- and preferably cry into a bowl of ice cream. You'd have never imagined yourself crying over the likes of Eddie Munson, but the thought of losing whatever it was that you had with him was upsetting.

He was your friend, after all. You had a lot in common with him. He could make you laugh and there was no shortage of conversation when you were around him. He was always getting shit from his friends, but you loved the fact that he never shut the hell up. And when there wasn't a conversation to be had, there was always music; whether it was his long list of cassette tapes or him strumming away on his guitar, there was never a dull moment.

And here you were ruining it over a label.

Robin held the door open for you as you both stepped out into the warm summer weather. Waves of students began lining up in the parking lot for their respective busses, but you typically walked home when the weather was nice.

"So since you're not dating Eddie Munson," Robin began and you couldn't help but roll your eyes so hard that it almost gave you a headache. "I was wondering if you might want to go on a double date with Vickie and myself?"

"A double date typically involves two couples."

"Right, you're absolutely right." Robin was stuttering. "I have this friend and he is also single. Problem solved."

"Steve?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"Wh- Why?"

"Because I have nothing in common with Steve and Steve is a prick," you replied bluntly.

Robin rolled her eyes. "He's actually not, like, at all. Besides, I talk about you all the time to him and he said that he would really like to meet you."

"He must have forgotten that he spent the majority of my freshman and sophomore year bullying me with Tommy H and Carole," you muttered under your breath.

Your friend reached out and grabbed you by the shoulder, stopping you in place and spinning you around to face her. A sigh escaped your lips as you looked her in the eye.

"That was a long time ago. I wasn't a huge fan of him when I first met him, either." She gave you a lopsided smile and you found her attempts to win her friend a date with you amusing. "I promise you that it's worth a shot. So, if you change your mind, we're going roller skating on Saturday night."

"You rollerskating?" You laughed and heard a car honk a few times as it pulled up.

"You're so funny!" She stated sarcastically.

Steve gave you a derpy smile as he rolled the passenger side window down. He was wearing his Family Video vest. "Good afternoon, ladies." He called out smoothly, you returned with a small wave.

"Sleep on it?" Robin asked as she opened the door to Steve's car.

"Fine," you rolled your eyes. "I'll think about it."

Robin smiled as she ducked into the passenger seat and closed the door behind her. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

Saturday came sooner than expected, and you had to admit that you were nervous. If someone had told you a year ago that you'd be going on a date with Steve Harrington, you'd probably punch them in the throat. Hell, if someone told you that a week ago, you'd still be swinging.

You had avoided Eddie at all costs throughout the rest of the week. Though, you'd be lying if you said that you weren't a little disappointed there were no notes left in your locker, or that he didn't find some way to talk to you after you left him standing in that bathroom Tuesday afternoon. You even waited up some nights hoping for a phone call or a pebble on the window, but none came.

It took over an hour and half to pick an outfit. Almost every article of clothing you owned was crumpled on the floor or tossed on the bed as you tried on a dozen different outfit combinations. It was the roller rink, so you wanted to be comfortable, but it was technically a date, so you also wanted to at least seem like you tried. Finally, as the clock ticked closer to seven, you decided on jeans, an off-shoulder top, and your Converse. You really didn't care to impress Steve Harrington; you didn't care in freshman and sophomore year and you certainly didn't now.

"I thought you said you had a date," your mother mentioned as you stepped into the living room. She was on the couch watching Who's The Boss, a jar of mixed nuts in her lap.

"I am," you replied as you shrugged into your denim jacket. She looked you up and down and you rolled your eyes. "We're going rollerskating; comfort was the priority!"

The distant sound of a car horn honking interrupted the conversation, prompting you to glance out the front door. Steve, acting as the evening's chauffeur, awaited with Robin and Vickie in the backseat.

"Don't be out too late," your mother muttered between mouthfuls of peanuts. "But enjoy yourself."

As the heavy glass door swung open, a wave of familiar sounds and vibrant colors enveloped your senses. The Rollerdome was typically busy on a Saturday night, but tonight it seemed everyone in Hawkins had the same idea to go skating. The neon lights that adorned the rink's interior created a kaleidoscope of vivid hues; fluorescent pinks, electric blues, and neon greens adorned the walls, blending with the glow of disco balls suspended from the ceiling. Upbeat pop music and the thud of roller skates on the smooth, wooden floors flooded your ears as Robin and Steve bickered over which table to claim for the evening.

"I vote this one," Robin declared with unwavering confidence, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "That way, we've got front-row seats to all the wipeouts!"

"That is the exact reason why no one sits at this table, Robin," Steve countered with exasperation. "Everyone knows that the floor is slick there and when someone takes a spill, it's usually right into the table." He pauses before looking at you. "Bye-bye chili dogs."

You can't help but suppress a small smile, "I think it's perfect. If there's a chance one of those uppity assholes comes flying face first into our table, it'll be the highlight of my entire year."

"Can't argue with that logic," Steve added quickly. "Good choice, Robin."

She rolled her eyes and dragged Vickie off towards the rental counter. You casually tossed your bag on the top of the table; a clear marker that it was claimed. Steve removed his jacket and placed it next to your bag before running a hand through his thick, dark hair. It was clear that he was nervous as his eyes darted around the roller rink. He definitely didn't give off the same 'King Steve' aura that you remembered so well.

Maybe you'd give him a chance.

Just kidding.

You turned on your heel and walked off towards the snack bar, drawn in by the delicious aroma of extra cheese pizza and buttered popcorn, leaving Steve scrambling to catch up with your determined stride. Robin wanted a pretzel and a Coke slushy while Vickie had asked for cheese fries and an orange soda. You wanted nachos but agreed when Steve ordered to split a pizza, doing his best to impress you as he paid for everyone, but instead, all he got out of you was a slight eye roll. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Vickie lead a wobbly Robin out onto the rink. A chuckle escaped your lips as you witnessed their valiant attempts to navigate the rink without falling prey to the more seasoned skaters.

"So what are you into?" Steve asked as he filled up his drink at the fountain machine. "What do you like?"

"Uh," you weren't really sure what to say. You still couldn't really get past the fact that Steve Harrington was trying to have a conversation with you. "I like music."

"Yeah?" He asked. "I like music."

"Cool."

"This is a good song," he replied and pointed awkwardly to the overhead speakers while Another One Bites The Dust by Queen played loudly.

You couldn't help but think of the irony and did your best to suppress a laugh before Steve got the impression that you thought he was funny. Oh, how this date was failing epically; which you were already anticipating, so at least you hadn't gotten your hopes up about it. Steve was almost trying too hard to force a spark between the two of you, but without Robin around- which was often because she was too busy flailing about on her skates while Vickie tried her hardest to keep her from falling- it was absolutely boring.

At least the two of them seemed to be having a good time.

As the night continued on, you found yourself gradually shedding the initial reserve that had clung to you like a second skin. The pulsating rhythm of the music, the laughter of your friends, and the infectious joy of gliding across the smooth floor started to work its magic. A genuine smile tugged at the corners of your lips as Steve, Vickie, and Robin circled the rink alongside you, sharing jokes and banter.

"I need something to drink!" You yelled over the music at your friends before carefully exiting the floor onto the carpet.

Steve exited with you, gliding up to the table with ease; moving around you to the music, dancing on his skates. The hesitant glances you'd given him earlier transformed into playful exchanges, and you couldn't help but admit that his efforts to charm you had slowly but surely begun to work.

As Robin and Vickie continued to skate around the rink, something caught your eyes in the corner; a familiar, curly head of brown hair in the back towards the arcade. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his brown eyes pinned to you as his friends huddled around one of the pinball machines.

You smirked softly as the music changed. In the background you could hear Steve talking, but you were too busy having a staring contest with Eddie from across the room.

"So what d'ya say?" Steve asked.

"What?" You asked, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from Eddie.

"It's a slow song," he mentioned. You could see a blush creeping to his cheeks. "Did you want to couple's skate?"

You agreed, allowing Steve to take your hand and lead you out onto the rink. It was wrong of you to use Steve in the way that you were, especially since you were just starting to like him. But the satisfaction that you felt seeing Eddie roll his eyes as you and your date skated by was too good to pass up. And yes, you faked the giggles and latched on to Steve's arm a little more with each time you passed Eddie, really twisting that knife as much as you could.

But hey, it was just "casual" right?

As the song came to a close and Steve led you by the hand back to your table. You couldn't help yourself but to glance back to the corner of the rink towards the arcade, only to see Eddie push himself off of the wall and stomp off towards the exit.

"I'll be right back," you called over to Steve as the song ended. "I need to get some fresh air."

"I'll come with!" Steve offered but you placed a hand on his arm to stop him before he could unlace his skates.

"I'll be okay," you assured him with a sweet smile. "I'll be right back."

Hurriedly, you unlaced your skates and shoved your feet into your worn-down tennis shoes before chasing after Eddie. The summer air was still very humid as you stepped out of the cool air conditioning and into the parking lot. The sunset was barely lingering on the horizon and the sky was a mixture of periwinkle and orange. To your right, you could see Eddie walking away from you and towards his van.

"Hey!" You called to him. He turned around to see it was you and threw his head back dramatically before turning back to his van. "What is your problem?"

"Steve Harrington, really?" He spat, turning to you once again.

"Oh, come off it!" You replied, closing the gap between you. "Jealousy does not suit you, babe."

"Steve fucking Harrington?" He asked again. "I mean what do you even talk about with that guy? Different variations of the color beige?"

"At least he can stand to be seen with me in public!"

You were standing toe-to-toe with him now, chests heaving. His eyes squinted as he stared down at you.

"You want to be seen in public?" He asked. "Careful what you ask for, princess."

Before you could protest, his hands were on your shoulders, maneuvering you to his van; walking you backward until your back was pressed up against the side door. "Hopefully Harrington will wander out here looking for you." He reached a hand behind you, swinging the door open, and pushed you in. "He gives me the impression of someone who likes to watch."

Eddie crawled into the van after you, leaving the door open, not caring who saw or heard. His lips were on yours in an instant. You moaned as he ducked his head into your neck, working your nerves as he popped the button on your jeans. He didn't even care to pull them all the way off, or your shoes for that matter. As soon as he had pulled your pants down far enough to expose your pussy to him, he held your legs over his head and began thumbing your clit; spreading a slick coat of wetness along your swollen lips. He lifted you up, throwing your legs over his shoulder as his tongue hungrily delved into your core.

You gasped in surprise, hands flying to his hair, wrapping around the thick of his roots. You could hear him fumbling with his belt buckle as his tongue worked your dripping folds. Once he had freed his girthy cock, he lowered you down, still holding your legs over his shoulders with his arms now snaked around your thighs as he lined himself up with your core.

Without warning, he shoved his cock into the deepest part of you, feeling you tighten and loosen around his length. You moaned loudly, forgetting that the side door to his van was still wide open.

"Should I send you back to King Steve filled with my cum?" He grunted as he thrusted against you. "Let him hold your hand as you feel me dripping into those cute, little panties?"

Your eyes rolled back as he continued to pump into you.

"Look at you," he whimpered, so close already to finding his own release. He dragged his thumb across your bottom lip and you took his digit into you mouth. "Fuck!"

You could feel his cock pulsing against your walls as he filled you with warm ribbons of his cum. Eddie crashed on top of you, his face buried in your neck as he tried to catch his breath. Your hands moved to his shoulders, pushing him off of you with a sigh. You were already pulling your jeans up over your hips and fixing your shirt.

"What is it now?" He asked.

"It's nothing, Eddie." You replied.

"Oh, it's something."

You said nothing and stood up out of his van. Half of you wanted to just walk away and leave him there, like you had on Tuesday, but you couldn't do that again. You were miserable after the first time you did that- so miserable that you agreed to go on a date with Steve Harrington, of all people. This time you turned to him, looking him dead in the eye as you tried to find the right words.

"I'm not just some easy girl, Eddie." You spat at him. "I allowed you to fuck me in the parking lot, and in the bathroom, and in the auditorium that one time because I like you. I guess- I just thought that you liked me, too. I thought I was more than just some girl that you go down on in the passenger seat of your van, but I was wrong."

He opened his mouth to say something, but you held your hand up to stop him, wanting to get it all out.

"You just want sex," you continued. "You don't want to date me, you don't want me to be your girlfriend, you just want something casual, and I'm not that."

"What are you, then?" He asked.

"Leaving."

He said nothing as he watched you turn away, leaving him completely dumbfounded. For once, you felt like you had the upper-hand in this game the two of you had been playing for months now.

The walk from Eddie's van to the front doors of the Rollerdome felt like miles as the gravel of the pavement crackled beneath your feet with each step. You half expected him to run after you, take you in his arms, and confess his love for you, but you were met with nothing but silence. With a final glance over your shoulder, you reentered the roller rink, leaving Eddie to grapple with the unspoken complexities that lingered in the warm, Summer air.

The electric energy of the rink greeted you, once again; a stark contrast to the mood you had created in the parking lot. You didn't want to be here any longer and decided upon re-entry that you were just going to go home. Robin, Vickie, and Steve were all huddled around the table as another slow ballad played loudly through the speakers.

"There you are!" Robin greeted with a lukewarm slice of pizza in her hand. She took immediate notice of your changed demeanor and asked, "is everything okay?"

"No," you replied quickly as you grabbed your jacket. "I think I am just going to go home."

"Home?" Robin asked. "Now?" She stood up and pulled you over to the side away from Steve and Vickie. "Does this have anything to do with Eddie? I saw you running out after him earlier."

"Just forget it, Robin, okay?" You sighed as you turned towards her. You looked over her shoulder to see Steve and Vickie watching you. You lowered your voice, "It's over, okay? Yes, I'm upset about it and I hate that I'm upset about it. I wasn't expecting to actually like him."

Robin sighed, "I didn't realize it was like that, I'm sorry."

You shrug your shoulders and shove your hands in your jacket pockets. "It's fine, I'll get over it."

She gave you a half smile, "can we at least give you a ride. I'm sure Steve won't mind driving."

"I'm just going to walk," you muttered. "It's not far."

"Alright, catch you on Monday! Last week of senior year!" She exclaimed and raised her hands, mimicking pompoms for added flair. She outstretched her arms and wrapped them around you and provided a tight squeeze.

"Can't wait," you groaned unenthusiastically.

Monday came and went and before you knew it, the final bell of Friday rang throughout those hideous green and gold hallways as a sea of graduates congregated in the gym; tossing their shimmering green caps into the air, signaling the beginning of the rest of your lives. In one hand, your diploma and in the other, your yearbook filled with well-wishes and promises to keep in touch-- most of which you hoped would forever be unkept.

Robin found you outside in the courtyard after she had managed to escape her parents.

"Here's to the first summer of the rest of our lives," she said breathlessly. "Steve and I are going to the mall if you want to come, spend some of this graduation cash from my grandparents."

"I'm okay," you smiled at her. "Raincheck?"

"If you say so," she rolled her eyes. "Where are your folks?"

"My dad had a little too many of those little sandwiches they were giving out," you made a face. "Mom had to take him home early."

"I'm sure my parents could give you a ride home, if you wanted," she said with a soft smile.

Over her shoulder you watched as Eddie, still draped in his cap and gown, rushed off towards the back of the parking lot. "That's okay, I have a ride," you replied with a smirk.

You gave her a hug and slipped away; turning on your heel and escaping the crowd through the parking lot. As the cars grew thin, you noticed a familiar white van in the back, parked in its usual spot. The side door was open and Eddie was sitting in the back; a cigarette in between his lips and his guitar in his lap. His diploma was tossed up on the dashboard, and his cap and gown were tossed in the passenger seat.

He strummed skillfully as you walked up the side of his van. His eyes were lulled shut and his head was titled back on the headrest. He hummed softly and your lips couldn't help turning into a smile. He was so undeniably perfect and he didn't even know it.

"Is that new?" You had been hanging out with Eddie long enough now to know his songs by heart. He always asked your opinion on his songwriting.

His eyes fluttered open, but his fingers continued strumming. You could see his gaze taking you in as you effortlessly leaned against the passenger door. He shrugged lazily and tilted his head back once again, staring up at the scuffed metal ceiling of his van.

"I was feeling inspired," he finally replied as he exhaled smoke out of the corner of his mouth. "It's about a terrible, evil temptress who collects the souls of the men of the realm." You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Until one day, she meets a kind and handsome young man who doesn't have a soul to give. So instead, he gives her his heart."

"Sounds a bit dramatic," you replied as you tried to hide the smile creeping to your lips, once more.

"I was thinking about the other night," his fingers stopped strumming as he reached up to pull the cigarette from his lips. He exhaled another cloud of smoke.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, see," he took another drag from his smoke. "I do like you and I do want you to be my girlfriend, always have."

You threw up your hands, "It's hard for me to believe that, Eddie! We fuck nearly every day but you can't take me out on one date? How am I supposed to believe that you want me to be your girlfriend if you can't even respect me enough to take me out!?"

"We have too gone on dates! I bought you pizza that one time!" He exclaimed as he set his guitar back down in the case and snapped it shut. "And we watched your favorite movie!"

"We watched Troll," you deadpanned.

"Yeah, we did," he replied as he stood up out of the van. He towered over you as he stood up straight. "And after it was over you said that it was your new favorite movie."

"I was being SARCASTIC!"

"God damnit!" He spat right back.

"You took me back to your trailer because you were tired of fucking me in this van!" His jaw dropped at the accusation. "And the only reason you ordered pizza was because there was nothing else to eat and you struggle to even microwave a frozen TV dinner!"

His hand flew over his chest as he gasped. "You really are an evil and terrible temptress! Your words are venomous!"

You sighed, "Tell me honestly... is there something wrong with me?"

"You think there's something wrong with you?" Eddie asks, a small laugh escaping his perfect lips. He shakes his head and moves his hands up your arms to your shoulders, looking at your straight on. "Sweetheart, you're perfect."

A blush creeps to your cheeks and you can practically feel yourself melting in his hands.

"You're perfect, like, way too good for me," he continued, a bashful grin playing on his lips. "I should've said it before, a million times."

"You think?" You asked.

"Let's just start over, okay?" He pleaded and jutted his hand out to you as if he was asking for a handshake. "Hi, I'm Eddie. Will you be my girlfriend?"

You narrowed your eyes as you glanced down at his hand, pursing your lips in a futile attempt to suppress a smile. Fuck, you hated how goddamn charming he was. Giving up fully to him, you accepted his hand. Though, before you could utter a single word, he pulled you in for a lingering kiss that left you breathless.

"Say yes," he whispered as he pulled away, his lips hovering just above yours.

"Yes," you whispered as you look up into his dark brown eyes.

[mingigoo]

hi sie!! i'm happy to see that your requests are open and would like to request something myself c: 1. seonghwa 2. roommate au 3. prompts 11 and 17 4. with spice please 🙏 thanks so much! i rly appreciate you and your writing even if you can't get to this 💕

I hope you like this!!! really enjoyed writing this one :)

— sleep-talker || p.sh (m.)

“You know you sleep talk?” 

“Stop looking at me like that.

🌊pairing ⇢ (fem) reader x roommate! Seonghwa

🌊 summary ⇢ when you and your friends decide on a trip to the beach for spring break, you get stuck rooming with the man you "hate" the most. The line between love and hate is as thin as ice, and you were about to break it.

🌊 genre/au ⇢ roommates au, vacation au, one bed trope, forced proximity au, smut

🌊 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors DNI, wet dreams, fingering, rough sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, PDA, "enemies" to lovers, one-bed trope, teasing, jealousy, intense tension like holy hell

🌊 word count ⇢ 10.2k words

🌊 taglist ⇢ @jjhmk @yesv01 @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @yukine-smx @y00nzin0 @8tinytings @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts (please let me know if I forgot you!)

masterlist

ateez masterlist

“Are you for real right now?”

Spring break. A time for rest, relaxation, and lots and lots of sex.

And now, your plans of being a whore for the vacation were ruined.

“Yes, y/n. I can't afford another room just for you to have to yourself,” Hongjoong, your older brother, mumbled as he stuffed the last bit of clothes into his luggage. “You’ll have to room with Seonghwa. San and Wooyoung already called each other.”

He zipped up his suitcase and stood up to leave, but he couldn't get off that easily. “Please, Joong. I’ll do anything. Cant I just room with you and Mingi?” he hastily made his way out of his room and into the living room, trying his hardest to get away from you. “I’ll sleep on the floor. No blanket, just the floor. Please.”

He turned to face you, a confused expression on his face. “Why are you so adamant about not staying with Hwa? What did he ever do to you?” he asked you, genuinely curious. The truth is, he did nothing to you personally. Maybe that was why you hated him, because god, if he gave you the time of day, you would pounce on him like a cat in heat.

You groaned, running a hand through your messy, unwashed hair. “Because he’s a dumb ass jerk that gets everything he wants.” 

Hongjoong laughed at you and turned away. “It's only a week, y/n. He’ll probably spend most of his time in our room, anyway. Just bring a book to read or something to distract yourself.”

As if reading is the thing you'll be focused on if you were in a room with him. Oh Nah, you'll be wishing he’d walk around shirtless and hoping he somehow takes a shower and walks out with nothing on—

“I hope you're packed and ready….” Joong trailed off as he looked at your messy exterior, and stifled a laugh. “And if you're thinking of getting laid, you might want to shower.”

You slapped him on the shoulder, having no drive to shower. You'll get one when you get there. It's not like you were that stinky.

“Shut up, dickhead.”

You stood on the sidewalk of your apartment building, Hongjoong’s little yellow Geo Tracker sitting there lookin’ all cute. However, the tiny thing only had five seats.

There were six of you.

“Welp looks like I can't go! What a shame, what a shame,” you sarcastically yelled out, tossing your hands in the air exasperatedly.  “Have fun without me!”

“Shut your mouth, will you?” Hongjoong groaned, tossing your luggage into the “trunk” or whatever it was. “It's only a ride to the airport. You can sit on someone’s lap for ten minutes.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why am I the one that has to do that? Wooyoung is like the size of my arm. He can do it.”

Joong shut the trunk with force at your comment, totally disregarding you. “Hop in,” he said. “Enjoy shotgun while you have the chance.”

You got in reluctantly, even though you were very excited about the beach itself. Your excitement was short-lived as you approached the devil’s lair.

“Stay here, I’ll go help them,” Hongjoong mumbled, pushing his sunglasses up on his forehead as he put the car in park. 

You nodded, your arms crossed over your chest. You didn't mind the rest of the group— San and Wooyoung always knew how to make you laugh, and Mingi was absolutely eye candy. You wouldn't mind sitting on his lap on the way to the airport.

Just as you got comfortable with your head resting against the window, the door abruptly opened, causing you to nearly fall out of the vehicle. “For fuck’s sake, who the hell—” your words got caught in your throat as you met eyes with Park fucking Seonghwa. “Oh, it's you…”

He stood there, his thin torso draped in a sheer white top and his long, lean legs covered in a pair of black pants. You swallowed your drool like a schoolgirl, making sure he never knows how you think of him.

“What?” you raised your eyebrow, not moving an inch and not even reaching to unplug your seatbelt. “This seat’s taken, buddy.”

He snickered, his lips mockingly curled up in a sneer. “Oh, aren't you a sweetheart? Now move, I called shotgun.”

“Well, I did first.”

“No, you didn't.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No.”

“Yes—”

“Neither of you are getting shotgun,” your brother laughed from behind Seonghwa, San and Wooyoung giggling like the goofs they are next to him. You still didn't move, even as Joong approached and unbuckled your seatbelt for you. “Y/N, please help me out here.”

You debated on throwing a fit, but knowing that it would just cause more problems, you sighed and pushed yourself out of the front seat. Now standing on the curb of the sidewalk right in front of Seonghwa, you tilted your head up to look him in the eyes. His gaze was intense—it made you envision what it would be like in bed, looking down at him from above, and how his eyebrows would knit together in pleasure. God, you needed to get laid this vacation, or you were going to be suffering from delusions.

Without warning, Mingi pushed through both of you, interrupting your staring contest.

“We better go, I don't want to listen to their bickering any longer,” the tall boy huffed as he plopped himself in the front seat, a proud smile resting on his lips. 

San sat in the backseat on the right, Wooyoung next to him in the middle. That left either you or seonghwa to fight to the death for that last seat, but you knew how this was going to end.

And it wasn't going to end well.

—

“You comfortable, y/n?” your brother called from the driver’s seat, looking back at you through the rearview mirror.

You frowned so deeply you could've sworn your face was permanently stuck like that.

There you were, in the back of the car, in the most uncomfortable seat ever. Seonghwa groaned underneath you, his bony body not offering you any wiggle room. You didn't answer your brother, you were certain your expression was enough of a response.

You adjusted yourself on Seonghwa’s lap, looking out the window for any distraction. As you moved, you felt him move his hips, and you had to shut away your filthy thoughts about him as soon as they came. Between his movements and his groans, your stomach was knotting in something more than butterflies.

The car was filled with conversation, however, you and Seonghwa remained quiet and in your own little worlds. As the others bantered, you pushed yourself up further on his lap, grimacing as you heard him let out a grunt in your ear. 

And then when his hands gripped onto your bare thighs, you were the one to gasp.

“Stop moving,” he whispered in your ear with haste, almost like a sneer. You kept your vision forward as his breath danced in your ear. “It hurts.”

You swallowed hard. “Oh? Is your little dick that sensitive?” you whispered back, smirking. You moved again, this time on purpose, feeling his bulge through his pants. You kept your cool, ignoring his shaky breaths from behind you. “Are you that happy to see me, Hwa?”

“Shut your mouth or you won’t see the sunrise,” he hissed, but his voice was weak. 

The ten-minute ride felt like an eternity as he breathed underneath you, your mind constantly thinking about how hard he was getting underneath you and how sweet it would be to turn around and face him to see his reaction to you.

You looked to your right, seeing Wooyoung with a knowing smile on his face. “What?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, grinning. “Nothing, nothing,” he said, letting out a giggle. “Just that you both seem…cozy.” 

You slapped him on the shoulder, your movements causing Seonghwa to wiggle underneath you.

“Dammit, Y/N I told you to stop moving,” he seethed, his grip on your thigh tightening. Hongjoong looked back through the mirror, worry in his expression.

“Everything okay?” he asked, meeting your eyes before focusing on the road once again. “We’re almost there, only about a minute or two.”

“Ten-minute ride my ass,” you mumbled, and as you entered the Airport, you should've known that there were going to be speed bumps on the way in….

The shitty old car hopped over the bump, feeling like it hit a huge boulder. You bounced up, not held by any seatbelt, landing hard, right on Seonghwa’s family jewels.

“Fuck,” he cried, tossing his head back against the headrest. Your hands were now holding onto his legs for dear life.

“Joong, will you slow down for those things? Some of us are suffering back here,” you said, to which seonghwa started laughing.

“You're telling me.” he scoffed.

“Okay okay, I just have to park. I have no idea how this works….where the hell is the long-term parking—”

“Probably over there,” Mingi pointed in the opposite direction.

“No, no, I think it’s—”

“I can't take this anymore!” you cried out, leaning forward to assist Hongjoong since Mingi isn't helping. “There's a huge sign in front of us. How can you miss that? It spells it out, dammit.” you huffed, throwing yourself back into your “seat.” This time, he didn't let out a single groan, probably just as fed up with you as you were with him.

Finally, Hongjoong found the lot and parked the car, and as soon as it was stationary, you tossed yourself out of the vehicle like there was no tomorrow. You knew that you couldn't last a minute more on his lap, because if you did, you would be so tempted to turn around and make out with those painfully pretty lips of his. God, he made you so mad. Ever since you met him, there were only the same thoughts circulating round and round. 

Dirty thoughts.

Seonghwa crawled out of the car like a decrepit old spider, his long legs holding up his body with grace. You bit your lip, looking down at where you were sitting on him. Quickly, you looked away as he noticed your gaze, and ran away to go help the others with the luggage.

You weren't quick enough to miss the achingly attractive smirk on Seonghwa’s face.

Why did he have to be so….. libidinous? He was like a wild animal, able to take the lives away of his prey with just an expression.

No more seonghwa on the brain—it was beach time. You were certain you could find someone at a bar to sleep with later, and it wouldn't be Hwa.

Not now, not ever.

—

You got lucky with the plane ride.

Your seat buddy was Mingi, and Hongjoong knew how much you like your window seats.

Mingi nearly slept the whole flight, his head rested against your shoulder. He snored a little, but it didn't matter. The gentle giant had a place in your heart, so he could do no wrong. 

You often stole glances at Seonghwa across the aisle, his head bobbing up and down as he fought his tiredness. He was so much more likable when he was sleeping, but that was definitely due to the fact that he couldn't stare at you with those entrancing eyes or run that mouth of his.

You were the only one awake by the end of the flight. It was difficult for you to sleep in public places. It didn't feel right. So you would fight off sleep as hard as you could and distract yourself with anything around you.

After the fiasco of leaving the plane, you anxiously trailed behind Hongjoong through the busy airport, pushing past loads of people who had places to be. Thank goodness you were able to leave the airport without a fuss, even if seonghwa was nearly breathing down your neck as you exited.

Luckily, the ride to the hotel wasn't far—and there were more than enough seats for all of you. You distanced yourself from Seonghwa, ignoring his hellish gaze.

The hotel you were staying at stood tall, facing the gorgeous blue ocean for a perfect view. You shut your eyes as you took everything in, smelling the saltiness and the warmth of the air. You smiled to yourself, but your delightful moment didn't last long.

Seonghwa bumped into you purposely, digging his shoulder into yours before walking past you toward the hotel entrance. “Hey, what was that for?” you growled, a scowl on your face.

“You were in the way,” is all he said, not even bothering to turn to face you as he spoke. He continued walking, his beautiful silhouette showing through his sheer shirt. Oh, you wanted to tear it off of him so badly.

You let out a huff of air, but then followed your friends into the building, knowing the end was near if you had to share the room with your snack of choice.

Hongjoong went up to the front desk as you and the boys stood near the doorway, waiting for him to check us in. It didn't take him long, and soon enough, he was walking back over, key cards in his hand, and a bright smile on his face. “All checked in! This’ll be our home for the next week.”

San grabbed his key card first. “Are we all on the same floor? Like in a row? It would be no fun if I had to actually put on clothes to go on the elevator.”

“Yes, San, we’re all on the same floor.” Hongjoong held in his laugh, already clearly enjoying his time away from reality. You stood angrily with your arms across your chest next to seonghwa, who didn't look any happier than you. “And will you two brighten up? You’re killing the vibe.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing up at the boy next to you. His dark hair was slightly frizzy from the humidity, sticking to his forehead like it would if he were sweating. You gulped, thinking dirty thoughts once more before regaining your peace of mind. “I’m not doing anything. It’s all him.”

“No, it’s all you, not me.” he retaliated.

“You’re the one that got a hard-on from me just innocently sitting on your lap.”

“You were purposely shoving your ass on me like a freak—”

“You are ruining the vacation already—”

“Annnd we’re not doing this again,” Mingi sighed and then gripped onto your arm to pull you towards the elevator. 

“Let’s go, we got bars to get wrecked at.”

—

“Oh, hell no.”

You dropped your luggage as you entered your room for the week, staring at what was in it.

Or lack thereof.

One bed—a queen, maybe, sat in the middle of the room. A chair was tilted by the sliding glass doors that opened to the balcony, and a lamp stood in the corner. It was cute, of course, but you thought this couldn't get any worse.

Seonghwa walked past you into the room, setting his suitcase on the floor by the chair. “Don't worry,” he hummed, his voice low. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“I–” you paused, taking in a breath before continuing. “You can sleep on the bed, I ain't that mean.”

“So you think I’m going to let my best friend’s sister sleep on the floor?” he laughed, but it wasn't out of humor. “That’s funny. I’d get my ass beat.” He sat down on the floor, stretching out his long legs before opening his suitcase. “Just forget about me like you usually do and take the bed.”

You had no snarky remarks to throw at him this time, your eyelids feeling heavier than ever. You sighed, sitting down on the bed with a thud. “Okay, fine. Wake me up when we are going to leave.”

“Yeah yeah,” he snarkily replied, too focused on his luggage in front of him. You shut your eyes slowly, holding on to your consciousness a little longer, before drifting off into a sleep that would cause an unexpected uproar a few hours later.

—

After your amazing nap, you and the boys found your way to a beach bar, sand filling the floor and loud music playing in the background. You took your rightful spot at the bar, sitting right next to Wooyoung, who was already chugging a fruity margarita. 

“You should try this, Y/N,” he let out a satisfied sigh after he finished his gulp. “Tastes like fucking unicorns and rainbows.”

You laughed. “Sounds divine, but I’ll pass and get my whiskey sour.”

He grimaced. “Ew, you should spruce it up a little bit sometimes.”

San sat down on the other side of him, a fancy glass in his hands as well. “Yeah, you’re kind of a bore.”

“San what the—”

“She is, isn't she?” Seonghwa hummed from behind you, and of course, sat his ass in the chair right next to you. You groaned, ignoring him once again, although it was quite hard to not drool as he gulped his beer, his throat bobbing as he drank it.

Fucking hell.

You looked around for any sign of your brother to save you, and once you saw him, you cringed, turning right back around to face the bar. “Dear god, can't he keep his dick in his pants for five minutes?” you shivered, trying to think of anything else other than your brother making out with a random person. 

Seonghwa looked back, a smirk on his face as you ordered your drink. “Hypocrite. Just last week I walked in on you with Mingi in the chem lab,” he snickered, his midnight eyes catching the neon lights behind the bar. “Your tongue was so far down his throat I swear I—”

“Says the guy who I caught watching porn freshman year in the computer lab—”

“Here’s your Whiskey sour,” the bartender awkwardly interrupted, but thank god he did. You quickly chugged it, finishing it within a minute of getting it. He gave you another right away, and you downed that one as quickly as it came. He was cute, a little on the scruffy side, but definitely a good one-night. You gave him a look, feeling accomplished as he smirked a little before serving someone else.

“Maybe you shouldn't drink so fast, y/n,” San murmured from Wooyoung’s side, his strong arms holding his weight against the table. “You get drunk really quick on an empty stomach. Remember what happened last time? You have a bad habit of trying to kiss everything you see.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, setting the empty glass down on the bar. As you did that, you felt the warmth of the alcohol fill your body. “What? Who did I kiss?”

Seonghwa laughed from the other side of you while you focused on San.

“Me.” San blinked. “Tongue and all. But not just me, you kissed the statue outside our campus. You know, that really rusty one?”

You gagged. “Ew, no. stop. No, I didn't.”

“Oh, yes you did,” Seongwha piped in, sipping on his third or fourth beer. “And then you threw up on my shoes when I brought you home.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, taking his beer right out of his hands. “Phew, thank god I didn't kiss you,” you shivered, bringing the bottle up to your lips. After you started chugging it a little bit, Hwa ripped the bottle away from you.

You felt your vision start to sway from the alcohol. You loved the feeling of being drunk—just hated the hangovers. Right now though, you wanted to get wasted and go home with a stranger. The hangover will be tomorrow’s problem.

But seonghwa had to just run his mouth once again.

“You know you talk in your sleep, right?” He laughed, a full, humorous laugh. He tossed the bottle to the back of his throat and then continued to laugh at you. “Something about how awful the airplane food was and how drinking milk reminds you of cum.” he grimaced at the last part, but a playful smile still rested on his face. “God you are explicit.”

Your cheeks flushed, looking anywhere but his direction. “I do not sleeptalk.”

You looked to Wooyoung and San for help, but they looked dumbfounded. “I wouldn't know, y/n, I never slept with you,” San smirked, smiling deviously at you. “Unless you’re down with that, I’m all for hearing you sleeptalk in my ear all night.”

“Yeah, me too,” Woo played along, knowing he was just doing it to tease you. Seonghwa, on the other hand, was trying desperately to embarrass you in front of the hot bartender.

“God, it’s so annoying, I wanted to rip my hair out earlier,” he smiled devilishly, his teeth even brighter than normal under all the neon lights. “I thought I couldn't hate you more, but you proved me wrong.”

You looked straight ahead, ignoring Seonghwa’s goofy smile. “Whatever,” you huffed, resting your face on your hand, your elbow holding up the weight. You watched the sexy bartender notice your stare. He smiled and walked over to you.

“Need another sour?” he asked, his cheeks pinched with dimples. You had your eyes set on going home with him, and you were going to follow through with it. Seonghwa can stay outside for the night—or watch, it didn't matter to you. 

“Actually,” you pondered, blinking slowly as the alcohol hit your system even harder. “I’ll take a vodka and Sprite. Grey Goose.” you hummed, watching him nod with a smirk on his face.

Seonghwa chuckled, but you were too focused on your mission to hear him blab about how much he hated you over and over again. Soon enough, that damn grey goose hit you harder than anything. Your eyes fluttered after your second glass, your vision fuzzy, and your heartbeat racing. 

You let out a heavy sigh, unable to remember your original mission.

“Hey,” you coughed, your cheeks burning up from the toxin. You looked around the bar, only meeting Seonghwa’s eyes…..oh…they’re so pretty. “Where did everyone else go?”

He was facing you, looking at you through those sparkling irises of his. He took in a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, your brother left with that girl he was making out with earlier….San and Woo left not too long ago to go to another bar, and Mingi….” he paused, watching your expression change when mingi was mentioned. “Mingi went with them.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “Why’d you stop at mingi like that?”

He furrowed his brows. “Why’d you look like that when I mentioned him?”

You sniffled, feeling a burning sensation in your throat from all the vodka. “What do you mean?” you were too messed up to defend yourself. You didn't even know your expression changed.

“You looked…different when I said his name.”

You couldn't help but laugh at his dreary tone. “Pfft. Hwa, do you think that just because I slept with him once that I have feelings for him?”

He frowned, his eyebrows knit with confusion. “You slept with him? Mingi?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. Just once, though.” Oh god, you officially couldn't think straight. Why were you even telling him this? “But that was it.”

He looked at you with an unknown expression, flattening his lips. “So you just sleep with anyone, huh?”

You scoffed. “Well, no, not usually.” you bit your lip, looking at him without knowing how you were looking at him. “I kind of always wanted you, but I didn’t understand why, so I ignore the feeling by sleeping with other guys.”

“That makes no sense, y/n,” he spat. “What are you saying?”

You rolled your eyes, drunkenly gripping his broad shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Awh, shut it, Hwa. Haven't you ever felt that before?” you paused, not realizing how close you were. His eyes were sharp, and his lips parted. “Wanting someone you can't have? Knowing that they wouldn't want anything to do with you?”

He swallowed hard, his gaze piercing into you sharply. “You’re drunk, y/n,” he paused, looking at you intently before shaking your hands away. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“Oooh, don't tempt me, baby,” you poked his chest, giggling as he stood up off the barstool. You were completely oblivious to the fact that you just admitted to wanting him, but it didn't seem like he took it seriously. 

“Get up,” he huffed, gripping under your arms and lifting you off your chair. You groaned, wrapping your arms around his waist. You held onto him tightly as he reached into his back pocket to grab money, tossing it onto the counter with a glare at the bartender. 

“Enjoy your night,” Seonghwa growled, holding onto you, and made his way towards the hotel with you clung to him.

“Seonghwa,” you whispered, a giggle under your breath.

He grunted, pulling you along with him. “What?”

You sniffed. “Can I kiss you?”

He sighed. “No.”

“Why?” you mumbled, shoving your face into his chest.

“Because it’s your drunk habit.”

“So would you kiss me if it wasn't?” you asked, completely obliterated. There was no way you were going to remember this in the morning. 

He didn't answer you.

“Come on, Hwa,” you moaned, stopping and gripping onto his collar in front of the hotel. You looked up into his eyes, feeling his intense gaze cut right through your intoxication. You needed him. Needed him bad. “Just once. God, just once.”

“I…” he swallowed, his hands twitching at his sides, crying out to touch you. He kept them away, even if he didn't want to. “Not now. Not while you’re drunk.”

You blinked slowly, watching his lips flatten into a frown. “Does that mean you want to?”

He sighed, running his hands through his hair aggressively. “Please just….let’s get back to the room and get you to bed.”

You groaned, but complied, following him into the hotel and into the elevator. The ride was silent, Seonghwa standing in the corner, farthest away from you, his breathing slowed. You stared at him, leaning up against the wall.

“I really hate you,” you mumbled, glaring at him. He was too sexy, his hair messy, his eyes dark, his long legs taller than a skyscraper. You only admitted your attraction to him when you were drunk, but you couldn't deny the pull you had to him.

He looked up at you, his starry eyes looking from your legs, up to your hips, over your breasts, and finally to your eyes. He took in a sharp breath, biting the corner of his lip.

“I hate you too,” he whispered, his vision low.

And in what world would the words I hate you cause someone’s heart to flutter?

The elevator dinged at your floor, and after a moment of longing stares, Seonghwa gripped your arm and dragged you out. He held onto your drunken body as he searched for his keycard, and once he found it, you tumbled into the room together. 

Your back was pressed against the wall, his arms caging you in on both sides. His forehead was on yours, and you were able to feel his hot breath against your lips.

“Oh,” you hummed, your hands subconsciously dancing at the hem of his t-shirt. You watched his throat bob anxiously as you looked into his eyes.

It took everything in him to move away. He coughed awkwardly and then nodded toward the bed. “Come on, you need to rest.”

“Mhm,” you murmured, unable to move in a straight line. You kicked off your sandals, and pulled off your shirt with ease, leaving you only in your bra and that skimpy skirt seonghwa was looking at all night.

He watched as you walked, holding his breath without meaning to. 

As you neared the bed, you reached back to unclip your bra, but you couldn't reach it. “Hwa?”

He was looking at the floor. “Hm?” 

“Can you…” you paused, giving up on trying to get it off. “Take this off of me? It’s really uncomfortable.”

He blinked, his eyes wide. You couldn't see the confusion in his expression, but you heard the shakiness of his tone. “W-what? Your….bra?”

“Yeah.”

He didn't say anything else. He slowly walked over to where you were, and as his fingertips traced the middle of your back, you shivered under his touch.

He unclasped the hook, but held on to both ends of the bra, afraid to let it drop. “It’s done,” he whispered, backing up slightly.

You dropped the bra onto the floor and then reached to take off your skirt. As you slid it down your hips, you heard seonghwa nearly trip over his feet trying to turn away.

“Do you…always sleep naked?” he asked you, looking anywhere but where you were. You were way too drunk to care about what he sees, but you were also too tired to try. You fell onto the bed, your arm covering your breasts and your underwear still on.

“Fuck, y/n,” Seonghwa huffed, finally looking over and doing everything to not look where he shouldn't. He gently reached for the blanket, tossing it over you in one swift motion.

You shut your eyes tight, feeling his presence loom over you. He brushed away the stray hairs on your face and made sure you were laying on your side. 

“.... I’m so screwed,” he muttered, giving you one last look before walking into the bathroom and turning on the cold water. 

A cold shower, especially knowing that there was a beautiful, nearly naked girl in the bed just outside the door. 

The cold water ran down his body, giving him a rush of pain. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, biting his lip as his attraction to you only worsened. 

—

After his attempt to cleanse his messy thoughts, Seonghwa stepped out of the bathroom, towel hanging low on his hips. He hesitated before looking over at you, and after he got a good look at your pretty face, he made his way to his luggage, rooting in there for a t-shirt to toss on.

“...seong…hwa,” you moaned. 

Moaned. 

“....y/n?” he whispered, maybe thinking you were awake and needed something. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but that sounded too….sensual than just a normal tone.

“I…ugh,” you groaned, “don't stop, please. H…Hwa.”

Seonghwa raised his eyebrows, dropping the clothes he had in his hands, eyes wide.

“Seonghwa….”

Okay, that was the third time. You were most definitely dreaming about him….

“Oh…my…god.” Hwa gulped, cautiously standing up and backing away as far as he could from you.

Little did he know how detailed your dream was.

—

His hands snaked up your bare hips, your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips were on your ear, biting, teeth clashing against your skin. 

He thrusted into you, hard, his hips buckling as he moaned. You cried out his name, back arching, nails scratching. He fucked you hard, his forehead against yours, and his eyes rolled back into his head. 

“You like that?” he whispered, his tongue sliding into your mouth before you could answer. His sweat fell on your cheek, and you moaned out his name once more. You weren't sure how you got here, how this came about, or anything. All that mattered was that you were finally with him, the man you always thought you hated.

“…hwa,” you moaned, “fuck me harder.”

And as he slammed into you with even more force than before, his lips crashed onto yours, his black hair blocking your vision. You wanted more, and more and more—

“Y/n,” 

“Just shut up and keep going,” you cried out.

“Y/N!”

You shot awake, gasping for air as your back hit the headboard. You breathed heavily, realizing that you were dreaming about all of that and that the real seonghwa was standing in front of you, shirtless, with an expression you weren't quite sure you’d ever seen before.

“Seonghwa, what—”

“S..stop it. Don't say my name,” he stuttered, looking anywhere but your body. He quickly tossed a t-shirt at you—his t-shirt. “Just put this on. The guys are down getting breakfast, so we gotta go.”

He quickly walked to his own luggage and grabbed a shirt for himself. You watched him as he tossed it on and slid on his shoes, and with one last awkward glance at you, he left the room in haste.

You were too scared to look down, hoping that you still had underwear on. You weren't too sure if that was a dream or not, but given the way he acted, it made you even more confused.

You felt the wetness between your thighs, clenching them with a sigh. You stood up, tossing on the bra that was laying on the floor as if it was thrown off of you.

After cleaning yourself up a bit, you made your way to the breakfast area on the first floor, immediately noticed by Hongjoong. “There you are! I was worried you weren't going to—” he stopped, noticing the shirt that was way too big on you. “That’s the shirt I got Hwa….”

Seonghwa cleared his throat, shoving a bagel into his mouth to distract himself.

You ignored him and sat down across from him and next to Mingi. You looked up, meeting eyes with the man you thought so filthily about, seeing a swipe of cream cheese on the bottom of his lip. You held back, knowing that it’ll just send you into another spiral if you pointed it out.

But when he stuck his tongue out to lick it off, you felt the tingle in your stomach once more, thinking back at the dream you had, and how his tongue caressed you in more ways than one.

He met eyes with you, his lips parting slightly. His gaze was much different than it ever has been. You've never seen him so….lost. His expression was conflicted, his eyes not leaving your lips.

Wooyoung smirked. “Did you guys fuck or something? What’s with the mood?”

“Wooyoung!” Hongjoong yelled.

“What? I’m just pointing out the obvious,” he shrugged.

“We didn't. Keep dreaming,” Seonghwa muttered lowly, taking another bite of his bagel.

Hongjoong huffed. “I don't want to imagine my sister and seonghwa in that way…that’s super weird.”

“Why?” seonghwa questioned, his tone serious. You looked at him, confused as to why he cared. It seemed like everyone else was just as confused as you. “Ahem, I mean…uh, is it that hard to imagine?” Seonghwa’s voice was shaky, his gaze hopping from Hongjoong to you.

It made your brother laugh. “Well, yeah. You guys hate each other, right?” he took a sip of his coffee before continuing. “It makes no sense for you to even see eye to eye, I couldn't imagine you two in any type of relationship. Maybe her and Mingi, out of everyone.”

Seonghwa dropped his bagel face down onto his plate. “Why Mingi? What’s so special about—”

“I’m right here guys….” Mingi tried to interrupt, but Seonghwa shot him a dangerous glare, causing the gentle giant to hold his tongue.

Hongjoong looked around at the boys awkwardly and picked up his fork to continue eating his eggs. “I’m just saying.”

This was too awkward. You kept stealing glances at Hwa as if he were a magnet. You assumed he felt similarly, because every time you looked, your eyes would meet, and then you would awkwardly stare for a moment too long before looking away.

And when he got up to get more food, you got up, too.

“We need to talk,” you whispered, coming right up next to him as he put a muffin on his plate. “Why are you acting weird?”

He sighed and continued to add food to his plate. “I’m not acting weird.”

As he moved to get a drink from the drink machine, you continued to follow him. “Did I do something wrong yesterday?” you gasped, holding a hand over your mouth as he still ignored you. “Did I kiss you? Dear god, I hope not—”

“No, you didn't,” he said quietly, walking back over to the table.

“Something must have happened, seonghwa—”

He stopped, nearly causing you to bump into his back. “Don't.” he paused, taking in a sharp breath, looking over his shoulder at you. “Don't say my name.”

You frowned in confusion, watching the muscles in his back move as he walked away. You couldn't remember your antics yesterday, but maybe you made him uncomfortable by sleeping nearly naked—he hated you, so you could only imagine how irritated he was.

“Listen, if it was because I was naked, I'm sorry—” 

Everyone at the table looked up as you spoke, including seonghwa. He looked shy, a blush on his cheeks, and he sat down quickly and stuffed the muffin in his mouth.

“Naked?” Mingi laughed, looking from you to seonghwa suggestively. “Sounds awfully smutty, Seonghwa.”

“We didn't—” he groaned, running a hand down his face. “Nothing happened with us.”

“Mhm, okay,” San smirked. “Whatever you say. Anyway, we have a whole day out planned, so you two better get back to your normal selves or we won't have any fun.”

You really needed to talk to seonghwa, but it seemed like you'll be busy the whole day with the boys—and he didn't seem to be very interested in talking to you, anyway.

You tilted your head in curiosity. 

“What are we doing?”

—

The day was eventful.

First, you went to the beach. Seemed innocent, until Seonghwa took off his shirt and got all soaking wet, sending you in a mess of thoughts and a mess below. He would look over at you, and wouldn't look away, paying intense attention to your body in a skimpy little bikini. 

When you went to talk to him, he body-slammed you into the ocean, and normally you would've fumed, but this time, you enjoyed his hands on your bare skin. 

After the beach, you walked along the boardwalk of shops and lots of food. You grabbed a popsicle, licking it without a thought, but when you felt an intense pressure on you, you looked over to see seonghwa looking at you with an expression you've never seen on him. His eyes were focused on your lips, his own lips curled up as he bit them. You continued to eat your popsicle, but couldn't stop looking at him.

When you tried to bring up last night, Hongjoong came over and took the rest of your pop, running away from you like a child.

At dinner, you sat at the far end of the table, as far away as possible from Seonghwa. It wasn't intended, but now there was no way you could talk, as everyone would hear your conversation.

You ate, feeling defeated. Maybe you should just forget about it.

It was still daylight after dinner. As the guys conversed about what to do next, San and Wooyoung decided to go their own way and walk the beach, which was just their code word for “shopping” for girls. Hongjoong agreed with them, shocking you since he was always hell-bent on not going off a schedule. You assumed he was just going to meet that girl he was with yesterday, but whatever, it just meant that you could be left alone with Seonghwa.

After those three left, it was only you, Seonghwa, and Mingi. Hwa stood with his hands in his pockets, awkwardly looking around as you stood outside the restaurant. Mingi was even more awkward, looking at you before speaking.

“Um, I’m just gonna go with Woo and San, so,” he breathed, looking to seonghwa now. “I’ll see you guys back at the hotel tonight.”

“Okay, Mingi,” you smiled. “See you later.”

You watched him leave and then looked at the boy standing next to you.

“So,” you tried to initiate conversation, but seonghwa started walking in the opposite direction from where everyone else went. You followed. “What should we do?”

“I’m going surfing,” he said blandly. “I don't know about you, though.”

“I’ll come with you,” you smiled, finally catching up to him. He let out an aggravated groan as you walked close to him. “Do you even know how to surf?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, of course, I do.” 

“I’m just saying,” you noted, shrugging as you followed him. “You’re too….dainty. I feel like if you fell off you’d break every bone in your body.”

Seonghwa didn't react in any way you were hoping he would. Instead, he kept walking silently, until you reached the part of the beach where the surf shack was. Wetsuits were laid out, ready to be picked up, and surfboards stood tall through the sand and against the building. You stared in awe as you approached, seeing that there was no one else here but you two.

Finally, alone at last. 

“Grab a suit if you’re gonna do this,” he pointed to them, raising an eyebrow when you stood there anxiously. “What? Don't you know how to surf?” he mocked.

You kicked at the sand, your hands behind your back. “Pff. yeah, of course, I….no. I don't.” you pleaded with your eyes sweetly, despite all of the dirty things you wanted to do to him. “Could you please teach me? Pretty please?”

He held his own suit close to his chest as he looked down at you. “Why should I?”

You stepped closer to him, causing him to step back cautiously. “Because I’m pretty?”

“Oh honey, who lied to you?” he joked.

“Please, Seonghwa?” you stressed his name, hoping to break him. You watched his eye twitch as you said it, reminding you of earlier when he told you not to say his name.

“Seonghwa seonghwa seonghwa seong—”

“Okay, fine! Jeez,” he huffed, tossing you a suit, only for it to hit you in the face. “Get dressed.”

You walked into the shack with him, going your separate ways at the locker rooms. Everything went smoothly until you tried to zipper the suit up, only being able to get it halfway. You pondered on asking seonghwa for help or completely turning into a contortionist, but after failing to do it yourself, you gave up and left the room to ask him.

Seonghwa stood amongst the surfboards, his lean body looking delicious in that surf suit. You nearly drooled looking at him.

“Hey,” you started, slowly approaching him as he picked out a board. “Can you help me zipper this?”

He turned to you, his expression conflicted as he saw you. You turned around, showing your exposed back, causing him to clear his throat. “O..okay.”

His delicate fingers brushed against the skin of your back, nearly causing you to shiver. You felt his breath hit the back of your neck as the zipper moved up and up until he zipped it completely.

“....There,” he said, swallowing. “You’re all good.”

He didn't move his hands until you pulled away from him, turning back around to face him. The silence was deafening, so you decided to break it.

“Seonghwa, about last night, what exactly happened—”

“Let’s just get started before the sun goes down,” he interrupted, looking anywhere but your eyes. “We’ll talk later.”

That was good enough for now. You watched him try to pick out a board, but he seemed extremely nervous. After a good bit of time, he grabbed a pink one, causing you to smile. Pink suited him so much, more than he’d probably like to admit.

“Let’s start with some basics,” he spoke smoothly, tossing the board down onto the sand. “Get on it. On your stomach.”

You lay down on the board, looking up at him for more directions. He taught you how to paddle with your arms, explaining that you'll have to dive under the waves sometimes if you were okay with doing that. You couldn't look weak now, especially not to him. So after the little training lesson, you were finally in the shallow water, sand already in every nook and cranny of you.

“Try to keep balance,” he said, his voice raspy. It wasn't the time to turn you on, but of course, he could do it just by his voice. “Keep your chest up.” his hand caressed your back, down your spine.

You looked up at him, his wet hair dripping down his face. You held back, as much as you could, from pouncing on him.

But when you fell off the board and got stuck underwater, you’ve never seen him so concerned before.

He grabbed you under your arms, pulling you back up and holding him to you while you coughed. You were perfectly fine—maybe a little too much water in the ears, but it was the least of your worries. What you cared about was the look on his face and the way he caged you to his body.

“y/n?” he rushed his hand over your face, pushing away your drenched hair so he could see you. “Are you okay?”

You coughed, blinking away the salt that infiltrated your eyes. Seonghwa noticed your distress and gently rubbed your face with the pad of his thumb. 

“Don't rub your eyes,” he pushed your hand away, still not letting you go from his embrace. “You'll make it worse.”

“It hurts,” you mumbled, causing his look of worry to worsen. True, the salt started burning your eyes, but you couldn't get enough of his caring touch—maybe because he’s never shown this side of himself to you.

He took in an anxious breath as he looked around. “Maybe we should get back to the hotel,” he spoke softly, the sound of water filling your senses as you looked at him. 

Everything about his appearance aggravated you—from the way his midnight hair draped his face, dripping with water down his cheeks, to the way his normally judgemental eyes seemed gentle and sweet. He looked kind, the type of man who would worship his lover like a queen, and all the time knowing him, you tried your hardest to only see him in a negative light.

Now, as he held you in the cold, sparkling ocean as the sun was setting, all you saw was your reflection in his eyes and all you felt was the undeniable pull to be with him. To touch him. To kiss him. To tell him that maybe, just maybe, you’ve always had a piece of him in your heart.

“Seonghwa, I…” you paused, ignoring the burn from the salt water. You watched his lips as they slowly parted, his eyes wide as he picked you apart. They looked at you differently, like they never looked at you before, and you wanted him to never stop looking at you. 

The distance between the two of you was nonexistent—you saw every drop of water on his skin, and you were certain he was able to gather the meaning behind your gaze. If he did, he didn't say anything—he only looked back at you with those entrancing irises of his, a look you’ve never seen from him. He waited patiently for you to finish your sentence, but you had nothing else to say.

As your lips neared his, you heard his breath get caught in his throat, and you felt his embrace tighten around you. You closed your eyes, taking in the feeling, hoping that he would be the one to lean in and meet your lips.

He didn't. 

Instead, his hands trailed down your back, the pink surfboard still floating next to you despite being forgotten. His breath was shaky as he touched you, but the moment ended too quickly as he shook himself out of his trance.

“I um, we should, you know,” he nodded towards the beach, even though you weren't too far out. “We should get back to the room.”

You slowly blinked at him, watching his expression stay the same despite the change of mind. He coughed, letting go of you, but then he grabbed your hand and the board before pulling you to shore.

The walk back was quiet. He didn't let go of your hand until you got back to the surf shack, and he reluctantly let go knowing you had to change.

You both were silent as you looked at each other, but the ache in your chest convinced you to break this tension.

Before you entered the changing room, you quickly turned back around to face seonghwa, who still stood with that….sex-charged expression on his face.

“….Stop looking at me like that,” you hummed, your chest heavy as he breathed in deeply. He looked at you with those bedroom eyes of his, half of his wetsuit already off. He looked deadly, which didn't help your desire.

He swallowed hard but tried his best to remain calm. “Like what?”

You took a step closer, reaching back to your zipper to pull it down just a little. You shrugged it down your bare shoulders, making sure he got to know that there was nothing else but you under that wetsuit once again.

And when you got as close as you could, you said the words you knew would be life or death for him. 

“Like you want to fuck me,” you shrugged, acting all cool even though you were falling apart by the second. You were lucky you were at the surf shack at such a late time of day, and that no one else was here except you. 

He choked on air, stepping away from you until his back hit the wall. You noticed how his chest rose and fell as he breathed in, and how delicious it would be to just lick him all over….

“I…” he gulped, but his eyes lingered on your shoulders and the curve of your breasts. “I don't know what you mean?”

You smiled through your haze, mind focused on getting to the bottom of his sudden change of attitude towards you. You reached out, gently guiding your hand down the plain of his chest, down his slim, but muscular waist. Oh, you couldn't get enough of him already.

You smirked. “Then tell me why you’ve been eye fucking me all day, or at least what happened last night, so I can understand.”

He blinked fast, looking from your lips, down your neck, to your bare shoulders. 

“You…” he took in a sharp breath as your hands trailed down his body. “You sleeptalk.”

“I know that already,” you whispered, looking into his captivating gaze. 

He leaned forward slightly, veins popping in his neck as he strained against his judgment. “I mean, you…kept moaning my name. I…I couldn't take it anymore….I can't take it anymore. Every time you speak I just want to fucking shut you up with my mouth for fucks sake.” he huffed, subconsciously gripping your hips as he grits his teeth. “You so annoying, so damn annoying, I can't—”

“Then take me,” you spoke against his lips. “Fuck me. Just like you did in my dreams.”

His forehead pressed against yours as you pushed him further against the wall.

“And how did I do that?” he growled, his fingertips tugging at your wetsuit. “Was I rough? Gentle?” he paused, lips pressed to your neck. “Did I make you say my name, or was that all you with that filthy little mouth of yours?”

You couldn't speak as his lips glided down your neck to your collarbone. He sucked on the skin there, roughly, causing you to suck in a sharp breath and run your hands through his dripping-wet hair.

You moaned, biting his earlobe. “I want you to tear me apart.”

He smirked against your skin, his eyes finally meeting yours. 

“Rough it is, then.”

Without warning, he bit his lip hard as he pulled your wetsuit right down to your ankles, the water from his hair dripping onto your bare shoulders. He nearly growled as you stood in front of him, naked as ever, his gaze darkening before gripping the back of your neck to pull you to him.

As he sucked on your neck, you pulled down his suit with aggression, not quick enough for the hunger in both of your souls. His hot breath tickled your skin, his hands clawed at your hips, and his lips begged to kiss yours as you shoved him against the wall once again, skin on skin. He breathed heavily, his eyes dancing from your breasts to your waist, to your lips.

You gripped onto his hair, staring into his eyes for a moment before you locked your lips with his, tasting the saltiness of the ocean and the sweet warmth of his saliva. Your tongues fought for their lives, dancing as you deepened the kiss. Foreheads slamming, hands invading space. It was all over for your sanity the minute his long fingers glided against your core, his middle finger finding your clit and rubbing gently. His kisses were rough as his fingers delicately touched you, fueling the fire within you even more than it already was.

“Seonghwa,” you moaned against his ear, causing him to move his hand faster with a grunt. “Push them in me.”

He hissed, his eyes rolling back into his head as he pulled his hands away for a moment, only to suck his fingers in front of you before shoving them into you, curling them up inside you. You arched your back against him, crying out as his lips found yours once again.

He kissed you deeply as he made love to you with his hands, his fingers long enough to reach deep inside of you—but it wasn't enough. You bit his lip sharply as he fingered you, causing him to hiss in pleasure. “I need your cock in me. Now.” you licked his jawline, watching him squirm in your embrace. 

His cheeks were flushed red as he looked at you, his eyes looking as if he were intoxicated. “I…fuck,” he sucked in a breath, kissing you as his fingers moved faster and faster. “Okay.” 

As he pulled his fingers out of you, he licked them once more, his eyes on yours seductively. 

“You taste so good.” he moaned, his mouth parted. He then lifted you up, walking you over to the table of waxed surfboards in the middle of the room. Shoving everything off with one hand, he threw you onto the wood, causing you to let out a little grunt.

“You’re so sexy,” he leaned over you, slamming your hands above your head before silencing your moans with a rough kiss. “So fucking sexy, you have no idea how long I wanted to shove my dick inside you.” His words were like gasoline to your fire, causing you to cry out in a whimper for him to do exactly what he said he would do. You kept your mouth shut as he tugged you to the edge of the table, lining up his hard-on to enter you.

After a look of longing, he spit onto his fingers and rubbed them onto his cock and your heat, his chest falling and rising with his heavy breathing. He then buried himself inside you, deeply, causing your breath to hitch. He was even bigger than your dreams, tearing apart your expectations of his skills. You tried your best to free your arms from his hold, but as he moved in and out of you, you had lost the desire to escape it. You really liked the feeling of his fingernails tearing into your skin.

“Ah,” he whimpered, his hips rocking quickly, his eyes shut tight. His thrusts were deep, not slowing down for a second.

Your legs curled around his shoulders, his one arm holding your hands and his other piercing into your ankle. He grunted as he pumped into you, tearing at your insides, feeling him fill you up. “Hwa,” you groaned, back arching in pleasure. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

He grunted in response, speeding up faster as his hips slammed into yours. You felt him quiver inside you, precum dripping into you without a care. You loved the feeling, you didn't care about the risks in the moment. 

You climaxed without warning, your legs tightening around his head. He kept muttering your name over and over again against you, kissing the skin of your ankles as he continued to fuck the living shit out of you. You started to see stars as he nearly cracked your spine, and right before he nearly came, he flipped you over onto your stomach without ever leaving you.

Your face was shoved against the wood of the table, the sweet smell of sex enveloping your senses. You cried out his name as he gripped onto your hips, moving faster as his own orgasm came close. His lips met the small of your back, his fingers gripped your ass with haste. 

“I’m going to come,” he mumbled, his voice raspy. “Can I come in you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Come inside me.”

As if your words stirred something within him, he immediately moved in shorter movements, his grip on your ass tightening as his orgasm came. His breathing shallowed as he came into you, filling you up with his cum. You let out one last moan as you felt his warmth, and he kissed the back of your neck as he finished.

He pulled out of you slowly despite how rough he was—he could've been rougher, but you didn't want him to think of you as the insane slut everyone thought you were.

Even though you only ever slept with others because you couldn't have him.

And now…..what comes next?

He helped you sit back up to a normal position, and when he saw the dark, purple bruises on your neck and collarbone, he gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry,” his fingers gently brushed against your hot skin as if he didn't just totally destroy you. “I kind of….went crazy, didn't I?”

You smiled up at him in a daze, both your cheeks blushed in embarrassment and enjoyment. “I like crazy.”

He paused, standing proudly in front of you with that delicious body of his. You sighed in contentment, a lazy smile on your lips. “I dreamt of this. Literally.” you reached out to him, pulling his lips down to yours. He kissed them softly, opening his mouth wide as he made out with you. You didn't want to pull away, but as the thought of you both having sex in a public surf shack came to your mind, you pulled away quickly, startling him.

“Um, so,” you laughed awkwardly. “Should we head back now? We are kind of in a public place….”

Seonghwa looked around, smirking as he leaned forward on the table, kissing you once more. “It was kind of thrilling, not gonna lie.”

You leaned into his embrace, his hands caressing your back romantically. “So,” you whispered against his lips. “We should get back. And this time, you better sleep in the bed with me.”

“Oh, baby, I plan on doing more than just sleeping.”

—

After countless rounds of ‘sleeping’, you ended up waking up late in Seonghwa’s embrace, his lips pressed against the curve of your shoulder as he held you. He quite literally rocked you all night long, and you even discovered his love for reverse cowgirl—making him come within two minutes of the fifth round.

Now, as you lay in his arms while he slept, you finally felt content. He was all you ever wanted, even though your words said otherwise this whole time of knowing him.

“Hey,” you turned around in his embrace, pressing your lips against his forehead. “Seonghwa.”

“Hm?” he grumbled sleepily, his eyes blinking open to meet yours. 

You smiled, running a hand through his messy hair. “We should get up. The others are probably waiting for us in the lobby.”

“Ugh, why?” he groaned, holding onto you tighter. “ I don't want to leave this bed today. Or ever.”

You giggled, pecking his lips. “Come on, Hwa. I really would like to get a tan on the sand today.”

His eyes were wide open now, but he blinked slowly from his sleepiness. “We barely got any sleep,” he huffed, shoving his head into your shoulder. “And I can't kiss you in front of everyone, I can't wait the whole day to touch you.”

You grinned chaotically.

“Who says we have to hide it?”

—

“Dear lord,” Wooyoung huffed, sitting with his arms crossed at the beach. “Are they ever going to stop and come up for air?”

Your friends sat on towels on the sand, while you sat on Seonghwa’s lap as you made out with him. His hands gripped your face as he stuck his tongue in your mouth, both of you having no care for those around you. 

“I knew this was going to happen,” San mumbled with a smirk, elbowing Wooyoung playfully. “Just let them have their fun. It’s been a long time coming.”

“Pfft,” Woo scoffed, looking at how seonghwa touched you.

 “I always thought I would be the one tapping that.”

“Wooyoung shut the fuck up.”

[facefullofsadness]

psychopathic but it's okay

band!au (lsfm girlies but in a band and y/n is the 6th member)

guitarist!yunjin x bassist!y/n

prompt - you and yunjin are always arguing and after one argument, the latter has had it with you

content - smut (choking, degradation, overstimulation, slapping, handcuffs, cunnilingus, fingering, tribbing, multiple orgasms, jen kinda forces you into it), angst (harsh language, toxic, arguments, yelling), fluff if you squint hard

wc - 4405

author's note at the end :)

how many times just in this week have we argued already? I can't remember.

to say yunjin and I were toxic would be an understatement. it could be something wildly insignificant, but it wouldn't matter, we would be at each other's throats.

like last week when she told me to get the receipt for the takeout I ordered with kazuha and I forgot it. more like zuha did, but obviously, it was my fault because yunjin said it was.

and throughout this entire week we had been shouting at each other. any small inconvenience or misunderstanding, you name it, we argued about it. misplacing a hairbrush, accidentally eating someone's share, taking the wrong person's keys, showing up late to a meeting or practice. it was exhausting.

I can't even recall the last peaceful moment I had with this girl. it's been months of this dreadful and perpetual conflict that seemed to emerge out of nowhere, but it made me resent her in a way that I hated her guts.

I absolutely despise the way she thinks, her cocky attitude, her nonchalant responses, her dismissive demeanor, she drives me fucking insane.

which leads me to this moment, yelling at each other because she's playing ahead of the band.

"jen, play slower. you're fucking 2 seconds ahead of everyone else," I grumble, frustrated.

"oh whatever y/n, you try playing this shit. all you do is play the same bass line for 3 minutes straight," yunjin rolls her eyes back at me.

I close my eyes and bite my tongue, not wanting it to escalate, especially with the members around, "just play slower."

somehow, we moved on and all continued to practice. but this asshole never fixed her timing issue.

"yunjin, play slower!" I interrupt our practice again to yell at the girl.

she snaps her head at me, "fuck you y/n! I'm literally trying."

"but you're not though? because how are you still fucking off beat when we've been practicing this shit for weeks?!"

"oh my god, give me a break. you're so stuck up, sorry if I don't practice till the break of dawn everyday like you do. unlike you, I actually have a life, I don't have time to be a bratty perfectionist like you."

out of the corner of my eye, I see our youngest eunchae start to wanna speak up, but our leader chaewon stopping her from trying. with that, all the girls leave the room quietly as my blood boils at the words the raven-haired girl is throwing at me.

"I'm fucking stuck up? imagine having a career, THE dream job, and not even trying. you act like I don't have a goddamn life either jen, it's not my fault that I'm not lazy like you are."

the taller girl slings the guitar off her shoulder and aggressively puts it down before stomping up to me.

"I don't wanna hear your bossy mouth utter another word about my work ethic bitch. you're only so fussy about this because you don't have anything else in your life to look forward to."

"your sorry excuses are no use anymore yunjin. stop acting like you're the best when you're no better than an amateur, you're literally only here because there was no one else."

"did you want that to sting? sorry princess but that only works if it's the truth, we both know you all need me here. without me, you're nothing."

I clutch the strap of my bass and swing it off my body, immediately grabbing the collar of yunjin's shirt and pushing her back into the keyboard piano, making the stand shake.

"listen to me and listen fucking well. I can make you leave the band and you can act like it doesn't matter to you but I know you'll be devastated. I know you're just a scared little girl, too intimidated by the outside world to actually quit. you may not be scared of me which is why you don't try, but I'm exhausted of you trying to have power over me when you're just a weak sorry bitch who your parents are ashamed to care for anymore."

I struck it where it hurts because not only did I not care about if she would loathe me for my words, but I wanted it to.

suddenly, I'm being manhandled until my back falls against the couch in our practice room, yunjin's weight pressing me down. my hands struggle to push her off and break free, but her stronger grip grabs both of my wrists and pins them above my head against the arm rest of the sofa.

"fuck off of me jen!" I yell at her, body wriggling under her own.

her free hand suddenly takes hold of my neck and squeezes, forcing my throat to let out a struggled squeak and breath.

"shut the fuck up whore! I'm so tired of your yapping!" the girl above me growls and tightens her hold on both my wrists and neck.

I look up at her with fear growing in my eyes, and I can see the pure rage on her face. I'm incapable of moving my arms and hands free of her iron grip, and it steadily gets harder to breathe as I feel her nails, though short, dig into my skin.

"you're insufferable. you think I'm a weak sorry bitch with no power over you, huh? let me remind you otherwise since you're too braindead to remember how strong I am."

yunjin's gaze is wild. the fire in her eyes has no sign of calming and the clench in her jaw as she lowers her face towards mine doesn't release any tension. but as she nears herself and comes unfathomably close, there's no denying the lust that clouds her dilated pupils.

as my breathing becomes impossible and I get lightheaded, my senses increase and I can hear my own heart pounding in my ears. I can also hear her shaky breath and feel it reach my face. her knee in between my thighs presses against my core and I release a choked whimper.

"I'm gonna treat you like my own sex toy and you're gonna want me to fuck your brains out after I lay waste to your body. you are gonna be my fuck doll and you're gonna love every second of it, you hear me? dirty little slut."

I'm simultaneously terrified of the intensity and escalation of the situation, but I'm also unbelievably horny at this point. the ache in between my legs grows hot and I feel it start to throb with the way her knee digs deeper into my core.

"I can't..." I manage to choke out, pleading with the darting of my eyes focusing on her face and between her intense glare.

yunjin eventually releases tension on my throat, and I can breathe again, oxygen slowly enabling itself to run through my lungs again. the lustful stare never wavers, however, and both of our gazes are fixed on each other's eyes.

"I don't care if you can't take it, I'm gonna make you."

with that, she moves her hand, once choking my neck, and grasps around it, fingers clutching my nape, her head diving in to begin leaving sloppy kisses trailing my jaw downwards. the pressure on my airways is gone, but my breath still stops in my throat as her mouth kisses, sucks, and bites harshly at my neck.

"w-wait... don't do t-that..." I stutter, telling her to slow down or stop.

"shut the fuck up." she growls aggressively against my ear, "I'm gonna have you however I want."

there's no room for protest as I feel the hand on my neck trail down my collarbone and between my breasts, her finger circling around my right boob and going inwards, finally pinching the nipple at the middle.

"nghh.." the noise in my throat releases on its own.

"my little slut, so easy to use. why else wouldn't you wear a bra under such a mesh shirt? you wanted this so bad, didn't you?"

the treatment of my boobs and nipples harshens as she's suddenly slapping her hand against them, watching as they jiggle under my thin shirt. I yelp out in pain, still feeling my core rush with wetness.

"you're wearing too much," yunjin scoffs.

her hand pops open all the buttons of my shirt and fingers return to harassing my hard buds. my body struggles under her again as her tongue drags along my neck and across my collarbone, the sharp bites of her teeth occasionally making me tug at the harsh grip at my wrists again.

the noises of her mouth on my skin are so wet, I can even hear her heavy breathing and small moans escape, intensifying the pleasure building in my lower stomach. I can't help but release a deep groan at one of my abused nipples being enveloped by her needy mouth.

"f-fuck.. no, s-stop- ahhhh..." I try to get out.

my words are drowned out by the sounds of my whimpers growing louder and the slurping of my tit in her mouth. my eyes struggle to keep open, watching her tongue flick around my bud, yunjin switching to my other boob, repeating everything all the same.

"can you stop moving? god, I'm doing something here and your flailing is infuriating." she let's out a frustrated huff before detaching completely from my body, reaching for something underneath the couch.

my hands are free for a second before I feel cold steel capture my wrists, cuffing them together and securing them on a pipe against the wall.

"so much better." she states satisfied before bringing both her hands to slap both of the sides of my boobs.

I let out an unstable shout at the stinging pain that followed, and it only continued as she grasped at my chest with both hands and kneads at them needily.

"jen... please, ahhh.." I whimper out.

"huh? what was that y/n? you need to speak up for me." she continues her abuse on my tits as my eyes water.

"it hurts..." I manage.

"oh is that so? too bad I don't really care. after all, if I were weak, it wouldn't hurt so much right?" yunjin says in a mocking tone.

her hands become aggressive, dragging themselves down my body and grasping hard at my waist, squeezing my thighs, before landing a harsh slap on my ass, one side, then the next.

"yunjin ah! please! fuck, it hurts..."

"a powerless little girl like me shouldn't be able to harm you, right y/n-ie?"

fuck you huh yunjin.

my eyes are still squeezed shut as I feel her start to unbuckle my pants and zip them down, taking my jeans off of me. my core is absolutely throbbing with desire, panties soaked.

she places a finger at the hem of my underwear, dragging the digit down, trailing my mound, to my aching clit, through my leaking entrance, then pinching the material and letting it snap back into place, warranting a shiver down my spine at the feeling.

"I should've known a whore like you would be drenched after all that. you kick and whine about how much it hurts but look at how much you fucking love it."

it's hard to argue with her when the anticipation to feel her relieve my desire grows stronger the more she messes with me.

"don't worry darling, I'll ruin you perfectly."

I feel my panties get pushed to the side before a hot and wet muscle is felt at the base of my entrance trailing up slowly, until there's a hard suck at my bundle of nerves.

"fuckkkkk ahhhh!!!" I let out an involuntary scream at the feeling.

god it feels so good, my eyes squeezed shut as her onslaught of eating me out continues, hard and fast. she bends my knees and forces my legs apart, holding my thighs so she has free reign of my pussy.

"mmm, it's in the way," I hear her mumble before a loud tear is heard, assumedly from my panties.

I could care less when she sucks hard with her mouth over both my clit and hole, tongue darting between circling my bundle of nerves and digging into my pussy. I tug hard at my restraints, wanting so badly to grasp her luscious dark hair and push her into me.

my hips move on their own, trying to grind against her mouth, but they fail when yunjin's hands push my thighs apart again and she wraps her arms around them, hands on my waist. I force my eyes open and look down at her, what a sight.

her eyes are closed, and she looks peaceful. so unlike the rapid and desperate licking, sucking, and moaning coming out of her sinful mouth. the grip on my waist is firm but so gentle, her thumbs rubbing softly against my skin. she only takes a hand off of my waist to run fingers through her hair, pushing it back to have all the room she needs to indulge in my waterfall. yunjin definitely craved this more than me.

moans continued to slip out of my mouth, fueling her on.

"you're so delicious, this pussy is mine," I feel her mumble against my lips though still audible.

"fuck me jen, more more more, ahhh, yes, keep going just like that, oh my god!!!"

I was about to shut my eyes again until she looked up at me. through half lidded eyes, it almost looked like they were completely black, pupils so blown it was hard to tell if she was human. the desire was so fiery in her eyes and looking up at me only drew her in further, digging her face into my pussy.

her tongue dug impossibly deep into my hole, flicking wildly inside of me, making me arch my back in immense pleasure. her nose rubbing against my hot clit contributed to the build up of my impending climax.

the hold on my waist tightened, securing my hips down to the sofa, her eyes closed again as I shut my own as well, the noises coming from a mixture of my leaking pussy and her lewd slurping were indescribably orgasmic, the desperate moaning slipping from both of our mouths were borderline embarrassing if it weren't for our soundproof walls covering the sounds of sin.

"jennifer oh my god fuck fuck please, shit. b-baby... I'm, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum sosososo hard..." I rambled.

I heard as I continued to incoherently mumble anything that came to mind as I felt her grip on my waist start to hurt, nails digging into my skin, making my lower half impossible to move.

"give me your cum now, let me drink you," yunjin says with the sexiest most raspy voice I've heard from her.

a low moan from deep in her throat against my pussy vibrates against my clit, her tongue thrusting into my hole repeatedly at insane speeds. it was so overwhelming and more than enough to launch me over the edge.

my vision disappeared, my body shook viscerally, my mouth fell open and loud screaming came out of it as I orgasmed with so much pleasure. I felt my pussy gush cum into yunjin's expectant mouth, her tongue continuing to flail in me. I struggle hard against the restraints still, feeling my wrists sting with every tug. I can't think straight, my body shaking with every wave of pleasure that runs through me.

I fall limp, my head shaking left to right and mumbles coming out of my mouth. yunjin calms her pace and gives kitten licks up and down my slit, lapping up any other juices I released that she missed. her grip on my waist loosens, and they caress my sides carefully. she makes her way up to meet my face, planting abnormally soft kisses in her wake, her hands softly caressing my red skin. all the slap markings, all the bites, all the hickies, all the nail marks, spots red, spots bloody, her touch eases the pain.

"y/n..." she whispers against my ear, making me shiver.

I can't even open my eyes as the exhaustion hits me hard. I hear her mess with the pipe and cuffs around my wrists before I feel my hands fall against the arm rest again, freeing my arms finally. yunjin picks both of them up and places gentle pecks all around both wrists, slowly spreading her comfort across my entire body.

"jen..." a croak somehow comes out of my mouth.

"baby..." her voice, gentle...

"are you okay angel?" she whispers loud enough for me to hear.

my heart stops beating but resumes at the speed of sound after a moment.

I can't respond, and so she comes closer to my face and cups my cheek with a careful hand, intently observing my expression and condition. I feel her thumb softly caress my bottom lip and her stare fall onto my slightly open mouth.

"I.. I'm..." I can't form another word as the exhaustion catches up and my eyes fall shut.

every other sense of mine is alert, I'm still fully conscious, but my eyes refuse to open, they simply can't. I feel yunjin come closer to me then suddenly small kisses tracing my jaw, lips against my ear.

"you can rest y/n-ie, I'll do the rest."

wait, what?

her hand that was once on my face trails down my body, tracing over all the marks again, before her slender fingers slip between my folds, causing my entire body to jolt.

"jen?!" I shriek out, my hands flying to grip her arms.

"shhh, just relax. I told you already, you're just my little sex toy, I need to get my usage out of you."

fuck, I should've known she was feigning generosity.

I had no time to respond as after gathering enough of my cum from my last orgasm, yunjin swiftly slips two fingers into my tired cunt.

"FUCK!" I scream out.

my body reacts on its own, shaking against her warm body leaning against me.

"you've got another one in you, don't you?"

her pace picks up quickly, my pussy burning at the speed. suddenly, her thumb rubs harshly against my overstimulated clit, causing me to cry out.

"t-too much! please!" I sob into her shoulder.

yunjin's body hovers over mine, holding me close. one of my hands gripping her arm pumping in and out of me, the other clutching the back of her shirt, my face wet with tears flowing in her shoulder, melting into her neck.

"you should've thought about that before you talked shit huh?"

"I- I can't!"

"I already told you I don't fucking care y/n, how many times do I have to say it?"

I feel my own tears stain the taller girl's shirt as her fingers ram into my abused hole over and over again, pulling out all the way just to slam back into me again. I scream intensely when a third finger is added, immediately hitting that euphoric spot inside.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant between every pump of her swift fingers.

"you truly make the perfect little cum slut don't you?"

"jen, ah, ah, ah, please, fuck..."

"what is it baby? feel it coming again?"

I moan out an incomprehensible 'yes' in response, to which I feel yunjin smile against my forehead, planting a sweet peck.

"beg me angel, beg me to keep fucking you until you cum."

my eyes roll back into my head, tears still spilling out and hands gripping for dear life. even if I wanted to beg, I don't think I'm physically capable.

her fingers still inside of me, stopping her movement on my pussy entirely, even on my clit. I whine loudly in response, legs shaking and grip tightening on her.

"no no please yunjin, I- I need you, I need you to keep fucking me. I need to finish, I need your fingers, I'm so close jinny, please please, god please let me cum. I can't, I can't take it, it hurts, it hurts so bad, jen oh god please, don't fucking stop. I need you to keep going, please don't stop now, please please jen-"

my rambling is interrupted by her fingers pounding into my cunt once again, with impossible speed, making my throat strain with another uncontrollable scream of pleasure.

"let it go, give it to me y/n. I want to feel it gush around me again, I need to feel your body fall apart."

and just as quickly as it started, it ended. an explosion of euphoria ripples through me again, I feel goosebumps form on my skin as I moan deafeningly, my fingers sinking into yunjin's body and holding on for dear life. her fingers continue to get sucked into me, clenching hard onto her long digits as she rubs my clit still.

"yes, that's my girl, give it all to me."

my body is shaking, with every subtle touch yunjin does to me, it reacts. my mouth stays open as I can feel the saliva drool out, my eyes barely open but it's no use, it's not like I can see anything clearly.

"your body is just meant for this y/n, I was right. my perfect little angel, the best fuck doll for me."

her fingers slip out of me and I grunt at the loss of fullness. out of the very small field of view I have, I watch as she sucks the juices off her fingers, closing her eyes and savoring the flavor, licking up each of them one by one.

"you're doing so well, but baby..." she leans in and mumbles against my lips, "give me one more."

there's no room for resistance as she moves to get into position. what a menace huh yunjin is. she already knows I'm fucked out of my mind that I'm physically incapable of doing anything. I've always been really sensitive and she's using that weakness against me ten fold.

I try my best to pay attention to what she's doing, watching as she slides her shorts and panties down her legs, the two articles of clothing absolutely soaked. she gets on top of me again and lifts one of my legs up, wrapping it around her waist, her straddling my pussy with her own, interlocking our legs.

"it's finally my turn. fuckkk..."

she moans out as she starts to grind her pussy against mine. every thrust makes my body jolt with overstimulation, I don't know how to take it anymore.

however, watching huh yunjin roll her hips against me, her hands placing my own on her waist, watching as she throws her head back and sweat drips down her long neck, my pleasure grows again. the woman looks ethereal riding me, using my body to get off, it's unreal how delectable watching her fuck me is.

"f-faster, h-harder, jen..." both of us look surprised when I manage to speak.

a sinister smirk crawls and spreads across the aforementioned woman's face, hands on my thighs tapping in approval, "of course darling, who am I to deny?"

and so she fucks me harder, so much harder. so much fucking faster. I immediately see stars and the squelching lewd noises of our sopping cunts fill my ears, accompanied by the pornographic moans from both of us. I feel the rhythmic pattern of yunjin's hips rolling against me with my hands on her waist.

I pull her forward against me, thrusting my own hips up into her, gaining leverage and screaming out in pleasure as our clits bump repeatedly because of this.

"fuck y/n! you're so good at this, don't... don't you dare give out on me right now, you feel too fucking incredible."

the girl above me has her head down facing my own, eyes screwed shut, face scrunched up looking focused, mouth hanging open. one of my hands feel up her body, trailing up her covered front and grazing her nipples, eliciting a groan to come from her throat. my hand cups her cheek and pulls her closer to my face, making her open her eyes and make eye contact with me.

we stare straight into each others' eyes, observing the expressions on our faces, memorizing the view forever. I hate this girl so much, I hate her with my entire being, but she's beautiful, she's goddess-like, and she's absolutely perfect in my trembling hands, looking into my eyes like I'm the only one in her world.

yunjin leans in to finally kiss me, plump and soft lips roughly clashing against my own. I desperately chase to reciprocate the passion she pushes into my mouth, forcing my tongue into her and ramming it down her throat, making her moan out. her mouth feels like heaven on earth as I melt into her delicious strawberry flavored lips, tongue and her saliva tasting like all the cum she sucked out of my cunt just moments prior.

her thrusts become sloppy and I feel my hole start to clench around nothing as we moan into each others' mouth.

"cum with me love, cum with me, please baby, I need you." her voice shaky and sounding vulnerable.

I open my eyes one last time to look up at her, eyes getting watery too. I take her bottom lip into my mouth and pull away with my teeth, letting it go with a pop.

"I'm cumming love, I'm cumming..." I warn her.

I pull her into me and hug her, embracing her tightly as she painfully grips my thighs, stilling her hips and feeling her warmth leak all over my pussy. I moan along with her, screaming out in blinding pleasure, my heat flooding both of our thighs and running down my legs, onto the couch under.

she collapses on top of me, her entire body weight covering me completely. I snuggle my face into her neck, placing soft kisses around every area I could reach.

"are you okay?" I ask softly into her ear.

I'm met with no response but soft breathing near my ear. I peer over to look at her face and she's out cold.

I giggle softly at the gorgeous woman sprawled out on top of me, legs intertwined, cum running down our legs, her lips bruised and red.

"I think I won this argument jennifer."

a/n - i'm just realizing that this barely had any actual band dynamics or anything and that makes me sad bc i love that shit so much. sob, oh well maybe another time (part???). my first idea for this concept was slow down by chase atlantic but then i switched it bc i feel like i could write a better plot for the lyric i orginally chose so stay tuned mayhaps in the future. anyways, hiiiii first post pls don't bully me tumblr is foreign land to me but writing is not though I haven't written in months 😙 enjoy first fic w my actual gf (like actually fr fr huh yunjin is my gf she proofread this-)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Flirts II

Mapi Leon x Reader x Ingrid Engen

*SMUT*

Summary: Mapi and Ingrid take you home

Mapi kisses like she plays - passionate and powerful. She's animalistic in her desire for you and completely uncaring that you're still in the corridor as Ingrid takes her time drawing her keys out and slotting them in the lock.

You're pressed into the wall, Mapi kissing you with passion and it's in that moment - with Ingrid opening the door and Mapi taking your breath away - that you feel the strap pressed against you.

Mapi's wearing a strap.

She's wearing a strap.

This had been planned.

Ingrid's grinning at you - purely predatory - as you're tugged inside the apartment. She slots in front of you as Mapi switches from kissing you to sucking hickeys into your skin.

"She's been thinking about you," Ingrid whispers," About fucking you." Her lips ghost over your own as Mapi continues to mark your neck. "She just can't quite decide where she wants you, bent over like a slut or on your back like a good girl. She told me to decide but I'm not quite sure."

You whimper when Mapi rocks against you. You can feel the outline of her strap on your ass as she bites down on your neck.

Ingrid twirls a piece of your hair, tugging on it to keep your attention on her. Her fingers slip into your mouth, pressing down firmly on your tongue.

She's more talking at you than to you and somehow that makes everything hotter.

"I think we'll have you on your front first. Wouldn't that be nice? Mapi pounding you from the back, you eating me out and then..." She nips at your ear. "I'll take you on your back. Mapi can sit behind you, hold you down for me as I fuck you."

A broken moan escapes you at her words.

Mapi licks a line from your neck to the shell of your ear. "I'm gonna fuck you, amor. Bend you over and fuck you like a slut. Our slut."

It doesn't take long until you're devoid of clothes, bent over the edge of the bed with Ingrid's spread legs in front of you. You don't need prompting or guiding to give her what she wants.

Mapi's behind you, squirting lube onto her strap as you nip at Ingrid's thighs. She gasps at your teasing, one hand coming down to grab at your hair, pulling you closer to where she wants you.

"Sto-Stop teasing," She orders in a breathy moan as you give her a clit a little lick.

You're sure she can feel your smile against her pussy because she pulls at your head more insistently just as Mapi pushes herself into you.

A broken moan escapes your mouth and Ingrid takes advantage, pulling you right where she wants you.

Mapi sets up a brutal pace, her fingers digging into your hips in a way that you just know will leave bruises tomorrow. She's leaning over your back, her hardened nipples scraping over your skin as she helps Ingrid hold onto you.

You suck at Ingrid's clit before lapping at her entrance, very slightly pressing in with your tongue before moving back up again. With every moan and whine from Ingrid, Mapi rewards you.

She goes harder and deeper each time and you're forced to stop what you're doing as she hits your spot again and again.

A whiny moan spills from your mouth as Mapi drives home. Ingrid gets a bit impatient, tugging on your hair again.

"Keep going," Mapi whispers in your ear, her own voice echoing your whine," Go on." She punctuates her words with a sharp thrust, hitting your spot again, shoving your face further into Ingrid.

You suck more insistently at Ingrid's clit, flicking your eyes up to meet hers. She's watching you as she moans. Her hand still holds your hair tightly but the eye contact is almost the last straw.

You brace your hands against her thighs as Mapi picks up speed (noticing the way you're clenching tightly around her strap as pleasure swirls tight in your belly). You don't break eye contact as you lick up from her entrance to her clit, putting on a show as you suck it into your mouth.

"Yes," She gasps," So good. Just like that...So good!"

She reaches her peak in the next moment, gasping and moaning but not breaking eye contact for a second. You slow down your sucking before you lick down to clean up her mess.

Ingrid's panting as she lets go of your hair but you're given no reprieve as Mapi fucks you more desperately, more like an animal than before. Ingrid rolls out from under you. She looks down at your position - trapped as Mapi fucks you like it's her job.

"My girls," She says almost wistfully after sharing a filthy kiss with you, tasting herself on your tongue. She leans over you to kiss Mapi as well. "I want you both to cum for me. You're close, aren't you?"

You hadn't even thought about your own release until now. Until she mentioned it. But the building pressure makes itself known in that instant and you moan loud enough to carry through the walls.

Mapi's pace barely stutters but you know that she's close too.

"You're so tight around me," She says as Ingrid tugs at her nipples," Can-Can barely fuck you."

A high-pitched moan catches in your throat as Mapi hoists you up, making your back arch obscenely. "Mapi, Mapi, please!" You whine as her hips rock against yours," Please!"

You feel like sobbing as she carries on her brutal pace until a hand (you don't know if it's Mapi or Ingrid's) starts to rub circles on your clit.

"Gonna cum?" Mapi says in your ear, her hips slamming against yours," Because I am. Cum around my strap. You know you want to."

Her strap hits your spot again and the pleasure comes in waves. You spasm in her arms and slump fully onto the bed. Mapi groans and you knew she's just cum too because she rests fully against your back comfortably, her panting breaths tickling your neck.

"My girls," Ingrid says again," So pretty when you cum."

Mapi slides out of you and you whine at the loss, clenching and reclenching around nothing. You're rolled onto your back.

"Still up for more?" Ingrid asks, her finger coming up to tug on your swollen bottom lip. "Or should we get you all warm and cosy?"

Your response comes embarrassingly fast. "More."

You're caged in Mapi's arms in an instant, one hand tucked under your arm and snaking to hold your shoulder while the other spreads one of your legs. She's extremely quick for someone who just fucked you into a trembling mess.

She kisses you - all tongue and teeth - before biting at your neck. She laughs in your ear, sensual and sultry as you watch with blown-out pupils as Ingrid steps into a strap.

It's smaller than Mapi's (though not by a lot) but looks more rigid, more firm in a way that you know will feel extremely good inside of you.

You whine and whimper as it brushes against your folds, nudging your clit. Mapi chuckles in your ear.

"She likes that," She says to Ingrid.

"Of course she does. Our girl likes everything we give her."

Ingrid slides home and a broken moan escapes you. Her pace picks up quickly but it's not like Mapi's. It's more calculated and less animalistic. Mapi wanted to ruin you, strip you bare and leave you shaking. Ingrid wants to disassemble you, brick by brick until you're unsure who or where you are as you clench around her cock.

"Our girl." Mapi clicks her tongue. "I like the sound of that." Her fingers come up to pinch a nipple, rolling it around before she whispers directly in your ear. "You like the sound of that too, don't you? Staying here, with us? A quiet little thing for us to fuck when the opportunity strikes. We'll keep your pussy stuffed at all times."

Ingrid chuckles as filthy sounds exit your mouth. You clench around her cock at Mapi's words, whimpering and whining to show your approval. "Should have her cockwarm you soon," She says to Mapi," Think of how pretty she'd be begging you to fuck her."

"I would just keep her there. Even sluts should know to take what they're given."

"She's certainly taking it now."

Ingrid's pace picks up, her cock entering and exiting you at such a rapid pace you can do nothing but moan wantonly at her. She grins at you, capturing your mouth easily and slipping her tongue in.

You moan around her as Mapi sucks hickeys into your skin, hands pinching your nipples. Ingrid fucks you languidly now, slower than before like she just wants to take her time.

Like she has all the time in the world.

While you're whining and moving your hips to meet hers.

"Hold her still," Ingrid orders, pulling away from you to look at Mapi," She's getting needy."

Of course you're getting needy.

Ingrid's working you up slowly. Sometimes she stills in you, to whisper filthy words against your skin before starting up again. Her thrusts are slow but deep. Her harness brushes against your clit each time and your moans synchronise with hers.

Mapi's grip on your thigh tightens and she spreads you even further so you couldn't even move if you tried.

You try to beg her. "Mapi," You cry as Ingrid slams into you again," Mapi, please."

She chuckles at you, that predatory glint still in her eye. She brushes her nose against yours. "No chance." She plunders your mouth with her tongue, exploring you as the hand on your shoulder moves to your throat. It doesn't squeeze. It doesn't do anything. It's just there as she kisses you.

You kind of like it.

You're breathless as she kisses you, whether from her or Ingrid's persistent rutting you don't know but your chest rises and falls rapidly.

The rock of Ingrid's strap combined with Mapi's tongue against yours makes that pressure swell again, mounting in your belly until Mapi's swallowing moans and Ingrid's thrust are getting a little faster.

"Are you going to cum for Ingrid?" Mapi asks as she pulls away, her thumb resting against your bottom lip. "Are you going to show her how much of a good girl you are? Like you showed me?" She bites at your neck again.

You whimper brokenly as Ingrid keeps her pace. She knows what she's doing, with the way she's grinding against your clit when she's fully inside of you.

You try to hold it off but with Mapi at your neck and Ingrid in your pussy there's little you can do.

You tilt your head back as you cry out, clenching harshly around Ingrid's strap. She guides you through it, working you back down slowly as pleasure catches your nerves alight.

You're so lost in the pleasure, in catching your breath that you're easily manipulated into a shirt and cradled in the middle of the bed.

"Good, amor?" Mapi teases as you blink back into awareness.

You roll your eyes. "Don't get...Well, I'd say cocky but I don't want you to take that as an invitation."

She grins at you. "Don't worry. I know it was good. I know we were good."

"A big ego is not as attractive as you think," You reply even though you're smiling and resting your head on her shoulder.

The bed dips as Ingrid joins you both, a bottle of water in both hands. You drink.

"So, elskling, can we convince you to stay the night?"

"I don't think I can move my legs," You say with a laugh," That was your plan all along. Fucking me so hard I can't get away."

You're joking but Mapi and Ingrid are both grinning at you in a way that makes you wonder if that truly was their plan.

[fatesundress]

⭑ observations. tom riddle x reader

part ii here.

summary. you've been going to hogwarts for four months, and find this whole school-wide obsession with tom riddle a little bit ridiculous, and a little bit contrived. surely not all the rumours are true...

tags. smut (minors dni -_-), fem anatomy, fingering, reader who is soooo in denial, trying to worm into tom's brain like a parasite and failing miserably (me projecting), i think reader is implied to either be short or tom is implied to be tall, ooc tom because i am so far from the belief that he would ever just spontaneously hook up with someone but… it is what it is.

note. this is my first post so support is much appreciated!! god forgive me, i've never written smut in my life, and it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also, i tried my best to make reader fairly neutral, but it's late, and if i've fumbled over some description bc i'm sleepy i shall fix it in the morning ♡

word count. 5.1k

Your first observation is that nobody has Tom Riddle quite right.

He’s beautiful, yes (obvious, repetitive, shallow), and undeniably intelligent (being paired with him in Potions has proved that in a matter of weeks), untouchable (this one is a bit interesting), and, above all, unusual. The latter you like the most. It makes you feel unabashedly exceptional in all the very unexceptional gossip about him. No one ever uses that word to describe him. A rarity of charisma and charm — austere, refined, and clinically polite. Unusual has a negative curve to it that most people don’t attach to the elegant litheness of Tom Riddle, but your observations cannot be stated without the word.

It’s prompted and peddled by Selwyn’s much-too-enthusiastic vehemence in the wake of your first.

You narrow your eyes at her and say it again, no less certain than the first time. “Tom Riddle has not had sex with half the school.”

It’s a bit of a jump. Some necessary context is removed.

Riddle, once more, rarity of charisma and charm and austere blah blah blah, has been rumoured since you arrived this year from your last school to be some silent conqueror, oh-so nimble with his hands and nimbler even with his other appendages, and you — you’ve only been here four months and it’s laughable how many people believe it.

Backtrack to untouchable (this one everyone agrees is a primary characteristic of Tom Riddle, there’s no debate there) and the reason you find it interesting. Untouchable doesn’t exactly work if everyone in the bloody castle has been touching him this whole time. And it’s not as if he could hide it, not as if people wouldn’t be giddy to tell their friends of their exploits with the beautiful, revered Head Boy. And such exploits would be whispers among the halls in a matter of hours. You’ve considered this, with almost scientific determination, and it’s impossible. Tom studies all day, and when he isn’t studying he’s corralling Slytherin first-years away from forbidden corridors, attending to Dippet’s newest errand, escorting third-years to Hogsmeade, dining with the Slug Club, and — point is, someone would have noticed by now if he was disappearing into broom closets with a new lay every weekend.

But Selwyn shakes her head, because this rumour is such an integral part of Tom’s allure. He is, somehow, both untouchable and a master at touch. Distant until he isn’t, and then he can break you apart with practised, perfect hands. It’s all very mythical.

“Look,” she says, “maybe if I’d only been here four months, I’d think so too, but everyone else knows—”

“Maybe it’s because I’ve only been here four months that I have the objectivity to recognize how ridiculous you all are. He’s not a god, Selwyn, he’s a scholar, and an obsessed one at that — has it ever actually occurred to you he might not have had sex at all?”

This, now, is sacrilege. 

Selwyn gapes at you, and you shake your head in surrender before you burst out laughing at how offended she looks. “Fine, whatever. Consider the matter dropped. I give up.”

You don’t really give up. It’s very fun research.

Your second observation is that unusual is not an apt enough word for Tom, and maybe you don’t possess the vocabulary to think of one that is.

You’re in the Restricted Section. This is unrelated to your Tom research, and perfectly sanctioned, with a key granted by the librarian who you feel sorry to admit you have not remembered the name of, and the library, by all means, is still open. It’s a late Thursday night, but not past curfew. You’re there with a study partner you rather wish you weren’t — Gregory Godefrey, Gryffindor (the alliteration is nauseating), and the only half-decent fellow in your Ancient Runes class, but not especially bright. You feel more like his tutor than his partner. In short, the regular books on the topic you’re writing your end-of-term essay on are slim pickings, and thus — Restricted Section.

“So,” you say, “the scriptures might look the same, but they’re written in vastly different time periods, so the meaning has changed. If you were to charge a spell with one of Ashe’s runes now, there’s almost no doubt you’d get a completely different result.”

“I don’t get it,” Godefrey grumbles sleepily into his sleeve. “How’s anyone meant to use runes if they can just change like that?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Any magic can change, Godefrey. Half of the stuff we learn is based on intention and skill. Uagadou barely even uses wands — all of this is arbitrary.”

“My head hurts.”

“Then… just… just go to bed. I’ll finish up here and we’ll try again on the weekend.”

He grins with heavy eyes, lugging his bag over his shoulder and leaving you a packet of sherbet lemons you bitterly wish he’d pulled out sooner. “Wicked — you’re the best. See’ya.”

“See you…” you mumble, unwrapping one and popping it in your mouth.

You don’t stay for long, twirling the key to the Restricted Section around your finger as you tuck your books back into their shelves.

“It’s ten past curfew,” says a voice from behind you, all cool, measured authority, and you nearly collapse.

You stare up from where you’re grabbing onto your knees for balance, your heart halfway out of your chest.

Tom Riddle is there, his Head Boy badge somehow still glittering in the dim light of the library, and it’s only by the half-smile quirking at his lips that you can detect his words weren’t some sort of threat.

“Right, thanks.” You gather your breath. “I was just leaving.”

“Pity about Godefrey.”

You blink. Having worked with Tom in Potions since September, you’ve become perfectly adjusted to speaking to him… only about Potions. He indulges in polite small talk, he smiles freely, but your distance from him is the same as it is with everyone else, if only for the fact that, you suppose, you aren’t actively pursuing anything closer.

Oh. That is interesting — would he be so easily intrigued? It’s a bit cliché, but you suppose he is too.

You’re making an awful lot of assumptions from the words ‘pity about Godefrey,’ and then, you don’t actually have a damn clue what Tom could mean by that.

“Sorry?” you ask.

“Godefrey,” he repeats. “I assume you’re being made to tutor him.”

Right. He must have seen him on his way here. That would make sense.

“No, actually. It’s entirely voluntary — he’s my study partner for Ancient Runes.”

His chin lifts in some nearly imperceptible way, smiling still, and you know he’s a polished thing, an unusual thing, but it reads as an especially fake smile then. “Ah.”

… Oooookay?

“Well —” you start, a mechanical smile of your own forming — “curfew, then.”

The charm fixes onto his face like a damn ornament. You want to flick it away with your finger. “Of course. I’ll see you in Potions?”

You nod, leaving the key behind the librarian’s desk as you slink awkwardly away. Into the corridor. Off to bed. Yet another note to scrawl on the enigma of Tom Riddle.

You see him again first thing in the morning. You’re yawning into the archway of Slughorn’s stuffy classroom, eager to dump your bag over your table and empty the many contents necessary for today’s lesson. 

There’s one girl, the oldest of the Lestranges, who glares daggers into the back of your head every class. Tom is, as always, nonplussed, asking you about your morning as you both prepare your phials and ingredients. You can’t help but shake your head at him this once, a bemused smile on your lips as you glance between him and the Lestrange girl.

“Have I offended her somehow, or is it just that I’m paired with you?”

He laughs under his breath. “I daresay that is the offense.”

You can’t help it. You’re mumbling to yourself in amazement at the bizarre, borderline cultish devotion this school has to Tom Riddle. “Unattainable commodity that you are, Riddle…”

“Well," he begins, his smile small but his voice amused, “I hope you don’t think of me as quite that far outside your grasp."

You freeze.

Are you — have you missed something? Has your casual (really, very casual and not at all unwarranted or peculiar) research for the sake of dispelling Selwyn’s obsession skewed your memory of Tom? Has he always said things like this to you? Have you always read into them like this?

One of his eyebrows rises, and it might be his notorious flattery — but if so, he makes it sound like an obvious truth, and you stammer over the jar of foxglove in your hand. Then you look away, unscrew it, do well not to put too much weight on his words.

“Hm. I have no need for you to be within it, Riddle." You say it with all nonchalance you can muster. To spit it at him in some aggressive dismissal would be to treat it like a big thing. 

It isn’t a big thing. He’s talking to you like he talks to everyone else.

But you catch the barest flicker of disappointment on his face, a flash of something that might even be annoyance. Then, though, it’s gone, and he’s back to that same unshakable, confident smirk.

As the lesson proceeds,  he’s once again the sharpest thing in the room.

You watch for him in the library that weekend, a bit distracted while you and Godefrey study. Without your guidance, there isn’t much studying occurring at all. Godefrey is sort of skimming the pages of a textbook, yawning, as always, like he’s never had a good night’s sleep in his life, and you’re suckling sherbert lemons until the roof of your mouth feels raw.

“What was it you said about Calarook’s Method?”

Your eyes snap from the empty doorway to Godefrey’s face. “Huh?”

“Calarook’s Method.”

“Oh.” You sink boredly into your seat, twirling your quill between your fingers. “It revolutionised the usage of runes globally. She incorporated — um — a much simpler means of translating the scriptures for different methods of magic.”

“Ohhhh, I remember now. Did you write that down?”

“Yes, Godefrey, I wrote it down.”

The final hour before curfew dwells agonisingly longer than it should. It feels like three, at least, until you’re packing your things and bidding Godefrey goodnight, tired legs dragging you down the corridors.

And then you straighten. You stand tall. (You’re absolutely normal about the sight before you.)

Tom smiles at you as he turns the corridor to approach.

“On patrol?” you ask in a friendly tone.

You’re… friends, right? Being someone’s Potions partner for four months qualifies as some degree of friendship, does it not? After all, he did say not to think of him as too far outside your grasp. That was a line if you’d ever heard one, but — you could be Tom’s friend the way everyone is his friend: wholly detached until you were needed.

“Leaving detention,” he answers with a timbre to match.

Your eyebrows raise at that.

“Leaving the second-years I watched in detention, I should say.”

You shake your head. “I should have known.”

“And you?”

“Studying again.”

“Ancient Runes?”

“Mhm.”

“...With Godefrey?”

“That is the concept of a recurrent study partner, yes. It’s recurrent.”

He doesn’t look very much like he appreciates your sarcasm.

“So, then,” you mutter, clearing your throat. “Curfew, I suppose.”

“You performed well in Potions today,” he says after you. It feels like the sort of thing someone says when they don’t want someone to walk away.

You bite your cheek between your teeth — such assumptions will get the better of you. Such assumptions will lead you down a path of crude, obsessive analysis (though you suppose you’ve been doing that all this time, haven’t you?) where you think, in some unspooling knitwork, that there are really only a select few reasons he could want such a thing. Your mind draws to the irresponsible conclusion, as he walks toward you again, a new glint in his eyes, that it’s exactly the sort of thing someone says before rumour has it they disappear into the nearest broom closet with the one they approach. This, you’ve decided an observation ago, Tom Riddle does not do.

“Thank you,” you say carefully. “So did you.”

“We make for a good pair, don’t you think?”

Crude, obsessive analysis. “Slughorn certainly does.”

“And I am asking you.”

He stops a respectable, inviting space before you. His weekend attire is a grey jumper and black slacks, his dark hair in its regular, pristine waves, hands laced behind his back. Everything about him is a request to be met, and not to step forward and close the distance himself. Close the distance, pristine waves, inviting space — you’ve lost your damn mind. You sound like Selwyn. The sugar of a whole packet of sherbet lemons has rendered you imbecilic. You’ll be off to bed, then — sleep this absurdity off.

“Of course, Tom,” you say with a polite smile. “It’d be hard to disagree with the grades I get in that class.” You grab onto your bag to have something to do with your hands, to perhaps signify you’ll be making your exit now.

He seems a bit amused to have to contort himself through the specifics of his meaning. “I was referring to our… rapport.”

“Rapport?”

“We work well together. We communicate efficiently.”

We communicate efficiently? Damn if you couldn’t suddenly make sense of the rumour he’d be applying for the DADA post in the future — that one was definitely true.

“Yes, we do.”

He steps closer. “And I remain far outside your grasp.”

You blink, and there’s a stark, sinking feeling as your eyes drift over the unmarred ivory of his skin, his jaw, his throat, his — no, absolutely not his hands — and you let yourself wonder for the first time if the rumours, albeit exaggerated, have even a shred of truth to them. One exploit, perhaps, to satisfy his endless curiosity. Something academic, like — oh, God, like the way you’ve been studying him for weeks. His hands carving a path down someone’s body to etch it in his memory, another skill added to his arsenal, a new way to work his fingers without a wand, a new way to work his mouth without a word.

It’s only a moment that you wonder it. Some flash of pictures in your head. It is, nonetheless, a moment far too long, and one you don’t know that you can return from.

Tom looks at you from under his eyelashes with an expression that suggests he's the only one in on a very funny joke, and the air is… different. Thick like the Potions room but in a way that’s entirely unfamiliar, not cloudy with the steam of cauldrons but hazy with the proximity of him, cologne and quill ink and something you can’t catch because you’re trying too hard to breathe it all in at once.

But he steps forward again, and seems to say in the slow way he moves, that if you’ll let him, he'll place a hand on your shoulder, and if you’ll allow that — well — then he'll move that hand up to gently frame your cheek. And then, and you no longer consider yourself at all versed in the realm of Tom Riddle, but you think you know what’ll come next.

You allow all of it. You know very well in advance you’re going to allow all of it.

And still, like it’s a surprise, you shiver at the feeling of his hand on your cheek, at the gleaming, certain look in his eyes. Your gaze flickers to his lips for just a second (a fleeting, tiny second you pray fruitlessly he doesn't notice) but his lips curl into the barest of smiles. Something so like him, small but unrestrained, like it never had any hope of growing bigger, but then — you’ve seen the way he grins at you sometimes when you say something stupid in class — you know he’s capable.

“You know what I'm going to do, I assume," he says quietly. It's not a question, per se — more of a statement, and he keeps his eyes fixed firmly on yours as he says it. He's so close you can feel the warmth of his breath. And then he leans in so slightly it might be imperceptible if you weren’t staring, holding your damn breath. “Are you going to let me?"

“I..." You're humiliated to find you are actually struggling to speak. His lips are so close to yours you can feel the ghost of them, can imagine what they might feel like on you. Your mouth is very dry. “We’re… friends, right?”

His voice only wavers for a moment, even as his lips inch ever closer to yours. His voice is tauntingly low, and there's an intimate sort of smile there, a chastising, humorous gleam to his eyes. “Friends," he breathes, and then his lips do close that short distance, and you feel the barest trace of his mouth against yours — his lips, soft and supple against your skin. A moment's kiss. Gone as quickly as it came. “Should we be friends?”

You gape at him, breathing far too heavily for such a chaste kiss, and you imagine your eyes are blown wide, and you lick your lips for a reminder of his taste but it isn't enough. You don't think before standing on your toes to find his lips again. Of course, Tom is stood impeccably straight, his chin almost pointedly jutted so that he can look down at you, and you actually — it's horribly embarrassing — you groan, or whine, or make some sound of blatant discontent at the fact that your kiss doesn’t reach him.

To his credit, his laugh is a very small one. Had it been the other way around you would have been far less forgiving. “I suppose the answer is no, then?" he says, with the implication that the next move might be yours.

“Tom," you as good as hiss (really very foolish of you to use the word forgiving to describe Tom Riddle), “you're being... you're being mean." And you refuse to make the first effort again, even though you probably appear to be a train wreck, your chest is heaving, and you... you want him.

“Am I?" he asks, and he tilts his head to the other side, almost as if to get a better look at you. “How so?" You think he's enjoying himself far too much. But he remains where he is: close enough for you to reach him if you would just yank him toward you and be done with it, and far enough away that you can't take that step without giving him the win.

You stare at him for a long moment, and then with teeth gritted so tight you might chip one, turn to walk away. Tom makes some very hollow, annoyed sound at your stubbornness, and thank god you feel him behind you: soft, lulling, not so immovable as you. 

You stop. His fingers brush your hair to the side. His mouth hovers over the skin of your neck. You shudder.

“Tom..." you sigh, half-exasperated, half-sighed, half-surrendered, but he doesn't answer or stop or do so much as acknowledge your mumbling. He only presses forward, until his breath is right by your ear and his lips, soft, gentle, are against the junction of your exposed neck, and you feel his mouth, the gentle pressure of his lips against your skin... so tender, so light that it doesn’t feel at all like something merciful.

It feels singularly, purposefully cruel.

Your third observation (if you can manage the thought) is that Tom is driven by your reactions. Every little mewl, every shudder, every gasp, he wants more of. He wants whatever you're willing to give him, and you suspect it wouldn’t be hard for him to take it all. Every movement of his hands, his mouth, his — oh, oh no — his tongue, abide by whatever you respond to most. He draws in patterns. He stops. Appreciates the speed of your pulse on the curve of your throat for a moment and then tastes it again. It doesn't seem like he particularly cares what he gets out of it. The intrigue for him is having the proximity (he greatly enjoys that you’ve allowed him it) and capacity (that, you think, he’s always had) to make you fall apart.

He's spinning you then, so you're pressed facing the wall, his chest against your back, and the way he whispers against your skin makes you shiver. You dare to think he feels it, his chest heaving against your back, his breath warm and steady by your ear. And as he kisses you you can't help but imagine what might happen if he were just a few inches lower, if he were to sink to his knees, kissing the soft flesh of your chest, and down, and down, and down…

Your eyes flutter closed, and it's clear you like what he's doing by the sound that escapes you — something loud enough for him to stifle your mouth with his palm. Perhaps a little too much. Perhaps you’ll be embarrassed about it later. But right now his tongue is brushing against your skin again, and there’s something very dizzying and hot that starts with his mouth on your neck and works its way down until it's a challenge just to stay standing. You wonder if he can tell just how weak in the knees you are right now, whether that only makes him push forward, and —

And that must be it. He must know, because you think you're trying to say something but you can't form the words, and he has to feel the reverberations with his teeth bracketing little violets on your neck, he must feel the way your legs buckle, how you're held up only by the weight of him behind you.

He must know.

He pushes forward, his fingers bury in your hair, and he pulls your head back slowly — not necessarily to expose you further, but to better see your face. Your eyes lock with his over your shoulder, and there's that hunger there, lips swollen with the print of you... and his voice, when he speaks, is as if he's only barely stopping himself. “Do you want me to stop?"

You shake your head before you think he’s actually finished the question, swallowing the cotton-dry feeling in your throat. No, no — him stopping is the very last thing you want — you feel entirely rational and not at all melodramatic in saying you might just die if he stops. You want more, and he's looking at you like that’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

He bites down gently on your neck, and you gasp as your knees finally go out from under you (you almost think he planned for this with how quickly he catches you), and you wonder if he'll do something you can't bear; if you'll be reduced to a mewling, drooling mess before he's finished with you.

Your fourth observation — which really is the last one you can muster before it starts to melt into something else — is that you make him human in the only way he can understand: panting into him, fingers in his skin, white-hot and damp at the centre of his obsession. The object of his affection. You make him understand something more singular than ambition. 

Want.

And then his spare hand is dipping past your skirts, and you dig your fingers into his wrist — the combination of the hardness pressed against your back, his hands marking a path to forbidden territory, his finger curling into your mouth as his lips continue their assault on your neck — it's too much. It’s deliriously, disastrously not enough. Your vision is starting to blur.

His fingers stop at the curve where your thighs part and you bite gently down on him to quiet the noise that wants to escape you. He hums against your throat, continuing to kiss and lick and bruise you. You're dazedly aware of the cool air on your thighs as your skirts halo your waist, the heat inside, the shudder as his fingers find your core, and carefully begin to circle you. You feel self-consumed, immolated, devoured and spat out again. You feel like you're still falling, and Tom is the only force that keeps you standing.

He draws in slow, expert patterns — and you think, nonsensically, somewhere very distant where you still have sense, that they can’t be expert, he must have read something or observed some — oh. He’s pushing the thin fabric aside until his fingers are pressed directly against your flesh, and he makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat as the evidence of how much you need this soaks his fingers, as they begin to sink in without resistance. Oh. Right. You don’t remember exactly what you were saying. 

You gasp at the feeling of having him inside when they finally curl into you. 

His finger is pulled from your mouth with a small pop, and you can’t even really muster the capacity to be embarrassed by the lewd, wet sound of it. He watches you over your shoulder, at his fingers vanished between your legs, at the drool clinging to the digit he’d quieted you with. He’s smiling into your neck now, proud and grateful all the same.

“Mine,” you think he murmurs, but it’s more something you feel than hear, some vague, hazy consonants pressed to your throat. It would be very like him, so you decide that yes, that’s probably what he said. And there’s something funny about it — the idea of being his — about what it means for him to want you so badly that he says it out loud. It feels a little bit like he’s yours, too.

Tom’s breathing is harsh, the fingers inside you moving as if they have a will of their own. Every muscle in your body constricts and squeezes around them; every cell, every neuron, comes roaring to life; and you’re fucked. You’re so completely fucked. His teeth scrape against you again, wholeheartedly pleased. This is what he wanted to see — the utter loss of you — when you are nothing but sensation, barely aware of your limbs as they slump against him. Tom is it; Tom is the only thing you can think of.

Tom is, inexplicably, upsettingly good at this.

“Look at you," he says softly. And his touch changes; it becomes slower, more deliberate and careful.

You’re trembling hopelessly. The way you coil and collapse under his touch is just further encouragement. He doesn't even bother to speak anymore, only pants, his eyes half-lidded, his lips swollen and slick when they attach to your throat again. Your whole body is on fire, and he's the one setting you alight — there is not a single inch of you that is not alive with the feeling of him, and you can barely breathe through the slow, heavy rush of it. 

You think you cry at the divine curve of his fingers carving inside you, slow and soft and then intense — when you grip his arm for more friction, and one of his hands is coming up to wipe a tear away but the feeling flares in your abdomen and you're only half aware of it, really — you think your eyes have rolled back. You think you've gone somewhere else. 

He keeps you just on the precipice, just shy of losing control, just far enough to leave you craving for more.

“To—Tom," you sob, gasps cleaving his name in two — you're on the brink of something incomprehensible, building inside you to something you can't help but think is about to shatter, your eyes clenching shut as you grip him so hard you're certain your fingers will leave marks. “I'm gonna—"

“I know," he breathes against your neck, hands running a familiar path along your body; he's so very, very proud that he's made you like this. He just barely bites into the spot above your collar, curls his fingers, and then you’re falling — something unfurls inside you and can’t be collected, something hot and depthless that your hands can’t clutch at from where they’re clinging so desperately to him — and you think, coming down from it with trembling, debilitating ecstasy, that he looks very much like he’d be proud to make you like this over and over again.

You're flattened, and that triumph in his eyes — the absolute satisfaction of seeing you this way, of knowing that that he's the one that did it to you — that feeling fills your mind and makes you collapse even more, makes you want to melt and flow into liquid at his feet; to give in, do whatever he says, even if all he says is just be like this for him.

He slowly removes his fingers as you come down, and your eyes are blinking for focus when he turns you around, his thumb coming up to brush over your bottom lip and you sigh at the taste of yourself as he pushes it inside your mouth. His other hand brushes away the damp, stray hairs that have fallen across your face, almost reverently, a silent worship as he takes you in, appreciates everything you just gave him.

He smiles gently at your half-blinking, half-vacant expression, his thumb still in your mouth; he watches you for a long moment in silence. His eyes are heavy-lidded and he's got a small quirk at the corner of his mouth as he pulls his thumb away and swipes it once more over your lip.

You're still not quite sure you can find words. Still not sure they'd form right as your tongue darts over the residue of Tom's finger and you flush impossibly hotter at the feeling of your own arousal on your mouth. Tom fixes your hair behind your ears and it doesn't seem like he's ready to stop taking you in in this state — your hair wild,  lips swollen, throat bruised and dress askew — and he leans in so tenderly it startles you, pressing a faint, almost imperceptible kiss to your forehead.

“Tell Godefrey he’ll be needing a new study partner. I think you’ll find yourself committed elsewhere." And with that he turns on his heel, perfectly composed, and disappears into the darkness of the midnight corridor.

Oh God, you think, and you’re too stunned to even react as you watch him vanish. It takes you a moment before you regain your senses, and you can only just manage to sputter out a breathless, miserable sigh into the air before you.

You are so completely, utterly fucked.

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

In My Room // Ethan Landry

request: none

prompts: none

summary: you’ve been dead for a few weeks. yet somehow, you showed up at ethan’s window in the middle of the night. things almost seem too good to be true. that is until you tell ethan that he has to keep killing if he wants to see you again.

warnings: very gory, graphic depictions murder, a lot of blood, a lot of main character deaths, very off plot, mentions of suicide, suicide but not very graphic, getting stabbed in the eye, descriptions of your rotting body, allusions to smut but nothing graphic, possible psychotic break

word count: 10.2k

a/n: gn reader, does not follow plot of scream 6 at all, i thought this song fit ethan perfectly and well this happened lol, not my gif

Are you gonna let me in?

Hello?

Hello?

Ethan shot straight up from his bed, his heart pounding. For the past hour there has been an incessant tapping coming from his window. He had tried to brush it off as simply a tree branch, or maybe a bird. But then he heard a voice. No. He heard your voice. It was exactly the same as he had remembered. But that was impossible. It had to be. You were dead. Right?

He looked over to his window and almost fell backwards in a mixture of pure shock and terror. Sure enough, there you were. Sitting outside of his bedroom window, tapping on the glass. Except you looked different. Just like you had the last time he saw you. Your skin was pale, and there was a bullet hole in the side of your head, blood seeping down the side of your face.

You saw Ethan looking at you and you smiled. A sick and twisted sight. You no longer had the same calming presence about you. There was something else there. Something sinister. Your smile was wicked and your eyes were dark. Blood dripped out of your mouth, staining your teeth and leaving red streaks down your chin.

Ethan still sat on his bed, looking at you. He couldn’t comprehend the sight in front of him. You were dead. You died a few weeks ago. Ethan had seen it, you died right in front of him. By his own hand. And yet, here you were, still tapping at his window and smiling eerily. But even though you were moving, and even speaking to him, you still looked dead. And the sight of it terrified him.

“Please let me in, Ethan. You don’t want me to freeze to death, do you?” You laughed softly at your words, knowing full well you were already dead.

Ethan hesitantly nodded and stood up, walking over to his window. He pulled it open and you crawled inside. His fear began to grow the longer he was around you. You smelled of blood and rotting flesh. You looked like a zombie. That was the closest thing he could compare you to. But even a zombie wouldn’t induce this much fear in him. So you must’ve been something else entirely.

“Thanks for letting me in, baby. We have so much to talk about.” You smiled sweetly, but your eyes still held the darkness you possessed.

2:45 and the bell went off

Thank God, many people think I'm odd

But I talk with no one and I walk alone

And I avoid sunlight with a chalky tone

Ethan pulled his hood over his head tighter and walked out of the classroom. He went to all his classes like normal, but he couldn’t even bring himself to focus on anything. His mind was focused on one thing, and one thing only. You.

More specifically, everything that had happened with you last night. You had crawled in through his window, and sat yourself upon his bed, some of your blood dripping onto the sheets, staining them red. Ethan walked over, but still stayed at a distance. He had seen enough horror movies to know that the ghost of someone you killed usually wasn’t very friendly.

“Why so tense, baby?” you had asked, tilting your head questioningly.

Ethan fumbled over his words, stuttering as he tried to reply. “I- uhm, well. I- uhh,” he couldn’t even figure out what he was trying to say, let alone how to make the words leave his mouth.

You simply smiled again and waved him over. He hesitantly came closer, sitting down beside you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss your presence, but there was something off about you. However, you didn’t seem particularly angry with him, or even upset for that matter. You just continued smiling at him, and you reached forward to place your hand on top of his. He had flinched at your touch, but he soon relaxed under it. You always had a way of comforting him, even when you looked like you were dead.

“How? How are you here?” Ethan asked, looking confused and intrigued at the same time.

You laughed softly. “Don’t you remember, baby? You killed me. Shot me. Right here.” You brought your other hand up and touched the gunshot wound on the side of your head. Your fingers were covered in your blood when you pulled them away.

Ethan felt his eyes well up with tears as he looked at you. He had never really experienced guilt before, but now the weight of it was almost crushing. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I didn’t want to kill you, believe me. I- I didn’t have a choice.”

You smiled once more, and brought your hand up to rest against his cheek, your blood staining his skin. He leaned into your touch. “I know, baby. I know you would never want to hurt me.”

He let out a sigh of relief and smiled at you. Gone was the fear he had felt moments before. All he could feel was his love for you. A love that extended beyond the bounds of life and death.

“But if you want to keep seeing me, I need you to do something for me.”

Ethan looked at you and nodded eagerly. “Anything. I’ll do anything for you. Just tell me what it is, and I’ll do it.”

You smiled wickedly. “Perfect.”

I get home and don't say hi, it ain't no one there

I don't care I walk in and go right up the stairs

To my room, get in bed and just wait for dark

Because that's when the real show start (Tap, tap)

Ethan sat on his bed, still wearing his Ghostface costume and holding his knife, both of which were covered in blood. He stared at his window expectantly, waiting for you to appear again. It had only been a day since he saw you last, but he couldn’t wait any longer.

He turned away to pull his mask off, setting it down on his bed beside him. As soon as his eyes were off of his window, he heard a gentle tapping coming from the other side of the glass. There you sat, perched outside of his window, looking exactly as you did the night before. Ethan shot up from his bed and practically scrambled to get over to the window and open it.

“Hi baby.” You smiled sweetly, your eyes still looking demonic. You crawled through his window again and sat down on his bed, waiting for him to come sit beside you.

As he walked back over, you noticed the bloody mask on the bed, as well as the bloody knife in his hand. You smiled gleefully, moving closer to him when he sat down.

“So? Did you do it? Exactly like I told you?” you asked, looking at Ethan, eagerly awaiting his answer.

He shrugged, before he nodded at you. “Almost exactly. I managed to slaughter Quinn and her boy toy. Anika almost got away, but I managed to kill her as well. Pushed her off a ladder as she was crawling into another apartment. I managed to stab Mindy too.” Ethan smiled wickedly, the rush of his recent kills still flowing through his veins.

You smiled again, leaning over to kiss Ethan gently. He sighed into the kiss, melting into your touch. You pulled away and looked into his eyes, a proud look on your face.

“Good job baby. You did so well. Now, before we talk about your next victims, I think you earned a little reward, hmm?”

Ethan smiled excitedly. You crawled onto his lap, smiling down at him. Then you reached down and began to take your shirt off.

"Tap tap" on the glass go the piece of ass

So young and pretty, it's too bad she passed

But she comes to my room and we talk at night

She's demonic and bloody, but she holds me tight

“What the hell were you thinking?! You know you weren’t supposed to kill Quinn! You’re such a fucking idiot Ethan! And to think I even thought you would ever compare to Richie. You’re just a useless piece of shit! I wish you had died instead of him!” Wayne yelled at his son, anger in his eyes and hatred in his voice.

Ethan practically cowered under his fathers gaze, feeling as though he was shrinking under the harsh glare. He tried to say something, anything to defend himself. But he just couldn’t. There was nothing he could say to help calm his father down. The plan was to make it look like Quinn had died. But you had told Ethan to really kill her. So he did. Because he swore to do whatever you wanted him to. And the next thing you wanted him to do was kill his father.

Wayne scoffed at Ethan’s silence. “Oh I get it. This is about y/n, isn’t it? You’re still mad that I made you kill her, is that it? Get over yourself. She found out about our plan. She was going to ruin everything! We had no choice!”

Ethan’s fingers wrapped around the knife in his hoodie pocket, feeling himself grow angry. Ethan felt your hand on his shoulder. He turned to look, but you weren’t there. And yet, he still heard your voice.

“You know what you have to do. Just kill him, and then you can see me again. Don’t you want to see me again? We had so much fun last time. Didn’t we?”

Ethan nodded and steadied himself. He walked closer to his father, his gaze hardening. He clutched the knife handle tightly, not yet revealing the weapon.

“No she wasn’t! She swore to me that she wasn’t going to tell anyone! I loved her! I fucking loved her! And you took her away from me!”

Ethan was only a few steps away from his father now, and Wayne could practically feel the anger radiating off of his son. He tried to back up, but he was already leaning against the wall. Ethan pulled his knife out, holding it against his father’s throat.

“Whoa, careful now Ethan! What do you think you’re doing? Just put the knife down. We can talk about this. Okay?”

Ethan’s hand shook. Then he heard your voice again.

“Do it. All you have to do to see me again is kill him. Do it.”

Ethan’s gaze hardened and he felt himself grow more steady. Wayne opened his mouth to speak again, but Ethan already dragged the knife against his throat before the words could come out. He felt the blood splatter his face, the crimson liquid staining his pale skin. He watched with a smile as his father grasped his neck and fell to the ground, drawing in his final breaths.

“Good job baby,” you whispered in his ear.

He turned to see you, and you still weren’t there. But you would be.

In my bedroom, with her I'm never alone

And I kiss her cold lips until the morning come

Then she gone, I can still hear her voice loom

But she only exist in the dark of my room

Ethan walked into his bedroom and jumped in fright when he saw someone sitting on his bed. He felt himself calm when he realized it was just you. It was odd though. You had never been waiting for him on his bed before, you had always been outside his window, tapping on the glass and waiting to be let in. He pushed away his confusion, too overtaken by his excitement from seeing you.

You smiled, a sickeningly sweet one at that, and gazed upon Ethan, taking in his blood covered form. He felt chills run down his spine as you stared at him. His face was still covered in his father’s blood, and there was a blood stain coming from his pocket which held the knife. You reached out, beckoning Ethan closer. He did as you wanted, and sat beside you on his bed.

“You did such a good job baby. Killed your father, just like I asked. I’m so proud of you, my love.” The sweet look on your face did not match the darkness of your words. But somehow, the way you put them all together just made sense. And it drew Ethan in even more.

“Why do you keep asking me to kill people? Not that I mind, I’m just curious. You weren’t like this… before,” Ethan said, growing nervous as your smile faltered slightly.

“Nevermind that baby. All you need to know is that if you want to keep seeing me, you’ll do whatever I say. And that includes killing whoever I tell you to. Alright?”

Ethan nodded. You smiled once more, and brought your hands up to hold his face. You leaned in closer to him, kissing him hungrily. Ethan shivered under your touch. You were so cold, it almost felt as if he was kissing a frozen corpse. But it was you, and dead or not, he still wanted you. And clearly you still wanted him. So he decided that it didn’t matter. You were the only thing that mattered to him. And he wasn’t going to let anything or anyone take you away ever again.

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

Ethan laid down on his bed, out of breath and filled with ecstasy. No matter how many times he had been with you, you never failed to take his breath away. You sat beside him, looking down at him and running your cold fingers through his hair. You had pulled his shirt on, and Ethan was lying underneath the covers. He felt his eyes slowly begin to close, your touch and your presence relaxing him.

“You can’t fall asleep just yet baby. I need to give you your next target. Or you’ll never see me again.” You frowned at your words.

Ethan’s eyes opened and he sat up, eagerly awaiting your instructions. He really didn’t have anything to lose anymore, since you had already instructed him to kill his sister and father, the last two members of his family. You were all he had now. His friends didn’t trust him. Which was technically well deserved since Ethan truly was the one behind all of the recent murders. Or more accurately, you were the one behind the murders, and Ethan was nothing except your puppet.

Still, he didn’t mind doing your bidding. Killing whoever you told him to. He found it thrilling. Not only did he get a rush out of killing, but he knew that every time he did it, you would show up that night, ready to reward him for his efforts. It was getting riskier and riskier for him, but he found himself not caring about the consequences anymore. As long as he got to be with you, he could care less about what would happen to him.

You smiled at his excitement, and ran your fingers through his hair one last time, before pulling your hands away. His shoulders fell slightly, but he tried to not let his disappointment show. He didn’t want to risk doing anything to upset you, because he didn’t want you to stop showing up. So he sat there, waiting for you to speak.

“Gale is next. While Kirby is running surveillance and everyone else is distracted, get into Gale’s apartment and gut her. And her little boyfriend too. Don’t go easy on them. Make it long, and painful. I want you to make a mess. I want you to destroy them. Do that, and I’ll come back tomorrow night.”

Ethan nodded eagerly, letting your instructions imprint in his mind. He had to do it exactly as you said. The last time he got a few details wrong, you didn’t go easy on him that night. He still had some of the bruises on his skin from it. This time, he wasn’t going to disappoint you.

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

Ethan had done what you said, and he was currently hiding in Gale’s apartment. Her boyfriend walked by and Ethan grabbed him, placing his hand over his mouth tightly and pressing his knife deep into his stomach. The man groaned in pain, and Ethan only clamped his hand over his mouth harder. He twisted the knife and dragged it up, tearing his torso open. His organs began to spill out, along with excessive amounts of blood.

Ethan smiled. He had done exactly what you wanted. He picked up Gale’s boyfriend’s corpse and threw it into the wooden shelving structure in her living room, the corpse falling through to the other side, causing Gale to scream in terror. Ethan wiped his knife clean and jumped through the hole he had created.

Gale tried to run, but Ethan was faster, easily catching up and pushing her onto the ground. She tried to fight back, but he managed to keep her down. It was as if Gale realized she wasn’t going to get out of this. The fight in her eyes disappeared, and even though she still tried to fight, her efforts were significantly diminished.

Ethan plunged the knife into her side, not wanting to waste any time scaring her and risk her getting away. He had seen enough Stab movies to know that he had to move fast if he wanted her dead. He pulled the knife down, splitting her side open. Gale let out a guttural scream, choking on her own blood a few seconds later. Ethan pulled the knife out and moved back, stabbing her in the torso over and over again. She was a bloody mess, her flesh surrounding her in shredded chunks, and a pool of her blood forming beneath her.

He stood up and smiled at the work he had done. You were going to be so proud of him. Then he heard the door open. Ethan whipped his head around to see Sam and Tara standing there, looking terrified and heartbroken. He ran towards them, desperately wanting to get out of the apartment. He pushed through them and dashed towards the stairs, making it out of the building before either of them had time to react.

I try to smile a lot, but I'm always frontin'

But I do love a ghost and at least that's somethin'

She don't talk much, when she do it gets cold

Usually we just lay there and we hold each other

Just like the night before, you had been sitting on Ethan’s bed, waiting for him to return from his activities. He wasn’t wearing the costume this time, but he held it in his bag, the mask and the knife almost completely covered in blood. But you didn’t even need to see the proof to know he had done what you asked. You just knew. And you simply smiled.

Ethan smiled in return, dropping his backpack onto the floor. He walked towards you in silence, knowing what was going to happen now. The two of you had formed a fucked up routine. He killed someone for you, you would show up in his room and fuck him, and then you would give him instructions for the next day’s victims. Excitement built up in him as he walked closer. You were underneath his covers, and he hadn’t noticed it when he first walked in, but you weren’t wearing anything. His blanket being the only thing covering you.

You sat up, letting the blanket fall down and exposing your bare chest to Ethan. He felt his breath hitch as he looked at you, and he quickly sat down beside you. He pulled his own shirt off, and looked at you expectantly, waiting to see what you wanted to do.

“I saw what you did for me today baby. And it was fucking perfect. You were just as brutal as I had hoped you would be. It was glorious.”

Ethan felt his heart race as you praised his work. He wasn’t used to people being proud of him, and the fact that it was you made it even better. He smiled widely, and he reached a hand forward, resting it on yours.

“It was all for you, my love.”

You smiled at his words, and wrapped your fingers around his hand, pulling him closer. This was going to be fun.

We're lovers, we don't need others

One of my mother's cats jumped up on the covers

And it scared my baby, guess she don't like pets

So I twisted its fuckin' head off at the neck

You were laying on Ethan’s chest, just enjoying each other's company, when a loud bang sounded from outside. You jumped up, clearly startled by the noise, and before Ethan could even react, you had vanished from sight.

“No! Shit! Uhm, fuck. Where did you go? I- I need you to come back. You need to tell me what I’m supposed to do! How will I be able to see you again?” Ethan pleaded, but there was no response.

The noise sounded again, and Ethan got up and walked over to his window. He saw a guy down there, setting off firecrackers, as the other two guys with him watched in delight. Ethan’s jaw clenched as he stared down at them. They were the reason you had left so abruptly. And they weren’t going to get away with it.

Ethan walked over to his backpack and pulled on his Ghostface robe, sliding the mask over his head, and holding the knife in his hand. Chad wasn’t home that night, and it was close enough to Halloween that no one would pay any mind to the bloody costume. Ethan walked out of his dorm and began heading for the ground floor.

He hadn’t been able to get instructions from you for the next kills, so he didn’t know how to get you back. But if killing is what brought you back to him, maybe he would be able to bring you back this way.

Ethan approached the three guys, all wearing letterman jackets. They were all very clearly wasted, most likely drunk off their asses and high on who knows what. But it meant they wouldn’t be able to fight back very well, which was great for Ethan. He probably would never be able to take down three frat boys all on his own. But three wasted frat boys? Now that he could do.

“Yo! Sick costume my man!” one of the guys called out as Ethan walked closer.

Ethan walked over to the closest frat boy, the one who had complimented his outfit, and stabbed him over and over again in the chest and stomach, before slitting his throat. He fell to the ground, blood seeping out of him.

The next frat boy, the one who had been lighting the firecrackers, looked up at Ethan terrified. He tried to back away, but his back hit a wall. He trembled in fear as Ethan grew closer. Ethan smirked to himself as he took in the guy’s fear, and had to hold back a laugh when he realized the boy had pissed himself.

However, the third frat boy had a very different reaction. Ethan turned in confusion as the third guy burst out laughing, tears falling from his eyes.

“Yo, Scotty is that you? Sick prank my man! It looks so fucking real! You almost got me dude.”

Ethan rolled his eyes and turned back to the second guy, stabbing him over and over again wherever he could, before finally plunging his knife into the guy’s head, right through his eye. He removed the knife, and a majority of the guy’s eye came out with it. The third guy’s eyes widened as he began to realize that this wasn’t a prank, and that Ethan wasn’t whoever the hell Scotty was.

“Oh shit!” he screamed, turning to run before tripping on his own feet and face planting onto the ground.

Ethan loomed over him, and raised his knife menacingly. The guy held up his hands, but Ethan ignored them. He raised his knife, and readied himself for his next attack.

Look baby, it's bloody, it's gone, it's doomed

Please come back to the room

I'll do anything for thee, don't ignore me

This is more than a sick love story

Ethan paced back and forth in his bedroom, waiting for you to show up. You hadn’t been waiting for him on his bed like you had been the past two nights. He was beginning to think you might not even show up at all. But then he heard a gentle tap tap tapping on his window, and turned to see you sitting there, just as you had been a few nights ago.

Ethan practically ran over to the window and threw it open, moving back so you could crawl inside. Your face was expressionless as you entered his room, and you looked around, almost as if you were searching for something. Ethan closed his window and then stood beside you, gently intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I got rid of them. The guys who were making noise last night. I slaughtered all three of them and left them in the alley. It was the only way I could think of bringing you back to me.”

You smiled at Ethan’s words, and then grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you. You kissed him, this time it felt more desperate than it had the previous nights. Ethan thought he might’ve lost you for good, and he couldn’t believe that his idea had worked. He had gotten you back. Maybe it didn’t matter who he killed, as long as he killed someone, you always showed up.

But he didn’t dare mention that to you. He was still going to kill whoever you told him to, and he didn’t want you to think he would ever even think about disobeying you. So he went along with what you were doing, letting you have your way with him. Before he knew it, you had taken his shirt off and pushed him back onto his bed. You were moving closer to him, staring at him hungrily. Ethan felt a shiver run down his spine as you got closer, smiling as you looked down at him.

“You did so good for me baby. So proud,” you smiled, and it was a bit condescending, but Ethan didn’t mind.

He smiled and nodded, feeling his heartbeat speed up from your words and from how close you were. This was going to be a night he would never forget.

Without you I'd bring a shotgun to school

And I will if you want me to, for any reason

I hate that you leave when the lights come on

And if I had it my way the fuckin' sun'd be gone

Ethan rested his head on your chest, looking up at you. There was nothing but love and devotion in his eyes. You had him completely wrapped around your finger. He would do anything to feel you again. To even just see you again. And both of you knew it.

“Who do you want me to kill next, my love? I’ll do anything you say, no matter what. Just tell me, and I’ll do it.”

You laughed fondly and smiled down at him. “You’re so eager. Aren’t you? It’s not just about seeing me, is it? You love killing, don’t you?”

Ethan’s face went red and he looked away from you. It was almost as if he was embarrassed. But you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why. There was nothing to be ashamed of. If anything, his passion for killing helped you out even more. It didn’t take nearly as much convincing as you thought it would to get him to do your bidding.

You placed a finger under his chin and forced him to look up at you. His face was still red, and you simply smiled at him, the sight comforting him slightly.

“Don’t go all shy on me now, baby. I’m right, aren’t I?” you smile turned into a smirk. His face blushed darker as he realized you were teasing him.

He slowly nodded. “Y-yeah. You’re right. I love killing. I’d do it with or without you. N-not to say I want to do it without you! I never want to do anything without you. Ever!”

You smiled fondly. “I know baby, I know. You’re just as fucked up in the head as I am. And I love it. So fucking much.”

He smiled up at you, relaxing into your embrace. You brought your hand up to his head and started absentmindedly playing with his hair. He sighed softly at the feeling, relaxing even more.

“So, how is it going with everyone? Are they getting close to figuring out it’s you?”

Ethan shook his head. “No. I don’t think so. Mindy’s convinced it’s me, but she’s the only one. Everyone else is clueless.”

“She is, huh? Sounds like she’s going to become a problem. Don’t you think?”

Ethan nodded, waiting for you to continue.

“I want her gone next. Find a way to get the two of you separated from the rest of the group. Kill her. Make it look like you tried to protect her. Gain everyone’s trust. Can you do that?”

Ethan nodded, smiling widely at you. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

The group was currently headed to the Ghostface shrine, where they were hoping to lure in the killer in order to execute him. Too bad he wouldn’t be showing up.

Sam, Tara, Danny, and Chad had gotten onto the subway, the doors closing seconds before Mindy could get on. She had been left behind. With Ethan. Mindy glanced over at him uneasily, but Ethan simply smiled. He was trying to get her to trust him, but Mindy couldn’t shake the feeling that Ethan wasn’t being truthful. Of course, she was right. But no one else had to know that.

Mindy and Ethan got onto the next train, and Mindy walked away from Ethan, not wanting to be sat close to him. Despite that, Ethan walked over and stood beside her anyways. Mindy looked at him confused, and tried shifting away, but Ethan just moved closer again.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mindy asked, glaring at Ethan suspiciously.

“I’m trying to keep both of us safe. Safety in numbers, right? If we stay on our own, it’s more likely for one of us to be attacked. But by all means, if you’re willing to take that chance I’ll go stand somewhere else.”

Mindy sighed and shook her head, relenting. “No, it’s fine. I- I guess you do have a point. And if it is you, there’s no way you would try anything right now. So no harm done, I guess.”

Ethan smiled and nodded. “Exactly. I’ll protect you and you’ll protect me!”

The two of them stood in silence, resting against the door at the end of the train. The lights kept flickering, and Mindy glanced around uneasily. She had been trying to text Chad for the past few minutes, but there wasn’t any service. She grumbled and put her phone away, slightly shifting away from Ethan.

Then the train went dark. Ethan smiled to himself wickedly. Now was his chance. He turned, pushing Mindy against the door and holding his hand against her mouth. To anyone looking, it appeared to be two teenagers making out. The perfect cover. Mindy’s eyes went wide as she stared up at Ethan in fear. He pulled his knife out and sliced her torso open, from bottom to top. Her organs began to fall out, blood pouring out of the newly present opening. Ethan quickly wiped his knife off and concealed it again. Moving away to stand near the seats. Mindy fell to the floor.

When the lights finally came back on, Ethan looked over to see Mindy lying on the floor, and immediately pretended to freak out. He had to put on a good show, this needed to look realistic.

“Oh shit, Mindy!”

He rushed over to her side, crouching beside her, trying to help keep her blood in. An obviously futile task.

“Shit, that’s a lot of blood. Help! Somebody help!”

Ethan managed to get Mindy off of the subway and placed her on the ground, resting her against a column. She was clearly dead by now, but he didn’t stop trying to get help. Two security guards from the station rushed over to assist, and Ethan backed up, maintaining a panicked look on his face. Despite how upset he looked, he was overjoyed on the inside. Another victim down. And it was all for you. He would get to see you again soon, and he couldn’t wait.

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

Ethan walked into his room and shut the door behind him. Just like you had before, you sat on his bed waiting for him. Ethan could barely contain his excitement at just the mere sight of you. You were beautiful. Even if you were dead, and you very clearly looked like it, Ethan still thought you were beautiful. It didn’t matter that you were covered in your own blood or that you were slowly rotting from the inside out. He would always think you were beautiful. No matter what.

“I did it. Just like you told me to,” he said, smiling widely as he walked over to you.

You smiled sweetly, your eyes still dark and soulless. “Good job baby. I’m so proud of you.”

You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tightly. Ethan relaxed into your embrace, leaning up against you. You kissed the top of his head and then pulled away, smiling again. But this time, it was more sinister.

“Only a few more left, baby. And then we can be together. Forever,” your sweet voice starkly contrasted the cruelness of your words.

Ethan nodded eagerly, turning to face you completely.

“Tell me what to do next. Tell me, and I’ll do it. I’d do anything to be with you forever.”

“I know you would, my love. That’s why I love you. More than anything else.”

Ethan smiled again. “I love you too.”

“So tell me about it. I want to hear everything,” you smiled wickedly, leaning forward slightly.

Ethan nodded. He went to answer, but you had moved so close to him that he just couldn’t help himself. Ethan leaned in and kissed you, feeling his head begin to spin from your touch.

Sometimes I kiss her, I start shakin'

She slips me the tongue, and it tastes like bacon

Uh oh, something's wrong, baby's upset

She told me she was spotted by the neighbor's kid

You giggled as you pulled away from the kiss. Ethan’s eyes were wide and his face was flushed. His heart was racing and his mind was moving so fast he couldn’t form any words. He looked over at you, smiling like a lovesick idiot.

“Come on darling. Tell me all about it.” You smiled again, growing excited from just thinking about the latest murder your boyfriend committed in your name.

“I did everything you asked. I got Mindy separated from the rest of the group. We were on a different train together. And when the lights on the train went out, I gutted her. Everything went perfectly.”

Before you could respond, Ethan’s door burst open. Chad stood there, glaring at Ethan. He felt a shiver run down his spine, Chad had never looked so angry before. So terrifying. Ethan turned to look over at you, but you were gone. Ethan’s eyes narrowed as he turned back to Chad. It was his fault you were gone. How dare Chad take you away from him?

“Are you fucking kidding me?! It was you?! This whole time I trusted you. I defended you. And you were the killer this whole fucking time?!” Chad stormed over to Ethan, enraged.

He grabbed Ethan by the collar of his shirt and pushed him up against the wall. Ethan didn’t feel scared of Chad anymore. He was just angry. Chad had made you leave. And he wasn’t going to get away with it.

“How could you? You were my best friend! How could you do that? Why? Why did you kill Mindy?!” Chad yelled, keeping Ethan pushed up against the wall.

“I didn’t have a choice! It was y/n! They made me do it!” Ethan said, trying to keep Chad distracted. He subtly reached his arm out towards his nightstand, trying to grab his knife.

“Bullshit man! Y/n is dead! You probably killed her too! Tell me the truth! Why did you do this?” Chad only grew angrier, pulling Ethan away from the wall and shoving him against it again.

“I told you why! Y/n made me do it!” Ethan grasped the knife and pulled it over.

She can't come back now 'cause they know our secret

Unless I can make them keep it

If I do she may come to life

Now I'm in their yard with a shotgun and knife

Ethan drove his knife into Chad’s side, blood instantly staining the fabric of his shirt. He immediately let go of Ethan as he screamed in pain. Ethan pushed Chad back, causing him to fall over onto Ethan’s bed. He walked over and stabbed Chad, again and again. Everywhere he could. Chad was long dead by now, nothing more than a bloody mess, but Ethan couldn’t stop. He was just so angry. He had been wanting to see you all day, and now because of Chad, you were gone.

Ethan finally got off of Chad, leaving him unrecognizably mutilated. His room was completely covered in blood, making it look like something right out of a Stab movie. Ethan wiped his knife off on his bed sheets and shoved it in a pocket inside his jacket. He walked out of his room and left his dorm without a second thought. He was still covered in blood, but it was Halloween, so it didn’t matter. He could walk around like this and nobody would question anything.

Before he could even realize where he was going, he found himself heading towards Sam and Tara’s apartment complex. He was still in a blind rage, and he didn’t want to have to wait any longer to be with y/n forever. They were going to have him kill Sam and Tara anyways, so why wait any longer? He wanted to be with you now.

Ethan walked up the stairs, his eyes dark and his head numb. He wasn’t even entirely aware of his actions right now. He was angry, and the only thing he could think about was you. All he had to do was kill two more people, and then you could stay with him forever. So what if he had to kill all his friends and the only family he had left? It was all worth it for you. Anything would be worth it for you.

Cut the screen, went in and found the kid

Blew a bowl of spaghetti in the side of his head

And the daddy was next runnin' down the hall

I shredded his throat and he was quick to fall

Ethan knocked on the apartment door and waited. A few moments later he heard the locks clicking open. The door swung open, and Tara stood behind it. She gasped when she looked up at Ethan, who was still very much covered in blood. She moved aside to let Ethan in, and when she turned to lock the door, Ethan smiled to himself.

“Ethan, what happened?! Are you hurt?” Tara walked over to him and tried to check for any major injuries.

“No, I’m alright. But it- it’s just…,” Ethan trailed off, pretending to be holding back tears.

“What is it? What happened?” Tara’s eyes grew worried, and her breathing began to quicken.

“It’s Chad. He- He’s gone. The killer. They were in our dorm when we got back. They killed Chad. I- I managed to get away. I just feel horrible for leaving him behind,” Ethan choked on his words. He began forcing tears to fall.

Tara pulled him into a hug, feeling herself begin to cry as well.

“I- I can’t believe this. I’m so sorry.”

She sobbed against Ethan, burying her face against his shoulder. Ethan let her, and slipped his hand into his jacket, pulling out his knife. While Tara was distracted, he plunged it into her back, causing Tara to let out a bloodcurdling scream. He brought his other hand up to the back of her head, keeping her face pressed against him to muffle her screams.

He pulled the knife up, cutting through her flesh and leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He yanked it out and then stabbed her, over and over again. A pool of blood began to form beneath the two of them. Soon she stopped struggling, and her body went limp in his arms. Ethan let go of her and pushed her forward, Tara’s body falling to the floor.

“Tara? Are you alright?” Sam called from her bedroom.

Apparently the sound of a body hitting the floor was louder than Ethan thought. But at least he knew where Sam was. He wiped the blood off of his knife and slid it back into his jacket, walking towards where he heard Sam’s voice.

Tossed the Mossberg and gripped the knife

Started stabbin' the shit outta his wife

Went home a bloody mess with a job well done (Tap, tap)

Wash up and wait for my baby to come (Tap, tap)

He pushed the door open and cursed to himself when he saw Danny in Sam’s room with her. Taking the two of them down was going to be difficult. But he knew he would be able to do it. He would be able to do anything, as long as it was for you. So, Ethan stepped into the room.

He tried to make himself look sad, hoping he could make the two of them believe he was innocent. If he burst in here trying to kill them immediately, there was no way he was going to make it out of here. He glanced over to Danny, who sat up and looked at Ethan with concern once he saw how much blood was all over him.

Ethan would need to get rid of Danny first. He was going to be the biggest problem. Sam was probably going to be easier. Especially since she was unarmed and not expecting to be attacked.

“Oh my god. What happened to you?” Danny asked, a mixture of shock and confusion in his voice.

Sam, on the other hand, wasn’t as caring. She narrowed her eyes and she looked at Ethan. “How did you get in here?”

“Tara let me in. I- I came over to tell her about Chad. And then, the killer showed up. I- I tried to stop him,” Ethan’s voice broke as he began to fake cry again.

“What about Chad?” Sam asked, not believing Ethan’s story.

“He’s dead. The killer- he was waiting for us when we got back to our dorm. I couldn’t stop him. Chad told me to run. I- I-,” he cut himself off, crying even harder.

Sam stood up, walking over to Ethan.

“Where’s Tara?”

Ethan sniffled. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Sam nodded, then turned to look at her boyfriend. “Danny, stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

Sam gasped when she saw Tara’s body lying on the floor. She fell to her knees and started sobbing, shaking her sister in an attempt to get her to wake up. But she wasn’t responding.

“She’s not going to wake up,” Ethan said.

Sam turned around to look at Ethan. “What?”

Ethan sighed, then he pulled his knife out. “I said, she’s not going to wake up.”

Sam’s eyes widened as she realized what was happening. She stood up, her eyes turning dark.

“Mindy was right. It was you. Is that why you killed her? Because she was getting too close to figuring it out?”

Ethan shrugged. “More or less.”

“Why are you doing this? We haven’t done anything to you. There isn’t any reason behind this.”

Ethan smiled. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Richie was my brother. You remember Richie, right? The guy you brutally murdered last year.”

Sam’s eyes widened in shock. She had always thought Ethan looked familiar, but she had never realized why. Not until right now. She stepped closer to Ethan, and Ethan stepped back.

“So that’s why you’re doing this, huh? I’m the one who killed him! You didn’t need to hurt anyone else if you were after me!”

“Actually, that’s not why I’m doing this. That’s why this all started. It was me, Quinn, and our dad. He wanted to get revenge, and he easily talked Quinn into it. I didn’t want to. I didn’t think killing was for me. My mom was against it too. Or, at least she was until my dad made me kill her.”

“Quinn’s your sister? What, you guys did this as a family?”

“You ruined our family, so we wanted to destroy yours. But let’s just say that plans changed.”

“Why would you kill them then, huh? Why kill Quinn? Why kill your dad? I thought you guys were working together.”

“Oh we were. That was until my dad forced me to kill y/n. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret putting the bullet in his head instead. But he’s gone now. All I have left to do is to kill you and your little boyfriend. Then y/n will finally come back to me forever. They won’t have to leave again.”

“What are you talking about? Y/n is dead! You’re not making any sense!”

“I don’t care if it makes sense to you or not, I know the truth.”

Love (I can't ignore you)

In my room (Do anything for you, baby) (Tap, tap)

Love (I do adore you)

In my room, you and I (Tap, tap go the piece of ass)

Ethan didn’t waste anymore time. He lunged for Sam, trying to kill her. She dodged, causing Ethan to slice the side of her arm. Sam screamed in pain, her hand reaching up to press against the steadily bleeding wound. Ethan ran over to her, and was about to stab her again, when he heard Danny appear behind them. Ethan groaned and turned around.

“Yo! What the hell?” Danny said, in shock from the sight before him.

Ethan grumbled. “I don't have time for this shit.”

He stepped towards Danny and lifted his knife, slashing him across the throat. Danny fell to the ground, gripping his throat in an attempt to stop the blood from pouring out. It didn’t do much at all, and he soon laid there on the ground, lifeless, in a puddle of his own blood.

Sam gasped as she watched Danny fall to the ground. Ethan turned around and ran back over to her, stepping on her leg to prevent her from getting away. He leaned down and grabbed Sam’s arm, pulling her up. She fought against his grip, but she wasn’t getting anywhere.

Ethan smiled, a mixture between joy and pure evil, as he plunged his knife into Sam. She screamed out in pain as she continued to try and escape. Ethan stabbed her again and again, adding to the continuously growing puddle of blood on the floor. Sam elbowed Ethan in the side, causing him to loosen his grip on her.

Sam freed her arm and immediately collapsed to the ground. She was losing a lot of blood, and was fighting to remain conscious. She tried to crawl over to the door, but moving was incredibly difficult, especially since she kept slipping in the blood on the floor. Ethan easily walked over to her, and pinned her down on the ground. He stabbed her again, this time in the neck. He twisted the knife, and Sam’s screams slowly died down as he tore through her throat.

Her body soon fell limp and he pulled the knife back out. He placed it back inside his jacket, not bothering to wipe it off this time. Now he had nothing left to do except go back to his dorm and wait.

I waited two or three days, four days

Waitin' for the "tap tap" like always

I waited and hated this (Tap, tap)

I created a bloody mess (Tap, tap)

Ethan sat on his bed, staring out the window. When he had gotten home last night, he cleaned himself off and then went to work on cleaning up his room. He moved Chad’s body into his bedroom, and locked the door before he closed it. Returning to his own room, he cleaned up the blood as best as he could, and he threw away the sheets that had been on his bed, not wanting to bother trying to remove those stains.

Now it was a day later, and everything had been cleaned up. He was sitting on his bed and waiting for you to show up, just like you had for the past few nights. Except this time, you were nowhere to be found. All night Ethan had sat and stared at his window, waiting for you to show up. But you never did.

Soon, the sun had come up. He stayed up all night waiting for you, and you never showed. He was upset, and he was confused. What had he done wrong? He had done everything you wanted and then some. He killed his best friend for you. He killed his family. He even killed the rest of the people you wanted all at once, so neither of you would have to wait anymore.

What had he done wrong? You always showed up. Everytime he killed someone, you showed up. But last night you hadn’t. Ethan felt himself spiraling, desperately trying to think of a reason as to why you didn’t show up. But he couldn’t find a single one.

I waited two or three months, four months

Waitin' for the "tap tap," just for once

I waited and hated this (Tap, tap)

I created a bloody mess (Tap, tap)

Every night like clockwork, Ethan sat there and waited for you. He didn’t go to class anymore. He barely ate, barely slept. Seeing you again was the only thing that mattered. Days went by. Then weeks. Then months. And you were still nowhere to be found. It was beginning to drive Ethan crazy.

But he realized he couldn’t just go on like this. If he wanted to see you again, he would have to do something about it. He had been going over what he had done the last night he saw you, and then he realized something. He had missed someone. One of the victims that you had wanted dead was still alive. Kirby was still out there.

After the murders, Kirby had transferred to the FBI in NYC. She was still in the city. It wouldn’t be that difficult for Ethan to find her. Or for Ethan to get rid of her. Maybe if he killed her, you would come back to him. And maybe this time, you would never leave.

Kirby had given Ethan her number after everything that had happened. He was the only survivor. He had managed to pin all of the murders on Danny, and all of the cops seemed to believe him. Kirby didn’t want Ethan to be alone after all of this, so she gave him a way to contact her if he ever needed anything. He never planned on using it, not wanting to involve himself with the authorities anymore than he had to.

But now, he didn’t really have much of a choice. So he pulled his phone out and found her contact, pressing the call button.

“Kirby? It’s Ethan.”

I waited two or three days, four days ("Where is she?")

Waitin' for the "tap tap" like always

I waited and hated this (Tap, tap) ("Why isn't she comin' back?")

I created a bloody mess (Tap, tap) ("I fuckin' killed those people!")

Ethan knocked on the door of Kirby’s apartment, anxiously playing with his hands. He just wanted to get this over with. He couldn’t wait any longer to see you, and the thought that all he had to do was kill one more person to see you again made him more excited than he could ever remember being. All of this waiting would soon be over. And he could finally be yours. Forever.

Kirby opened the door and let Ethan inside. As soon as the door was locked and Kirby was facing the other way, Ethan pulled out his knife and tackled Kirby to the ground. He stabbed her in her scar, twisting the knife. She screamed in pain as blood poured out of her, trying to push Ethan off of her. But it was no use, Ethan was over a foot taller than her.

He pulled the knife out and then stabbed her again, over and over, creating a bloody mess. He was so angry, mostly at himself, for messing this up. For being kept from you for so long. So many feelings were stuck bottled up inside of him, and he was finally able to let them all out.

He pulled the knife out for the final time, and smiled as he stood up. Kirby was definitely dead by now, the majority of her blood now laying in a puddle beneath her. Ethan shoved his knife back inside his jacket pocket and turned around, walking out of the apartment and leaving the door open behind him.

When he got home, you would finally be there. Waiting for him.

I waited two or three months, four months

Waitin' for the "tap tap," just for once ("Where the fuck is she?!")

I waited and hated this (Tap, tap)

I created a bloody mess (Tap, tap) ("Why isn't she coming back?!")

Ethan practically ran into his room, excitement building up inside him. But you weren’t there. His room was still empty. He sighed, feeling deflated. He slammed his door shut behind him and walked over to his bed, sitting down on it.

Maybe he would just have to wait. The last time you were scared away, you showed up later than normal. So all he would have to do was wait. He knew you were going to be coming back, he was sure of it. He had done everything you had asked, and everything that you were going to tell him to do. There’s no way you weren’t going to show up now.

He stared at his window like always, waiting for you to show up. Minutes went by. Then it was hours. And before he knew it, the sun was up again. You still hadn’t shown up. Why hadn’t you shown up? What else did he have to do?

Ethan screamed in frustration as he laid back on his bed. Maybe you were never coming back. Had you ever even really been there in the first place? All this time, everything Ethan had been doing for you, had you just been a hallucination all this time?

He shook his head, pushing those thoughts away. There was no way you were just a hallucination. He had seen you. He had talked to you. He had felt you. You had to have been there. You had to have been real. Because if you weren’t, then Ethan did all of this for nothing. He killed his family for you. But if you weren’t real, then he lost his only family for nothing.

I waited two or three days, four days (Love)

Waitin' for the "tap tap" like always ("I can't believe I did it") (In my room)

I waited and hated this (Love)

I created a bloody mess ("I killed them!")(In my room, you and I)

Ethan had been spiraling hard since the day he killed Kirby. It had been a few days, and you still hadn’t shown up. He couldn’t tell what was real anymore. He didn’t know if you had really been there, or if you were just a hallucination. And the thought of that was driving him crazy.

He almost never left his room anymore. He couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t want to miss you if you showed up. He was losing weight, and he was struggling to stay awake. But he couldn’t let himself miss you. Even if it destroyed him, Ethan would wait until you finally showed up again.

He didn’t want to admit it, but Ethan was losing it. He felt his mind begin to crack and reality slowly slipped away. He couldn’t tell what was real or fake anymore. He was hearing your voice all the time, but he still couldn’t see you. He was going insane, waiting for you to show up. The longer he waited, the less hope he had. He couldn’t bring himself to come to terms with the fact that you were probably never coming back. If you had ever even been there at all.

Ethan paced back and forth in his room, muttering to himself. He didn’t know what he was saying, he barely even knew what he was thinking. All he could bring himself to do was to stay in his room and wait. Sometimes he found himself forgetting what he was even waiting for. But he kept doing it, knowing deep down just how important it was. He just couldn’t bring himself to give up hope. He was going to see you again. He was sure of it.

I waited two or three months, four months (Love)

Waitin' for the "tap tap," just for once ("Where is she?!") (In my room)

I waited and hated this (Love)

I created a bloody mess (In my room, you and I)

Ethan’s hands shook as he sat on his bed, holding a gun inside his mouth. He couldn’t take it anymore. He was tired of waiting for you to show up, because he was beginning to doubt that you ever would. He had gotten so lost inside his head, waiting for you, that he let everything else in his life fall apart. He didn’t have any friends or family anymore, he had killed them all for you. He had missed so many classes that it would be pointless to try and catch up now.

His life had begun to revolve around you. You took up his every thought, filling his entire being. The longer he went without you, the more of himself he felt slip away. And now, there was nothing left. He was nothing anymore. He was just an empty shell. And it was all because of you.

His hands shook even more as he tried to get himself to pull the trigger. He pulled the gun out, sobbing as he began to shake even harder. He didn’t know if he would be able to do this. He looked down at the gun in his hand, the image becoming blurry from the tears in his eyes.

“Come on darling. I know you can do it.”

Ethan’s head shot up, as he desperately looked around for you. He couldn’t see you, but he had just heard you, he was sure of it. He heard your voice. Somehow, someway, he had heard you speaking to him.

“Just this one last thing. And then we can be together forever. Don’t you want that?”

Ethan slowly nodded his head. “Y-yes.”

“Good. So just put the gun in your mouth. And you can figure out the rest from there.”

Ethan did as you asked, his hands steadying. He brought the gun back up and placed it in his mouth again. He wasn’t afraid anymore. You wanted this. You wanted him to do this. And that was all the motivation he needed to finish this. The way he had intended.

“Come on baby. You can do it. I know you can.”

Ethan brought his finger to the trigger, readying himself to pull it. He slowed his breathing to calm himself down, and prepared himself for what he was about to do. Just a few more moments, and this would all be over. Ethan would finally be with you again. Forever.

“I’ll see you soon, my love.”

Ethan pulled the trigger.

Hey, man, let me get some of that

Yeah, uh, listen, I'm not a crackhead

When are y'all plannin' on buying me a cigarette

[pedgito]

alone, in my mind ✧ ˚ · . eddie munson x afab!reader.

summary: so what if eddie munson had a really pretty face, it was just too good not to admire. so what if you liked to draw him in your free time, he definitely didn't mind. yet somehow, tutoring him still felt like the most scandalous thing you've ever done.

cw: 18+ content (minors, shoo!) afab!reader, virgin!reader, graphic smut (including p in v, oral, fingering, and all that jazz), orgasms, this is v dirty i'm sorry.

word count: almost 14k! don't judge me pls, i've been sitting on this for a few weeks.

prompt requests are always open!

alternate ao3 link

There was something therapeutic about sitting alone during lunch, watching chaos take place in front of you; from kids running around the cafeteria, traveling from table to table, conversing among themselves, yelling to each other from across the room, even standing up on tables like a stage and yelling out to the entire high school class. Eddie Munson was an enigma. You couldn’t figure him out. Other than him dealing you weed under the table and the occasional class you had with him, you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to him at one time.

So, he might find it slightly weird that you’ve drawn him in your sketchbook more than a few times. You couldn’t help it, that hair was just too glorious not to draw. But to be fair, you’ve drawn up a lot of the other students without speaking to them. A lot of it was pure observation—a student focused on a book they were reading, a group of the cheerleaders circled up and giggling among themselves, Jason Carver pictured in his actual form, the true evil of Hawkins. Sometimes you liked to draw devil horns on him for fun. No harm, no foul, you didn’t actually mean anything by it—you just hated how much he bolstered himself up at school, despite still paying you to write for his English homework. But hey, you gotta hustle where you can. He left you alone for the most part, anyways. 

Once the bell rang and the last few stragglers were leaving the lunch room, you finally gathered your own things. Shoving the last minute homework into your bag and clutching the sketchbook to your chest, you leisurely walked your way to the exit. The sound of your pencil clanging to the floor beneath you had you pausing in your tracks. 

Part of you just wanted to leave it, you had enough in your bag that it wouldn’t really matter anyways. 

“Hey, this yours?” The voice asked.

You turned slowly, scanning the floor, stopping on the dirtied-up white sneakers that squeaked against the floor as they turned toward you. Of course it has to be Eddie.

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” You said softly, reaching forward to grab the pencil from him. The silence was apparent now, only the two of you left in the cafeteria. 

“No problem.” He laughs slightly, “Oh hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you,” He leans in, lowering his voice—not that it really mattered since it was only you two, “I got a couple new strains in, if you want to meet up at the usual spot.” 

Against your own rational thinking, your mouth spoke before your brain could process. “Sure.” You hadn’t even smoked the last bit of weed he’d sold to you yet. 

He smiled, leaving wordlessly.

Sometimes it felt like life was happening around you and you weren’t even present, your body just did and said what it wanted.

“Oh, you fucking idiot.” You spoke to yourself.

⋆·˚ ༘ *

Four o’clock. The woods just west of Hawkins High. Picnic table. That’s how you’d set up your meetings from the start. And of course, you were always right on time. Eddie however, he’d get here eventually. At least you hoped. Your shift at the Family Video started in a half hour and not that Keith would even take the chance to fire you, you just hated the idea of being late.

“Come on, Munson.” You grumble to yourself, checking the watch around your wrist. You sigh, sitting your bag on the table to grab your sketchbook, scribbling down a rough version of the wide expanse of trees in front of you. 

“I’m late, I know.” A voice startles you from behind. The scream that leaves your mouth is involuntary, but you quickly cover it in an attempt to compose yourself.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie.” You tell him, pulling your hand from your mouth. “You can’t sneak up on people like that!”

“You okay?” He asks, chuckling lightheartedly. The question was genuine, though. The way his eyes connected with yours assured you of so.

“Sure, one tiny heart attack later.” You reply sarcastically. 

“Hey, I was loud as fuck walking up.” Eddie says like he's trying to prove it to himself, pointing behind himself briefly. “You completely forget other things exist when you shove your head into that thing.”

You glance down at your book before promptly snapping it shut. “Shut up.” You say, no real bite behind it. 

He threw his hands up in defeat. “Hey, just a harmless observation.” Not that you were bothered by him observing, but the fact that he had—it was surprising. He only ever talked about two things, Hellfire Club and D&D, which went hand in hand. But so much so, that he was almost hyper fixated on it. 

“Anyways,” you say, shifting the subject. “I’ve got work in thirty—well, about twenty now,”

“Yadda, yadda, yeah—make it quick, I know.” He grins, placing his small chest of goodies on the table. You roll your eyes in annoyance, even if you weren’t really that annoyed in the first place. He slaps two baggies on the table, presenting them like prized possessions.

“Colombian Gold, Northern Lights.” He says, pointing them out individually. “Pick your poison.”

You tilted your head, deciding on which sounded better. Eddie interjects thoughtfully, “Personally, I’m a fan of that sweet, sweet Colombian Gold.”

You laugh quietly, nodding in agreement. “Fine then.”

“Twenty for the ounce.” He says, shoving the leftovers back into the metal chest. 

You swing your bag around to dig for the pocket change, shoving your hand inside to grab for your wallet. But, there’s nothing there. Not the familiar chain or zipper that sticks out, nothing.

“Shit, shit.” You say suddenly, beginning to panic. You close your eyes shut, trying to retrace your steps. But it dawns on you, your wallet is probably sitting on your bedside shelf where you left it the night prior, coming back from your late night run to the store after leaving work. “I think I left my wallet at home.”

Eddie ponders for a moment, then shrugs. “Get me when you can, I know you’re good for it.”

You hated the idea of not paying him the money you owed, “I swear I’ll pay today. I can meet up with you after I get out of work or—“

Eddie snorts, walking forward and grabbing a pen that had fallen out of my bag during my wild search. He opens my palm, holding it firmly. He pulls off the cap of the pen, holding it between his teeth as he scribbles something on my hand.

You inspect it closely. It was an address. Eddie caps the pen and hands it back to you. “Can you stop there after work?”

You were apprehensive for a moment, but figured there couldn’t be much harm in it. “Yeah, I can try. I don’t get out until nine, though.”

“Works for me.” He tells you, shoving his hand in his back pocket to adjust the black handkerchief that was shoved in haphazardly. You snorted softly, shoving your things back into your bag as quickly as you could. 

“Okay, well—I’ll see you then, I guess—“ You swung back around, coming directly in contact with Eddie’s chest, who hadn’t moved from his spot. Why hadn’t he moved? More importantly, why was he reaching down?

Fuck. You looked down to notice some of the papers from your sketchbook had sprawled out on the ground. You scrambled to gather the drawings back into the pocket of the book, hoping you could avoid another awkward encounter with Eddie today.

But, as luck would have it—“Damn, these are good.” Eddie says suddenly, holding up one drawing in particular, an offhand drawing off Steve while you had some downtime at work.

“Make sure you do my hair justice.” He’d told you. You laughed and smacked him in the back of the head softly. 

“Is that Harrington?” He asks.

“…yeah.” You answer, trying not to die of embarrassment. 

He glances at you, noticing your discomfort. “Shit, I’m sorry. Here.” Eddie hands the paper over, realizing he may have overstepped. 

“Thanks.” You answer, taking the paper from his hand.

“Oh, hey-“ He interrupts, reaching down to grab another page that had fallen under the picnic table seat. “You forgot,” He pauses, looking at it closely, “one.” His voice is soft, thoughtful.

You curse inwardly, trying not to physically facepalm yourself.

“Is that me?” He asks, the smallest smile forming in his face. “Well, at least—-the back of me?” 

You stutter for words, your brain suddenly lacking the English language entirely. 

“Does my hair really look like that from the back?” He asks playfully, head tilted in curiosity. 

“Ms. McNally’s class gets really boring.” You tell him, snatching the paper back. “Like, really boring.”

But no, his head definitely looked like that from the back, despite the unruly curls in his hair, there wasn’t a piece out of place.

“Glad to know the back of my head gives you some entertainment then.” It’s a lame attempt to lighten the mood, but it works. Your thankful his immediate reaction isn’t to find it odd or make fun of you, he almost seemed amused.

“Here.” He finally hands the page over. “No more peeking, I swear.”

You place the page back into your sketchbook carefully. Looking up, Eddie’s still standing there, though looking around aimlessly.

“Eddie, what are you still doing here?” You ask.

“Got another deal going on soon.” He tells you. “Top secret.” And if the wink didn’t make you blush, it was the grin that spread over his features, you shook your head and laughed it off. 

“See you at nine, Munson.” You tell him, backpack slung over your right shoulder.

“Can’t wait.” He says playfully.

⋆·˚ ༘ *

Your bike squealed to a stop outside of Family Video, nearly burning rubber. Clocking in with thirty seconds to spare, you breath a sigh of relief. 

“What’s got you riled up?” Steve asks, organizing the Horror section of movies from a few feet away.

“Nothing.” You grumble, setting your bag down and throwing the god awful work vest over your sweater. 

“You just missed Keith, by the way.” He adds, shooting you a knowing but amused look.

“Thank god.” Keith had a small obsession with you, not that you were creeped out about it. He was just so hopelessly in love with you, which blinded his ability to see that you had no interest in returning the sentiment. “That’s the last thing I need.”

“It’s the undeniable charm you’ve got.” Steve jokes, shrugging casually. “The ladies and gents love it—right, Robin?”

Like a jack in the box, Robin pops up from where she’s squatted behind the counter.

“Stop teasing her.” Robin warms, throwing a VHS case at Steve’s head. It promptly smacks him in the forehead. 

“Ow, what the hell?” Steve shouts, fingers touching his forehead for any sign of injury. Not that there would be any, Robin had barely hit him in the process and Steve was kind of dramatizing things. You’d still consider it one of his more positive traits, even if it did serve as more entertainment to you and Robin than anything.

“No, he’s right.” You play along. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”

There’s a beat of silence and then you finally speak up.

“What do you guys make of Eddie Munson?” You asked, grabbing the stack of returned rentals to be checked through.

“The dude who’s been held back twice? Doesn’t he have that weird after school group thing he does?” Steve asks, looking between you and Robin.

“Yes.” You nod. “It’s a D&D club, Steve. Not a cult.”

Steve shrugs nonchalantly. “He always seemed off to me.”

“Yeah and you were prancing around with Tommy and Carol most of junior year.” You reminded him. “Don’t you remember when Tommy hit me on my bike with his car during Spring Break? During that giant party he had at his house?”

Steve immediately looked regretful at judging Eddie.

“Thank god you found Robin.” You tell him, trying to make Steve feel less guilty about it all. Tommy had always been jealous of Steve, but Carol and her constant snarky remarks always egged Tommy on. 

“Yeah!” Steve cheers, reaching over to high five Robin. She scoffs in annoyance, leave Steve’s unanswered high five hanging in the air.

“We both love chicks and boobies, it works out great.” Steve adds, returning hand to his side.

“He’s still learning.” Robin says quietly, leaning over toward you. “Why are you asking about Eddie anyways? Doesn’t he deal weed to the students?”

You shot Robin a knowing look.

“Oh. Oh.” She catches on. “Well, did something happen between you two?”

“No. Nothing, really. I just have to meet up with him after work and was wondering if I should be worried.” Robin didn’t seem to question as to why you would need to meet up with, which made you grateful.

“He doesn’t seem like that type of guy. Not to me, at least.” Robin assures, lowering her voice as the entrance bell jingled, signaling a customer. “But, you could always take your pocket knife with you.”

Your mouth dropped open at the suggestion, but to be fair, Robin just wanted to make sure you felt safe.

“Yeah—murder first, ask questions later.” You retort playfully.

“You’ve been watching too many scary movies with Steve.” Robin tells you.

“Hey, don’t knock ‘em til you try ‘em!” Steve says, greeting the customer as they walk by. 

⋆·˚ ༘ *

You locked up for the night as soon as you could, making the short trek to your bike behind the back of the Family Video store. You pulled the small piece of paper you had scribbled on earlier, the address Eddie had left earlier started to smudge about an hour into your shift and you didn’t want to take any chances that it could last. And luckily, your mother had dropped your wallet off in the process of making her way to work that night, which was a lifesaver. The idea of biking home and then to Eddie’s made your legs hurt at the very possibility.

It was a ten minute bike ride away from the store, leading you down a long road that led to a dimly lit trailer park. The uneasiness set in immediately.

As if on cue, one of the poorly lit lamps sprinkled throughout the residence flickered a couple times before going out completely.

“Great. This is how I die.” You say to yourself, double checking the number on the paper so it matched with the trailer you were riding up to. 

Everything seemed normal, the lights were on inside. Aside from the totally barren mobile home and Eddie’s truck parked in the driveway, nothing felt too grim about the whole situation. Normally, you’d be in a rush to get home and relax, but you knew your parents didn’t care one way or another, as long as you came home in one piece.

You sighed, stepping off and leaning your bike against the deck. If it wasn’t for the muffled music playing inside the trailer, you would assume whoever was there had left but forgot to turn their lights off. You reach forward to knock tentatively on the flimsy screen door.

There’s a rustling from the back of the home, the sudden silence of music being turned off, then a twisting of the doorknob as the door creaked open.

“Well, well, well.” Eddie says, grinning at you through the screen door. “I didn’t think you’d ever show.”

“It’s only five after nine, Eddie.” You tell him, reaching around into your bag to make things quick.

“It was just a—nevermind,” He mumbles quietly to himself, “Whatcha got for me, princess?”

You curled your head to the side subtly, but didn’t think anything of the harmless and playful endearment. Save it, bookmark it, stow it away for later. You slide him the twenty, he eyes it for a moment. “You know,” he begins, arm resting against the trim of the door, “I’d take that drawing of me over the twenty if you’re willing to fork it over.”

“Are you serious?” You ask, hand frozen in place from where Eddie was hanging onto the bill.

“Deadly.” He tells you, tongue smoothing over the teeth that showed through his grin.

You debated, not sure why he was so interested in the first place.

“Why don’t you want the money?” You ask.

“You’ve bought enough from me, I think that warrants a little discount.” He shrugs, like it wasn’t a big deal at all.

“You’re so weird, Munson.” You reply, pulling out the sketchbook and handing the drawing over.

“Got anymore?” He asks jokingly, albeit a little curious.

“I’ll let that remain a mystery, thank you.” You tell him, snapping the book closed. He holds the drawing up to the light, watching him scan over it admiringly. 

“It’s really good, you know. You probably draw a lot of kids at school, don’t you?” He asks and you’re not sure where his sudden interest in conversation with you is coming from. Both of you didn’t interact outside of deals—this reality almost didn’t feel tangible. 

“Sometimes.” You answer skeptically, “Not all the time, though.”

“We’ll, I’m honored.” He says, noting one of the small details in the background. “Did you make Ms. McNally resembles a hobbit on purpose?”

You snorted at that. It was something, in hindsight, that you’d completely forgotten about. “She was really pissing me off that day.”

“Nice.” He laughs to himself, finally setting the drawing down on a table out of view. “Anyways, don’t worry about the twenty. You’re covered.”

“You really don’t have to do that, Eddie. I can pay.” You felt guilty at the thought, but Eddie seemed pretty serious about the whole ordeal. 

“Nope. We’re good.” He tells you, flashing you his trademark smile. He still hadn’t changed his school earlier, brandishing his Hellfire Club tee proudly. 

“Okay,” You draw out, dragging the last letter a bit. “Well, I’ll see you at school tomorrow then.” 

“Aye, aye.” He replied in mock salute, coming to stand at attention.

You couldn’t help but laugh aloud at the act, it was undeniably goofy, but adorable in its own right. He shut the door slowly, waving you a sweet goodbye as he finally disappeared. 

And despite all efforts, there was one giant fucking elephant in the room that you couldn’t ignore–because not only was Eddie devastatingly beautiful, he was charming as hell, which was something you had overlooked for far too long. 

⋆·˚ ༘ *

“Stupid. Fucking. Lockers.” You grumble to yourself, slamming the locker shut with every word. It was as if the world was setting you up for the shittiest day possible. It started with you sleeping through your alarm, burning the toast you’d made for breakfast, and somehow managing to spill orange juice all over your jeans in the small span of an hour–so not only were you on your second pair of jeans, you were ready to slam your head against the locker in defeat, ready to be put out of this complete, utter misery that had been your Friday morning.

“Woah, woah.” The voice carried down the hall, you peeked behind you. 

Eddie Munson was heading right for you. You turned and sighed, slamming the locker again for good measure.

“Lucky for you, I’ve got just the touch.” Eddie assures you, wiggling his fingers in your face. 

You tried to ignore every flipping feeling in your stomach at the sight of it.

It took him a second, but he swiftly lifted the locker door in a quick motion and slammed it close, that time for good. He’s smiling down at you–again, with that annoying, shit-eating grin.

“No. Don’t even start.” You tell him, finger pointing accusingly. “My morning has been horrible. I don’t need jokes, right now.”

“I was just going to ask if you wanted to walk to English together?” He replied, looking slightly defeated. “If that’s okay?”

“Oh.” You frowned. It still didn’t feel right to be conversing in front of your peers, like it was almost illegal. “I mean, I don’t see why not. But, Eddie–”

“Yep?” He asks, turning on his heels. You both had English together, which most of the time, was spent staring directly at the back of his head because you couldn’t be bothered to listen to Ms. McNally’s grating voice for more than a few minutes at a time.

“Why are you talking to me?” You ask, genuine and honest. There had never been any reason not to before, but why now?

“You seemed a little scary–well, not scary, scary–but like, she could definitely break my fingers if I said the wrong thing to her–that type of scary.” He explains in one breath, fiddling with the rings on his right hand.

Fair enough, considering the pocket knife you did carry in your bag for instances like that. There were too many assholes and you had plenty of ways to deal with them.

“Ah.” You replied, as if it all made sense. “Well, the jury's still out.”

“I’ll try and remember that.” He tells you, laughing slightly. “I also just wasn’t sure you liked talking to anyone from school–I mean I get that, but I just wanted to make sure you knew that you don’t have to sit alone at lunch like you do–”

“I don’t mind it–” You interject.

“I know. I’m just saying. Our table wouldn’t mind. The guys usually don’t know how to talk to girls, so most of them don’t say anything anyways.” He assures you.

The friendliness caught you off-guard. It seemed genuine, but you were also waiting for the catch. 

⋆·˚ ༘ *

The teacher slaps the graded test onto your desk, brandishing a bright red A. You quickly shove it under your textbook, glancing up as you hear the rustling of Eddie swiveling around to face you from his seat.

“All good?” You ask, mostly in an attempt to be friendly. But, you can’t help but notice the giant circled F on his paper. You’d heard lots of stories about Eddie and his inability to pass, being held back, and every lousy nickname that came along with that. People liked to pick on Eddie because he was different, he didn’t fit in with anyone at Hawkins, and while you might be able to get away with slipping under the radar–Eddie couldn’t. 

“I could tutor you, you know.” You suggest, instantly regretting the words the moment they leave your mouth. 

“Seriously?” He asks, looking caught off guard. “I appreciate it but–”

“Seriously.” You say, “English is my best subject and as long as you put in the same effort I am, I could at least get you up to a C.” In for a penny, in for a pound…I guess.

“That’s–yeah, that’s cool. I’m kinda busy with Hellfire most days though–” He starts, rolling the paper up in his hands. It was a small detail, but you noticed how often he used his hands when he liked to fidget, whether it be his rings or a poor piece of paper being strangled to death. 

“Weekends are good.” You assure him. “I work a lot during that week so I wouldn’t have time anyways.” 

Eddie nods slowly. He seemed apprehensive, like he didn’t really deserve the help you were offering. His jaw was clenched, eyes downcast.

“Eddie, I don’t mind.” You told him, offering a small smile to ease whatever worry he was feeling. ���It's just–we’ll have to study at your place though, not mine.”

You didn’t even want to begin to explain the ordeal to your parents, as understanding as they may be–any site of a boy and your parents would be seething at the idea.

“My uncle is gone most of the time, so I guess that works out.” He shrugs.

The sound of the teacher clearing her throat from a few rows over interrupts you both. You roll your eyes inconspicuously, turning in your chair.

Eddie taps your leg softly, having already turned around in his chair. You look underneath the desk to find a small piece of paper between his thumb and middle finger. Prying it from his fingers.

You unfold it quietly, fingers smoothing over the creases in the paper. 'Tmrw at 4?' It read it dark blue ink. His handwriting wasn’t as messy as you expected, you quickly scribbles a ‘Yep :)’ adding the smiley face for fun. Maybe this was a good thing, you could make it a good thing. Helping someone bump their grade and maybe make a friend in the process—what’s the worst thing that could happen?

You slid the paper over his shoulder, ignoring the way his fingertips brushed against yours. You didn’t see him unfold the paper, but the way his shoulder shook with silent laughter was a good sign. He pocketed the paper for safekeeping. 

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, but what you couldn’t see was the same smile that Eddie shared with you.

⋆·˚ ༘ *

The cafeteria was already packed by the time you had arrived, the hustle and bustle of kids grabbing their food and chit chatting like it was musical chairs was enough to drive you insane. You quickly ducked your head, attempting to make your way to your usual spot in the corner of the lunch room.

The hand that grabs your wrist stops you in your tracks. There’s a moment where you’re ready to swing back in retaliation. 

“Hey, want to sit with us?” He asks. He was really starting to throw you off. 

The idea of going from speaking in short, clipped—and sometimes one word answers, to full fledged conversations was not something you were used to. The only two people you talked to that much, outside of your parents, was Robin and Steve. And maybe Steve was a cop out, you two practically grew up together, toppling over each other as babies. 

“Uh, I don’t know—“ You begin, but the bellowing, boisterous voice of Dustin Henderson overpowers your own. 

“Steve graduated already, you gotta make new friends eventually.” 

That little fucking twerp. Him and Steve together in one place was a nightmare.

“I will murder you, Henderson. Don’t try me.” You threatened.

“You wouldn’t.” He counters.

“Try me.” You quirk your eyebrow. “Remember what Steve told you about summer of ‘84?” 

Your voice was lowered, but it didn’t seem like anyone was paying any attention, aside from the people sitting at Eddie’s table. It was like they had front row tickets to the most talked about movie in town. Dustin’s eyes widened in fear.

“He also told me about that time you two—“ You quickly shoved your hand over his mouth, stopping him from saying what was possibly the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done. He muffled the rest of whatever he was saying into your hand.

“Don’t you dare.” You say seriously, fingers pinching the tip of his ear. His hands fly up, signaling his white flag of defeat.

“You’re so mean sometimes.” He whines, rubbing his tender ear. 

“You’ll live, Henderson.” You assure him, bumping him aside with your hip to take a seat.

Eddie had been watching with intrigued amusement the entire time, not sure how well you and Dustin actually knew each other until now. And apparently, it was entirely too much. 

“Not gonna eat?” Eddie asks, noticing your lack of a lunch tray.

“I hate big crowds. I usually just wait until everyone sits down.” You say softly, setting your bag on your knees to rest your arms on. 

“Here.” Eddie says, sliding his uneaten apple and bag of carrots over like it was a game of poker and he was dividing up his chips. “For now, at least.”

“I’m fine, honestly.” You laugh lightheartedly, but take the fresh fruit and vegetable anyway.

⋆·˚ ༘ *

Your halfway through lunch when you lock eyes with Jason, who’s practically burning eyes into your skull. He motions toward the door leading to the back of the school, hoping you’d get the signal. 

It made him look ridiculous more than anything. You’d already planned to meet up with after lunch earlier on in the week, but Jason never seemed like he was focused on anything other than basketball or Chrissy—which fair, Chrissy was a great girl. 

You leave without much of a word, other than a smile and a pat on Dustin’s shoulder, hoping he’d get the message. He knew just as much as Steve did about your arrangement with Jason, considering Dustin and Steve were practically conjoined twins, at this point. He clears his throat, distracting Eddie with something about their meeting tonight so you could sneak away without worry.

When you’re finally outside, Jason is pacing, not nervously, but definitely impatiently. “You got it?” He asks.

You pause, “…Yeah.” You answer him, pulling the midterm paper out of your bag and handing it over, he quickly snatches it away and slides you over the money he promised.

“Jesus, Jason. This isn’t a drug deal. Chill out.” You finally find the courage to say. 

“If anyone finds out about this, I could lose my chance at any type of scholarship, you know?” He tells you, and you don’t even want to begin to hear his sob story. His parents could buy his way into any school he wanted, though you appreciated his poor attempt to manage it himself.

“Hmm, well maybe—just maybe, you shouldn’t be asking people to write your papers for you then.” You snark back, zipping your backpack closed aggressively for good measure. “Figure this shit out yourself, Jason. I’ve got work, my own school stuff, and plenty of other shit to worry about. I don’t need you hounding me for a paper that you could finish on your own in a night if you actually took the time.”

“But basketball is my priority.” He tells you, you join in to mock him at the same time. 

“Fuck off, Jason.” Enough was enough. Jason was nothing but a problem, even after all the pain and embarrassment he’d put you through a couple years prior. “Ask your perfect, pretty little girlfriend to do the work for you.”

And for once, he finally looked defeated. But, he was smart in not responding. He shoved his way past you, making his way back inside. You don’t remember how the arrangement between you two started initially, or why you fell pity to him after the stunt he pulled a couple years ago—you figured you were more desperate for the money at the time, sacrificing and swallowing your pride in the process. But now? Fuck that.

You could just ditch the rest of the day, which didn’t sound entirely too awful, but it was rash and you didn’t like to act on impulse, which you’d been doing entirely too much of lately.

“Pull it together.” You remind yourself before forcing yourself through the rest of what was already a horrible day.

⋆·˚ ༘ *

Steve tagged along to lock up with you tonight, considering you two had plans to hang out tonight and he had picked you up from school that evening as a favor. 

“What’s got you so tense?” He asks, swinging his keys around his pointer finger.

“Everything.” You sigh through clenched teeth, outwardly groaning as you take a seat in Steve’s car. “God, my feet are killing me.” You quickly toe your shoes off on the floorboard of his car and curl your legs up criss cross.

“Care to elaborate?” He pushes, backing out of the parking lot to pull out on the main road. “Everything is just like a blanket statement, you know. You know I’m never gonna repeat anything you tell me to anyone, ever.”

“Except Dustin.” You remind him.

“Okay, that was fair game. You told him some embarrassing stuff about me. I couldn’t just stand there and watch.” He laughs, you try to hold back your own laughter but it bubbles out soon after.

“It’s just—the shit with Jason, trying to keep up with school, my parents hounding me all the time, and then I promised Eddie I would help him with English—which, you know how my motor mouth works, once I get an idea it just comes out, it’s impossible to stop it.” And god was that a fucking breath of relief to finally let out.

“You’re still doing Jason’s schoolwork?” He asks, slightly disappointed in you. It was understandable, he hated him just as much as you. 

“Only the important stuff. Essays, the higher graded stuff, you know. It’s easy money.” You tell him, but it sounds like a lousy excuse.

“Let’s not forget he embarrassed you in front of the entire basketball team and cheerleaders last year.” 

“Which was partly your responsibility, Steve.” You remind him. But, it was so far in the past that you couldn’t be mad at him. Holding a grudge against Steve was like hating your own brother and you couldn’t do it. Your gut was pointing to every possible sign to say no to Jason, but Steve gave you the push you’d needed that night.

“I thought it was genuine. I’m sorry.” Steve tells you, you could see the way he paused, swallowed, thinking back on the memory.

“Anyways. I’m just stressed. Not that I can’t handle it, but Eddie’s been acting unnaturally friendly with me and it’s kind of giving me weird vibes.” You admit, like trusting Eddie was just too good to be true. Not weird in the way that made you want to run in the opposite direction, but the way that made your stomach clench in anticipation—and occasionally your thighs. Eddie had always been attractive, but only from a distance.

“Just keep your guard up, that’s always the best option.” He says honestly. “Not that you don’t already have the personality of a brick wall.”

You promptly hit Steve in the shoulder, watching him yell and reach for the spot where you’d landed the blow. “Ouch!”

“I'm not that boring you pompous ass!” You replied in playful disbelief. Steve slowly pulled into the driveway of his home, gradually letting the car come to a stop.

“Have you ever heard yourself talk?” He asks, voice teasing. 

“And I sound like I have the voice of a thousand fucking angels, Harrington.” You assure him, shoving him to the side as you both raced to the front door. 

“You mean a thousand fucking gremlins.”

You gasped outwardly, caught entirely off guard by his response. “Steve!”

⋆·˚ ༘ *

You wake up Saturday morning with everything Steve had told you fresh in your mind.

No getting too close. Don’t talk about anything personal. Take the arrangement for what it was. Studying, that was it. You rarely got nervous around boys, but Eddie, you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

Which was exactly why your heart was pounding out of your chest as you knocked on his front door. You silently prayed he’d answer the door quickly, the sweltering sun doing nothing to help your pale skin. You pulled your shorts down where they had ridden up on the bike ride here, the unnecessary sweater covering your plain tee proving to be nothing but a giant heat trap.

“Princess.” There it was again, the soft tone in his voice and the teasing smile that painted his face. “Welcome to the Munson residence, once again.”

“I’m dying out here.” You deadpan, hiking your bag up higher over your shoulder.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie fumbles with the door knob, swinging the door open. “Come in.”

You quickly step inside, watching as he closes the door behind you. It wasn’t much cooler, but it was definitely a welcomed change from the heat outside.

“You know, the sweater might be your problem.” He says as he makes his way beside you, leading you toward the back room. “Not that I’m judging, I’m just sure you’d suffer from heatstroke if I left you out there another five minutes.”

“And then I’d come back and haunt the shit out of you.” It was a lame attempt at a joke, but the response from Eddie has you snapping back into defense mode.

“Promise?” Your cheeks burn a dark shade of crimson, which you lamely attempt to hide by turning to dig into your bag and fish out some of your English notes and one of the books the class was currently focusing on.

“I figure we should probably go over the paper from the other day, so I could explain what you got wrong and why, if you don’t mind?” You change the subject entirely, taking a seat on his bed. It smelt like fresh linen, it was made neatly, you weren’t sure what you were expecting but it wasn’t that. Even you didn’t take as much time to make your bed that often, at least not as neatly as this. To each their own though—maybe Eddie was a bit of a neat freak, not that you minded. 

“Sure.” He agrees, taking a seat on his bed beside you, although a comfortable distance away. You could appreciate him respecting boundaries, even if you could still smell the cologne he was wearing, not that it was distracting…at all.

His interest is genuine as you explain through the test, even if much of it isn’t sticking with him, he’s still asking questions and staying engaged more than you anticipated. Even you were ready for a break after an hour of endless talk of metaphors in literature and the re-explaining of Macbeth in detail.

“My fucking brain hurts.” Eddie sighs, laying down, hands crossed over his stomach. You try not to stare at the small patch of hair at the end of his stomach, leading down just past the tip of his belt. Or the way his surprisingly toned stomach stretches against the shirt he’s wearing—which was just a plain, black shirt, surprisingly enough. You couldn’t remember the last time you’ve seen him without any type of Hellfire or metal band shirt on his body. Not that you noticed. Not at all.

Your brain finally stutters back awake at the feeling of his finger poking your thigh. “Huh?” You asks.

“I said, if you’re hot you can take off the sweater—that really can’t be comfortable.”

He was right, it wasn’t. But part of it was because it was like a safety blanket. Also, it was just one of your favorites. You let your brain run on autopilot, slipping it over your head. You tried not to think much of it, thankful your shirt was baggy enough that it didn’t reveal to much of you. Even if your shorts were scandalous in their own right. You had to pick and chose your battles. 

You toss the sweater onto his nightstand, noting the paper that falls to the floor as a result. Your drawing, he’s moved into his room, at least. Which was both comforting and odd. You couldn’t understand the interest he’d had in it in the first place, but you weren’t really in a place to question it. 

“I’ve been meaning to tape it up somewhere.” He mentions, noticing the way you stared at the lonely piece of a paper. “Not that my wall isn’t already covered in stuff.”

It was the first time you’d actually found the chance to take it all in. Posters, an amp—Eddie definitely came across as a guitar guy, so there wasn’t much surprise there, nightstands littered with random crap—your eyes immediately snapped toward the cuffs on the wall and quickly glanced over. There was no way you were touching on that topic, no fucking way. 

“I’d be honored.” You joke, tapping your pencil against your notebook.

“Do you take it with you everywhere?” He asks curiously. “That sketchbook, I mean. I’ve never seen you without it until now.” He laughs innocently, adjusting himself to lean up and back onto his outstretched arms.

“It’s…in my bag.” You say quietly, almost embarrassed at the fact that he read through you so well. 

“Can I see some other stuff?” 

If there was a way to make you go into cardiac arrest with one sentence, Eddie Munson had found it. 

“It’s cool if you don’t want to. I just think it’s cool. At least, from what I’ve seen.” He says openly, gesturing toward the drawing you had given him.

“They’re really not that good, a lot of them are just rough sketches and—I mean, you might find this weird but—“ Don’t mention that fact that you totally draw him a lot—like he won’t notice it the second he opens the book. You had a valid excuse, you just didn’t want to come across as a total creep.

“Just show me.” He smiles, nudging your leg again.

You reach for the book buried in your bag and hand it over. There wasn’t any shame behind the stuff in there, but the way everyone perceives art is so different that the idea of any type of comment or criticism was your worst nightmare.

He flips through slowly, landing on the particular one of Jason you drew from a few days prior. “Now that one’s spot fucking on.” He chuckles to himself, the tiny little devil horns was a nice detail, he seemed to enjoy it just as much as you did in the process of drawing it out.

He flips through the next few pages, nodding silently. The anticipation driving a hole through your chest, you couldn’t even comprehend why you were doing this right now. Every single thing that Steve told you flew right out of the window. 

He flips another page and you interrupt quickly, “Before you say anything. You have a great hair for drawing, I don’t mean for it to come off as weird but it’s honestly helped me improve a lot.”

“No, no.” He shrugs, “I dig it. I guess I’m kinda your muse, in a way.”

That’s definitely not where you expected that to go. Actually, it was completely left field. So many miles away from where you planned.

“Not exactly.” You assure him. “I just—your hair is really distracting in class. And your side profile is really nice—“ You can feel yourself starting to ramble, the giant Cheshire grin on Eddie’s face only making things worse. “I’m just going to shut up before I embarrass myself more.”

Eddie closes the book and hands it over gingerly, “I really don’t mind. I’m serious.” He means it, you know that. “It’s fucking ridiculous how detailed you are.”

“I-“ You laugh softly, “nevermind. Thank you. Just…thanks, Eddie.”

You were so pleased in the fact that if there was anyone to see your work, someone you considered more of a stranger than a friend, like Robin or Steve, that it was Eddie. 

“Anyways, we should probably, you know, get back to work.” You interject after a while of awkward silence, not sure how to move on from the topic. 

“Cool with me.” He nods.

The next couple hours pass quickly, finally packing up your stuff after the long tangent Eddie went off on about D&D and the inner workings of it, which was a lot more interesting than you expected.

“Oh hey, you ever get to try out the weed I gave you the other day? It’s pretty damn sweet, right?” He says handing you the pencil you’d lended him.

“Actually, I haven’t.” You admitted. “I’ve been so busy with work that I completely forgot.”

He holds the joint between his fingers like he’d been keeping it stowed away for safekeeping, waiting for the right moment.

“My parents are going to ground me for life if I come home high.” Okay, it was a bit of an over exaggeration, but still buried in truth, nonetheless. “Let alone even smelling like weed.”

“Do you not realize who you’re talking to?” Eddie asks, he tried to seem offended, but it definitely came off as more of a joke. “Come on, miss perfect. We can just smoke it outside.”

You scoff in annoyance, knowing you were far from any type of perfect. “I have to be home in an hour, Eddie. If you get me in trouble with my parents, I swear to god.”

“I know—you’ll murder me and bury me in your backyard.” He jokes, knowing it’s all mostly playful. “Then I’ll come back to haunt your ass.”

You chuckle, your own words coming back to bite you. “Promise?” You ask, in an attempt to one up him.

You weren’t really expecting a response, but he gave you one anyway. “Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.” Eddie teases, bumping his shoulder against yours. 

You smiled to yourself, adoring the way that Eddie charmed himself out of any situation with ease. He lit up the joint on the short walk to the wooded area away from his home, safe from any random bystanders that may decide to wander by. 

“First hit?” He asks, handing it over to you, 

“Such a gentleman.” You reply, hand over your heart. You took a long hit, inhaling until your lungs couldn’t take it and the slight burn lingered in the back of your throat, breathing out slowly through your nose. 

For the first time, the silence is comforting. You pass the joint back and forth wordlessly until there’s practically nothing left.

“The stars are so pretty here.”

“Yeah.” Eddie answered after a while, staring directly at you.

You tried to ignore it, the heat of his gaze burning into the side of your face.

“The deeper you get into the city, the less you can really see.” 

He hummed to himself, “Totally.” 

He hadn’t heard a word you said, too focused on the way you were mindless focused on the sky, mesmerized by something so simple.

“God, I don’t think I’ve ever been this high.” You sigh to yourself, feeling like you were having an out of body experience. Your body didn’t feel like you own, even these clothes felt foreign, the way you ran your fingertips over them. “You’re a really bad influence, Eddie.”

You finally lock eyes with him after a few minutes. He was in a complete daze, high out of his mind–you weren’t even sure if he was still on the same planet as you, which obviously, but there was no way he was leaving this picnic table without some assistance. You take a quick glance at your watch, feeling yourself jump back into reality almost immediately.

“Shit, I’m so dead.” You panic, clumsily placing your feet on the ground–any faster and you probably would’ve twisted your ankle. “I have to go, right now.” 

“I can give you a ride, if you need it.” Eddie suggests, but it’s far, far–literally a galaxy away, from the safer option of biking home high.

“I need to ride off the smell anyway, I’ll manage.” You tell him, rather than declining his offer outright. You hesitate for a moment before lending your hand out, gripping his in an effort to pull him up.

“No smoke sessions tomorrow, Eddie. I’m serious.” You point an accusing finger at him, watching as he follows it, then looks up at you with his stupid, dopey smile. “I’m fucking serious.”

Super duper serious. Strictly business from this point forward. 

“Fine.” He agrees in defeat, finding his own footing. “But, I’ll definitely feel like an ass if you don’t let me drive you home.”

There was no way Eddie could even put a coherent thought together right now.

“I’ll be fine. I swear.” You tell him, smiling sweetly. He didn’t seem like the type to push back thankfully and dropped the argument there. “See you tomorrow, Munson.”

You leave in a rush, blinded by the idea of having to explain any of this to your parents, and only once you’re home, after a very bumpy, sobering ride–you realize the one very important thing you left behind–your school bag. 

⋆·˚ ༘ *

It shouldn’t be something you were worried about, Eddie had already looked through the one possession you were most insecure about–but still, the idea of being thrown so far off your game that you would leave your bag behind was enough to have you showing up at Eddie’s trailer bright and early, the morning dew still stuck to the grass and the birds chirping away at nothing.

You should have figured Eddie wouldn’t be fully dressed when he answered the door, but you weren’t really sure what you were expecting exactly. Still, the door creaking open and revealing a half naked Eddie, boxer-briefs leaving little to imagine–your eyes immediately snap back from where they’d lingered, because nothing about Eddie seemed little, not in the way he was towering over you, right now. Was he really that tall? Huh.

“What can I do for you on this fine–” He begins, voice still fighting through sleep, a yawn escaping him.

“I left my bag last night.” You blurt out. “I just need it back.”

It all seemed ridiculous, in hindsight—showing up like this.

“Uh, yeah–” He looks around, trying to gain his bearings. “It’s on my bed–I think.”

He nods in the direction of said bedroom, swinging the door open to welcome you inside. You side-stepped wide enough to avoid his shirtless chest, trying to ignore the fact that it felt like you were literally going to burst into flames at the slightest touch. Whatever high you had last night was gone, but you couldn’t ignore the fact that you still found Eddie attractive, sober or not.

You move around silently, flipping his blankets around to dig for your bag. He’s standing in the hallway now, just outside the doorway that leads to his room. His arms crossed over his chest tightly, still desperately attempting to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Eddie Munson was nowhere near a morning person, but that made perfect sense in hindsight. 

“Gotcha!” You celebrate quietly, throwing the strap of your bag over your shoulder. 

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask—” His voice startles you, “how do you know Henderson?”

It was a weird way to start a conversation, but Eddie wasn’t one to dwell on semantics on proper conversation starting.

“Him and Steve are a package deal.” You explain, like it was the cure all. 

“Oh.” You can see the gears turning in his head. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”

“I’ve known Steve since I was in diapers.” You admit, finally catching his gaze. “We’ve been friends for a really long time.”

“So that stuff at lunch the other day–” You had managed to push that so far out of your mind that you were surprised Eddie had even remembered. He was a curious person, you couldn’t really blame him, but the thought of explaining any of it to him was the last thing on your mind.

“Long story.” You laugh it off, feeling eager to escape now. “Anyways, I’ll be over at four. Is that still good for you?” You ask.

He nods silently, angling his body to let you through–because god, why was this hallway so fucking tiny? You clear your throat and quickly move past him, practically jogging toward the door. The faster you escape, the better. 

“Later, Princess.” He adds–and you bite down on nothing but air, teeth clenched. He was trying to be coy and you knew it. 

“Bye, Eddie.” You reply, lamely attempting to force the nervousness out of your voice. You’ve never forced your legs to pedal so fast in your life, feeling like jello by the time you arrived home.

⋆·˚ ༘ *

“Why the fuck do they talk like that?” Eddie asks, looking up at you from where he was stretched out on his bed, legs kicked up lazily behind. The soft sound of a random rock song you don’t know the name of playing on the radio to fill in as ambient noise.

“It’s archaic and prose.” You answer simply. “It makes a lot more sense the more you read it.”

“Well, I needeth a break, M’lady.” He jokes, forced accent and all.

“That actually wasn’t bad.” You admit, closing the book that you’d place between you both. 

At some point, you’d ended up in a similar position, sprawled out beside Eddie, head resting in the palm of your hand.

“Not to boost your ego or anything, but you’re a pretty good tutor.” Eddie says, twirling the pencil between his fingers slowly.

“Whatever.” You shrug off lightheartedly.

And you can feel the impending question before it even leaves his mouth–blame it on your amazing intuition, but Eddie was also incredibly predictable sometimes. 

“You want to know what Dustin and I were talking about during lunch, don’t you?” You ask, eyeing him carefully. 

He shrugs, “I’m just a little curious, I guess.”

Fair enough. It might feel good to get off your chest anyways–not to mention half the school already knew about the instance.

“Jason asked me to meet up with him during that back to school bonfire they were having, right before Junior year–you remember? Anyways, I talked to Steve about it. He kinda pushed me toward it initially, he was the only reason I even went–I used to have a huge crush on Jason–horrible, now that I think about it. To make a long story short, he made this whole elaborate show about how he liked him and I ended up half naked in front of him, standing on the dock at his parent’s lake house, but the entire basketball and cheer team watched the entire thing happen. I didn’t realize until I heard them laughing from the bushes. There’s a picture, somewhere, I’m sure–I just try to block it out of my memory.” You explain slowly, enough time had passed that you could think about it without bursting into tears from embarrassment, but it was still terrifying to say out loud. “Steve felt really bad about all of it. I know he didn’t know any of that was going to happen, but I just took a lot of my frustration out on him.”

Eddie was eerily quiet, like he was attempting to soak all the information in. You tried not to gauge his reaction too much, knowing that pity was a normal reaction from most people.

“And then,” You say on a deep breath, “Steve and I got really drunk and made out and it was fucking weird. We joke about it now, but it was just…a lot of mistakes in one night, so I try to forget about it.”

“Good to know that Jason’s still a total dick.” He adds, not like that wasn’t already obvious. “I can’t believe you made out with Harrington.”

You want to gag at the long, distanced memory. “It wasn’t my best moment.” You agree. 

“So, yeah–Dustin knows a couple secrets about me. And now you do–but if you tell anyone–Eddie–”

“I won’t.” You can see the seriousness on his face, coming from his voice. 

“Swear?” You ask

“Pinky swear.” He answers, holding up his ringed pinky finger. You hesitate for a second before wrapping your own pinky finger around his.

He doesn’t let go. But to be fair, neither do you. He’s looking at you, not ogling, but admiring–although, it definitely could’ve been interpreted as him checking you out. You avert your attention to the intricate design of the ring on his finger, making some attempt to break the heavy, thick blanket of tension that had fallen over the both of you. It wasn’t like you’d never laid in bed with a boy before–you could lay and talk with Steve for hours, but Steve didn’t look at you the way Eddie did, not ever. 

You clear your throat softly, twisting the ring with the few fingers that weren’t interlocked with his, both of your hands now resting against the soft duvet. “Is that a pig?” You ask lightheartedly. The answer never comes.

Instead, “Can I kiss you?” Eddie asks, almost too timid to be his own voice.

Your mouth hangs open for a half second, before you force yourself to pull it together. And you’re pretty sure your heart was making a desperate attempt at beating its way out of your chest. You nod slowly, leaning forward before you can even think about stopping yourself.

His lips were soft, gentle–but firm in the way they pressed against yours. You only had a couple other experiences to compare this too, but it was obvious that Eddie had confidence in his own abilities. You pulled back after a few seconds, wetting your lips nervously. Eddie followed the way the tip of your tongue dragged over them, the heat from the breathy exhale he let out fanning over your face.

“You never answered my question.” You say softly, eyes flicking up to look at him. His gaze still locked on your lips, you repeat yourself once more, this time calling him out directly. “Eddie, you never answered my question.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s a pig.” He says, eyes finally locking with yours. “It’s a stupid fucking pig.” His voice is strained, breathy–and you’re just as sure as he is in the fact that you can’t believe this is even happening.

And even if you may end up regretting the decision later, you decide to put him out of his misery. Letting go of his hand completely, hand settling and finding a place to call home against the back of his neck, you pull him forward. He grunts slightly, almost inaudible as you press your lips against his own, more delicate than he had. In the way that he was entirely too sure of himself, you had restraint, hesitance. You let a long, breathy sigh and try to ignore the way your body shivers with nervousness and anticipation. 

Eddie takes the opportunity to find his way past your lips, teasingly dragging his tongue against your own. Your brain could literally short circuit at the thought of his mouth being anywhere else on your body, even now you could feel yourself screaming internally and if you weren’t so goddamn turned on, you probably would just scream out loud.

His hand found your waist at some point, playing with the frayed fabric attached to the bottom of your shirt, kissing you fervently, playfully–and like the tease he’s proven to be, he bites down on your bottom lip gently, for good measure. 

“Eddie,” You breath out, pulling back. You can’t even bring yourself to look at him, only following the way his hand is massaging the dip in your waist, “studying, remember?”

“Shit.” He curses to himself, allowing himself to drop back into reality. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You assure him, knowing that studying was the last thing you were hoping to focus on now. 

“I didn’t mean to overstep, I’m sorry if–” Eddie starts, and you can’t help but feel like a sucker for the way his voice stutters over the apology. And studying be-fucking-damned, you had plenty of other time to help him out. You had to allow yourself to self-indulge, at least once, and regret it later. 

“Fuck it.” You sigh, shoving your belongings out of the way and pulling him toward you again.

He immediately takes the advantage of being above you, slotting his own legs between yours, still remaining enough distance that you both wouldn’t simultaneously combust from the idea of grinding against each other, though you weren't sure how long that would actually last.

He delves into your mouth like you’re the last meal he’s ever going to have and Jesus Christ–-no one’s ever kissed you this way. You sigh openly, letting Eddie deepen the kiss further. You try to find every reason to pull away, but you’re drawing the biggest fucking blank, gasping softly when Eddie’s hands dip behind your lower back, grasping onto your ass and bring you closer. And there’s no way to ignore the feeling of Eddie’s groin pressed against you, dick straining against the material of his jeans. His openly sighs into your mouth, switching from sweet, closed mouth kisses to dirty, deep open mouthed kisses that leave you both begging for more. His hand slips between you both, palm coming to rest against your clothed mound. He stops for a moment, like he wants to ask permission.

“Eddie,” You say softly, almost startled by how spent you sound, “I don’t know if we should–”

You wanted to keep going–god did you want to, but there was a lot of shit you needed to figure out first. And luckily, this didn’t feel like a one off experience, the way Eddie looked up at you with his wide eyed gaze, lips still obscenely wet and puffy.

“I’ve never–you know,” You struggle to find the words, “I’m a virgin. You should probably know that.”

You had enough common sense to know that Eddie wasn’t, judging by the pack of condoms he never bothered to put in his nightstand drawer, it seemed likely enough that he’s probably fucked a girl or two before, not that you cared. You just weren’t sure if this was the right time to be delving into uncharted territory. 

“Fuck, I-” He replies, slightly breathless, “We totally don’t have to. I didn’t really expect–I just wanted to kiss you at first but Jesus–you’re fucking amazing.”

You laugh openly, falling back against the mattress. The look on Eddie’s face was priceless, something you wanted to take a picture of and remember forever. But, the way his fingers accidentally drag against you from where they were now resting against your inner thigh are enough to shake you back into reality.

“Sorry.” He says sheepishly, dragging his fingers back.

You stop him on a whim. The whim being the fact that you’re just incredibly to horny to leave with the state you were in. Fucked out, without even being fucked properly.

“We can…if you want.” You suggest tentatively. “Just for a little.”

Teenage hormones were a hell of hard thing to overcome and you were desperately losing that battle.

“If you don’t want to it’s fine–I get that you’ve never–” Eddie starts, but you emphasize by dragging his finger up your thigh and right about the waistband of your shorts–similar to the one from the day before, short and just as scandalous. 

“It’s not like I’ve never touched myself before, Eddie.” You assure him, feeling the way his fingers played with the fabric teasingly. “I’m a virgin, not a puritan.”

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” He sighs, forehead resting against your shoulder. You jump at the first touch of his fingers against your bare cunt, and part of you wants to feel embarrassed about the wetness that had collected there, but you were way too horny to give a shit. “And so wet.” It comes out as a moan. A fucking moan.

It should be criminal how attractive Eddie sounds right now, fingers exploring a part of you that only you’ve ever known. He drags a single digit from bottom to top, collecting the wetness. The tightness of your shorts left little room for him to move his hand around and the contact was almost earth-shattering. He hesitates, taking a moment to circle around your clit. You sigh quietly, which he takes as a good sign, testing the motion out again, and again, until you’re practically keening from the pressure building there. The way his finger slips into you is jarring, how easily he moves past your folds, starting a slow, steady motion of guiding his fingers in and out of you, occasionally stopping to drag his fingers against the most sensitive part of your body, the only place you wanted him to be.

“Oh,” You moan softly, “fuck, please.”

Eddie could come at the sound of you, the way your voice squeaks in desperation. He chuckles softly, using his thumb to circle your clit, teasing and slow. You could get yourself there just fine, but the foreign feeling of a hand that wasn’t yours, knowing your body almost as well as you did, it was enough to have you squeezing down on his fingers in pleasure. 

“More?” He asks softly, looking from his face had been resting against the middle of your chest, watching as his fingers disappeared into your shorts. 

“Please.” You beg, almost desperate. His second finger joins the first, adding a nice stretch that you’ve never really felt like this. His fingers were so much bigger than your own, so much more filling. You gasp loudly at the sudden change in pace, closing your eyes in a bid to hide your own embarrassment at the sound of your own voice. When you finally pry your eyes open, Eddie is staring at you. You weren’t sure how long he had been, but his gaze is dark, hot–you want to disappear. 

“I want to hear you.” He assures you, emphasizing his words by working his finger against your clit quickly, causing you to mewl in response, back arching off the bed. “You sound so pretty, princess.”

And if there was any other way to die, this is exactly how you wanted to go out. 

The pressure builds and builds, Eddie finding every way to pull sounds out of you, some you didn’t even know you were capable of. You can feel the way he’s absently, but still gently, grinding against your leg, where he’d maneuvered himself after a while, in hopes of relieving some of the pressure off of his own issue. You could tell he was holding back, which made you feel slightly guilty. 

The thought is immediately interrupted by your orgasm washing over you out of the blue, fast, nearly knocking you out from the feeling that spreads throughout your entire body. Eddie works you through the end, even when your body is oversensitive and tingling. 

“Jesus Christ.” You sigh, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Nah, just me.” He says cheekily, grinning.

You reach for the clasp on his belt on instinct, but he stops you with a hand on your wrist. “It’s fine.” He laughs softly, “Besides, the second you touch my dick, I’m done for.”

It’s absurd, but it makes you giggle to yourself. 

“I’ll take care of it later.” He admits, adjusting the front of his jeans to provide relief. The thought of him in bed, dick in hand, had you squeezing your thighs together shamelessly. 

“O-Okay.” You reply, pushing yourself up as he moved off of you. “Well, thanks—I guess?”

You both fall into a fit of laughter immediately, not finding any reason to ignore how ridiculous you felt. Not to mention that way your heart twisted at the way Eddie’s grin reached from ear to ear. It wasn’t a new thing exactly, Eddie smiled a lot, but you knew this one was reserved for both of you, and that had your stomach doing back flips.

“My pleasure.” He replies, putting on a fancy, pretentious accent. “Princess.”

“Why princess?” You ask curiously, wondering where the name fits in for you.

“I don’t know,” Eddie shrugs, sitting back on his heels, “You've always been little miss ‘pretty and perfect’ to me—smart, and you don’t really put up with anyone’s shit—I almost didn’t believe it when you asked me to sell weed to you that first time.”

“Thought I was gonna rat you out, huh?” You ask teasingly.

“Maybe just a little.” He admits, holding his thumb and pointer finger an inch from each other. You toss a pillow at his head, he takes the hit like a champ, throwing it softly back at you. 

⋆·˚ ༘ *

You two spend the next couple weeks studying off and on, not really bothering to avoid hanging out at school. Dustin actually enjoyed it; since he practically worshiped Eddie and you were another friend he had to talk to, not that Mike Wheeler wasn’t sufficient enough, his mind was just flooded with girls and Dustin was so far from the precipice of females.

Even if you spent half of your study sessions making out, you still managed to get enough work done that Eddie was making a little improvement—not to mention the look on Ms. McNally’s face when she called him out in class and he answered her question correct—you would’ve thought hell had finally froze over. Study sessions went from a weekend basis, to Eddie showing up to your shift at Family Video to ask about a question on the homework on any given day, not trying to hide the fact that he wanted another reason to talk to you outside of school.

“If you manage to help him graduate, it will be a miracle.” Steve says one day, leaning in as Eddie left the store. 

You show up at his door that night, ready for another one of your tedious study sessions. But he’s answering the door before you have a chance to think. 

“My uncle’s home.” He tells, looking back over his shoulder. You’d gotten lucky with the past couple of weeks, timing your visits almost perfectly, so that they aligned with his uncle’s work schedule. But, you weren’t sure what to do now.

“Well, we can just study—it’s fine.” You tell him quietly, “or I can come over tomorrow?”

“No.” He all but blurts out, “Sorry—we, we can just take my van. I know a spot where we can go.”

You’re hesitant at first, but you agree—it’s Eddie, you knew it would be fine. 

His van is incredibly spacey, to your surprise. It made a lot of sense, though. You could tell he’d had more than a few smoke sessions based on how it practically reeked of weed and his cologne. When you’re stopped at the spot—a wide expanse of trees covering a large area and a giant skull shaped rock in the middle, he swings the back doors open, giving you a better view of his setup. 

“Skull rock, Eddie? Seriously?” You deadpan, climbing out of the passenger seat and to the back of his van.

“What?” He asks innocently, hands flying out to his side in question. “It’s a great spot.”

You could point out every surface that Steve had made out with a girl on that rock, from memory—despite wanting to know, Steve just hated keeping his sexcapades to himself sometimes. Either way, you couldn’t complain. It was quiet, secluded, you didn’t have to worry about anyone finding Eddie toking up in the back if he so decided, even if you didn’t plan to partake. And part of you knew, not much study was going to take place anyways.

“Can I draw you?” You ask randomly, Eddie peering at you from where he’s perched on the edge of his van. “Sorry, that was really forward—I just—“

“Sure.” He agrees, moving deeper inside the van, the night sky nearly swallowing the van whole. If it weren’t for the overhead lights, you wouldn’t be able to see more than a couple inches in front of your face, luckily they lit the interior up well enough.

“How do you want me, Picasso?” He asks, flaring his jacket out.

“Just sit—and, what are you doing?” You laugh, watching as he knelt down, chin on his fist, a goofy attempt at a heroic pose.

“Too much?” He asks, but he doesn’t need the answer. He can tell by the amused look on your face, so he shifts onto his backside, legs spread out slightly, one lifted up so his foot was planted in the floor.

“Act like we’re in your room, talking—just be comfortable.” You remind him, letting the pencil feel out the paper.

And you don’t think you’ve ever heard Eddie stay so quiet, for so long. But he’s watching you, just as much you had been watching him, fiddling with his rings occasionally. 

“Something on your mind?” You ask curiously, about halfway through the sketch, “I can see the gears turning in your head.”

“Just thinking.” He says quietly, eyes still locked on yours. “I don’t want to distract you, though.”

Though, that was really the plan all along—so you took the bait. 

“No, tell me.” You demand, setting the pencil and book down.

He chuckles to himself, “I’m just thinking about how I wanna kiss you right now.”

You smile knowingly, a little shy now by how intently he’s looking at you. “Then why don’t you?”

And like a dam breaking, he’s on you instantly, hands gripping under your thighs to lay you down on the blanket that was covering the expanse of the back of his van. 

“Wait, the doors.” You tell him through quick kisses. “Close the doors.”

And you’re right. The last thing you need is someone walking up on two high school students getting hot and heavy in the back of a van. The doors slam shut and he’s finding his way back to you, eyeing your mouth greedily. Eddie had gotten more and more comfortable with maneuvering you around how he wanted, knowing just how to have you begging for more and more.

His mouth leaves yours, kissing the underside of your chin, your neck, the small part of your chest that was exposed to him. He wanted to worship you in every way and form possible. He’s got his dick pressed against your core, still jailed by the confines of his jeans, the coldness of the chain he had attached to his pants, the one bearing factor that was keeping you grounded. Otherwise, you probably would have left the planet already.

“Wanna taste you so bad.” He groans against your neck, free hand coming up to rest against your cheek, stroking the delicate skin. “Please?”

“Yeah,” You rush out, licking your suddenly too dry lips, “only if you let me taste you too.” You slip your hands in the waistband of your sweatpants, pushing them and your underwear down in one go. You definitely want to feel ashamed, but you can’t help yourself. He freaking out at the thought of your mouth around him, you could say the same for yourself.

You expect him to delve right in, devour you immediately, but he stills himself. He mumbled something into the inside of your thigh, you try not to think about it too much, opening your legs a little wider. He’s nipping and biting at the most sensitive parts of your skin, watching you squirm in anticipation. 

And when the flat of his tongue finally makes contact with your core, you moan unabashedly, reveling in the feeling. His nose nudges at your clit, and the sounds—god, the sounds. You blushed a particular shade of red, ashamed at how well your body was responding to his touch.

“So pretty and perfect.” He says against your cunt, “Just like I suspected.” 

You laugh at the absurdity of it all, moaning when he sneaks a finger up to join with the work his mouth couldn’t cover. He was working you up, he wanted you to come, but the fact that he already had you 1-0 was a crime and that just wouldn’t suffice. 

He grabbed your hands, which had been laying useless at your side, and guided them to the beautiful mane of hair attached to him. You wrapped your fingers around the hair at tugged, ever so softly. The look on his face as he pulled back was something you’d never soon forget, mouth covered in your clear slick, his tongue reaching out to lick his bottom lip.

“Wanna suck your dick, Eddie.” You begged. “Please.”

The look of pleading you gave him had him melting in your hands. He wordlessly lifted himself to his knees, wasting no time to undo the buckle of his belt. You helped him along the way, unzipping and pulling at the waistband of his jeans. When you finally found the chance to switch positions, he was already pulling the top of his underwear underneath his ass, but you couldn’t be bothered to wait any longer. You moved on instinct, grabbing his dick in your hand and tugging on the shaft gently, testing his body out. 

Even though you didn’t have much to compare it to, Eddie Munson still had the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. 

“Shit, say that again.” He groans, watching you lean forward to kiss at the tip. You hadn’t realized you even said that aloud until he was staring down at you, completely wrecked by the idea of you finding his dick pretty. 

“It’s so pretty and perfect.” You tease, licking the underside of his dick in one, long stripe.

He curses audibly, head banging against the metal of the van.

You take him carefully, slowly. Maybe you’re doing everything wrong, but the moan that escapes him proves otherwise. His hand curls around the back of your head gently, guiding and setting a pace. He’s showing you what he likes, so you give it to him. You’re careful not to scrape against his shaft with your teeth, using your tongue to trace slow circles around the tip before swallowing him down in one go, it was a lot more than you could initially handle, it makes your eyes water and you pull back for a moment to catch your breath.

“Sorry, too much.” You apologize halfheartedly and Eddie gives you an incredulous look, both mesmerized and completely caught off guard.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He breaths out, eyes searching yours for a moment. “I don’t want to sound forward but I really wanna fuck you.” 

If it was anyone else, they’d probably be dead. But, the way Eddie sounds almost desperate is the entire reason you’re nodding your head in earnest. 

“Yeah. Yeah, we can do that.” You agree, despite how terrified the thought made you feel.

“We can stop if it’s too much for you.” Eddie tells you, sincerity ringing through. “I’m serious.”

You nod, “I’m good, I swear.”

⋆·˚ ༘ *

Eddie has you wedged in between the makeshift pillow he made and himself, laid out comfortably on your side, naked from head to toe, and you try not to linger on the way he’s staring at your breasts, or the hand that’s running between your legs, dipping into your folds again. You adjust yourself slightly, legs widening at the touch. He’s gentle and you want to cry at the thought that someone would want to take so much care with you. He fingers you open slowly, swallowing your moans throat deep, lingering kisses that you never want to end. You can hear the wrapper crinkle between you, watching as pulls away to rip it open with his teeth.

Mesmerized as he rolls the condom down his shaft, you clench at the idea of him being inside. You didn’t want to think anymore, letting your body run on autopilot. 

“We can go slow. Just tell me what feels good.” He reminds you, hiking your leg up against his hip, positioning himself at your entrance. You nod silently, bracing yourself. Your hand wraps around his wrist where he’s caressing your head, letting the slow, stretching feeling of him pushing inside take over your body. It stings, but barely—you nod again, looking up to let him know that this was okay, that you were okay.

He gradually picks the pace up, once he’s finally seated inside you and you’re accustomed to the feeling of him. It wasn’t until then that you realized just how noisy Eddie could be—moaning every obscenity under the sun into mouth as you swallowed up everyone with a kiss, gasping for air when he grazed your clit with his thumb from where it had been resting against your hip bone.

You can feel the way he’s holding back, not sure how much you could take. He’s gripping you tight, and you attempt to break him from whatever daze he’s locked himself into.

“Eddie, it’s fine.” You say breathlessly, “I can take it.”

And like that, he releases you, maneuvering you onto your back to adjust himself over you, pulling himself out to adjust before he’s careful thrusting back in, hand tucked under the soft skin at the back of your knee, bearing the weight you couldn’t bother to hold up. 

He leans forward and mouths at your breasts, taking the time to graze his teeth against the tip of the the soft bud of your nipple, causing a gasp to bubble out of your chest. “Do that again.” You beg.

He laughs quietly, showing the other breast the same care, then switching back to the other. Fuck, it was so good. You’d almost been too distracted to realize the pace he’d picked up, more consistent as the sound your bodies coming together filled up the silence. That and the moans you couldn’t bother to keep quiet, mixing in with his own. 

“Feel so good, princess.” He groans, mouth tucked away into your neck, mouthing at the skin there. “Squeezing my dick just right.”

Eddie has a filthy mouth, obviously. You were definitely bookmarking that for later. 

“Wanna come, Eddie. Please.” You gasp, trying desperately to push back to meet the more desperate pace Eddie had set. 

“Here,” He’s grabbing your hand, guiding it between the both of you, “wanna see you touch yourself, see if you can make yourself come as good as I can.”

Part of you doesn’t know how to respond, so you don’t, but you mindlessly obey the request at hand, circling your clit with your own two fingers, gasping at how sensitive you were. Fingers were one thing, but Eddie’s dick—that was something else entirely. You’re trying desperately to keep up, but Eddie can tell you’re overwhelmed, overworked, so he slips his hand against yours, helping you through the motion. 

“You’re almost there, I can tell.” He murmurs against your ear, the hotness of his breath sending tingles down your entire body. “I got you.”

He moved your fingers with his, hips shaking sloppily, thrusting himself through his own climax, watching as your mouth dropped open in a wordless shout, orgasm hitting you in a flash of white, leaving you panting for breath when you came back to earth. 

Eddie gives you a few minutes to settle, brushing your wild hair behind your ears and out of your face—he pulls out slowly, removing and tying the condom, discarding it in the front of the van inside of the tiny trash can nestled underneath the passenger side dash. He seems worried.

“It was good.” You assure him, hoping he wasn’t stressing over the idea of ruining anything for you. “I don’t really have anything to compare it to but if it’s anything like that, it was pretty damn good.”

He chuckles gently, his chest shaking at the motion. You finally have a clear view of some of the tattoos you never really noticed until now. Eddie had slipped his underwear back on in the process, helping you search through the flurry of mixed clothes to find your own. 

“I guess I just wasn’t sure how we’d handle things after.” He says quietly, taking a seat next to. You see him reach for the pre-rolled blunt sitting in the ashtray and you grab his wrist, pulling it toward you.

“Well, do you want me to leave?” It wasn’t meant to sound harsh, Eddie didn’t seem to take it that way either.

“No.” He replies sheepishly, hands resting in his lap. 

“Then stop worrying. Stop acting like you just scandalized me.” You laugh, poking his stomach. “I think we’re way past that.”

“God, because the sounds you make should be illegal and I don’t like being a one and done type of guy—“ Eddie would have gone on a tangent had you let him, but the gentle reminder you offered was enough to shut him up. 

“Well, next time—“

“Next time?” He quirks up, eyebrows raised.

“Next time,” You repeat, feeling a little silly, “we’ll find out just how long the both of us can get. But, first—you gotta pass English.”

The exasperated sigh that Eddie let out was enough to have you curling forward in laughter.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, princess.” He smiles, reaching forward to kiss you, chaste and sweet. 

[reiderwriter]

hii!! can you do 49 and 68 please??? i love ur writing so much btw

prompts: #49 - "I'm so fucking obsessed with you." #68 - "Sit on my face."

A/N: Thank you for much for requesting! Munch Spencer for the win once again! Not to sound like a broken record, but I think I'm physically incapable of writing a smut that I dont somehow become obsessive over 🫡 I hope you like it!!

Warnings: possessive Spencer, oral sex (f receiving), multiple orgasms, alight come play, penetrative sex, creampie, just some very obsessive writing ngl. 18+ MINORS DNI (that means do not interact for those of you who still don't understand!!)

You weren't sure if you were going to give into him.

You know it'd taken a lot of courage for the man to ask you out, you'd seen first hand that he threw himself head first into relationships, and that meant he was entirely careful about kindling them.

But you'd been so shocked by Spencer Reid's admission that he was romantically interested in you that you'd all but gaped at him the entire time he stood there talking you through it.

After he'd finished, you still didn't know what to say, you just knew that your entire body was aflame with the words he'd dropped in the space between you, and you were vaguely aware that your phone had clattered to the floor, forgotten.

“Y/N, what do you say? Will you let me take you on a date? Please?”

He stood fidgeting in front of you and you almost apologised but your tongue still wouldn't move accurately.

You swallowed, and calmed your heart from the tempest it was running through in your chest to answer him.

“I need some time to think. We work together, it's going to be complicated and I want to make sure I think this through.” He'd politely agreed to that and seen himself out of your apartment, having appeared on your doorstep at near midnight on a work night.

And two weeks later, you were no closer to your answer.

But Spencer seemed to have grown bolder in his advances. He seemed to have taken your entire plight of never realising he was into you to heart, though. Because you sure as hell knew where he stood now.

He used every excuse to put his hands on you.

He came up behind you, putting his hands on your waist as he slid past you, moving you this way and that to arrive at his intended destination.

You'd found that a most annoying male trait in the past, but when Spencer attempted it, you practically leaned into his heat, shivering each time his hands brushed you.

He'd taken to brushing your hair out of your eyes as well, tucking it behind your ear in front of others, and, embarrassingly enough, tying it up for you with one of his own hair elastics.

You'd frozen in the moment as you leaned down to examine some footprints on a case, complaining your hair was in your face as he immediately came up behind you and began gently pulling it up himself.

His fingers moved skillfully, and felt soothing on your scalp as he made sure to get every hair.

You couldn't even say a word of thanks as you sat there wondering what the fuck had just happened, and if anyone else had been witness to it.

Luckily, no one had, and you could only contemplate it alone.

And contemplate it you did. In bed. In the shower. In your sleep. You couldn't stop contemplating it.

You couldn't seem to step over the boundary of professional working relationship to more, though.

So you weren't exactly surprised when he showed back up on your doorstep a month later.

“Spencer. Did something happen?” you breathed a slow sigh as you opened the door to see him standing there, still and tense, as if he was ready to spring an attack at any second.

“I'm obsessed with you.” His voice was low as he took a slow step forward, letting his gaze rest on your lips, and not moving it as he continued his path forward.

“I'm obsessed with you and I've tried to show you that for the last month, and god, please you have to please release me from this if you can't accept it.” He took another step closer and then he was in your apartment and closing the door behind him, blocking out the cold that had your nipples hardening. You assumed it was the cold.

“I think about how you would taste daily, how you would smell, how you would feel wrapped around me, the sounds you would make. I think about any other man getting close to you and I feel angry and sad and my chest physically aches.”

“I think about how I could make you happy, how you'd smile at me every morning,” his hand hesitantly reached up to tuck another stray hair behind your ear as he stuttered through yet another confession.

He was close now, so close your back was pressed against a wall as you resisted your chest meeting his.

“I will leave and never mention this or touch you again if you can't take that on, but if even one part of you thinks this is an experience you want…”

You finally looked into his eyes as your fingertips rushed forward to touch him, darting out to feel his chest and press yourself further into his warmth.

The physical confirmation must have been enough, as in moments his lips were dropping to meet your own in a sweet, but still strong kiss.

He moved achingly slowly as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you further in to his atmosphere, taking each small caress as an indulgence, each run of your lips across his as a blessing coated in lust.

He went so luxuriously slow, that you had to be the one to pull him in closer, to give into the passion threatening to throttle you from inside out.

You tugged him back through your apartment to your bed, making sure to rid him of his coat as you went, lips still exploring each other as you did. His hands held you firmly, wrapping you up in a strong embrace even as you needed him to move faster, to touch, caress, tease, and pleasure you.

You pushed him away when your back hit another wall, only so you could get some air between you as you waited for the next logical step in the direction you were headed.

“Spencer, I want you to make love to me.” You always hated that phrase, feeling it was so cheesy and overly sentimental, and yet that was the only way you could describe what you wanted from him.

He looked at you and suddenly, it was as if a flip had switched inside him. His slow, discovering kisses became bruising and hot as he marked his way down your neck, eager to please and desperate to know all of you. Your body was another book Spencer needed to read, more knowledge for him to acquire and never forget, never let go of.

Gently raising you off the ground, he pinned you against the wall, as you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his notable arousal through his clothes. He began divesting you of yours, the casual t-shirt you'd slipped into after work being easy work for his hands, sweatpants following suit as he memorised every inch of flesh visible to him.

With two hands firmly cradling your ass, he made his way into your bedroom, and sat on the edge of the bed, you in hand. Your core rubbed over his cock, and a deep dissatisfaction crept up your body. You were empty and you wanted so badly for him to fill you.

Your need became a great force clawing at his clothes, rocking your hips into him needing as you scrambled button after button, wishing your hands would obey your mind.

He groaned under you, the sound catching you off-guard and flooding your panties even more. He caught your hips and steadied your pace as you worked yourself up to a high without ever having fully touched him.

“Y/N…” He breathed it out like a prayer and a curse combined, pushing your hips down tighter as he tried to put an end to your elicit movements.

“Y/N stop, I want…” His lips finally left your neck as he took a deep breath, opening his eyes to look directly into yours.

“Sit on my face.” It was a demand, one that wouldn't be ignored, and honestly, you weren't sure you wanted to ignore it.

He laid himself down more comfortably on the bed, pulling you down with him as he stroked small circles into your lower back.

His hands worked down until they reached the waistband of your panties, hooked a finger under them and slowly dragged them off your ass, forcing your hips up to get them further away from his prize.

“Please, Y/N. Please sit on my face.” You moaned at the request again, dropping one final messy kiss to his lips before climbing up and over his head.

You completed the job he started with your underwear, deciding to go the extra mile and discard your bra as well. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and shifted your cunt to better suit his own position, and you braced yourself as he pulled you closer to his devilish tongue.

The first swipe of it was so foreign that you almost bolted upright like a cat dropped into a bathtub. But he held you fast and pulled you right back down as he began his meal. He'd said his prayers, and now he was ready to indulge himself in the taste he'd been craving for the last month.

You braced your hands on the metal headboard of your bed, thankful that you lived alone as you knew there was no way of muffling the noises that were beginning to toll off your tongue.

Head thrown back in pleasure, it was all you could do to not beg him to never stop, to keep up your pleausure for eternity, even as he left himself unsatisfied and rock hard.

Everytike you pulled slightly back from the stimulation, he pulled you even further in, until you were sure he couldn't breath, his mouth and nose so lost in your heat and so intent on your pleasure.

You almost forgot it was his face below you, and started desperately riding him, grinding your clit into anything that would allow for some friction.

Every few minutes he came up for a larger breath, letting his fingers slip inside you as he explored your every reaction.

There was only so much you could take, and apparently tongue and fingers was just that step too far, as you let your body convulse over him.

He let you ride it out, drinking in every drop of juice that escaped you, finally getting that taste he'd become so obsessed with discovering.

When you finally pulled away, his lips and chin were slick with your arousal, and his face was awash with desire.

A tiny push had you on your back as he crawled up between your legs again, taking the time to unclassified his pants and pull them off, discarding them along eith the shirt you'd so painstakingly unbuttoned for him.

“I am going to make love to you, Y/N, and you are going to be mine. You'll always be mine.” His forehead rested against your own as he finally slid inside of you, sheathing his whole cock inside of you as it expanded with his intrusion, trying to find room for him.

He fit like a glove, provided the glove felt this fucking good, so warm and comforting to know he was filling you completely.

His thrusts began and you were almost overwhelmed by the sheer arousal he inspired in each heartbeat.

Wanton moans left your mouth as words failed you, tongue lolling about as you desperately wished he'd slip his head down to let you taste yourself on him.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he said, tightening his grip on your hips so much you were sure his nails were going to leave tiny crescents carved into your very bones.

Your second orgasm snuck up on you, hips suddenly jolting up as if they'd a mind of their own, milking his cock as he whimpered at the sudden tightness.

“Y/N, I love you. I love you, I love you I love you so much,” the words were overwhelming as you struggled to speak through the after shocks of your climax, legs still twitching even as he spilled his seed inside of you.

“Now you're mine,” he whispered into your ear as he again found a stray lock of your hair and tugged it right back behind your ear, as if it would help you to see him that much clearer.

Your vision was already so filled with him though, that you were sure it would not matter how far he was or how obstructed your view, he would be the only thing you saw for the rest of your life.

Maybe you were a little obsessed with him as well.

[the-boy-meets-evil]

right where you left me | ksy & jww

(where you're in an open relationship with soonyoung, who doesn't want to come on your family christmas vacation. it's okay. you run into your ex at the resort anyway.)

pairing: soonyoung (hoshi) x f.reader, ex!wonwoo x f.reader genre: est. relationships, exes to lovers to ??, love triangles | smut, angst??, fluff word count: ~8.6k (yeah, idk either) warnings: open relationship (implied, not explicitly discussed), wonwoo and soonyoung both know about each other (but never actually interact), reader goes away with family for the holidays, mentions of christmas (including christmas dinner), mentions of drinking, soonyoung is soft for reader, wonwoo just wants a second chance, one (1) holy spirit joke, reader does make a choice at the end, smut warnings under the cut

a/n: this is for the amazing and wonderful @beomcoups from your secret santa, blitzen, for @kpopsecretsanta 💕 summer, i already knew you were actually the best. so, it's been really fun getting to send you asks and come up with something for you. i hope you like it (and i'm so sorry it got this long). this is honestly not where i meant for this to go. ily and merry (belated) christmas! thank you to @wooahaeproductions (once again) for giving me a title and to my bby @wongyuseokie for the beautiful banner so last minute.

a/n 2: i'm for real taking a writing break now because december has been busy 😂

tagging: @aaniag, @gyuminusone, @horanghater

smut warnings: multiple smut scenes, lots of kissing, so many orgasms, so much cum (i'm sorry), dirty talk, spit as lube (just for handjobs), handjobs, blowjobs, implied edging, vaginal fingering, protected sex (yay!), implied/referenced phone sex, kind of dom!wonwoo, kind of switch!reader, wonwoo is bossy, oral sex (f. receiving), begging, slight hair pulling, slight nipple play, choking, unprotected sex (don't do this), fucking from behind, pulling out, cum on the back/ass, referenced marking, referenced restraints, pet names (doll, sweetheart, babydoll, baby), probably teasing somewhere, i think that's it (i swear there's plot in there too)

“Are you all packed?” 

Soonyoung is stretched out on your bed, watching you search through your closet. You sigh when you can’t find the one sweater you’re looking for.

“Almost,” you say. 

“It’s on the drying rack in your spare bedroom,” he says. 

You spin around to look at him, eyebrow raised. “What?”

“That sweater you love? The one you pull out the second it’s cool enough?” Soonyoung prompts. 

You give him a look, but don’t say anything. Instead, you walk into the other room and find he’s right. The last thing you want to throw into your suitcase is actually exactly where he said. You check that it’s dry before retrieving it to fold and tuck away. 

“How?” you ask when you reenter the room. 

He just shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess I know you pretty well.”

That tugs at your heartstrings a little, especially this time of year. Because it’s true. Hardly anyone knows you as well as the beautiful man sprawled on your bed, scrolling through his phone. Yet, he’s also the one that seems to hurt you the most. Always exactly where you need him to be, but never quite within reach. This kind, wonderful human that surprises you with things that remind him of you, but can’t (or won’t) come with you for the holidays to a beautiful, snow-covered resort. It’s not worth bringing up again…

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” you ask.

…but you do anyway. Like the sucker for pain you are. Like somehow the answer is going to change from the last time you asked.

This does make him look up, at least. It’s hard to see the look he gives you. It’s a little comforting that he does look sorry. Not quite enough to ease the ache in your heart. That’s neither here nor there, though.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” he answers. 

“I know,” you sigh. 

And you do know. Your relationship with Soonyoung happened out of nowhere. When you were trying desperately to heal over the worst heartbreak you could imagine and he happened to be there. Maybe that’s why you feel this inexplicable draw to him, even now. Because he was the one to help you put the pieces back together, the one to let you know that you weren’t asking for something unreasonable from your ex, that it was okay to make whatever type of life you wanted for yourself. Over time, you felt yourself getting more attached and let it happen, even knowing it was the wrong choice. Not because Soonyoung is wrong or anything short of great. It’s just, well, he’s always been honest, sometimes painfully so, about exactly who he is and what he wants. He’s just not sure, at least right now, that a closed relationship where he meets the parents is what he wants. 

An open relationship hadn’t been something you considered. It still wasn’t a consideration when you first started sleeping with Soonyoung. It wasn’t until you realized you wanted more of him that you had to have the conversation. Which is how you’re here, now. Going to see your parents and the rest of your family for a beautiful vacation alone despite being in a relationship. Despite him having met some of your family, like your cousins, and the number of dates you go on. Sometimes it really is enough. Not because you’re telling yourself it is. It just is. He comes up with the most thoughtful dates. Surprises you with little things just because. He’s so insanely thoughtful. So, maybe it’s enough that he doesn’t want to come meet your parents.

“Come here,” he requests, opening his arms for you. 

You sigh before giving in and snuggling into him on the bed. He plants a soft kiss on the top of your head first, then your temple. You settle against his chest, timing your own breathing with the rise and fall of his chest. There’s something so comforting about lying like this. Something that makes it easier to be honest when you’re not looking into his incredibly soft eyes.

“I do get it, Soonie,” you repeat softly. “This makes sense for us and I don’t want that to change. I don’t need my parents getting involved.”

“Maybe next year,” he says and that pulls you up short. He’s never said that before. You can’t really help it, you pull away to look into his eyes. “I like being around you and neither of us has been seeing many other people lately. So maybe it’s something we can talk about in the new year.” 

“I don’t want it to be anything that you feel…” you start and he presses a kiss to your lips.

“I don’t,” he assures you. “And you’re still free to do whatever you want, obviously. I don’t even know what it might look like. Just, I don’t know, I figure maybe after the holidays we can figure out if anything changes here.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you agree. 

“But for today…” he says, drifting off as his eyes roam over your body.

“You’re exhausting,” you complain.

“You tried on Christmas dresses in front of me! I’ve been here suffering thinking that I won’t get to slide that material off your soft skin,” he says and kisses your shoulder. “Sitting here neglected as I watched you pack away skirts and those pants that make your ass look amazing.” 

“You’re not neglected,” you tease as he presses a long kiss to your neck. 

“I’m wasting away from the lack of attention,” he whines.

“Hm, is that right?” you ask. 

“It is,” he concludes. 

“Well, we can’t have that,” you say low, running your hand down his stomach. 

“Don’t you have to leave soon?” he asks, stuttering when your hand runs over his cock through his pants. You rub him ever so gently, delighting in the way he reacts.

“I can stop if you want,” you suggest. 

“You know I don’t want you to, but…” he starts and trails off when you move your hand towards his waistband.

“I’m driving, Soon, I can be a little late. I’ll just blame traffic,” you say.

“Fuck it,” he curses. 

You drag his pants and briefs down in one motion, freeing his cock. You remember the first time you fucked him, when he was nervous that you were going to be somehow disappointed. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Not only is he the perfect size, but he has a way of moving his hips while fucking you that’s always drives you crazy.

There isn’t time for you to be walking down memory lane, though. You spit into your hand so that you can start stroking him, delight in how he’s already a little hard. Maybe he wasn’t lying about the torture of watching you try on clothes. After all, you did catch him adjusting on the bed a time or two. It’s not enough for you, just stroking him and listening to all the beautiful sounds that he makes. Before he even realizes what’s happening, you’re taking him into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around the tip and carefully massaging his balls with your free hand. You hollow your cheeks when you take as much of him into your mouth as you can. Carefully sucking while you bob your head on his cock, running a hand up and down the base as you continue to work on him. 

“Fuck, that mouth is so good,” he whines. “Oh my god! Ugh, yes!” 

One of the things you like about Soonyoung is times like this, where he doesn’t need to be in control. Where he just lets you take care of him. Lets you make him feel good. Just completely turns to putty in your hands. He’s muttering obscenities about how much he loves your mouth, how you know just what to do, how you’re cruel for bringing him to the edge and then backing off. You may not have enough time, but you also can’t really stop yourself. 

“You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up,” Soonyoung warns. 

You pull up off him just for a second to fix him with a look. “Kinda the point, isn’t it?” 

“Not if it means I don’t get to fuck you,” he answers and pulls off his shirt. 

Okay, you can take the hint. You quickly strip off all your clothes and move up to lie on your side facing him. He captures your lips in a kiss and quickly puts a hand between your legs. No time to waste. He runs his fingers along your entrance, collecting the wetness there and groaning, probably at how you’re wet just from blowing him. When he slides a finger inside your cunt, you want to pull away from the kiss. Instead, you just moan into his mouth, spurring him to pump his finger into you faster. Another moan and he presses a second finger in. 

When you first started fucking Soonyoung, you were a little embarrased about several things when it came to sex. One had been how wet you get. He had been so quick with the praise, so quick to assure you that it was a good thing, so quick to make you comfortable. Now, you barely even think about it. Everything with him is effortless, comfortable. It’s entirely too fast when you feel like you’re already starting to come undone. 

“God, I love watching that pussy suck my fingers in,” he says. “So good for me, so greedy.”

“Fuck, Soon, hang on,” you pant out.

“Feeling good?” he asks.

“Yeah but you’re gonna make me come,” you whine. 

“Isn’t that the point?” he parrots back.

“Thought you wanted to fuck me,” you remind him.

He removes his fingers from your cunt entirely too quickly so he can roll over to reach the drawer. With surprising speed, he pulls a condom out and has it on in a matter of seconds. You’re about to ask how he wants you when he rolls back over and hikes one of your legs up. This is a new position for the two of you, surprising with how many you’ve tried. There’s something a little intimate, facing each other like this with your leg up over his arm. His brows furrow a little as he lines himself up.��

“Oh god,” you moan out when he presses all the way in, right off the bat. Even with the prepping, it’s more of a stretch than you were expecting so fast.

“You okay?” he asks. Even though he wants it to be fast, he’s still so considerate.

“Yes, just fucking move, please,” you whine.

“So needy,” he says, but he still moves. 

It’s fast and a little desperate and the angle has him hitting you just where you want him. It doesn’t feel awkward in this position, either, which crossed your mind for a second. You’re clinging to any part of him that you can, moaning incoherently, about to come undone in a stupidly short time. But, he’s babbling too, uttering praises for how good he feels, reminding you how amazing you are. He’s so vocal and it’s what sends you over the edge. He follows right behind you.

You lay on your back and take a few moments to catch your breath. Watch him as he gets up to dispose of the condom. Smile when he comes back and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. He’s so pretty like this, glowing and smiley and perfectly content. So are you, apparently, as he tells you constantly.

“You have to go because I have to shower and I don’t want to have to shower again after that,” you say when you get up.

“But, what if I want round two?” he asks, drawing you in against his body. 

You lean your head to press a kiss to his lips and carefully pull away. “Then, you’ll just have to wait til I’m back.”

“Thought you didn’t mind being late,” he presses.

“A little late,” you say and laugh at the pout. “You’re cute, Soonie, but I still have to go.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “You’ll be back before New Year’s?”

“Yeah, for the party,” you confirm. 

“I’ll miss you,” he whispers into your hair. The kiss he presses to the top of your head nearly has your knees weak. Instead, you just smile as he leaves and rush off to the shower before you get in the car. 

The resort your parents picked this year for the holidays is beautiful. There’s a main resort and also a bunch of smaller buildings with rooms that are more like condos. Your parents are staying in a particularly roomy one, because they love to host, so you don’t feel too stuck by staying with them. It’s also nice because the resort is attached to a ski lodge. You can actually ski straight from the rooms onto one of the trails. It’s all beautiful and you feel incredibly at peace. 

(You also appreciate how there are plenty of things to do for people that don’t like to ski or snowboard. Not that you don’t, you’re just sometimes a little worried you’ll fall.)

The first night was just for relaxing after the ride up. The four hour drive ended up going a lot faster with your cousin in the passenger seat, thankful you hadn’t actually left yet because her car broke down. Even though you don’t live far apart, you feel like you don’t see her nearly often enough. So the car ride is a nice way to catch up. 

Now that it’s the first full day, you’re ready to explore a little bit. Your parents mentioned a little cafe in the lodge that sounds like the perfect place to get a cup of coffee. Of course, you could make it in the room, but it probably wouldn’t taste as good. Bundled up, you head down to the lodge and look out for the cafe. It ends up being pretty easy to find. And it’s not the only thing. 

It’s like a pull that you can’t explain, the way your eyes fall on someone sitting in an armchair just to the side of the cafe. His dark hair has that slightly tousled look, probably from being outside, and his glasses keep sliding down his nose. As you watch, he absently pushes them back up, eyes glued on the book in his lap. There is no world where it makes sense that he’s here and also no world where he could be anyone else. You’re debating whether or not to approach him when he looks up. The smile he sends your way has you feeling things that you know you shouldn’t. 

Your feet carry you towards him without permission and he rises to meet you part way. “Hey, what are you…” 

At the same time, he starts to say, “wow, small world.”

It’s a little awkward (read: a lot) and neither of you really know what to say. It’s been two years since you last saw each other, two years since you last spoke, two years since the break up that nearly tore you apart. Even though it’s been long enough that you feel better about it, it’s still awkward. He probably feels it too, the uncertainty of running into each other someplace so unexpected. The question of how to move forward. 

“So, um, this is…” Wonwoo starts.

“Awkward? Weird? Unexpected?” you offer through a forced laugh.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“My family is here for Christmas,” you answer. “Yours too?” 

“Yeah,” he says. 

“Right,” you say. “Well, I was just going to get…”

“Can we talk? Maybe over lunch or something?” he asks just as you’re ready to turn around. 

You’re rooted to the spot, unable to answer him right away. Can you? Yes, you definitely have that capability. Should you? That’s a bit harder to answer. Your brain is full of images of your past relationship - the good, the bad, the ugly - and your current situation. Maybe Wonwoo still does know you, at least well enough to read your face, because he speaks up again.

“Never mind, that was silly to ask,” he says.

“No, it wasn’t. I’m sorry. I’m just, I don’t know, a little overwhelmed, I guess,” you admit.

“Me too, if it helps,” he says. 

You look down at your watch. It’s a little earlier than you usually eat lunch, but maybe that’ll be a good thing. “Do you wanna get something now?”

“What about your coffee?” Wonwoo asks.

“I’m sure the restaurant has some,” you say before you lose the courage. 

Lunch is actually surprisingly easy. Well, after you get some of the awkwardness out of the way. But, it gives you a chance to say a lot of things you both kept to yourselves. Back when you were dating Wonwoo, it got harder until it was too much. He was always soft spoken, always afraid to burden anyone else with his problems. Even when you reminded him that’s what partners were for, he just kept most of it to himself. Which wasn’t healthy for either of you. You wanted things out in the open so you could talk about them, he kept them to himself. Something tiny could fester into something much bigger and then become a real issue. Even when it came to issues at work or with other friends, he was hesitant to mention it. By not wanting to be a burden, he ended up driving a massive wedge between you. And he’s able to share things with you, too. Like how it wasn’t always easy to want to share when he felt pressured. He knows you only cared, but sometimes he wasn’t ready. Sometimes he couldn’t talk about it in the moment and just needed a day to process. Something he knows that he should have shared with you, as well. 

It turns into a much longer meal than either of you expect. After talking about your relationship, you fill in the last two years. He talks about work and friends and reluctantly admits that he hasn’t dated anyone seriously since you. When it’s your turn, you stumble over explaining Soonyoung, ending up opting for full transparency. If he’s surprised, he hides it well. Seems to understand that trying something a little different can be exactly what you need. When you finally check your phone to see you’re running late to meet your cousins, you say goodbye with a promise to hang out again. And an assurance that you haven’t changed your number and he isn’t blocked. 

You spend most of the afternoon playing games with your cousins and sharing what you’ve been up to. The cousin that rode with you, and knows Wonwoo the best, is nearly on the floor when you tell her that he’s here somehow. Especially because she also knows Soonyoung and likes him, but thinks he’s not the long term plan for you. She’s a little surprised, given how much you smiled about seeing Wonwoo, at how fiercely you defend Soonyoung. It’s just, well, he’s been a lot for you in so many ways. Yes, some of it has been painful and some of it has involved learning things you’re not sure you needed to. But, it’s also been safe and protected. It’s allowed you to grow in ways you never expected. 

An afternoon of gaming turns into a night of dinner in the suite, more games, and drinking. Your cousin takes your phone and texts Wonwoo from it. Invites him over to the room to pick you up. Of course, she doesn’t tell you any of that. But, when you answer the door and see your ex on the other side, he suggests you check your phone. You shoot your cousin a look and grab your coat. He’s here, so you might as well go with him. When he holds out his hand for you, you take it and follow him into the night. 

The next days pass in a kind of haze. It’s so pretty to be at the resort, watching the way snow seems to fall more often than not, even if it’s just a light flurry for 20 minutes. There’s a beautiful, tucked away corner of the lodge where you can sit in rocking chairs by floor to ceiling windows. It gives you a perfect vantage point to watch the snow, or watch people coming down trails, watch anything. You’re with Wonwoo more than your own family, a fact that nobody seems to talk about. Maybe because everyone liked Wonwoo and nobody really understood why it ended. You hadn’t wanted to talk about it. And now it doesn’t seem to matter. The man before you isn’t the same boy that you walked away from two years ago. You’re not the same either. Both of you get a lot of time nestled away in the cocoon of the holiday vacation to talk about that. To talk about who you are now and where you want to be. About if things would turn out differently now.

It’s all kind of a practiced dance, though, because Wonwoo knows that Soonyoung exists. He knows that there’s someone you’re not really ready to let go that may be waiting for you to get back to have an important conversation. (He is waiting for you, but you don’t tell Wonwoo that. Because it may not be in the way you wish he was waiting for you. What you do know is that he’s been sending you a lot of messages. There are a lot of things that seem to remind him of you. So, he’s constantly on your mind.) And there are some things that haven’t changed about Wonwoo, too. One of those things is that he doesn’t really find the idea of sharing a partner appealing. Even though he’s one of the most secure people you know, you can also tell what he thinks about the complication of your current situation. There’s no judgment, only more hurdles. It’s like he wants you to consider giving him another shot, but he doesn’t really know where to start. 

Since Christmas Eve and Christmas morning are for family, you get a much needed break from having Wonwoo around constantly. Not that you mind, it’s just that your head needs a little space. You need to figure out what exactly you want. Which isn’t really any easier when you’re separated from your ex, sadly. Both he and Soonyoung are still fighting for space. Your thoughts are kind of a jumbled mess. 

(It doesn’t help that Soonyoung calls you on Christmas Eve. Or that the call turns into FaceTime and that turns into the two of you getting off. Phone sex wasn’t ever really something you were into before him. You didn’t really get the appeal of it. But, you’ve seen the positives of it with him. Still can’t really believe how easy it is for him to push you over the edge when he’s not even with you. And you kind of like knowing you do the same to him, seeing his cum paint his stomach after he finishes. He gets a little sappy after he comes, too. When you’re both cleaned up, he’s still there. Telling you that he misses you and that the city feels a little lonely without you there. It’s not like you haven’t left before, but this just feels different to him. He says it all without seeming to think much about it and you’re not really sure how to take it. Is it honest? Or is it the post orgasm haze?) 

But, after Christmas dinner, you’re on your own to do whatever you want. And you know what you don’t need to do. You know that you don’t need to make this whole mess inside your head more complicated than it already is. You do really miss Soonyoung and all his energy. There’s something infectious about him. But, you also know that he’s been very clear on his wants and needs, even if he says you need to talk when you’re back about what’s going on. Then, there’s all your returning feelings for Wonwoo after all the time you’ve spent with him the past several days. Soonyoung seemed to skate over you mentioning running into your ex like it didn’t matter. Or that he trusts you and that the relationship is open, which is the more likely answer. All of that leads to sitting on the couch of Wonwoo’s suite, sipping a glass of wine. 

“What’s going on here?” you ask, interrupting the formerly comfortable silence. 

“We’re drinking wine on Christmas?” Wonwoo suggests.

You turn your head to look at him and find he’s a little confused. “I don’t mean that. I mean,” you gesture between the two of you, “here.” 

“Ah,” Wonwoo says and takes a sip. 

“Yeah,” you say.

“I don’t know, honestly. I know I missed you and that I feel like things are different now. I think we could have actually worked through our issues if we were these people,” Wonwoo says.

“But?” you prompt. Because there’s so clearly a but coming to what he said.

“You’re in a relationship,” he finishes. 

“An open one,” you remind him.

“That you’re not really sure how to define,” he presses back.

“We aren’t even sure if we’d work together again and you’re already worried about what’s going on with Soonyoung,” you sigh. 

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“We’ve got history and it’s been so nice to be around you. But, if we were to try something out again, we’re not just going to jump back into it being serious right away,” you tell him.

“No, I wouldn’t expect it to,” Wonwoo agrees. 

“So does it really matter if I’m seeing someone else? Does anyone outside of us really matter while we’re figuring things out?” you ask.

This is a definite crossroads for Wonwoo. He’s always been very logical and impossibly smart. In all the time you knew him, he was one to weigh things out and go with what made the most sense. It wasn’t like him to be overly emotional about things. Except, apparently, when it came to you. So, this is a big ask. For him to just set aside personal feelings for you and consider the logic behind what you’re saying. It’s a crossroads for you, too. Because you do know it makes sense to consider exploring whatever’s been happening between the two of you. To not have any what-ifs or questions when you go back to the city. To actually explore another genuine connection so you can better understand what you do or don’t feel for Soonyoung.

Wonwoo sighs and nods. “Yeah, you’re right. Focusing on this and figuring it out doesn’t involve anyone else but us.”

“So that last little line of defense stops now?” you ask, hopeful.

“Last line of defense?” he asks. 

You gesture at the space between you. “Ever since I ran into you, there’s always space for the Holy Spirit between us.” 

Both of you laugh at that when Wonwoo’s face cracks into a smile. It erases the last little bit of tension left between the two of you. It’s clear that he means he’s going to give it a real shot to figure out what’s going on without worrying about anyone else. Wonwoo shifts closer to you, rests his arm on the back of the couch behind you, and presses his thigh into yours. 

“Do you still think there’s space for the Holy Spirit?” he asks. 

“No,” you say with a light laugh. 

“I’ve missed you, doll,” he admits and presses a kiss against your temple. 

“I’ve missed you, too,” you say. You turn your body so your back is against the arm of the couch and drape your legs over his lap. It’s a little more comfortable and it lets you look at him easier. 

“It’s so weird to me, running into you here,” he says and you laugh.

“I’d say it’s some kind of fate, but I know you don’t believe in that kinda shit,” you offer.

“I don’t know that I do, but having you around has given me a break from my family,” he shares. 

“Your family is great,” you disagree. 

“They are, but it’s a lot of people time,” he says with a sigh.

Which is why you suggest that you just sit back and watch a movie, something a little scary because you know that’s what he prefers. It doesn’t have to be some Christmas movie, you’ve gotten enough of that with your cousins in the lead up to the holiday. So, you let him pick something and settle back, appreciating the closeness. 

The movie is good, but you’re kind of a fidgeter. You make it through the first half easily, but in the second half, you start getting a little sick of sitting still. Just little things. Adjusting how you’re sitting. Moving your legs slightly. Reaching out for one of Wonwoo’s hands. Something to trick your body into thinking it’s moving. Until it’s a little more than just a movement. Without even thinking, you pull one of your legs towards you, let your knee bend for a second, because it’s a little stiff, and slide it back. It isn’t until Wonwoo sucks in a breath and clenches his jaw that you realize your foot slid right over his dick. 

“Wonwoo, I’m sorry, I didn’t - “ you start, but he’s moving your legs.

“Let’s go,” he says as he stands up.

“What?” you ask. “Go where?” 

“Come on, sweetheart, I’m not gonna play these fucking games,” he says and pulls you up off the couch. 

You’re really caught off guard, because it had been an accident, but your body remembers this. He’s guiding you in front of him to one of the bedrooms and pressing you inside. As soon as you’re both through, he closes and locks the door. Then, he presses you back into it and kisses you hard. Crowds your space so you can’t move an inch. You gasp when he nips at your lip. This has always been the thing about Wonwoo. He’s so quiet and soft spoken and unassuming around everyone else. Just the smart boy who likes to read and play video games. Until he gets you behind closed doors and a switch flips. 

“Fuck, Nu, I swear it was an accident,” you groan as he kisses down your neck.

“So, you don’t wanna get fucked into the mattress? Don’t want me to show you I still know exactly what you like?” he asks.

You’re not the same person you were two years ago, though. “Maybe I like different things now.” 

“We’ll see about that,” he says. 

Before you can respond, he’s kissing you again. Hard and needy and like there isn’t a tomorrow. Maybe there isn’t for the two of you. It’s not like you’ve managed to clear anything up. 

Wonwoo presses his hips into you. Places his hands on either side of your head against the door behind you. It’s so easy to fall into old patterns with him, where you give up your control. Your hands run along his back, underneath his shirt, and he shivers at the touch. It makes him thrust his hips into you again. It makes him grab your hands and pin them in one of his above your head. His lips are demanding when they return to yours, like he’s taking what you owe him. 

There’s no point in begging for more. It would only make him go slower. So, you accept his tongue into your mouth when he keeps kissing you. You let your hands stay pinned above your head. You even chase his lips when he pulls away. It’s hard to suppress the shudder when his lips brush against your ear. 

“I want to fuck you,” he whispers. “I want to press your pretty face into the mattress and get your ass in the air. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” you whimper out. 

Wonwoo pulls away from you and starts to undress. It’s hard to take your eyes off of him because he’s so beautiful. The broadness of his shoulder and his slender waist. The muscles that he hides behind all the layers flex as he pulls off his shirt and steps out of his pants. But, then he’s looking at you expectantly. Likely wondering why you’re fully dressed. You make quick work of getting out of your clothing before turning back to him. 

“Sit on the edge of the bed, babydoll,” he instructs. You hasten to listen to what he asks and he smiles. Not a soft smile. “Open your legs.” 

You do that as well. With your hands on the bed behind you, you lean backwards. Wonwoo kneels down between your legs and runs a hand up your calf. He nips softly at your thighs, sharp enough to make you gasp but not hard enough to leave a mark. As he moves to your other thigh, he spreads your legs further. Only places a light kiss on your other thigh before his hand returns to your pussy. His fingers spread you open and he blows gently. The sensation makes you shiver. It makes you want to beg for him. Instead, you just grip the sheets tighter. Wonwoo chuckles, probably at your attempt to hold back, and licks a stripe up your center. Flattens his tongue against you and runs it slowly through your folds. 

“Oh god,” you moan. You don’t need to look down to see that it makes Wonwoo smile, but you do anyway.

He continues to work you with his tongue, alternating the pace so that you never really know what to expect. His thumb rubs circles over your clit. Maybe he does still know how to get you going. Or maybe your body just remembers him. Either way, he feels so good. You’re entirely more pent up than you feel like you should be. It would be embarrassing if it was with someone you weren’t comfortable with. 

“Fuck, please, baby, I need your fingers,” you beg. 

“You getting close?” he asks.

“Yes, fuck, please,” you cry out.

“Do you think you deserve to come?” he asks. It’s only his thumb on your clit that keeps you going.

“Please,” you beg and hope it’s enough.

It must work because his tongue returns to your cunt and he slides one of his perfect fingers inside as well. The second is in before you realize it and your moans are more sounds than anything intelligible. It’s an unsurprisingly short time before you make a mess of his face and fingers. After he guides you through your orgasm, he stands up and leans over you. Pulls you in for a kiss so that you can taste yourself on his lips. It’s enough to make you a little dizzy. Entirely too soon, he’s breaking the kiss. He runs his hand over his dick and looks at you.

“Spit in your hand,” he directs and you do it without thinking. The post-orgasm haze still has hold of you. 

You don’t need him to tell you what to do next. Before he can say anything, you take over and run your hand down his shaft. Slide your thumb carefully over his tip. Wonwoo clenches his jaw like he’s trying not to let you know just how good it feels. Because you still know him too. You continue to stroke him and take his cock into your mouth. Just the tip, at first. When you look up at him under your lashes, you know that he’s going to lose the battle. 

“Fuck, babydoll, that mouth is better than I remember,” he groans out. His hands wind into your hair, but he doesn’t fuck into your face. You’re a little surprised he can hold back. Especially when you swirl your tongue around his tip. “Okay enough of this.”

Wonwoo, with surprising gentleness, pulls you off of his dick. You have just enough time to look at him triumphantly before he’s moving you back into the bed. He gets you on your hands and knees, presses your back down so that your ass is in the air and your face presses into the pillow in front of you. You arch your back deeper so that he has the best angle. The bed shifts under you and you assume that he’s lining up behind you. He presses a finger into your pussy again and you squirm for a second. When he removes it, you want to complain. But, he’s quick to line himself up and press his cock into you. The pillow muffles your moan as he presses all the way in. His hands find purchase on your hips as he sets a slow rhythm. 

It doesn’t seem like it’s enough, though. His hand finds it’s way into your hair and he pulls back, more gently than he used to. “Is this still okay?” 

His voice is hoarse in your ear. “Fuck, Nu, yes. Be rough with me.” 

It’s all the permission he needs. His hand slides up your body to take your nipple between too skilled fingers. The first twist has you screaming out for him, wanting him to continue. And he does, all while picking up the pace that he fucks into you. He keeps you pressed against his chest. The snap of his hips and the skin slapping together isn’t enough to cover your stream of profanities. Wonwoo places a hand lightly over your throat, using it to anchor you to him. Your loud moan and reassurance of permission makes him squeeze a little tighter. It’s that perfect sensory deprivation to make it all the more intense. Between that and your earlier orgasm, you’re a bit on overload. It’s a kind of mind blankness that you haven’t felt in awhile. Nothing else exists but the pursuit of pleasure. Your mind is totally empty.

Eventually, his movements start to stutter and he releases your throat. Directs you to rub your clit. You hardly need to touch yourself before you feel your second orgasm rip through you, coming all over his dick. He snaps a few more times before pulling out of you. His cum paints over your ass and your back. Wonwoo collapses next to you and you lower yourself down onto your stomach, trying not to make too much of a mess. 

After a moment, Wonwoo presses a kiss to your shoulder. “What do you, babydoll, do I still know you?” 

“It’s like nothing ever changes,” you admit. 

The two days after Christmas seem to pass just as quickly as the days before Christmas. Something feels like it’s shifted with you and Wonwoo, but maybe not in the way you expect. You’re still spending a decent amount of time with him, still being pretty affectionate, but you don’t end up naked in his bed again. It could just be you, though it feels like a joint decision. It feels like it’s some unspoken agreement. 

Everything with Wonwoo has been amazing, like a little break from reality. It’s been so nice to get to see him again, to get to talk about your relationship and everything it meant. Even though you’ve both changed a lot, it’s nice to realize how well he still knows you. And he seems to accept all the ways you’ve changed in stride, which surprises you a little. Change had never been his favorite thing. There’s also just a general sense of nostalgia to your interactions with him. He’s safe in the way someone says that you can always go home. It feels like falling into old patterns. 

But, that’s not what life is supposed to be, is it? Life is about taking chances and risks and pushing yourself out of your comfort zone. Falling back into step with Wonwoo would be so easy. It’s obvious that he still loves you, or maybe loves you again. It’s so easy to picture what your life with him looks like because you remember. You remember all the plans the two of you made. It just feels kind of stagnant, though. You know the kind of love you’re getting back into. It’s not even about not trusting him or worrying it would end up in another break-up. Things are different enough with your communication that you trust it would be different on that front.

It’s just, if you’re being honest with yourself, you can’t get Soonyoung off your mind. Even when you’ve been with Wonwoo, there’s that small voice in the back of your mind whispering Soonyoung’s name. It’s also really hard to stop thinking about what he said before you left. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything changes. Maybe it only means that you define the relationship a little more clearly and it’s still open. But, if you move forward with Wonwoo, you know what that means for Soonyoung. You know it means you’re going to be saying goodbye to the person who’s challenged you, who’s pushed you, who’s forced you out of your comfort zone. You’re just not sure you can do that.

By the time the last night comes around, you know that you need to have an actual conversation with Wonwoo before leaving. Life doesn’t always give you the chance for closure, so you know to take it when it comes around.

“This is it for us, isn’t it?” Wonwoo asks. 

“Yeah, I think it is,” you say. 

“I hope he knows what he’s got,” Wonwoo says with a sigh. “By the time I figured it out, it was too late.” 

“I hope you know that everything I felt for you was so real, that it’s still real now. It’s just…” you start.

“Not enough?” he finishes and you frown. “It’s okay, I’m not upset. I knew from the start that this was a long shot.” 

“Why did you do it, then?” you ask.

“Because I would have regretted it if I left something unsaid or undone,” he says simply.

“I’m so sorry, Wonwoo,” you say.

“I’m not. I’m thankful we got this chance. Now, I have the closure I needed to actually move on,” he says. 

You’re not sure what else to do, so you just wrap your arms around him. His arms wrap around you without missing a beat and he places a kiss on the top of your head. The two of you stand like that for a few minutes, letting all the feelings wash over you. It’s the next part that’s going to be the scariest.

You haven’t properly talked to Soonyoung since the two of you had phone sex on Christmas Eve. Which is actually on you, at least this time, because he’s been keeping up a relatively steady stream of texts. Asking how the vacation was, how it was to be around your family, even how it was to see your ex. And you haven’t done anything wrong, you know you haven’t, but it still feels like too much to text. It feels like the kind of thing you need to tell him when you’re back in your apartment. Thankfully, you don’t even have to ask if he wants to come by. He knows your schedule, knows how long the drive is, and even assumes you’re tired. Despite that, he asks if he’s okay to come over anyway. He even insists that he just wants to see you, sex can be off the table. (Unless you want to fuck on the kitchen table, because that might be hot, he says.)

He’s at your door in what feels like record time, puffy jacket and beanie covering most of his head and upper body. His arms wrap around you before he even gets through the door or takes off his layers. It feels like he smells your hair when he buries his face there, but you can’t be sure. It’s almost a project to get him to unlatch himself long enough to take off his outer layers and remove his shoes before joining you on the couch. Where he clings to you like the idea of personal space is foreign. It’s more comforting than you’d like to admit. You’re at ease, but your heart is also beating entirely too fast.

“I missed you,” he says softly.

“I missed you, too,” you say back. 

“No, I really missed you. My sister kept asking me the whole time I was there if I was okay,” he admits. He separates a little, but keeps hold of one of your hands. 

You’re not really used to this side of him, haven’t seen him this soft in all the time you’ve known him. “Were you not? You seemed okay in your messages.” 

“I -,” he starts, frowns, and then opens his mouth again. “I was okay, when we were texting. Mostly. But, I guess, I’m just used to you being around. I’m used to sending you something, like something that makes me think of you, and having you answer right away.” 

“You were sending a lot,” you tease lightly.

“I kept wondering,” he starts and shakes his head.

“Wondering what, Soon?” you ask. 

“Do you remember before you left that I said I wanted to talk after the holidays?” he asks and you nod. 

“Of course, I thought about it a lot,” you admit.

“You did?” The surprise is evident on his face and you’re not sure what it means.

“Yeah, there were a lot of times I couldn’t really get it off my mind, honestly,” you share. 

“I figured…well with your ex there and you spending so much time with him,” Soonyoung says.

Your stomach drops a little. “Listen, about that…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” he says, trying to cut you off. It’s your turn to grab his hands, though.

“I do, though. Which is selfish, probably, but I need to tell you for me,” you say.

“You’re getting back together with him,” Soonyoung guesses and his whole body seems to slump. You’re not sure what to make of him caring so much and don’t really want to get your own hopes up.

“No,” you assure him. “No, I think that chapter of my life is over. Seeing him just brought up a lot of unfinished shit. And then with the holidays and the resort. I did…well, we did have sex. Just once, on Christmas.”

Soonyoung nods, but doesn’t seem relieved. “I figured you would, I did basically push you to try other things out. Are you going to see him again now that you’re back here?”

“No,” you say again. “But, I think I want to hear what you were going to say.” 

“I’m not sure now is…” he starts and nearly melts at the look you give him.

“Please,” you say so softly it’s barely audible. 

“I should’ve gone with you when you asked,” he says and that brings you up short. You never dared to hope for that much. “I knew it as soon as you were gone. But, I figured it’d be fine. I’d be right where you left me when you got back. Then, you ran into your ex and you seemed happy for the chance. I thought I’d fucked up and that you’d fall for him again. I considered just showing up. I chickened out, though. I figured if it was supposed to work out, then it would. Part of me even hoped you might fuck him and that you’d realize what it took me just a little too long to realize.”

“And what’s that?” you prompt.

“That I’m ready to give actual commitment a try. That I don’t want to think about sharing you with anyone else,” he says and his voice drops to a whisper. “That I love you.” 

“What did you just say?” you ask. 

He takes a deep breath and meets your eyes. “That I love you. And I’m sorry.” 

You don’t even realize you’re crying until he wipes a tear from your cheek. “I love you, too, you giant idiot. It’s always been you for me. It wasn’t ever going to be my ex. I’m not sorry, though. Everything that we’ve experienced, it’s been exactly what I needed.” 

“You know what this means though, right?” he asks and you shake your head. “No more fucking anyone that’s not me.” 

“We don’t have to…” you start. You don’t want to change him, never have. He’s always been perfect exactly the way he is. 

“I know, but I want to. It’s only you. I think it always has been and you just knew it a lot before I did,” he says.

“Can you just kiss me now?” you ask through your tears. 

When your lips meet, it’s so slow and tender. So full of affection and joy and everything left unsaid. For now, at least. If there’s anything you know about Soonyoung, it’s that he doesn’t like to keep much to himself. It’s been so much, so overwhelming. Even though the kisses are languid, you feel the heat building between the two of you. Feel the desire getting stronger. That’s when he breaks the kiss. Your face must look confused or disappointed because he smiles, so full of genuine affection, and stands up. He holds a hand out to you.

“I don’t want the first time after telling you that I love you to be on your couch,” he says. 

Your smile matches his when you take his hand and interlace your fingers. He brings your hands up to his lips and places a kiss on your knuckles. Doesn’t let go of your hand even when you’re in your bedroom. He sits down on the edge of the bed and pulls you between his legs. It makes you lean down to kiss him, but it’s kind of nice. He finally lets go of your hand so that he can wrap his arms around you instead. When Soonyoung looks up at you, eyes full of affection, it’s just more than you can handle. 

“Please, Soonie,” you whisper.

“What?” he asks.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you request.

“Like what?” he asks.

“Like I’m the only person in the entire world,” you say.

He only smiles at first. “I had a lot of time to think when you were away. I’m just appreciating you now.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assure him.

“I wouldn’t let you.” 

Finally, he pulls you into bed and it’s the most perfect night you’ve ever spent with him. And you’ve had a lot of great nights. He always takes his time with you, always makes sure you’re well taken care of. It’s different now. His lips are everywhere and his hands seem to need to find whatever part of you they can. You’ve never felt so loved and so safe, even with him. Even though he always makes it comfortable. You know that you made the right choice.

(You’re sure when he’s got you seeing stars from his mouth between your legs. You’re sure when he’s sucking marks into your skin where only he can see them. You’re sure when he asks you to tie his hands to the bed. You’re sure when he asks you to untie him so he can fuck you into the mattress. You’re especially sure when he wraps himself around you to fall asleep. It’s everything you’ve wanted, but only because it’s him. It wouldn’t be the same with anyone else.)

Morning comes and everything looks even better in the soft light of a winter’s morning. You’re not sure you’re ever going to get Soonyoung out of your bed (or your apartment) and you’re not really sure you want to. The new year is right around the corner and you can’t wait to see what it brings the both of you.

thanks for coming on this ride with me 💕 please reblog or let me know your thoughts if you liked it!

[proverbsss]

reading you right (father paul hill/john pruitt x reader) -nsfw

Father Paul Hill, Midnight Mass

prompt(s): "Me. You. Bed. Now." [from this post]

[Pt. 2 Out Now!! Linked Here :)]

anon: I had a normal amount of fun writing this, hope you enjoy :) i wanna do a pt. 2 because ofc i do,, honestly I got a lil hot n bothered lmao

notifs: paul hill is a tease!! ; shoe-grinding ; fluffy smut ; hierophilia ; you're father paul's dirty little secret ; denial ; reader begging ; reader's down HORRENDOUS ; terms used: good girl, slutty thing, pet

"You've been lying there moaning for ten minutes." Father Paul chuckles, trying to focus on his reading.

You feel your leg twitch as you lay on your stomach, looking a bit dazed across the room. A giggle escapes you. In your mind's eye a constant stream of images plays- every dirty thing you’ve done with Father Paul in the last 48 hours, a rare weekend’s reprieve from prying Beverly Keane, sitting bedside with her sister or aunt or who-the-hell cares on the mainland. It was too easy to sneak into the house behind St. Patrick’s, and too goddamn pleasurable to leave after the first night. A delightful ease of domesticity has settled over the two of you. And you’re even more whipped for the Father than you were when this whole messy arrangement began.

"I can't help it-"

"It's understandable to whine like a whore while I'm still inside you, but cooing like that when I'm not even touching you is a little ridiculous." Smug, he licks his finger and turns a page. "A man's ego can only grow so big."

“What are you reading?” you ask, completely uninterested, and your voice betrays it. You might enjoy a good book now and again, but something worlds more tempting is sitting before you. In his jeans and tee shirt, only his glossy ankle boots remaining, Paul is a rare sight out of uniform, like something sent from heaven. Or Hell. Both, somehow.

“You asked me that fifteen minutes ago. Or did you forget already?” He shoots you a disapproving, but playful look. He can hardly resist you more than you can him. Hardly. There is that last smidgeon of reserve that Paul prides himself on. He can’t be bothered to think of you as a sin, because life’s become far, far more complicated in the last few months than any one man can hold in his head, and because it feels like paradise to touch you.

Caught in your inattention, you abandon the ruse of asking about his book. "You fucked me too good...." You whine.

"You're going to complain about it?" He laughs at you.

"You're laughing at me." 

"Of course I'm laughing at you," he admonishes. Not to be taken in by your wiles, Paul's eyes trace the paragraph he's started unsuccessfully three times.

"You whine before I fuck you, you whine while I fuck you, and you whine after I've fucked you. You're silly."

The vision renews itself in your mind of last night creeping around in here, your excitement waiting in the antechamber of St. Patrick’s late at night, Paul sneaking up on you in the dark and taking you in that muggy little den where they keep the wine and spare things. You want him to grunt against your ear like that again, to fuck you like he needs you in order to breathe.

"I'm not silly!" You gasp out. He hears the difference in your voice and scans your body with his eyes. Grinning. He licks his bottom lip and pretends the fool. “I want it, please, I want it, I don’t caaaare…” Your caterwauling would be annoying if it wasn’t so bone-deep genuine. Paul could probably keep you here forever as a pet, a secret from innocuous parishioners, visitors from all walks of life, and you’d be satisfied as long as he used you from time to time. Fed you.

“Oh, that’s undignified.” He smiles, turns the page and hopes he can pick up without the aid of the passage his mind simply refused to retain.

You get on all fours and start to crawl over to him. You tug on the leg of his jeans, utterly debased.

“You’re insatiable, you know that?” his tongue flicks and flutters around the word in a musical way that you know you could find better uses for. You nod. His voice. He could guide you anywhere with it. To make things worse, he imitates you. The facsimile of your lust in his voice is enough to make you jump him. “‘Father, I can't focus on my book....Father, please fuck me with your fingers, I can't without it, I need it...I told you pack things to stay because I imagined I’d be enjoying some downtime other than between my sheets.'"

You bite your lip, the adoring way you look up at him unfairly reminiscent of Biblical portraiture, the Madonna (too ineffably ironic), Saint Lucia, devout, suppliant little succubi. Paul’s heart breaks a little, and his cock twitches with interest, which he endeavors to suppress. 

“What’s that look for, child?” He plays up the religious bent of your dynamic, something that presses inexpressibly sinful and delicious buttons in your dirty mind. 

"I do need you."

You pout. Your words with Paul repeating them was enough to rev your proverbial engine. You shift just the littlest bit, yet the friction of the floor underneath you is enough to tease out a whimper. Not totally on purpose, but not totally by accident. John chuckles again. 

“Present tense?” He pretends to turn a page, but he’s not reading a damn thing now.

"I need you all the time you're not in me.” It’s filthy, but it feels true in these moments when all the thoughts are leaving your head empty. 

He smiles one of his private smiles. His eyelids crinkle as he reaches up to scratch his cheek. "Let's not be pornographic, huh?"

"I wanna fuck again..."

"What else is new?"

"You've ruined me." He looks at you then like you’re something to eat. The book is shut and put down. You have your beloved hot priest’s attention. His eyes ask, smoldering, what will you do now you have it?

“You have my boot. Or aren’t you smart enough to get yourself off.” His tone shifts and a shadowy, serious dominance settles in his countenance. Every behavior, every quirk of his expression, curve of his smile, owns and owns you. He may plead and beg to bury his head between your thighs from time to time, on one occasion he may have shown up at your door, his satchel a deceptive front for rope and ribbon, which you were to restrain and blindfold him with. Life’s too short for dynamics that don’t shift and change like the tides. But in this moment, this energy, you are his. And he intends to impress that upon you.

You gape at him just a moment, heady lust clouding your already addled brain. Then slowly, carefully, you adjust your position, grab the upper part of Paul’s calf, and hoist your lower body up onto his shoe, your pelvic bone bumping his shin. Any hesitations or embarrassment that linger in you drown in the deeper, sweeter excitement of feeling some real friction as you roll your hips. Oh. God.

This might be the senseless, reckless need talking, but fuck. Just the sensation of the toe of his shoe right between your thighs, exactly where you need it, makes you feel a little bit crazy. You look up at him in awe, and thank God he’s not picked up his book again but instead is sitting comfortably, his gaze dropped low to watch you, his groin thrusting the tiniest bit forward at nothing, too much nothing. He groans, and you chase your pleasure like a thing possessed.

Words slip out of your mouth without a shred of logic behind them, and Paul tells you to repeat yourself. He bites his bottom lip as he watches you. “Hello? Still a brain in there?"

“I said you make me so sensitive,” you mumble, finding a new groove in the contour of his shoe, where it meets his ankle, and leaning on his knee, shaking, groping for his thighs, all involuntarily. Your dripping, dripping on his shoe, and the thought of how uncivilized that is makes Paul bite his fist.

"Uh huh, so it's all my fault, then."

"Yes..."

"Yes, 'what'?"

"Yes it's all your fault, Father."

“It’s my fault you’re going to cum on my shoe?”

You whine again. Your soul’s leaving your body, want spreads through every inch of your body, intense and blinding, high, so high.

“C’n I cum, please, can I cum?” You pant, feeling his hands wrap around yours, warm and loving. 

“Look at me, pet.” He orders. You obey. His irises envelop you. You steady yours on them, trying to get a grip, breath filling your belly and leaving your parted lips in rapid gasps. “No.”

Your brows shoot up in surprise. Disappointment isn’t the word for it, desire lets itself out as a sound. You slow down, somewhere in a high place you hear him say:

“Stop grinding, slutty thing. Your Father told you ‘no.’”

You sink against him, laying your head on one of his thighs. He kisses the top of your head, and murmurs, “Good girl. Good girl, good.”

Fireworks are setting off under your skin, your thighs are trembling, every bit of you is sticky. “That wasn’t easy, I bet.” He says, voice condescending and sweet, but every bit as needy as you are. You make another noise in response. 

“I’m not done with you, you know,” he takes your chin into one of his hands, lifts your head. He kisses you again, with a fierceness that just sharpens your feeling. “I’m not even close to done with you.” He rests his in your neck, kisses you once, twice, up your jaw, on your cheeks, the ear he can reach. He bites your earlobe and almost hisses, “Me. You. Bed. Now.”

[Pt. 2 Out Now!! Linked Here :)]

[mtchacffinz]

Omg if youre taking requestsss,

Could u plsss do something like reader is being neglected bcuz (charac) is too busy with work but then they realise and then spend time.. like angst to fluff ahh

Maybe with few characters like cyno, haitham, wanderer, xiao??

Thank you!!

💗💗💗

prompt! Been away for too long, won't you atleast miss me?

cw! gn! reader, tooth-rotting fluff (SFW), clinginess, maybe a crybaby reader in a certain part, words of affirmation, established relationship, lots of tender moments, mentions of Chasm Archon Quest

note! i love fluff. this is adorable so i shall deliver. plus, i think my acc needs some fluff too after all the smut I've written! (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠)...

Here we are, overthinking again. In all seriousness, this can't be! Many suns and moons have passed, yet he still hasn't said a single word about his whereabouts! Did he somehow forget about contacting you? Maybe he fell down a hole through a ditch never to be heard again.. Perhaps he fell in-love with another lovely surpassing your wits and charm?

You were no stranger to solitude. It doesn't scratch an itch anywhere in your mind space that requires you to gnaw on your lip every waking moment you feel that churning feeling in your stomach. Definitely not— Absolutely not! You believe that some parts in life are needed alone to be addressed with just the right amount of tenacity and resistance. You would come back to your loved ones with triumphant smiles chanting "I'm back, I'm back! I did it!" like a warrior.

Your mind spiraled into incoherent theories about his unknown agendas— too indulged notice the recurring voice that seems to speak your name.

And when you finally turn to see behind was when he finally graces your presence.

CYNO.

There was tense aura in the air, the last breath leaving even more awkward than the last. It was obvious Cyno wants to say something, but his lips stay sealed— quietly observing you waiting to see how you will move instead.

It seems as if he thinks you're really upset. Just an inference, his intuition— a baseless assumption. I mean, who wouldn't be after leaving your partner hanging for 3 months straight venturing out into the desert?

He's a lovely partner. You think that, wholeheartedly. You really do. But seriously!? You understand there must've been at least some sort of viable explanation, but a part of you couldn't help but feel upset.

"I'm glad you're home safe." You finally speak, releasing a big sigh. It was as if a big weight lifts off your chest. Your smile says nothing more than joy and relief. Well, maybe a little too joyful.

Because you know full well if you speak your next words, your voice would break.

So you keep your lips pursed only for you to keep your own thoughts. Cyno is no average man. As a Mahamatra with fearsome agendas, his life is always on the line whenever he ventures out into the wild. Once, he returned to Avidya Forest with curse marks all over his body— crimson spurs trail over his gear, you were barely keeping it together!

Seconds pass, it was grew concerning that none of you were saying.. well, words. After all, you both have just reunited, and Cyno has probably gone through a rigorous mission that rendered his lips sealed, right? With curious eyes, you steal a glance from his figure. Your partner stood with remarkable posture, eyes evasive of yours. The young man seemed to be contemplating something.. expression a little solemn and glum.

With a gulp and a hesitant stare, he finally speaks his mind.

"I'm.. sorry. Forgive me, dear. There was a huge misconduct within the Akademiya and Matras I had to keep anonymous for—" he stops a little before continuing. Cyno's gaze is at the floor. "I had to keep anonymous for you.. for us. I couldn't send out letters. Please forgive me, (Y/n)."

Cyno takes another deep breath. "I understand if you'd like to lash out on my sudden return, so feel free to do so—" you quickly wave your hands in fluster.

"Ah, no no no! Really, Cyno, it's fi—ne...uhuh." You suddenly hiccuped.

With the first crack of your voice, your eyes immediately began to flow waterfalls. Salty tears pricked your (e/c) optics glossing over them with a glint. Cyno immediately rushes to your side whilst you immediately clung onto him like he's your life line.

Oh, Archons. He's your life. Just by his voice just now, you almost felt like your heart melted AND got crushed at the same time with just the weight of his words. Lash out? Of course you would! You're worried SICK. And you've missed him!

"You have no idea! I was holding onto these for 15 minutes earlier!" Your voice broke, fighting for your feelings. Cyno only wipes away your tears and nose with his sleeves in panic— repeating his apologies in a hushed voice over and over again.

AL HAITHAM.

The scent of scroll dust, his calloused hands, his warm breath on your head. For the past hours of his return, you only asked for one thing: to be held until you, yourself— let go of him. And judging by how how long Al Haitham has unknowingly neglected you, he's willing to make up for his wordless days.

But..

"Hey, honey.. dear..?" the Scribe softly calls out, gently tapping your shoulder. "Sweetheart? (Y/n)?" A little too indulged in his arms, you fail to give a response. This was when he sighed, and nuzzles deeper into your neck.

"(Y/n), it's been six hours. Surely you're feeling a little better now?"

"You've been gone for months."

"I know. But it's almost dinner, and we haven't eaten yet."

"We can starve here." You respond just as quickly. He sweatdrops, unable to tell if you were joking or dead serious. Look, his arm is cramping, his whole body is sweating, and he's dehydrated. The blanket that was wrapped around your body was on the floor, and you seem to be a little tired yourself. Taking matters into his own hands, you get surprised that his arms suddenly wrap tighter around you, lifting you up in his arms.

"You're ridiculous," Al Haitham puts you around his shoulder like you're a sack of rice, making his way through the kitchen. "I'm making dinner. You cling onto me all you want. We're eating."

After all, you never said anything about him moving while holding you, right?

All you could do was grumble and whine in his ears. The scribe doesn't seem to mind, as he gets a pan, his seasonings, and his food. Tapping your back occasionally, with every turn he make, your partner makes sure the doesn't accidentally burn or hit you with something while you're in his shoulders. With time passing, you're starting to get a little embarrassed yourself.. getting dragged all the way from the bedroom the the kitchen. Tugging on his clothes, you called out his name.

"Haitham, please let me down.."

Maybe it was the wind carrying your words away, but he doesn't seem to react. Your partner only focuses on whatever he's frying at the moment with his free arm on your figure. With lips pursed, you repeat again.

"Haitham."

"I heard you. I don't want to, you're staying there."

"What? No way! You're probably tired!"

"Oh? Don't back out now, I was going to feed you as well. I'm yours the whole week— I'm not leaving your sights very soon." Your partner says with a voice enough to leave no room for rebuttals and arguments. Seeing your face, slowly being taken over with embarrassment, ignites a small flame in him.

After a few mere moments of your silence, you grasp onto his clothing once again. This time, your voice was softer, a little more calmer.

"You're gonna be mine the whole week?"

WANDERER.

Ever since his return, the Wanderer has been gracing you with diverse stories from different parts of the land. Now, he isn't one to ramble his mouth nor entertain anybody with his experiences— so the indigo haired man could consider this "spoiling" you rotten.

After a long, exhilarating lectures of Vahumana Darshans, as well as interviews from other nations regarding his thoughts on different political matters— Wanderer has finally made enough time to spend with people he could actually tolerate.

On the other hand, he has been too kind, taking you to vast sceneries and feeding you all sorts of delicacies. It's as if he's trying to make up for something.. and you know what, you have no idea. But this? This is nice! Ignoring his witty and no-filter-opinion attitude, Wanderer has been significantly nicer to you last time you met.

Shopping, sight seeing, trying all sorts of new things. After all, what does he do with all the Mora he receives when he's but a puppet who doesn't even need to eat nor sleep?

He looks for no reciprocation nor gratitude, because he unknowingly believes seeing your smiling face because of him is enough to make his entire day. Of course, that doesn't stop you from profusely thanking him and actively trying to lessen all the things being given to you because do you really deserve it?

I'd you asked him, he'd look at you like you're crazy. Why wouldn't you deserve it? Why else wouldn't it be you? Do you prefer I do this for anyone else?

As night engulfs the sky, kissing it with a gentle good bye, the moonlight greets your resting frame. The Wanderer had found interestingly large lily pads that could hold up to 4 persons. Apparently, aranara's use it to navigate around lakes they couldn't get across.

The scenery is wonderful. Fireflies emerge from the shadows, and the lake sings a mellifluous tune every gush of waves it encounters. You were resting well, and his elysian self was beside you.

You were strange, that's for sure. Strange enough he'd like to keep taking you in like you're oxygen, as if you're some sort of life line to live from. Wanderer is not a man with too much words, so he could only gaze up to your figure.

A familliar noise of waddling makes their way towards you, an Aranara falling suit. It bee lines towards your figure, cozing up to your body.

Wanderer picks it up by its head gear, clicking his tongue.

"Hey. No cuddling. You lay beside me."

XIAO.

Xiao melts deeper into your arms as if he's lightweight, surprising you with the sudden return of his warmth.

His touches were featherlight, his firm hands on the small of your back. Fully aware of his fatigue eating away his skin, the Adeptus clutches your figure tightly.

"Sorry.." Xiao's voice was barely above a whisper. You frown upon his state, but your eyes were never pitiful. He knew of that. You say nothing but hold him in your arms in response. Mere moments pass with the wind blowing ever so softly in the sky.

You lull him with soft whispers, sweet nothings grazing his ear leaving out one another. Xiao's a little bashful— he's the one who's failed to keep up with your mundane agendas in everyday life leaving you alone, yet upon his return— you greet him with the best embrace this world has to offer.

After all the events at the Chasm, his encounter with Bosacius, and most of all, the lingering miasma that's been exceedingly abundant within the area, Xiao wasn't able to make time and shake off all the troubles he's facing. The Adeptus lie solemn with the softest look in his eyes gazing at your own. You know full well if he opens his mouth now, all that will come pouring out is his endless apologies that could be recited in millenias.

Instead, your hands gently caressed his cheeks— pecking those pursed lips who let out a soft sigh.

Xiao returns the gesture by holding you waist down, firmly keeping his hands on you. Chasing after your lips it was like something clicked in him the moment you even lent him a moment of your vulnerability. He was hungry, that's for sure. The Adeptus made it obvious with his knitted brows and those piercing gaze.

Amusement bubbled at the bottom of your stomach, letting out a small chuckle. Xiao's confused eyes met yours, questioning your sudden interest.

"You returned to me, that's lovely."

He responds to your claim in a grumble, now averting his eyes. Xiao's hand never leaves yours.

"I have to.." Those hands slowly travel to your cheeks, caressing them in pure affection. "I need to."

my smutty writings are usually the ones who get attention, so I'm wondering how this one will do? 🎶 Anyway, I'm also planning on writing for Honkai Impact's Kalpas 🤞 STAY TUNED

[geralts-yenn]

Hollow Hearts

Walter Marshall x reader

summary: You break up with Walter but you just can't move on!

Basically a lot of heartache and longing

warnings: 18+, minors DNI! breakup, drinking alcohol, some hints of light smut

@henrycavillbingo prompt: fever

word count: 7k

Bonus chapter (that's the smuty part 😁)

My masterlist

It was hard. You knew from the start that there'd be times like these where Walter needed to retreat. Sometimes his job just took every bit of energy he had. And you had accepted that. You had waited till the storm was over, till he was able to give you something back again. 

But now it had been months. You really tried to be patient with him. However at one point, the devil on your shoulder won. You started those little mind games. You stopped telling him that you love him, waiting for a reaction that never came. After that, you stopped the hugs, too. He still didn't even seem to notice. 

This was the first time you realized that maybe you had lost him.

Seven days ago, you decided to take the final step. No touch, no word. It broke your heart. More than just a few times, you had to stop yourself from reaching out to him when you lay beside him. But then you pulled your hand back, and instead, you shed silent tears into your pillow. 

In your head, you were screaming at him, begging him to show any kind of emotion. You wanted him to be mad at you. Anything but that feeling of being invisible. But Walter didn't. He came home late, sometimes he found his way into your bed, though most of the time he slept in his clothes on the couch. In the mornings, he would drink his coffee in silence and leave without a word. 

Today was the day all of this would change. You hadn't slept all night. Crying, trying to find excuses not to leave. You still didn't want to, but as much as you loved Walter, you also needed to take care of yourself. And staying with him like this would destroy you. 

He was standing in the kitchen, dark circles under his eyes, when you carried your suitcase and your backpack down the stairs. 

“What are you doing, darling?” 

A sarcastic chuckle interrupted your sobs. It took him only that much to realize that something was off? Finally, he was able to talk to you?

“I'm going to stay at my mom's for a few days. I will try to find an apartment as fast as I can. Bye, Walter.” 

Your heart broke when you leaned forwards and your lips brushed over his cheek one last time. You held your breath, trying not to take in his scent. As fast as you could, you turned and ran out of the house before you could change your mind. 

Walter shouted after you, but you couldn't dare to turn around and talk to him. You could have never left him if you had looked at his face for another second. 

The next three days, you ignored Walter’s messages and calls. But then you finally were brave enough and you picked up the phone. 

It was hard. For both of you. You didn’t think you had left any more tears to cry at that point, but you were wrong. At the end of your conversation, you were curled up on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. But you had succeeded in resisting him.

Walter offered you to get back home. He would move out of the house himself, knowing you love it so much. He said he didn’t mind where he sleeps anyway. Although somehow you suspected that he just couldn’t stand being there with everything reminding him of you. 

And he was right. Because now that you were back at the home the two of you had built together, it hurt like hell. Every single time you got up the stairs to the second floor, you heard that one creaking step that reminded you of him. Reminded you of those many nights where you finally could relax, hearing the sound that told you that your man was home safely. It would have been easy to avoid the creaking step by shifting your weight a little to the other side. But somehow you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You just couldn’t let go of him yet.

As the days got warmer, you sat in the garden and watched the blossoms of the peonies grow and open to the gorgeous, full buds of cream and powdery pink. With a sad smile on your face, you remembered how Walter had planted them for you, knowing how much you loved them. 

Preparing your morning coffee, your eyes rested on the mug before you, the cracks still visible where Walter had glued the handle to it. You remembered the day it got broken. 

Walter was in the kitchen making coffee when you got out of the shower. You had tried to sneak up on him, like you had so often, but like always, he had heard you, sensed you, whatever, before you could reach him. He turned, a broad smile spread over his face as he grabbed you at your hips and pulled you flush to his chest. “Good morning, babe!” he whispered before he started to nip on your earlobe. He knew it was your weak spot, and he loved to take advantage of it. You moaned in response to it and squirmed in his arms. 

Within a second, somehow Walter had turned both of you, and you found yourself sitting on the kitchen counter. The towel that had been wrapped around your body was laying on the floor, serving as a cushion to Walter’s knees as he dove headfirst between your legs.

As your orgasm hit you, you knocked the coffee mug from the counter with your knee. You had both laughed at it and kept going. And after Walter had glued it together again, it became your favorite mug, always reminding you of that morning. 

One of the joys of long relationships is having mutual friends. Which turns out to be quite complicated once you split up. This meant you had to see Walter from time to time at birthdays or other parties of your friends. It was always awkward, and it always hurt to see him because you still loved him so fucking much, and he looked worse every time you saw him. You knew he didn’t sleep. He didn’t eat well. You wished you could talk to him and somehow make him feel better. But how were you supposed to do that without hurting yourself? So you just asked your friends to look after him. They promised you that they tried, but they knew Walter just as well as you. That stubborn man didn’t take any help from others, at least not if it weren’t you. 

After another evening that was supposed to be fun with friends, you came home sad and worried. You slumped down on your couch and sighed. Your look fell on the shelf on the opposite wall, where all the picture frames were lined up. Pictures of family members, of yourself, and also the pictures of Walter and you together. The ones you had planned to remove so often but never actually did. 

“Dammit, I need to move on!” you told yourself as you got up again. You went to fetch one of the cardboard boxes that you had in the guest room ever since Walter had moved out, containing all the things that hurt too much to see them but not enough to make you throw them away. You picked up the photograph that you had taken on your first vacation together. He looked so happy and relaxed as he smiled into the camera. You wondered when was the last time you had seen him like this. Or anyone. One after another all the pictures of Walter found their way into the box and when you had removed the last one, your composure was gone too and you dropped to the floor, crying. 

You were standing at the window as the fall storm was blowing yellow and orange leaves of the maple tree in your garden into the air. Another memory hit you as you watched the leaves fall onto the grass again. 

Walter standing in the garden, a knit beanie hiding most of his curls, big heaps of leaves on both sides of him. He had taken off his sweater after gathering the first pile of leaves, a while later he opened the buttons of the flannel he was wearing, the t-shirt beneath showing a sweat stain on his chest. He leaned on the handle of his rake, smiling, when he realized you were standing at the window and watching him. 

Another strong gust of wind rushed through the air, and most of the leaves that Walter had gathered blew into the air again. You laughed and saw how Walter did the same before he threw the rake into the remaining heap. Both of you were still laughing as you held the door open for him. “Let’s spend the time with something more useful”, he grunted and kissed you hard, his cold hands slipping into the waistband of your jeans and groping your ass. 

“But you stink!” you protested mockingly. Walter shook his head and heaved you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as if it were a reflex. “Then you’ll have to take a shower with me”, he laughed, already on his way up the stairs with you clinging onto him. 

What hit you the most was whenever those bittersweet memories came to you unexpectedly. When you thought you were happy and having a good day until suddenly Walter was back in your mind and your heart broke once more.

Like that time when you were having a great evening with your best friend. You were sitting on your couch with her, drinking wine and talking about the books you were reading at the moment.

“Hey, do you still have that book you read last year?” your friend asked you, “The one where the girl gets snowed-in in a cabin with those two hot bearded guys? I need to borrow it from you. It's the perfect season for it now.” She pointed out to the snowflakes slowly starting to cover the trees and lawn. You laughed as you remembered the book she mentioned. Yes, that one is definitely worth reading. You got up to look through your shelves for it and soon after, you held it in your hand. Your friend cheered as you showed her the illustration on the cover. “That's the one!”

But then, as you opened the book, a note fell down to the floor. 

Walter used to hide those little messages everywhere for you to find. You loved them so much. But when you saw those words now, the loss felt suffocating. You froze, not even able to breathe as the pain filled your heart and spread through your body like a cold, dark shadow. 

Your friend knew right away what had happened and guided you to sit. 

“Do you want to talk about him or do we need more wine?” She asked. 

“Both!” you answered with a weak smile.

Two empty glasses later, you weren’t really smarter, but at least some of the weight that crushed your heart was lifted from your chest. You had talked about how much you missed Walter, and it felt good to finally admit it. But as you recounted the problems you had the last weeks before the split up, realization hit you. Way too late, but now you saw it.

“I was so occupied with pitying myself that I didn’t see how much all of this was my fault, just as much. Playing these stupid games instead of talking to him like an adult. What if I had told him how I feel? Maybe we could have made it? Maybe he would be here with me then.” 

Your friend held you all through the ugly crying that followed. When the tears started to cease, she brushed some strands of hair from your face and held a Kleenex out for you to take.

“Talk to him. Tell him what you told me today.” But you shook your head.

“It’s too late. I’ve been ignoring him for months. He’s moved on. Probably dating someone else by now.” 

You were on your way to a barbecue at a friend’s house, but every crossing you passed, you argued with yourself if you should turn. You had an exceptionally bad week. After losing a big project at your job and arguing with your parents, Friday had ended with a terrible date. Not even wanting to go, your friends had told you it was about time. And the profile of that guy was promising. But then he turned out to be already taken. He was completely in love — with himself.

You wanted to spend the rest of your weekend in your bed with a book and ice-cream, but you had promised that you’d show up for at least a few hours, so you kept driving to your friend's house.

Parking your car next to the big black truck you know too well, you cursed. You should have stayed at home.

The first thirty minutes, you were lucky, you didn’t run into the man that you dreaded to see. You greeted your friends, talked for a bit, but somehow people seemed to sense that you were not in the mood. So they let you lean against a tree and sip on your beer in silence, soon. 

And then you saw him, clad in jeans that showed off his great ass and a gray Henley that fitted his wide frame perfectly. And as you managed to tear your eyes from his body, you also saw that he didn’t look that tired and exhausted anymore. He was smiling, the creases in the corner of his eyes only making him look more attractive.

“That fucker!” you snarled, hating him for making you want him so desperately. Looks like he's over you now, you thought, a sadness pooling in your stomach that made you want to run and hide. You decided that you were done with the day, and you were going to just ruin it completely now. You made your way over to the improvised bar, your eyes focused on the vodka bottle.

The stars above you were so beautiful. But they were spinning, way too fast. You wanted to complain about it, but your mouth didn’t work the way you wanted to, and you suspected the words that came out of it didn’t really make sense. Somehow deep inside, you knew you should get up and call a taxi, but how were you supposed to do that? So you just kept laying in the grass and watching the world turn. 

Dark curls were suddenly in your way. And then you saw a pair of blue eyes, squinted, the brows above them furrowed. 

“Come on, sit up!” the familiar deep voice told you, and two hands held you in a tight grip until you were upright again. You sank your back against a firm wall that was warm and heaving in a steady rhythm. 

“Walter!” you slurred, “always my savior!” His sarcastic chuckle was full of frustration, but you wouldn’t have noticed. Tonight, you wouldn’t notice anything anymore.

It wasn’t as easy as he thought to maneuver you into his truck, your limbs slipping out of his hands, but finally, he had you on the passenger seat. He rolled down the window in hopes that the fresh air would help sober you up. And halfway to your home, he had the impression that you were getting a little to your senses. 

Worried, his eyes shot to you whenever he could dare to move them away from the streets. You were beautiful, even in this state, he thought. Your eyes big and glossy, as you watched him silently. 

Getting you into your bed was easier. At least the physical part of it. Walter opened the door and took in the scent of the house that he had missed almost as much as its inhabitant. He carried you up the stairs and carefully laid you down on the mattress. His fingers fumbled with the little straps of your sandals. Then his look fell on your clothes. Should he leave you like this, or help you undress? It wasn’t as if he didn’t know you without clothes. But he wasn’t allowed to see you like this anymore. And maybe it was better if he didn’t get reminded of how beautiful you are. How soft your skin felt. So he tucked you in the blanket without removing the dress you wore. But he just couldn’t leave without leaning down to brush his hand over your hair.

He jerked when your hand shot up to him. Your fingers wrapped around his neck as you pulled him close. “I still love you, you know? So much! And I would just love to be fucked senseless by you. Now. Please!” Your lips pressed hard against his, desperate to taste him. But Walter didn’t reciprocate. He froze for a second before he pulled himself free from your grip.

“Don’t!” he told you, his voice a whisper, but full of hurt. “Don’t do that.”

First thing you noticed as you woke up was the awful taste in your mouth. Then the stabbing pain that was shooting through your head when you opened your eyes to the sunlight. You squeezed them shut again and sighed.

“Idiot” you scolded yourself. "What have you done?"

When you opened up your eyes again, slowly and carefully this time, you noticed a bottle of water and some painkillers on your nightstand. Were you smart enough to prepare for today's hangover, at least? But how exactly did you even get home? You had absolutely no idea.

After you took the painkillers and downed half of the bottle, you got up to get into the shower. That was until a scent filled your nostrils and you changed your plans. 

Down in the kitchen, there was a whole pot of coffee waiting for you, and a plate with two bagels. Fried eggs and cream cheese. The ones that Walter always used to make for you. You also noticed the bouquet of peonies standing on the table with a note beside it.

Fuck! So he took you home? And he made you breakfast? The bagels were still warm, so he couldn’t have left too long ago.

Distressed, you tried to remember what had happened tonight. But only fragments appeared in your head. The barbeque, Walter laughing, the vodka, so much vodka, damn! Then stars and cold grass, Walter in his truck, the stairs creaking. Nothing else.

Wait! Was there a kiss? Somehow you remembered a kiss, but that couldn’t have been. This must have been a dream. You looked down on yourself. You were still wearing your dress. And your panties. Thank god. But damn, you needed to fill the gaps in your memories. 

Ashamed and frustrated, you decided to take a shower and then take the embarrassing task of calling Walter. 

You sat on your bed, ankles crossed. Your stomach was doing somersaults, and you weren’t sure if it was for yesterday’s disaster or because of what you had to do next. You stared at your phone, not willing to take it into your hands just yet. Biting on your lip, you finally scrolled to Walter’s number and dialed.

“Hey! Thought you’d call today. How are you?” You tried so hard not to cry as you heard him, talking softly as if he tried to be careful with your hammering headache.

“I’m okay, considering the state I was in yesterday, I guess.” you said shyly. You were ashamed and felt incredibly uneasy. “I… I…” you stuttered, “I need you to help me with a few details. I can’t really remember most of the evening. And I need to know if I said something stupid. Or if I did something stupid, if we did…” You couldn’t end the sentence, but Walter should be getting it.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You were just a little tipsy. Or, yeah, well, quite drunk.” He let out a small laugh, but it wasn’t offensive. It was soft and warm. “You were cute, and didn’t say anything stupid. I put you into bed and made sure you had everything you needed. I slept on the couch for a while, I wanted to see that you were really doing okay. At six this morning, I left. I thought I’d give you some privacy."

After you had ended the call, thanking Walter, you cried. You cried because you were so grateful that Walter had taken care of you. That he was there for you when you needed him. But part of you also cried because you had hoped to hear that you had kissed, that you had somehow found a way to show him how much you still felt for him. But you hadn’t. And you knew if you couldn’t do this with liquid courage, you’d never manage to tell him. 

If you had thought you were heartbroken before that day, you had no idea how much you were able to suffer. You were so incredibly mad at yourself that you had walked away from the man who meant the world to you. And today you finally realized you would never get him back. You were absolutely miserable. 

But at the same time, Walter wasn’t doing a lot better. He hadn’t slept at all that night. He had tossed around on your couch, pondering over the sentences he heard you say, over and over again. You had told him you still love him. But could he trust your drunken words? And even if so, was he able to give you what you need? He had failed you before. And he was so fucking scared that he'd hurt you again. Hurting you was no option. 

But damn, did it hit him hard that night. The urge to protect you was so strong. And while holding you in his arms, he wasn’t sure he could do the right thing, to keep away from you. He couldn’t take advantage of your state, but it was so hard not to hold you, not to kiss you back, to feel you one last time. 

Now he sat in his office, staring at the folders in front of him, but he couldn’t focus on anything else but you. He took out his phone, started typing, deleting the words again, only to type and delete them once more. “Fuck!” he growled as he threw his phone on the desk. All he wanted was to hold you in his arms and tell you that he still loved you. But he couldn’t, not until he was sure that he’d be able to be there for you, no matter what. 

It’s been a month since the vodka fiasco, and you were finally at least trying to move on. But after a few days that hadn’t felt like you were a total failure, today was harsh.

You felt off, couldn’t focus, and your body switched from shivering to sweating minutely. After she had watched you worriedly the whole morning, your favorite co-worker came to you around noon. She put her hand on your shoulder. “Hey, you’re sick. Go home and take care of yourself.” 

First, you wanted to protest, but before the words reached your mouth you realized that she was right. So you took her advice and went home. You made a cup of tea and curled up on the sofa with a soft blanket. Your eyes drifted shut before you could even turn the first page of your book. 

With a startled cry, you woke up. Beads of sweat were covering your forehead and running down your chest. Sighing, you lifted your head and realized you must have been sleeping for hours. The room was dark, only a dim glow from the street lanterns falling through the windows. Taking a deep breath, you tried to clear your head, but the dream that had woken you didn’t leave your mind.

It had been the night when Walter had taken you home. You remembered how his fingers had carefully moved over your ankles, how this touch had made you feel so desperate. He had put you in bed, wrapped you up like a burrito. And even if it was dark in the room, you were able to take in the soft expression on his face, his eyes staring right into your soul. You remembered how the touch of his hand through your hair had broken your last will to resist him, how you had pulled him down to you, telling him all those things that you never wanted to admit to him. And you also remembered how he didn’t kiss you back, how he pulled away from you, sounding so hurt when he told you to stop. 

Tears were falling from your eyes. Was this real? A flashback or a dream? You weren’t sure. The next memory was even more foggy. But just as blurred as it was, it was the part that you wished the most to be true:

You had almost drifted off to sleep when you felt Walter’s hand on your cheek, his fingertips caressing your neck, like he had done a thousand times before. His voice barely a whisper, you had heard him say: “I still love you, too. And I miss you, every damn day.” 

His curls had brushed over your forehead before you felt his soft lips grazing your cheek for a kiss so gentle you hardly felt it at all. But it was there. He had kissed you, he had admitted his love to you. If it wasn’t just your feverish mind playing tricks on you. 

With the little energy you had in you, you forced yourself to go up to your bedroom, change into your pajamas and fall into your bed. After an hour of going back and forth through the dream you had, in the half awake state you were in, you texted a message to Walter, telling him that you need to talk. Just as you hit the send button, you regretted it immediately. You wanted to delete the message, but then you saw the checkmarks, implying Walter had already seen your text.

And then  — nothing. You waited for an answer to appear, but after several minutes, the fever took over again, and you slowly drifted off to sleep. 

The vague sound of a doorbell rang through your head in your dream, then knocking. First hesitant, then louder, more determined. Your eyes fluttered for a moment, but you were too tired to keep them open. You heard your name, the familiar deep voice calling it as if it were a question. You tried another time to open your eyes, and this time you were successful. 

The creaking step announced him like so many times before, and you were able to sit up on your elbows when finally there was a knock on your door.

“Hey, it’s Walter. Are you in there? Are you okay? I’m madly worried.” Still not fully processing everything around you, you only managed a quiet answer.

“You can come in,” you told him, wondering what got him worried. 

The door opened slowly and Walter’s curly head appeared in the door frame.

“Goodness, there you are.” Walter said breathlessly. “I’ve been calling you for hours.”

He stepped into the room and, without taking his eyes from you, he let himself fall onto the chair next to your dresser.

Staring at him confusedly, you sat up. Ignoring your thundering headache, your look went to the window, seeing it was still dark, then to the phone on your pillow. It must have slipped from your hands when you fell asleep.

The screen showed new messages and missed phone calls, all from Walter.

Your eyes going back to him, you chewed on your lip.

“Damn, sorry Walt. I fell asleep, I think I caught the flu.” Immediately Walter was on his feet again, crossing the distance between you with long strides. Softly, he pressed his palm on your forehead.

“Oh, dammit, your skin is burning hot.” He brushed some sweaty strands of hair from your face before the comfort of his hand left your skin again, and he took a step backwards. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Within the blink of an eye, he had left your bedroom, and you were just as confused as before. Your foggy brain couldn’t tell what was going on. 

You felt a cold hand on your cheek and opened your eyes, wondering when you had even shut them at all. Walter was standing beside you again, his brows drawn together in concern as he looked at you. 

“Hey, welcome back.” Not losing his worried expression, his mouth curled into a small smile. He pointed to your nightstand. “I brought water and tea, didn’t know if you wanted something warm or cold. But you need to drink. And take those pills. I’m making you some soup now, okay?” His fingers brushed gently over your face. As you sat up, Walter took some pillows and placed them behind your back so you could sit back more comfortably. You reached for the bottle of water and took a sip. You hadn’t realized that you were thirsty, but the water running down your throat felt like heaven. Walter held the tablets out for you to take, and with a grimace, you swallowed them, drowning them down with more water.

“Thank you!” you whispered, not knowing what else to say to him. You knew you needed to ask him about that night, but right now, you were not strong enough for it. So you accepted to just take his help instead. 

He brought you soup and watched you sternly while you were eating. After that, he handed you more water. “Feeling better?” he asked, and you nodded.

“Yes, I think the medicine is doing its work now. Thank you, Walter. Really!”

He had taken his seat on the chair again and smiled softly at you. “Any time, sweetheart!” 

You must have fallen asleep again soon after that. The next time you opened your eyes, you saw Walter crouched on the small chair, his head sunken to his chest, silently snoring. You were curled up, too, your body shaking and your teeth chattering. 

“Walter!” you called him. It was barely more than a whisper, but his eyes shot open immediately, and he rose from his chair, one of his knees cracking audibly. He was beside you in an instant and took in your shivering.

“Your fever is rising again,” he remarked. He took a blanket that was hanging over the foot of the bed and wrapped it around you, together with your comforter. After checking his watch, he shook his head with a sigh. “It’s too early to give you more paracetamol.”

“I’ll live!” you responded. “But you can’t sleep on the chair, your back will kill you tomorrow. At least take the couch.”

Walter frowned at you, and you noticed the muscles in his jaw flexing.

“Don’t clench your teeth,” you told him softly. You had seen him doing this a thousand times before. He was tense.

“I can’t leave you alone,” he said and you knew he wouldn’t give in. He was a stubborn mule after all. You huffed and moved a little to the side, making space for him.

“Come here. This bed is big enough, and we’re adults after all.” 

When he didn’t move, you rolled your eyes, regretting it immediately as your headache got worse. “Get in here, Walter!” You said, more rigidly this time. 

Walter exhaled and finally gave in. You felt the mattress dip behind you. A second later, an arm wrapped around your shoulder. It was over the blankets, but it still felt so comfy and familiar.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, and you nodded, despite you answering him:

“You’re going to catch my flu.”

Walter chuckled and only pulled you a little closer. “Nah, I never get sick.”

When you opened your eyes the next time, everything was different. Warm sunlight fell through the window. Your head wasn’t throbbing in pain anymore. You were neither shivering nor sweating. Maybe you were still a little weak, but you felt so much better than yesterday. It was a good start into the day. On the downside, the man beside you was gone, too. 

After a stop in the bathroom, including a sixty-second shower that made you feel a hundred times fresher and fitter, you stepped into some leggings and a shirt and made your way down into your kitchen. The scents wavering through the hallway and the clattering of tableware told you where you would find Walter. 

Seeing him moving so comfortably through your kitchen, you felt your heart constricting in pain. It once was a natural sight, but now it was like a reminder of what you had lost. When he would see that you’re better again, he’d leave and the room would feel so empty without him. 

You watched him placing everything he had prepared onto a tray and turn. His eyes fell on you and he huffed in surprise.

“Hey, you’re up!” You noticed how his eyes traveled all over you, checking the state you were in. As always, all protective and caring. “Are you feeling better? I was just about to bring you breakfast and more medicine.”

You stepped into the kitchen and sat down at the breakfast bar. 

“I’m so much better.” 

As Walter dropped the tray in his hands on the counter before you, you put your hand on his arm.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Walter.” A sad chuckle escaped you. “I feel like I have to say that a lot, lately.”

“I’m glad I can do that. I’ve let you down often enough before.” He turned his head to his side to avoid looking at you. 

Your hand brushed through his beard and guided his face back so you could lock eyes with him.

“You didn’t let me down, Walter. At least not on purpose. We were both making some stupid mistakes back then. Sit down. We should finally talk.”

Shutting his eyes, he nodded. But instead of sitting down on the chair next to you, he moved to the coffee machine, holding up the steaming pot. “I think I will need some caffeine for that, you want some, too?” 

You told him yes and another thank you, then you watched him grabbing two cups from the cupboard. When he put them down on the counter, both of you let out a small wince. Walter looked at the green mug with the glued handle with an expression that you couldn’t quite name. When he looked up at you again, you tried your best to feign unawareness, but you guessed you did a poor job with it.

Anyway, Walter ignored it, poured coffee into the two mugs and took the broken one for himself. He finally sat down next to you and started to speak.

“Sorry that I let myself in yesterday. But after you didn’t answer the phone, I was really worried, so I took the key from the key safe in the shed.”

“That’s okay, Walter. I’m glad you came. It was good having you here.”

Walter nodded and took a sip from his coffee.

“What was it that you wanted to talk about?” he asked you. You didn’t really want to answer, but you knew you had to. Not knowing if your memories were betraying you would make you go mad.

“When I was feverish, I had a dream about the night you brought me home from the barbecue.” You felt the heat rising up your neck and cheeks. You still felt so awfully embarrassed about what happened then. “I’m not sure if it’s a memory or if my mind is just playing tricks on me. I remembered pulling you down into a kiss and telling you,” you took a breath before going on. “I told you I still love you, and…” You couldn’t finish the sentence. Instead, you carefully studied Walter’s face. His eyes changed, showing both kindness and pain. 

“You remember correctly.” His voice was hoarse. Your heart was racing in your chest. 

“But you said, ‘Don’t do that.’ You pulled away.” You felt how your eyes were watering, your gaze getting blurry.

“I did.” Walter’s warm hand wrapped around yours and his thumb drew tiny circles over your skin. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I didn’t want you to stop kissing me. I wanted to feel you in my arms. But you were drunk. I couldn’t have taken advantage of you like this.” His other hand cupped your cheek as his eyes were looking into yours deeply. “When you were sleeping, I couldn’t hold back kissing you one last time. It was just a peck on your cheek, but I needed to feel your skin on my lips one last time.”

So your memory hadn’t betrayed you. It was true. Your hand moved to Walter’s neck, your fingers raking through his curls. “I’m not drunk today.” 

You watched as Walter pressed his lips into a thin line. “You’re sick with fever, darling.”

But you shook your head. “No. I’m better. And even if so. Believe me when I tell you this, Walter. Ever since I walked out that door and left you this stupid letter, I have regretted it. I love you, I miss you so much, and I wish I would have talked to you back then, instead of playing stupid mind games. It wasn’t fair to leave you without ever letting you know how I felt. I’m sorry!”

The look Walter gave you was more intense as ever. He stepped between your legs, wrapping you into a tight embrace. Your heart jumped as your face settled on his chest and he pressed a soft kiss on your hair. 

“I am sorry that I was emotionally absent for such a long time. I have left you before you did. Maybe not physically, but that doesn’t matter. I wasn’t there for you, I didn’t see your pain.” He paused for a brief moment, though his hands never stopped running up and down your back. “The last few months I asked myself so often if I was worthy of your love, if I was capable of treating you right. If you’d take me back, that is. And I wasn’t sure. This job is exhausting. Sometimes you can’t help but numb all feelings to be able to go on. But I’m willing  to try if you still want me. You just have to promise to talk to me.”

You pulled away from Walter’s chest so you’d be able to look into his eyes. As you saw the love in them, you got up, your hands cradled his head, and you pulled him down to you.

When your lips found his, new tears ran down your cheeks, but you ignored them. This kiss was telling more than any of you would have been able to express with words. Every little bit of longing went into it, and you felt it running through your bones. Your chest filled with love until you were about to burst from happiness and relief. 

Only when you both ran out of oxygen, the two of you parted. Walter pressed his forehead against yours, and you felt his breath grazing over your neck. He smiled softly at you and brushed his nose against yours.

“Are we doing this?” he asked. His voice was showing a vulnerability that you had never seen with Walter. “Are you taking me back?”

“Yeah, I do, if you want me back, too.”

Bonus chapter

[cosmicstarlatte]

Levi A-Z Smut HCs (Obey Me!)

⬅Back to Smut HC A-Z Masterlist ◇

18+ only, minors do not interact.

My personal headcanons using this [prompt list]

The goal is to finish the whole list; you are welcome to request a letter so I get to it faster. I will work on it as quick as I can but keep in mind I do have a life & responsibilities lol. ^^

Last Updated: Oct.1.2023 (9 out of 26)

⚠️Notes: I'll tag any sections if needed. If you think a section needs a tag, kindly let me know.

A: Affair (Describe an extra-marital affair)

B: Birthday (Describe birthday sex)

C: Compliments (Mid- and post-sex compliments)

D: Dry Humping (Describe a dry-humping scene)

tags: punishment, humiliation Every once in a while you need to punish him, either he spent way too much on otaku merch or he's been missing classes too much, whatever. You'll usually sit on him & tease him as he tries to play on his PC. He knows what you're doing & he begs to feel you, please he'll 'do better' he says. Unfortunately for him his poor cock won't get that sweet relief exactly. he can beg & whine all he wants & rub desperately against you but he's still gonna have to cum in his pants.

E: Experimenting (Trying something new)

F: Firsts (First time having sex together)

It was clumsy & cute. The poor otaku was so nervous, he couldn't believe he could bag such a baddie. Someway somehow even with the nervousness he still felt calm with you, if that makes any sense. He was more worried about you than him & he just wanted to make you feel good. especially when he came rather quickly before the 1st round. Anyway, the nerd is packin' & those hands & tongue work skillfully. ...You definitely went a few good rounds into the night & left each other a mess before finally taking a sweet bath together. After, you guys cuddled under a warm blanket & watched a lighthearted anime. ♡

G: Gentle (Describe gentle/loving mid-sex gestures)

H: Handsy (When they can’t keep their hands to themselves)

I: Initiator (Who initiates most of the time? How?)

J: Jealous (“Claiming” a partner)

tags: Possessive, Love bites/Marking, Scenting Sweetie, he's the avatar of envy. When it's extreme, there's no hiding it, he gives in. That sweet shy nervous otaku? Gone. He's bringing & giving grand admiral energy, he's giving 'one of the powerful lords of hell.' Sure he could summon Lotan or use something else if he wants to, but all he really needs is to say "Go away" in a icy cold voice & glare that makes thousands of soldiers shiver. You almost feel sorry for any bastard that tries to make him jealous. Even after they leave though, he wants nothing more but to mark you with visible love bites & rub his scent all over you. He made it easily known to his brothers to not touch what's his.

K: Kitchen (Describe a sex scene in the kitchen)

L: Likes (What they like in the bedroom)

M: Morning (Describe morning sex)

It happens frequently hehe. You tend to stay over a lot to watch a marathon or play games. Levi's libido is strong, he's always down to fuck in the morning, it brightens his spirit. Watching you take his cock & filling you up right before school is the perfect way to start the day. It's especially motivating when he knows you walk around the entire day with his cum between your legs, he cant wait to come home & fuck you again. (If he can wait that long)

N: Never (Things they would never try)

O: Orgasm (Describe coming--who comes first? What do they say? How does the other person know it’s approaching?)

P: Playlist (A playlist for getting down and dirty; will probably include a lap dance song, a song for making love, and a song that represents their sex life)

Q: Quiet (Reaction to a quiet partner)

You know what I'm not gonna lie, I think he'd be just a tad disappointed at first. Of course he reminds himself a lot of porn is fake anyway & then he really tunes in to the small delicious sounds you do reveal. The faces you make. The little bits you let him hear are still so very fucking hot & sexy. He's the one making you sound like that either way~

R: Ruttish (Signs that they’re horny)

Ah...Levi is easy. He's not very good at hiding it. A flushed face and a small sheen of sweat to him. He gets a little extra irritable as well. The biggest sign is the tent in his pants when he's around you. Sorry, but he doesn't hide it very well, it's obvious when he looks like he's trying to hide something when he tries to cover up down there. (I wonder if he does it on purpose?)

S: Safe Word (How often is the safe word used? Why?)

T: Teasing (Who’s the tease in the relationship? What do they do? How often?)

U: Undressing (Strip teasing a partner)

V: Videos (Sending NSFW videos to each other)

Do you realize what you've done? The first time you sent him a video, he got instantly hard & couldnt stop cumming to that video. Unfortunately for him he kept getting hard any time he thought about it that week, it was embarrassing walking around with a constant erection. His first few videos in response were a little clumsy, but it turned you on. He was a loud moaner & he loved to whimper. Little whiney pants when he was getting close always did it for you. He made sure to take better video, especially audio when he learned you really loved his moans. ♡

W: Wedding Night (Consummating the marriage)

tags: overstimulation The only thing on his mind is getting you off the entire night until you're crying & begging him to stop. Until you're drained. He knows it's about the two of you celebrating but...you're his life partner now! He's so grateful you chose him out of everyone. Please let him worship you tonight, lay back & let him handle it. He promises he's enjoying this as much as you are. Promise.

X: XXX (What kind of porn does the person watch? How often?)

tags: double dicks, creepy!pervy!levi I'm not going to lie to y'all, Levi's a freak. (Okay we knew this) He watches all kinds of porn, both real & hentai. I'd say it's nearly an every day thing, it's hard taking care of two monster cocks & he needs to empty his balls. His favorite? POV hentai vids. Especially ones that look like you... Perhaps he has a few commissioned hentais where they look like the two of you...

Y: Yawn (How they sleep post-sex)

Z: Zoo (Their animalistic qualities in the bedroom)