#three round-arched windows

[racingpit]

Siding Exterior (Houston)

[watchmegetobsessed]

NOW AND FOREVER (part 2)

A/N: these two got stuck in my head and seemingly in yours as well, so lets see some more of them! part 1 is linked under the summary if you haven't read it!

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

PAIRING: princess!reader x guard!harry

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: To be eligible for the throne, you need to get married. The past few years have been dedicated to finding a king for you, but now that you're secretly dating your guard, these attempts are a bit more complicated than before.

PART 1 | MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

There’s that scene in The Princess Diaries when they are choosing a possible husband out of a slide show for Mia. You used to find it funny when you were younger and made jokes to your parents that you want to do it too. They laughed, but exchanged a look you didn’t understand back then. 

Now you do.

There are two requirements you need to meet to take the throne. The first one is to be at least 25 years old. That box has been ticked for three years now, the real problem is the second one. Because as outdated that law in the movies was, it is your reality. You have to be married, you can’t take the throne without a man. 

As a teenager you didn’t think much of it, because you pictured yourself to meet a handsome prince, marry him and then become queen, easy as it is. But as you grew older and dating was proven to be impossible as a princess, anxiety and panic started to set in that you’d end up in an arranged marriage just to become eligible for ruling Eroda. 

Then came Harry, you fell for him and he fell for you, but it just complicated things even more, because he is not from royal blood, not even close to being an aristocrat, therefore you can never marry him. 

For the past few years most of the social events you’ve attended had a not so hidden second purpose: finding a husband. 

Never ending rounds of introductions to single men, awkward chatting that ended up in asking you out on a date that you declined politely most of the time, followed by a sermon from your father about needing to settle soon, because he is not getting younger and you need to be eligible for the throne as soon as possible. You always tried your best to just ignore him, but ever since you and Harry have become an item secretly it’s been extremely hard to hold your tongue and not tell him that you have found the man you want to spend the rest of your life with, but he can’t be king, because he is your guard. 

It’s such an impossible situation and you have no idea where it’s going to lead. 

Now it’s another one of those occasions, the opening of the Spring Festival is just another opportunity to fill up the palace’s ballroom with all kinds of single men from around the country and even outside as well. 

You know people are filling up the room already while you’re still in your suite. Your hair is done, makeup perfect, wearing a gown that costs probably way more than you feel comfortable with, but you’re never informed about how expensive your outfits are. 

You’ll be announced in about fifteen minutes, walk down the stairs for the millionth time and start your rounds. You’d rather jump out the window than to meet all those people, but you have no choice. 

There’s a knock on the door.

“Come in!” you call out and you see Harry step inside from the mirror. He is wearing his usual black suit, looking polished and threatening at the same time, but not to you. You see the man he is behind his thick walls, because there’s a door on that wall, just for you, wide open. 

The door clicks behind him and he watches you turn around, his gaze runs down the length of your body and then up to your face again. 

“Should I change?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at him teasingly.

“Do you want the honest or the brutally honest answer?”

Your lips stretch into a smile as you start to cross the room slowly, walking towards him while he remains standing in his spot.

“Both. The honest first.”

“You look stunning,” he replies, his eyes soft and loving. You stop just a few inches away from him.

“And the brutally honest one?”

There’s a short pause, you catch his eyes slip down to your chest and waist again before returning.

“I want to lock you in here and not let you close any men out there. I wish I could mark you mine.”

He knows how to turn you on within seconds with just a few words. He knows so well how much you like it when he gets possessive, ready to show it to the world that you belong to him and only him. 

A shaky breath leaves your lips and just when you reach up to grab him by his neck there’s another knock on the door. forcing you to take a step back instead. 

“Come in!” you answer when there’s enough distance between you and Harry, though your heart is still pounding in your chest as if it’s about to jump out and right into Harry’s hands. 

Head of security, Clarke steps into the suite.

“Her Royal Highness, you’re expected to appear in ten minutes,” he informs you with a polite nod.

“Styles just arrived to walk me over. Thank you.”

The two men exchange a look before Clarke walks out. Taking a deep breath you turn to face Harry.

“Ready?”

“Sure,” you huff, earning a tiny smirk from him before he opens the door, but as you walk past him he stops you just for a split second to whisper into your ear.

“Mine,” is all he says and you keep walking as if that one word didn’t just make your knees wobble.

You use the walk to the ballroom to get your thoughts straight and not imagine how Harry would peel you out of this dress if you had some privacy…

They announce you and  every pair of eyes are glued to you as you walk down the stairs and join the crowd. Endless rounds of introduction, the smile is frozen on your face and your feet are already sore from the heels, but you ignore the pain. 

It always amazes you how uninteresting the men you meet are. How they can’t hold a conversation that doesn’t make you claw your eyes out. Thirty seconds into the chit-chat and you’re already planning your escape usually. 

Tonight however there is one exception. 

His name is Magnus, some kind of relative of the Swedish royal family, you don’t really care to be honest. At first he seemed just another one of the boring puppets, but he soon proved to actually have a personality and your status didn’t stop him from showing it. 

His almost inappropriate, a bit risky jokes are what keep you sane tonight. He just knows what makes you laugh and he has a great timing dropping his silent comments that are only meant for you. 

“I think I’ll have a little break,” you tell him after a rather long conversation with some old baron you know you’ve seen a couple of times already, but can’t remember his name, only that he is always oddly curious about the neckline of your dress. 

“I’ll be around here, dodging questions about my father’s political choices.”

You smile with a nod and then look around to find Harry. He is not far away, by a window, his eyes already glued to you when you make your way towards him.

“Bathroom break,” you announce to him with a smile, expecting to see that hidden glimmer in his eyes as usual, because this is always the time when you steal a few intimate moments, but he is different now. Something is off.

He nods without a word and escorts you out of the room. In those few minutes you go back to your suite you try to figure out what could have happened since you parted ways that could upset him this much. As always, he opens the door for you, one guard stays outside and he comes in with you. 

He plants himself by the door, his hands clasped together in front of him as he keeps a straight face. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He looks at you just for a second before turning his gaze towards the window, his jaw flexes and your worry just grows, you haven’t seen him this upset in a long time. 

“Nothing is wrong,” he answers, but you both know it’s not true.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time, Harry. Just once more. What is wrong?”

Slowly, his eyes move back to you and for a moment, you forget to breathe, they’re so intense and darker than ever, as if all that gorgeous greenness is gone from them. 

“Your little date must be waiting for you, better hurry.”

Amusement settles on your face and you can’t stop yourself from letting a laugh slip out. 

“That’s your problem? Magnus?” His lips twitch at his name, but he doesn’t reply. “Harry, you know this is what’s expected from me. I have to pretend like I want to get to know the men out there.”

“I bet you didn’t have to pretend much when he came into the picture.”

“What are you talking about?!” you let out another frustrated laugh. You know he tends to get jealous, but you’ve never seen this side of him before. 

“You seemed to enjoy his company a lot out there.”

“Because he is not a boring asshole like most of the men I’m usually introduced to.”

“Great. You two will look good as king and queen.”

You know he doesn’t mean it, that he is just pissed and feels helpless in our situation, but in this moment you simply can’t see over the nasty fog of anger. 

“Oh you think so too? I agree,” is all you say before you march into your bathroom and shut the door closed. 

There’s no more talking as you walk back to the ballroom, but even the blind could see the tension between the two of you. You catch the other guard that came with you giving Harry a puzzled look, but he didn’t dare to ask. 

“Magnus!” you call out to him, making your way straight to him upon arriving when you spot him by a table. You can feel Harry’s burning gaze on your back, but tonight you’re in the mood to be petty. 

“Your Royal Highness, you’re back!” he smiles brightly. 

He is handsome, that’s for sure. Has great manners and an even greater sense of humor. The more you talk to him the more you think that you might be able to develop feelings for him in some years, or at least enough to live beside him in peace.

But those feelings would never live up to the love and passion you have for Harry. 

You’re still angry at him, for how childish he was and thought that anyone could stand a chance when he’s in your life. 

As the evening carries on your anger eases, though you’re still upset with him, you just want to be alone with him finally, touch him, kiss him, hear him call your name. 

Magnus asks you out at the end of the night and you politely decline, he doesn’t seem offended, maybe a bit disappointed, but he masks it well. You say your rounds of goodbye and then finally make your way back to your suite, Harry walking right beside you. 

The tension has somewhat lessened, but the vibes are still not the usual. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, if he is still as upset as before or he has cooled down, his face is so blank it irks you. Arriving at the suite you look at him, searching for any sign or feeling in his eyes, but they look back at you completely empty. So you walk in and lock yourself in your bathroom with trembling lips. 

Normally Harry would sneak in later at night, but this time you don’t expect him to show up. Hoping to burn the feelings tonight left behind, you take a hot bath and try to carry on as if nothing happened, even though Harry is all you can think about. 

Is it possible this is how things will end between the two of you? That this stupid little jealousy game is enough to pull you apart? You start to spiral heavily when you step out of the steamed up bathroom, but all your thoughts disappear the moment you notice you’re not alone.

Harry is sitting on the edge of your bed, still wearing his suit from tonight, but his black tie is gone and the top few buttons are undone on his perfectly white shirt. Unsure about where you’re standing and if he is still angry at you for the whole Magnus thing, you just stop halfway over to the bed, wrapped only in a silky robe. 

For a while he just sits there, staring at you, silent and unreadable and right when you’re about to speak, he stands up and starts walking towards you, slowly, his eyes locked with yours. You’re waiting for him to say something, maybe lash out on you, or apologize, practically anything, because his silence is pure torture. 

He stops right in front of you, if you took a deep breath your chest would be touching his, but he is still just staring down at you without a single word. 

And you break.

“Harry, I–”

He doesn’t let you finish, instead, his lips smash against yours, one hand on the back of your neck, the other one grabbing your jaw as he moves forward, pushing you to move with him until your back hits the wall, his whole body pressed against you as he kisses you like never before. 

He’s been rough with you before, but not like this. He is devouring your lips with the raw passion he had to hold back all evening, watching you parade around with another man while he wished he could show everyone in the room who you belong to. 

You both are in a rush, he is practically tearing your robe off your body while you’re ridding him of his clothes in a frenzy. You don’t even get to pull his shirt off entirely and his pants are just pooling around his ankles when brings your legs around his waist and thrusts his throbbing cock into you, only to freeze once he’s buried deep inside you.

You both gasp, lips smearing against each other as you stare back at each other, savoring the feeling of being as physically close as possible finally. The events of tonight have turned, they are now a force between the two of you, pulling you closer and closer until you’re melted together as one. 

You grab his face, tightening your legs around his waist as you breathe his name into his mouth before he starts moving. 

He starts off slow, but he is quick to fasten his pace, your gasps fill the room and you’re thankful your whole suite is soundproof, just like almost all rooms in the palace. It’s the only reason why you could have been in a similar situation in the library, the guest room in the west wing and your study. 

You’re tugging his hair and clawing at his back while he pounds into you relentlessly. At one point, most likely to muffle his moans, he bites into your shoulder and you faintly feel him sucking on the skin, but you’re just too gone to even realize what he is doing. 

He is kissing you so hard your teeth are clashing as he comes, his movements fall out of his fast paced rhythm for a bit, but then he keeps going for you.

“Come on, baby. Give it to me, come on my cock,” he urges you, knowing you’re close too. “I know you’re there, I can feel you so tight around my cock, just give it to me.”

A few more rough thrust and you’re whining out his name, your orgasm spreading through your whole body in waves. He fucks you through it and only stops when he’s sure you’ve given him everything. 

You stay like that, his cock buried inside you, his body pressing you up against the wall, foreheads resting against each other as you both try to catch your breath. When he pulls back you follow his eyes to your shoulder and see the reddish-purple mark he left on you. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he breathes out as he lets your legs down, your feet returning to the floor but he keeps an arm around your waist, knowing you probably don’t have much energy to stand on your own, his other hand comes up to your shoulder and he runs his fingers over the mark.

“It’s fine, I have makeup that covers anything,” you smirk at him. Secretly, you wish he’d let himself loose like this more often, you love seeing his mark on yourself. 

You catch his face falling before he speaks again.

“And I’m sorry for tonight.”

You couldn’t be angry at him anymore, not even if you tried. The tenderness is back in his eyes and he is the Harry you love so much again. 

“I’m sorry too.”

“No, you have nothing to apologize for,” he shakes his head. “You did nothing wrong, just… talked to a guy whose company was nice, after all those events full of assholes you always have to put up with. I was… jealous, because he got to be with you the way I want to.”

It stings in your chest, his confession hits hard now that it was said out loud, even though deep down you knew he felt like that, because you did too. You wished it could have been him. 

With a gentle touch, you take his face between your hands and pull him in for a soft kiss. 

“I know you know it, just probably forget it sometimes, but I’ll say it. No matter who they try to set me up with or how many princes and barons they throw into my way, I will only love and belong to you. Now and forever.”

You intentionally use his words and it seems to strengthen the message, you notice the tears in his eyes and you feel your throat closing up as well when you pull him in for another kiss, this time it’s longer and more passionate. You can taste his words on his tongue: I love you too.

When he pulls back you see the glimmer in his eyes, but then they disappear in a second. 

“What’s wrong?” He shakes his head. “Harry, talk to me, please,” you beg him, pushing his hair back.

“It’s just… You’ll have to marry one day. You can’t be queen without marrying someone and I… I can’t be…”

He doesn’t want to say it out loud, as if it would make it more real, even though it’s as real as it could get.

“We’ll figure it out. I promise,” you tell him, running the pad of your thumb over his eyebrow, as if you wanted to memorize every feature of his face. When he looks into your eyes you know he doesn’t believe you, but he just nods. You don’t want to let him go like this, to end tonight on such a bitter note. “So… you’d want to marry me? You’re saying you would willingly have me as your wife?”

You see the switch in his eyes and the way the corners of his mouth curl up makes you lightheaded in a second.

“Did I say that?”

“You very much implied, yes,” you grin at him. “I’m surprised you’d want to put up with my big mouth and attitude, you get the most of them, because I can’t act up in public. Wouldn’t you get fed up with me after a while?” you ask teasingly.

“Mm, don’t let it get to your head, but I love your big mouth and attitude.” Leaning down his lips are now brushing against yours, but he is not kissing you just yet. “Especially… your mouth and everything it can do,” he adds in a whisper before finally sucking on your bottom lip. 

He pulls you away from the wall and starts walking you towards the bed and you just smile widely against his mouth as you willingly move with him until you both fall into your bed and make the best out of the little time he gets to spend with you before he needs to sneak out.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[yutaholic]

the show must go on (M)

PAIRING: Haechan (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: Your best friend, your ride or die, Haechan has never once left your side, but all good things must come to an end.

WARNINGS: strong language; brief mentions of alcohol and drug abuse; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 7.9k words; this is part three of a rose and her thorns, but can be read as a standalone one-shot

Seattle, 1991

We met in detention. Eighth grade. Not to be cliché, but I knew Lee Haechan was trouble when he walked in.

Takes one to know one.

What I didn’t know was the role he would come to play in my life. I doubt many people meet their soulmate in middle school. I was pretty lucky in that.

The two of us practically lived in detention that entire year. Ninth grade was a little better; we just hung out behind the school instead of inside it. A silly pair of dumb kids wearing matching leather jackets and passing a cigarette back and forth, coughing up smoke and thinking it made us cool.

We thought we had it all figured out. But only Haechan turned out to be right.

He was the one that started the band. Haechan threw us all together and made music out of our chaos and trauma. He was the glue and without him, we would fall apart.

You clambered quietly into the passenger seat and whispered, “They’re asleep.”

Haechan was behind the wheel, but the van was parked on a grassy knoll just off the main highway. “Finally, some fucking peace and quiet,” he mumbled, sitting in a cloud of smoke that poured from his lips. The thick scent of marijuana filled the van from stem to stern.

You followed your best friend’s gaze. His eyes were firmly planted out the window at the black curtain of nightfall painted with billions of little lights. “The sky looks so pretty,” you said in awe.

“I know. It’s crazy seeing stars this bright.”

There was a tiny lull of silence. You were thinking. It wasn’t often you got to be alone with Haechan lately and it was making you crazy - not getting to confide in your best friend.

“I let Mark raw me,” you blurted out.

Haechan snorted. “I heard, but clearly your birth control did its job.”

“I snorted cocaine with Jeno… and fucked him in a dressing room.”

Your best friend looked at you, arching a brow. “So?” Doing crazy shit with Jeno wasn’t new, to be fair.

“What the hell am I doing?”

“What you do best - loving everyone except yourself.”

You frowned. Nail hitting the head every time, but you quickly realized you didn’t want to hear it. “Don’t do that,” you said in a small voice.

Haechan smirked and put the joint to his lips, taking another long drag. “You know me better than to think I’m going to be your conscience and scold you,” he said a moment later. “It makes sense you’re trying to get in as many rounds of fun before the summer ends.”

The summer was winding down. August was half over.

I didn’t want it to end. I couldn’t. Because I knew in my heart when we went home, we would go our separate ways. Forever.

There would be nothing holding us together anymore.

“Haechan?”

“Yes, my love?”

You fought back tears as you asked, “What are we going to do when it’s all over?”

Haechan slapped on a playful grin for your sake and said, “We’re going to get scouted at a concert and get a huge record deal and I’ll eat you out over a bed of hundred dollar bills.”

You snorted. “God, that would be a dream.” You quickly sobered. “What’s the reality?”

Your best friend’s grin melted away and his voice turned to frost. “Go home. Find a minimum wage job. And try not to turn into raging alcoholics like our parents.”

“I thought so,” you sighed, hanging your head.

Haechan reached over and rubbed your arm. “Save the major depressive episode for back home. Let’s just enjoy these last few days.”

“I don’t want to give up,” you said, meeting his eyes again. The fire inside you lit itself with resolve. No matter how small it was. “I want something more for us in life.”

“I know you do, baby,” Haechan crooned, touching your cheek affectionately. “But some things are just out of our control.”

You blinked with the urge to cry. You couldn’t fight it anymore. Regardless of his gentle tone, Haechan’s words sounded final. You slipped out of the seat and to the floor to lay your head on Haechan’s thigh, closing your eyes as he stroked your hair.

After a moment, Haechan whispered, “I’ll never forget you for as long as I live. No matter what happens. I hope you know that.”

The tears slipped down your face as you smiled and said, “I love you too.”

Haechan’s lips twitched. He wanted so badly to not let it bother him, but he couldn’t. He knew damn well when the summer ended and the band came up empty, there would be a permanent wedge of broken hearts and crushed dreams between you.

So, so lonely. That was Haechan’s biggest fear. Losing his best friends would destroy him beyond repair. He would go through life jaded and bitter, like his parents.

Maybe it really was unavoidable. Fighting fate sounded great in songs, but reality wasn’t kind. He knew that better than anyone.

The next morning, you woke in the bed with Jeno’s arm tucked around your waist, his body molded to yours keeping you warm. There was no telling which boy scooped you off the floor and put you in bed, but your money was on Mark. He was having a hard time looking at you and Haechan was mysteriously quiet.

But you knew why.

Tension had settled over the van, the worst of the worst. After the show in Seattle, there were no more gigs to be played. Now, the long drive home would begin, shadowed by defeat and failure.

You resorted to doing what you always did; trying to alleviate the pressure and raise everyone’s spirits. Once the boys were up and actually keeping their eyes open, you had Jeno drive to the nearby state park.

As he did, you drifted between them. They were like strangers, devoid of energy and hope. Mark hadn’t touched his guitar since the final gig. The gentle strumming of his acoustic and the beauty of his softly whispered singing didn’t fill the van anymore, to your dismay.

Haechan curled up in the bed and didn’t say a word. Jeno drove silently, smoking one cigarette after another and blowing the smoke out the window. You started with him, running your hand over his shoulder as he held the wheel. Jeno glanced at you briefly, offering a weak smile that even he couldn’t keep. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple.

You went to Mark next and curled up next to him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck and holding him tightly. Mark was a little surprised, seeing as how the two of you had been working hard to keep your hands off each other, but was over the moon to have you in his arms again. He kissed the top of your head and ran his hands up and down your back.

“Won’t you play a little something?” you asked gently.

Mark shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, closing your eyes to fight the tears.

Finally, you went to Haechan and sat on the mattress next to him. He just looked at you, his stare vacant and blank. You brushed his long hair from his face and leaned in to trace a few kisses from his cheek to the corner of his mouth, just to see if you could spark a reaction.

Haechan pushed you ever so slightly and said, “That’s not going to work this time.”

You frowned. And gave up. The three were inconsolable and it broke your heart.

Sidling over to the cabinet, you found your notebook and began flipping pages, going to where you’d left off. Your brows stitched when you didn’t find it and that was when you noticed the torn remains of paper in the metal spiral.

“Okay. Which one of you ripped the page out?”

Mark met your eyes and said, “Don’t look at me.”

You called, “Jeno?”

“You know I wouldn’t touch your shit,” he replied calmly.

Leaving you to turn to Haechan, his eyes closed. “Haechan?”

“I don’t give a fuck about your memoir,” he said, hissing your name.

That made you flinch. You understood his anger, but not the vitriol toward your story. Your eyes fell to the notebook and the missing page, and your hands began to shake.

You threw the notebook at the cabinet and it landed in a pitiful heap. Tensing with frustration, you bent your legs, wrapped your arms around your knees, and hid your face, crying as quietly as you could.

Mark moved slowly, grazing against you to pick up the notebook and tuck it back into its place neatly, but he didn’t have the courage to comfort you. Too scared he would make it worse.

It was Haechan that slipped to the floor and enveloped you in his arms, cradling your head to his chest and dabbing at your cheeks with his sleeve.

When Jeno pulled into the park, you breathed in relief. The van was too stifling, suffocating you in all its misery. You hopped out of the van without a word and started marching for the scenic overlook advertised on a giant sign like you couldn’t get away fast enough.

One-by-one, your bandmates whined and huffed, but inevitably followed. They could wallow in their own disappointment, but they couldn’t stand seeing it hit you.

That’s how the four of you came to sit at a lone picnic table, silently staring at the Pacific Ocean, watching the waves ebb and flow in all its unwavering glory.

The tears had dried on your face. Breathing in the sweet, salty air grounded you again, clearing your lungs and your head.

You were the one to finally break the silence. “I need to come clean about something.”

“Go ahead,” Jeno replied, yawning as he still struggled to shake off sleep.

Wringing your hands in your lap, you began, “I’ve been mailing pieces of the memoir to Cassie.”

“That explains the trips to the post office,” Mark said offhandedly. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be glib or not.

“And?” Jeno pressed.

You took a breath. “She submitted it to a publisher for their… consideration, I guess it’s called.”

Well, that woke everyone up.

“Are you serious?” Haechan asked, his eyes wide.

“Yeah?” You were befuddled by the reaction, glancing around at them. All three of your boys were sporting similar looks of shock. “You knew I was writing a memoir.”

“We knew you were scribbling in a notebook to toss in a bin and find it again twenty years later and laugh at all the dumb shit we did…” Haechan’s tone of disdain was not lost on you.

Jeno’s gawking increased. “Babe, are you insane?”

You felt small on that picnic table between them, utterly confused, and snapped, “No. I’m trying to get us out of this hell!”

Grimacing, Mark asked pointedly, “You wrote about all the very illegal shit you’ve been doing?”

Oh. That’s why they were freaked out. Underage drinking. Marijuana. Cocaine. All very punishable offenses. You shrugged and plastered on your cutest, most innocent smile. “A little?”

“Fuck,” Jeno swore, sliding off the bench to his feet and running a hand through his hair.

Haechan shook his head and chuckled. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

You rubbed your arms awkwardly.

I was so determined to make it work. It was tunnel vision, so intense I could see nothing else.

“What did the publisher say?” Mark asked, touching your shoulder in comfort. The awkwardness was killing him too.

“I don’t know,” you said, leaning into him a little, desperate for warmth. “I call Cassie at every stop to check on the dogs and she promised to update me on any replies from the publisher.”

Jeno looked to Haechan. “Can they report us to the cops?”

Haechan waved him away, looking more amused the longer he thought about it. “No. She can just say it’s all fiction. Very embellished fiction.”

Mark bobbed his head. “Good thinking.”

You almost laughed. Haechan could lie his way out of almost anything. In this case, it would be in your favor. You glanced around at your boys again. “So…, is everyone mad at me or are we good?”

“We’re good,” Haechan said, patting your head. “For now.”

“Fuck.” Mark sounded exhausted. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know if I could handle losing our music career, but being notorious in a fucking book.”

It was your turn to comfort him, running your hand across his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles under your fingers.

Jeno kicked at a pinecone, watching it skitter across the rocks. “We’d be the fucking losers just known for banging bitches at every stop,” he sneered. Then, the drummer had a thought and raised his brows. “Actually, whatever gets us paid, I don’t really care.”

“Yeah, how does that work?” Mark asked curiously. “You technically wrote the book, but it’s about all of us.”

You made a face. “It’s our story. Of course I’d split everything fairly with you guys.”

Haechan smiled at you ever so faintly.

“I can’t believe our story’s almost over,” Jeno mumbled bitterly.

You perked up. This was as good a time as any. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“What do you mean?”

You got up and spun on your heels, so you could face them all at once. “I was thinking…,” you said, shifting your weight. “We could get a place together and we’d work odd jobs to pay the bills, but we would play gigs here and there. Whatever we could get.”

Jeno simpered. You weren’t clinging to the band. You just didn’t want to let go of them.

“We’d be scraping by a living forever,” Mark pointed out.

“But we’d be doing what we love,” you argued.

“Try loving something that never loves you back,” Haechan said harshly. “You become bitter and miserable. Just like my parents. And yours.”

You scanned their faces. Each had the tiniest bit of hope in their eyes, but their expressions were firmly rooted in defeat. “You guys just want to go home after everything we did this summer and…,” you trailed, a tremble creeping into your voice. “Pretend like it never happened?”

Jeno softened. “Of course it happened. We’ll always look back and remember this as the best days of our lives.” He talked to you like he was soothing a fussy baby. “But best days don’t last. That’s why you look back on them.”

Your eyes burned. More tears would come any moment now and you weren’t ashamed of them. “I just don’t understand why you’re all giving up. Why am I the only one trying to keep us together?”

“Because you’re the dreamer,” Mark sighed.

Haechan snapped, “Stop being so gentle with her,” and Jeno was quick to warn, “Don’t be a dick.”

Your best friend jumped down from the picnic table and approached you. You knew by his tone and his gait that he was about to dress you down and you readied yourself for the blow.

“This is how it’s going to go,” Haechan started, pointing at the guitarist. “Mark’s parents will blow their entire retirement savings to send him to a good college to recover their reputation. And they will never let him date someone like you.”

You flinched.

“Fuck you,” Mark hissed, every muscle in his body tensing for a fight.

Haechan continued, “Jeno won’t be able to hold down a job. He’ll be a regular customer in rehab, then jail.”

Jeno held up his middle finger. “Go to hell.”

Haechan set his eyes on you and a chill ran down your spine. “And you,” Haechan said through clenched jaws. “You’ll meet some guy you can barely stand, but he’ll keep a nice roof over your head. He’ll put a couple babies in you after some miserable missionary and your entire personality will center around the screaming kids you never wanted. Just like your mom.”

Your blood turned to ice in your veins. Planting both hands on Haechan’s chest, you shoved him back and screamed, “You son of a bitch, I hate you!”

Jeno was suddenly caught in a very precarious position. As you stomped off, his first instinct was to go after you, but in the next second, Mark was off the table and charging toward Haechan. So, Jeno had to decide whose life was in the most imminent danger.

And he correctly chose Haechan.

Mark grabbed Haechan by the collar with both hands and crowded into his face. “I’m gonna fuck you up,” he roared, but Haechan didn’t fight back.

He was numb. His face was blank, his eyes cold.

Jeno did his best to wedge himself between them, but he was too defeated. All the thunder was gone from him. “Why did you do that to her?” he asked sadly.

“She has to let go of us,” Haechan replied, looking from Jeno to Mark. “Make her hate you. It’s the only way.”

Mark shook his head in dissent, clenching his fists even tighter in Haechan’s shirt.

You put plenty of distance between yourself and the boys, and the moment you found a solitary bench between trees, you collapsed onto it, buried your face in your hands, and wept.

We have no secrets, Haechan and I. He knows the darkest depths of my soul, and I know his.

I never thought he’d use that as a weapon, but I should have known.

He was the only one that dreamed bigger and harder than me. With it all ending, his heart was dying and pain makes us do horrible things. Especially to the ones we love most.

Because he knew I would still love him anyway. No matter how much he broke me.

Time lost all meaning as you cried on that bench. It wasn’t just Haechan’s words that crushed you, it was the cruel reality of life. You didn’t want to live without your boys. The four of you were too interwoven and connected. Being parted from them would be like tearing at the fabric of who you were.

You were expected to walk around with a gaping hole in your chest forever?

Sure. Most people did. It would account for all the hate and anger in the world.

“My love?”

You lifted your head at the sound of his voice, roughly wiped your wet cheeks, and growled, “Go away, Haechan. I swear to god, I will slap the shit out of you.”

Haechan dragged his feet over to you and said, “Go ahead. I deserve it.”

You refused to look at him as he sat beside you. Your eyes focused on the ocean.

We had the same biggest fear. Becoming our parents. As time went on, the more it seemed inevitable. A cycle that couldn’t be broken. We were fools to think we could be different.

That’s what I was hanging onto. I had to avoid that fate at all costs. Part of me thought that as long as I had my boys, they could save me from it.

“How could you say my worst nightmare so casually like that?” You were still shaking.

Haechan hung his head. “I was trying to hurt you.”

You scoffed, deadpanning, “At least you’re honest.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, like all the air was sapped from his lungs. When you didn’t respond, Haechan said, “Look at me. Please.”

“No.”

Your best friend sighed loudly and slouched into the bench, resting his head on the back. The two of you sat there for what felt like hours, watching the world pass you by.

“You’ll prove me wrong,” Haechan said tenderly. “You will be the one that breaks the cycle. The rest of us will just watch.”

Still, you said nothing. You hated him.

Because Haechan always ended up being right. It was a gift and a curse.

Mark and Jeno came looking. The latter was the only one brave enough to approach you, holding out his hand without a word. You peered up at him and let your hand slip into his, and Jeno led you away.

Haechan blinked and the tears escaped. He held them back until you left, refusing to cry in front of you. Keeping his hands in his lap, Haechan didn’t bother to dry his cheeks.

Mark blew out a pained breath. “What do we do?”

“You know what you have to do,” Haechan said, cutting his eyes at Mark. “If you don’t stand up to your parents, they’ll make you give her up.”

“I won’t,” Mark started.

“They will wear you down. You know they will. She’s not who they have in mind for their perfect boy. They hate her.”

Mark nodded.

“If you grow a spine, the two of you can at least live happily ever after,” Haechan joked, but there was a bitter edge to his voice.

“What about you and Jeno?”

Haechan stood. “It is what it is.”

The cloud in the van darkened. Jeno and Mark were miserable, and predictably stoic about it. Neither knew what to do with you. As it turned out, you were the rock, not Jeno.

Curled up in the bed with your back to them, you closed your eyes, but had no intention of sleeping. You would just lay there and wait for something to break or change. You’d done the heavy lifting so far. Now it was their turn.

Haechan couldn’t take the silence anymore. He trudged out of the van and slammed the door behind him.

You didn’t bat an eye. At this point, you didn’t have the energy to ask or care.

That wasn’t true. I always cared. Nothing could ever make me stop caring. We are all cursed and that was mine.

When the doors wheeled open, Haechan was sweaty and disheveled. You wondered how much time had passed as he sat on the mattress beside you. “Come with me,” your best friend said, holding out his hand.

You smarted, “Or what?”

“Or I’ll drag you.”

You looked over your shoulder and gave him an obstinate glare, but your curiosity was piqued. The hell had he been doing that got him so shiny with sweat? It didn’t take him that long to jerk off.

A defeated sigh left your lips. He was still your best friend, even if you hated his guts at the moment.

After batting his hand away, you got up and followed Haechan outside, rolling your eyes at the looks Mark and Jeno were sporting.

Gravel crunched beneath your shoes as Haechan led you into the trees, not too far from the van. When you saw what he was bringing you to, you couldn’t help but smile a little.

A camping tent was set up; the one Haechan had insisted on strapping on top of the van in case he found a nice spot. And it seemed he found one.

This was a habit of ours. When the yelling at my house got to be too much, when I couldn’t block it with my locked door or the blankets over my head, I would sneak out the window.

My parents didn’t notice. Hard to notice if you don’t care. Haechan would always be waiting to run off with me to the park. There were safe, secluded areas to set the tent up without fear of being interrupted.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten laid in that pathetic little tent. I’d probably mourn the damn thing when it finally fell apart.

Just as I mourned my relationships.

“How about a night not sleeping in the van?” Haechan asked, unzipping the front flap and holding it open for you.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” you barked, narrowing your eyes at him and crawling inside.

Haechan bit his tongue. Any witty remarks would not be appreciated at the moment.

But given Haechan was allergic to quiet, he wasn’t going to keep enabling your cold shoulder for much longer. Watching you lay on your back and make yourself comfortable over the sleeping bags, Haechan sidled up next to you as close as humanly possible.

“I’m still mad,” you huffed.

“I know.”

Well, with that out of the way, you relaxed. He knew you were upset. Now the groveling could begin.

Haechan rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand, staring at you and how intensely you were ignoring him. He reached over and stroked your cheek tenderly, and said, “I love you. It’s gonna hurt so much when you leave me.”

You closed your eyes, your heart clenching in your chest. “Then why are you trying to make me leave?”

“To give myself some control over the pain. Maybe.”

You turned your head and looked at him. His hair had grown longer over the summer, its natural jet black. It was cute; falling into his eyes, hiding them behind fluffy strands. You brushed some back with your fingertips so he couldn’t hide. Then you reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his.

Haechan smiled softly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you told him. “You’re my best friend. I’ll be next to you in a nursing home.”

“Will you still kiss me if I have no teeth?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Heck yes. That would be hilarious.”

Both of you laughed at the sudden mental image of you and Haechan as two little old people sucking each other’s faces.

The rest of the world melted away. Your summer wasn’t coming to an end. It was just another night spent from home inside Haechan’s tent. If you didn’t think too hard, you could convince yourself nothing had changed.

Nothing was over.

You talked for ages, about everything. Like always. The light beyond the tent died and everything went dark, prompting Haechan to light a familiar lantern beside the sleeping bags. Soon, the ambience shifted from birds chirping to crickets singing.

When the atmosphere changed, so did the gravity inside the tent.

He was good at talking you away from the edge. Haechan made you laugh hard enough you forgot your anger and sadness, and he started stealing kisses between words. His hand occasionally traced patterns on the bit of your exposed stomach until it slipped under your shirt and got comfortable palming your breast. That’s when you began initiating kisses and running your fingers through his hair.

Kissing overtook conversation. You were immune to all the pain when his lips were on yours and you wanted more, wanted to overdose on the feeling until your heart was made of stone.

Haechan was my family. He was the only home I’d ever known, the only person who loved me unconditionally like my parents were supposed to. Soul mates aren’t always romantic. Maybe they’re just the person that loves you despite everything.

There was a little hitch in his breath as Haechan deepened the kiss, his arms heavy around you. He needed it too, needed to feel loved again before it was all over.

Your lashes fluttered as Haechan settled on top of you, abandoning your lips to suck and nibble at your neck. Your hands were on his shoulders, having been pulling him to you impatiently. His leg wedged between your thighs, pressing against your sex.

Haechan tugged at your clothes, undressing you while he bruised the base of your neck with his lips and teeth. When you yanked off his clothes and finally felt his naked body against yours, you moaned into his mouth and tangled your fingers in his long hair.

It was so familiar and comforting. With Haechan, everything was okay. Nothing could hurt me here.

He seemed in no rush to touch you where you really wanted him to. Typical. Haechan always dragged things out and made it last. He knew you had all the time in the world and was in no hurry to plow through it. Pun intended.

Haechan sucked your nipple into his mouth and pinched the other with his fingers. You bit your lip and squirmed under him, feeling his hard cock against your thigh. You hooked your legs on his hips and flexed, bringing him flush against you for good measure.

You flipped your positions and Haechan let you, holding your waist as you rolled onto him, straddling his lap. He kissed you even deeper, running his hands up and down your back while you cradled his face and tried to snatch all the air from his lungs.

Haechan broke from the kiss to ask playfully, “Have you been writing about sex in the book?”

You were breathing heavily, flushed and dazed from his kisses. “Yeah,” you rasped, running your hand through your hair to get it out of your face.

Haechan tugged you back down and trailed kisses over your jaw before whispering in your ear, “I need to give you some new material.”

“As if you haven’t given me plenty already.”

“I have competition,” he retorted, brushing his hands to your breasts. “Jeno is a slut with a dragon dick. You have a fat crush on Mark and he railed the shit out of you.”

You snickered. “Who are you then?”

Haechan steered you up and shuffled down until his arms were around your thighs and his mouth was inches from your sex, and purred, “I’ll always be the one that gave you your first nut.”

Though you were about to laugh at that, the next sound out of your mouth was a whimper as Haechan tongued at your folds. You were mindful not to put too much of your weight on him, but his hands on your hips said otherwise, bringing you down to meet his lips.

The sight of his face buried in your pussy, between your thighs, was so arousing you felt your walls clench on nothing.

“Fuck.” You let your head fall back and closed your eyes. Reaching for his hands on your hips, you held on tight and joked breathlessly, “The book will give us more groupies than the band ever did.”

Haechan stopped sucking on your clit long enough to retort, “God, I hope so.”

An involuntary shudder shot through you when he latched back onto your bundle of nerves. You squeezed his hands even tighter, eyes winching closed. Another moan tumbled off your tongue. Haechan didn’t play when he was sucking you dry.

It was probably one of the few things in life he took seriously.

“Mm,” you hummed, trembling when his tongue swirled around your entrance before returning to your clit. “So good, baby.”

Haechan made a noise against your cunt. “You know, you only call me baby when I’m getting you off.”

“Do I?”

“I like it.”

“I like when you touch me,” you said in barely a whisper, biting your lip lest you go into juicy detail.

Haechan would have loved that.

You were so far gone already. Your hands found his hair, your hips bucking against his face. Little nothings mingled with your moans. Haechan kneaded your hips, but as you got closer, he reached up to grab and squeeze your breasts instead.

It felt so good you felt guilty that you weren’t touching him. Releasing his hair, you lilted back and wrapped your hand around his hard cock, feeling it twitch the moment your fingers made contact.

Haechan broke away from your pussy and scolded, “Don’t touch me.”

“Why not?”

“Only think about yourself right now. Be selfish. You’ve earned it.”

You swallowed and let Haechan guide your hands back into his hair, and he bit the inside of your thigh as a warning to do as he said. Your body tensed when he lapped at your clit again and you decided to obey. You would be selfish.

Haechan smirked when you arched away from him, propping yourself over him on your arms and riding his face. He reeled a hand back and slapped your ass, the best way he knew how to convey to you that you were giving him exactly what he wanted.

He lapped at the arousal between your folds, his tongue teasing your bundle of nerves again. Haechan knew that was your weak spot, where you were most sensitive. If he played his cards right, he could have you screaming for mercy from the overstimulation.

“Right there,” you panted, voice pitching higher. "I'm close."

For once in his life, Haechan said nothing. He ate you out like a man starved, suddenly grabbing your waist to keep you in place. He sucked on you until your legs shook and you whimpered his name.

And when orgasm hit, you went higher than where the cocaine took you. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your body shuddered, and you chanted, “Fuck,” like a mantra.

Haechan kept going until you pushed frantically at his head.

“Stop. Stop. Stop,” you begged, fisting his hair and finally earning yourself a reprieve.

Haechan chuckled, slipping his arms under your legs and tossing you to the side. You gladly rolled to your back, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, waiting to come back to your senses.

You felt his hand smoothing its way up your thigh before cupping your sex, feeling all the slick he’d gotten out of you and muttering, “Fuck,” under his breath. His fingers prodded into your pulsing pussy, hooking at your sweet spot, and you writhed, sensitive.

“Put a condom on,” you told him hurriedly, still trying to catch your breath.

As you came down from the high, Haechan crawled over to the other side of the tent and returned with a packet, tearing it open with his teeth. You watched him fit the condom on his hard cock and you spread your legs invitingly when he moved between your legs, grasping your knees and pushing them toward your chest, bending you in half.

You rested your hands on his hips and drew him toward you when he slipped his cock into your entrance and stroked in slow. “Mm, baby, you’re so good,” you mewled dramatically. “The biggest ever.”

Haechan, whose eyes had been on his cock sinking into your tight cunt, tossed his long hair out of his eyes and said, “Fuck you,” with a tiny snort.

You grinned and sank your fingers deeper into the flesh of his hips, tugging him toward you in tandem with his movements. He loved when you left scratches and bruises in his skin. A reminder of you he got to carry around with him for days after.

“Kiss me,” Haechan whispered, rocking into you harder.

Without missing a beat, you lifted your head to meet his lips, but his hands wrapped around your wrists and pinned them to the ground. A noise of frustration left you, because you couldn’t close the rest of the distance with him holding you down.

Nipping at your lips, he taunted, “What’s the matter?”

Rather than answer, you moaned as his cock bottomed out in you again. Your face tensed with pleasure, every thrust making your toes curl. You were still raw from orgasm and his cock hitting you right made a shudder race through you.

Haechan went still. When you peered up at him in confusion, he smirked and said, “Fuck me.”

You hooked your thighs higher up his hips and started grinding into him. Haechan looked down to watch you bouncing on his dick, sucking in a breath when your pace grew more hurried and desperate.

“Please move,” you whined, eyes closed. Sweat formed at your back with the effort, your body burning.

“You’re doing fine without me.”

“I’m never okay without you,” you said breathlessly, out of your mind with lust and emotions. The two were colliding.

Haechan draped over you, slipping his fingers into your hair, and fucked into you at a ruthless pace for that, making you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out.

The last thing you wanted was his name echoing through the woods. You would never live it down.

“Oh god. Oh fuck.” You clawed at his back, trying to find purchase.

Haechan gathered you in his arms and you sat up face-to-face, straddling his lap. Haechan kissed at your neck, crushing you in his arms. You rode him, his hips matching your rhythm.

“Come for me,” Haechan purred in your ear, saying your name silkily. “Again.”

It wasn’t fair that he could snap his fingers and your body would answer. You were so close and had been together for so long, your skin knew his touch. Your heart gave in to his every desire and whim.

Ecstasy spilled over and a moan caught in your throat.

Haechan held you even tighter as you came, biting his lip as he felt you clamp down on his cock, holding his breath to stave off his own orgasm until you sighed his name and slumped against him.

You buried your face in his shoulder and whimpered as his thrusts turned ragged, his groans pitching higher until he released into the condom. You rubbed his back and kissed his neck while he came down, lowering you to the floor gently and landing at your side.

The two of you breathed heavily. Sex broke something in you both that you needed. It felt final.

Like it was the last time.

Haechan discarded the condom and crawled back to you, getting a blanket out from one of the sleeping bags to drape over your bodies. You nestled closer to him, ready to doze off in his arms. Haechan settled a hand on your thigh, the other behind his head. Your eyes fluttered closed as his chest rose and fell with his breaths.

“I’ll never stop fighting,” you whispered with resolve. “And you shouldn’t either.”

He said nothing, but pressed a kiss to your temple.

The next day, the van was on its way home. You sat in the passenger seat as Jeno drove, just as you had when summer - and the trip - started.

When Jeno parked at a rest area, you ventured inside to look for a payphone.

Haechan leaned back against the van, arms folded.

Mark wandered over to him, asking in a soft voice, “How is she?”

“Ask her yourself,” Haechan retorted.

Mark frowned. “You know her better than anyone.”

Haechan’s eyes darkened as he said, “You hurt her and I’ll kill you.”

Mark opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Jeno, who had been hovering close by, smirked at the exchange and murmured, “Says the one person actually capable of hurting her.”

Haechan shot him a glare. “She loves Mark more than she ever loved us,” he started.

Jeno was quick to cut him off, “You know damn well that’s not true.”

“Maybe she’s right about us,” Mark spoke up, glancing between them. “Maybe we should stay together and try to make it work.”

Haechan let his head fall back and groaned. “Pussy power strikes again.”

“Are you done?” Mark snapped. “You are the biggest hypocrite, you know. You’re hoping and praying she’s right. That she makes something happen. You’re trying so hard to look like you don’t care, but you don’t want to lose us.”

Tears filled Haechan’s eyes. His lips pursed.

Jeno cocked his head. “We know that, Mark,” he crooned cutely. “Our Donghyuck cares the most. That’s why he tries so hard to hide it.”

Haechan quickly wiped his cheeks. The tears had escaped too fast. After a pause, getting himself together, Haechan said, “I’m sorry for yesterday. I didn’t mean it.”

“We know that too.” Jeno reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

The two looked at Mark expectantly. His anger faded and he huffed a sigh.

Your voice broke the moment. “Guys!”

“What?” Jeno barked, turning to see you racing across the parking lot toward them.

You could hardly breathe, panting like you’d run a marathon. “They want to publish the book!”

All three of them gaped in perfect sync.

“Are you fucking serious?” Haechan wheezed.

“Yeah,” you said in disbelief, chuckling to yourself. “They want me to keep sending in chapters and they’ll assign me an editor to help organize everything. And then I’ll have to fill in the gaps, but… it’s gonna be a book. An actual book!”

In the next second, you were the meat in a boy sandwich and you couldn't have been happier about it.

Once everything calmed down, Mark shook his head and exclaimed, “This is insane!”

Haechan took your face in his hands and planted a big kiss on your lips with a loud, “Mwah!” Which made Jeno whine, “I was gonna kiss her and I can’t now!”

“I’ll kiss you too,” Haechan taunted, wagging his tongue and reaching for Jeno, making the drummer turn on his heels and run for his life.

You giggled as Haechan chased after him and Mark took the opportunity to wrap you in his arms and bury his face in your neck, enveloping you in a hug. You held him tightly and closed your eyes, breathing him in.

“You did it,” Mark whispered, saying your name in reverence. “You made this summer count for something.”

Tears pricked your eyes.

Haechan and Jeno traipsed back over, pushing and shoving each other with big grins on their faces.

With the celebration winding down, you looked at your boys one-by-one and said, “There’s a couple of conditions.”

Jeno grumbled. Haechan arched a brow.

“I won’t write the last chapters and send them in until you get clean,” you said, pointing at Jeno.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious.” You planted your feet and stared him down. “You think I’m going to risk this book being a hit and us getting a huge payday just for you to blow it all on blow?”

Jeno sulked.

“It’s a fair condition,” Haechan said lightly.

“I know it is!”

You waited patiently.

“I’m not an addict,” Jeno insisted. “I am a casual user.”

“Then you can casually stop,” you smarted.

He made a face. After a tiny lull, Jeno handed you the bag from his back pocket and you didn’t hesitate to cram it into your own. Its next destination was the nearest toilet.

You turned to Mark. “There’s a condition for you too.”

Mark grimaced nervously. “I’m listening.”

“You have to do what you want with your own life. Not what your parents want.”

Mark visibly relaxed. His eyes went soft. Something happy and content washed over him. “But I don’t know what I want.”

You shrugged. “You have time to figure it out. Change your mind as many times as it takes until you find what makes you happy.”

“Okay,” said Mark, smiling.

Finally, you turned to Haechan. “And you.”

He tilted his head and puckered up his lips.

“You’re not your father, Haechan.”

“You sure? I was pretty quick to cut you down.”

You scoffed. “Last I checked, I’m still standing. Bitch.”

Haechan chuckled.

“She’s right,” Jeno said, draping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to press a kiss to your cheek. “We shouldn’t give up on the band already.”

“The book could make some people check us out,” Mark added, optimistic again.

All eyes were on Haechan. He smiled bashfully and said, “And if it doesn’t - if it all fails - at least we’ll know we tried.”

“No regrets,” you finished with a nod.

Haechan suddenly reached into his pocket and handed you a balled-up page.

The missing chapter of your memoir.

You gaped when you realized what it was. “I should have known you took it.”

“I couldn’t handle someone talking so highly about me,” he said under his breath.

“Oh. Only you’re allowed to speak highly of yourself?”

Mark and Jeno laughed.

Haechan did too. Then he sobered and tucked some of your hair behind your ear. “Thank you for believing in me.”

You gave him a puzzled look. “Haechan, you started the band. Don’t you remember?”

“No?”

“We met in detention in eighth grade,” you reminded him, to which Haechan bobbed his head. “You noticed Jeno drumming his hands. You said you saw Mark playing acoustic by himself during lunch. And you heard me singing under the bleachers when I skipped gym.”

“I forgot all that,” Haechan mumbled, his eyes twinkling like they shone with stars. “Damn, I really gotta quit drinking.”

Mark moved to your free side and said, “Yeah, dude. We’re all here because of you.”

Haechan looked at his three best friends, his family, smiling at him, and it almost broke him on the spot. He slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged.

Jeno laughed loudly. “I’ll be damned. All you’ve ever wanted is to be the center of attention and now that you’ve got it, you don’t know what the fuck to do.”

“Yep,” Haechan said with a sheepish grin.

You closed the distance and hugged him, patting the back of his head. “It ain’t over till it’s over,” you whispered for his ears alone and Haechan let go the breath he’d been holding, releasing all the tension and pain in his chest.

Once you parted, Mark reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. You melted into his familiar arms and flushed when he said, “You are, by far, the greatest person I have ever met.”

“Stop it.”

“Okay.”

“Wait.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and lifted to your toes. “Maybe a little more.”

Mark smiled as his lips met yours in a chaste kiss that he poured his all into.

A kiss that was dramatically interrupted by Jeno, knocking into Mark enough to jostle you both. “It’s not your job to save us, you know,” he chided sweetly.

Yes, it was and it always would be. Because they saved me first.

“Hey, I’m just an instrument of the power of rock and roll,” you said, putting a hand on Jeno’s chest and giving him a playful shove.

“I take back every compliment I’ve ever said to you,” he joked, tickling your sides.

You laughed.

The four of you gabbed and teased each other for what felt like an eternity. The air was lighter. The sun a was a little brighter. Your boys were smiling again and you felt the pieces of your heart snapping back into place.

Hope is a powerful thing. A gentle promise that maybe - just maybe - we could all be happy and whole.

“We’re burning daylight,” Jeno eventually said.

You exclaimed, “Let’s hit the road,” and it was the first time you said it without dread.

Hopping into the van after you, Mark stuck his head out and called, “Don’t forget the trash.”

Jeno proceeded to scoop Haechan up in his burly arms and carried him to the van.

“Very funny,” Haechan deadpanned, but he couldn’t help but grin.

Smiling till your cheeks hurt, you got in the driver’s seat and fired up the engine, pulling out of the rest area and onto the highway, toward the new life awaiting you and your boys.

Everything would change for us. The drive home wasn’t some miserable journey we’d been fearing. It was the final chapter of our summer, but only the beginning of our story.

Copyright 2020-2024 © yutaholic (formerly zenyukhei) All rights reserved do not copy or translate without my permission!

[purepure]

Ride a cowboy!!

Boothill X AFAB! Reader

Including, Riding (it’s more him being dom) Metal Dick!! (?), (let’s pretend like it doesn’t hurt okay) Dirty talk, Collar, leash, and handcuffs included in this, biting, ig foreplay um idk, pet names used🙏

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Minors DNI!

A small peak from the window, let out a cool blue light, caused by beautiful lights outside of Penacony. The window was slightly open, letting in fresh air. Occasionally, a child would yell for some reason. But other than that, Penacony was nice and quiet.. Meanwhile, your boyfriend had other plans.

“Aww.. cmon pretty girl, why’d ya stop?” He asked, tugging at that pretty little collar of yours, You said nothing at all. Looking down at his metal chest, Breathing heavily and sweating profusely, that was all. With no response from you, His hand waved in front of your face, Which finally caught your attention. “..huh? o-oh.. what’d you say…?” Boothill sighed and sat up against the headboard, and repositioned yourself on his cock, “Are you just tired of bouncing up and down on me?~” He said with a smirk, slowly grinding himself on you.

“Mmpfh!~- fuck..~” you curse to yourself, because damn.. he really knew how to hit your spots. He tilted his head, staring into your heavy-lidded eyes, “What’s wrong darlin’? Can’t speak for yourself hm?” He leans in closer to your neck, sliding his tongue along the your cold skin. “Don’t worry just let me take control, ‘kay?” You nodded, “o-okay.” Boothill grabbed your waist, and bounced you up and down on his cock. “F-Fuckk.. Angel~ you’re even tighter than before-“ He moaned in your ear, loud and clear. Meanwhile, you were just lost in your own little world. Shamelessly letting out moans, it was just every time you went down on his cock, the tip angled perfectly to your sensitive spot. Like, it’s not your fault that it feels so fucking good?

“Ahnn!~ f-fuck, Boothill..!~” “yeah..~ you like getting dicked down like that?~” You arch your back into him, and throwing your head back. Boothill took your leash and wrapped hisnhand around it, forcing your head forward, once you were close enough, he went in for a kiss. Just to quiet you down and just feeling the need to kiss you during such an intimate moment between the two of you.

You felt like wrapping your arms around him, but couldn’t. Those damn handcuffs just wouldn’t let you, it felt like torture to not embrace your love in an intense moment. But that didn’t matter, you were reaching your high anyway. Boothill pulled away from the long kiss, “ahh..~ you g-getting close- mm.. d-darling?” You didn’t have the strength to say yes out loud. so, you just let a small “yes” followed up with a nod. He chuckled at you and leaned into your neck, hiscold breath met the hot skin. “..come on baby.. cum for me~” he started to nibble at the soft tissue, her sharp teeth grazing on you skin. In response you’re moaned loudly. (god..) “f-fuck..!~ boothill- I’m gonna!- cum!-“ You threw your head back. Those final three thrusts, roughly hit against your g-spot every time, then finally his sticky liquid shot into your pulsing pussy.

Both you and boothill took some time to catch your breaths. He gave you a kiss on the forehead and looked into your eyes, “you did amazing. Good girl..” he chuckled, “if you’re done taking your break, wanna go for round 2..?”

[badasmuse]

“Drunk and Possessive Pt.2”

Bada Lee x Reader

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), drunk!bada, top!bada, language, lowercase intended, oral sex, fingering, car sex, bottom!reader, praise, fluff ending, implied round 2

Summary: bada shows you that you’re hers

Part 1 here

A request so no song

bada pushed you in the backseat of her car and climbed in after you. not gracefully at all may i add because she still has that liquor running through her veins. she huffed and sat there arms crossed, pout on her lips.

“bada..?” you whispered.

she looks at you and pulls you onto her lap and starts feeling you up. fingers slipping down your inner thigh squeezing it making you let out a sigh.

you’re soaked and you know it. you adjust sitting directly on her thigh and whining when she started moving your hips back and forth on her thigh, slapping your ass as she did so.

“you can only dance on me. be all over me.” she said with a pout. like she’s not about to ruin you. why are you pouting??

“bada~” you moan out. your hands go to her hair as you start to move your hips on your own. “please.” you beg. not to sure what you’re asking for.

“fuck, you look so good in this dress.” she starts leaving hickeys on your neck and collarbone. “no one else will make you feel the way i’ll make you feel.” she whispers, pulling your dress up at the bottom and ripped the lace underwear you wore, sticking her hand between your legs.

“you’re soaked,” she whined, “i want to taste you.”

you don’t respond, moaning at her words and grinding down on her hand.

she maneuvered uncomfortably so she was laying on the seats and you were on top of her. “sit on my face.” she says.

“oh… bada i can’t-“ she cuts you off with a huff and pulls you up till her mouth is inches away from your clit. “sit.” she says roughly and you really don’t have a choice.

you lower yourself onto her face still not sitting all the way.

“i said- nevermind.” bada wraps her arms around your thighs and pulls you down onto her face, holding onto you tight while her tongue circles your clit.

“oh fuck!” you moan out holding onto her hair.

she holds onto you moaning as her tongue dipped inside your hole while her nose swiped your clit from time to time. you moan louder at the feeling. you’ve never been ate out like this before.

“bada!” you try to squirm away from her but she tightens her hold on your thighs shoving her tongue deeper.

chile you’re in heaven. especially when her fingers find your clit and she starts rubbing it at a fast pace.

“oh my god i’m so close.” you breathe out pulling her hair with one hand the other one hitting the window of the car door. “don’t stop. bada please, don’t stop.”

she wouldn’t dream of it. she’s been waiting for this for so long. she doesn’t want it to end. she loves being covered in your juices and the sound of you moaning because of her. moaning her name.

“that’s right say my name while you cum pretty girl.” she says before attaching her mouth to your clit, sucking lightly.

“bada, bada-“ her name leaves your mouth like a mantra. hand holding her hair tight as you came all over her face.

she doesn’t stop. she holds you tighter licking up everything that spilled out of you. she sucks on your clit some more and you’re trying your hardest to get up but she won’t let you go.

“b-ada~” you sob, “let me up i can’t.”

she doesn’t hear you. drunk off your taste. (actually the alcohol but let’s not get into that.) her tongue dips inside your hole again and she rubs your clit some more trying to get more out of you. greedy ass.

“bada!” you start shaking as you feel another orgasm approaching. your hand hits the window and the other grips the front seat as you cum on her face once again.

she moves you off and doesn’t waste any time thrusting three fingers into you making you arch at the stretch.

“god you’re mine. you’re only mine. only i can make you feel like this.“ she whispers in your ear as she continued the assault to your g-spot.

you can’t think. all that’s on your mind is bada. the way she curls her fingers into you, the way she licks and sucks at your neck leaving hickeys all over you. she wants people to know who you belong to.

you grab at her wrist, eyes rolled to the back of your head, and in seconds you’re gushing all over her hand. she moves her fingers a little faster, helping you ride it out.

your body is trembling and your makeup is smeared.

bada leans against the seat pouting.

“tf is you pouting for? you just snatched my soul from me.” you say after calming down.

“because i said i love you and you didn’t say anything back” she says pout on her lips still.

you sigh, “bada, i love you. i’ve wanted you for awhile i just always thought i was never your type. i’m not a dancer, not good at anything, i’m boring and you’re not.”

“you’re good at a lot of stuff you just won’t give yourself credit. i hate when you say things like that.” she moves closer leaning on your shoulder. “i want you to be my girlfriend.” she mumbles.

you let out a breath, “i’ll be your girlfriend bada.”

she sits up fast. “really?” when you nod, she grabs you by your neck and pulls you in for a kiss making you moan at how rough she’s being.

“back to our place for round two?” she says against your lips.

“fuck, please.”

[t4rt4gl14]

✿・PUSSY MAKES THE WORLD GO ‘ROUND !!!

⌘ [ fem!reader ]. fingering ( receiving ). pussydrunk!childe/heizou. edging/overstimulation. toys e.g vibrators. semi public. hair pulling. spanking. praise/degradation. squirting. possessive. [ COLLAB WITH @beelenciaga <33 ]

☑︎ 𐄇𐄇 dark content ahead. 18+ only ♡ 𐄇𐄇

⌘ childe & heizou.

✖︎・CHILDE.

he’s generally obsessed with your sloppy cunt, pushing you onto the bed and not even having the patience to take your panties off diligently— instead he just rips em off, rubbing your sweet clit whilst admiring your wet pussy, practically drooling at the sight of it. sure he wants to shove his cock inside but god does he wanna get a taste first. his tongue licking over your hole and up to your clit. sucking on it before releasing it with a ‘pop’, giving a quick kiss. “mm im gonna have so much fun with you babe”, a deep chuckle escapes from his throat as he wields an iron grip on your thighs. he’s intent on eating you out until you claw at his shoulders, roll your eyes back and just until you break.

fingers gushing in n out of your pussy. the squelching resonates into the crispy night air— the cool air from the open window assisting you to avoid overheating. it all felt so good! “a-ajax! mmn-m!~ please m-m’gonna cum”, and he’s so hyped for your juices to spill into his mouth, “yes baby that’s it, cum mhm good girl let it all out for me!~”. his pleading is the turn that causes you to lose yourself in bliss and pleasure, however he doesn’t seem to stop— pushing up to your sweet spot, prodding the tip of his fingers into the one nerve that had your back arch and squeeze your thighs between his head. childe knew he was going a good job but he never expected you to squirt. his cock straining in his pants. your slick dripping off his chin just as he swallows all of your cum. and when he was finished licking you clean, “oh woah. mm fuck that was hot. do it again!!~”, childe asks with a huge grin on his face, grinding the bundle nerves in figure 8’s.

“ tapping out already? awww cmon, don’t be a partypooper, just one more!!~ “

✖︎・HEIZOU.

shikanoin heizou. one of the greatest detectives but also one of the greatest teasers i mean seriously how long is he going to keep up with this joke of his?? he’s got your legs spread open whilst you sit on the comfy chair in his private office. honestly seeing him on knees is quite the view but what was worse was the fact he has not let you cum at all and it’s been 40 minutes! the pain is just searing- your clit is aching and you’ve never yearned for release so much!! “h-heizou p-please i can’t u-unghhh i can’t!! wanna cum!! mmmg!~”, your pleads fell on deaf and ignorant ears. “awww this cute cunt slutting out just for me?? i can’t let you cum baby i need to taste more!~”.

three fingers shoved deep inside your cunt, thrusting rapidly yet teasingly grinding inside of you when you’re so close to cumming. he constantly promises you that if you keep holding your orgasm, when you actually release it’ll feel so much better than normal. you would’ve thought he’s done teasing you but no instead he focuses on holding a small vibrator to your clit the vibrations pushing you to the edge but not strong enough for you to relish in bliss. “you think you deserve to cum? been so obedient for me haven’t you?”, he questions whilst spanking your ass, the slight jiggle of flesh causes pre cum to ooze out of his clothed cock. soon enough, he decides to show enough mercy and grants you permission to cum— orgasm so powerful that you manage to squirt all over his palm and lips, and making a mess all over but fuck. heizou would be lying if he claimed it didn’t turn him on.

“ i know you’ve still got enough energy for one more, shit m’gonna fuck you like the toy you are, mhmm~ “

✿・TAGGING: @kxisuke + @currysrealm + @leathernourishingshoepolish + @stygianoir + @lex-lee-666

[peterthepark]

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ very graphic smut, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, dom!eddie, bratty!reader, squirting, anal play, angry jealous sex, garage sex, throatfucking, angst, aftercare, fluffy ending

summary: following the events of good boy, eddie finds himself conflicted about your relationship. when he catches a case of the jealousy bug, eddie just has to show you how much you actually mean to him.

note: thank you for the love on good boy! this can be read as a oneshot, but i do highly recommend reading its predecessor here!

Eddie is on cloud fucking nine. He can’t get enough of you. Not really. Five out of his seven days are spent in the fantasyland that is the suburban neighborhood of Hawkins, the remaining two saved for warm nights downtown together — wind in your hair as you’d lean out the window of the van that has become a near-second home, tired eyes shut in bliss, Eddie’s hand on your thigh or, occasionally, your smaller hand on his.

Kisses at the red-light. Kisses at a stop sign. Kisses when Eddie has to pull over to the side of the highway after you’d arch a brow and let the words “road head?” spill from your mischievous, grinning lips. 

You insatiable girl, he’d growl out.

To which, you’d reply: My good boy.

There’s something different in your friendship — or, relationship? He doesn’t know what this is, but he knows that it’s real. And maybe that’s what confuses him the most, that this arrangement lives outside of those stark white-picket fences, more than just hot afternoons on the yard or late evenings inside the back of the van. Still just as perfect as the day he looked at you, really looked at you.

Mine?

He can’t call you that. But he can call you a plethora of things. Sweetheart. Laid out on the hood of your car or back arching against crumpled blankets, knees tucked to your hickey-tattered breasts as Eddie sinks his cock into your puffy cunt after three already tantalizing rounds, he’ll call you sweetheart then. Baby. Your mouth bobbing up and down his shaft, tears blurring your vision as Eddie shoves your stubborn head further, the light curls of his happy trail tickling your nose as you spend minutes of torturous pleasure gagging wetly around his base and balls till you can’t breathe, he’ll whimper out a desperate baby then. 

Honey. Babe. Slut. Minx. Doll. Angel.

Eddie can call you many things, but he cannot call you his. Just as you cannot call him yours, as much as he dreams of you doing so. As much as he’d let you. You wouldn’t even need to ask.

But maybe there’s hope for him. After all, you couldn’t possibly just be fucking him just to fuck him, right? 

Or perhaps, is he that stupid for thinking he actually stands a legitimate chance with the girl next door? In an arrangement that consisted more than fucking, than meeting at night, than sneaking out behind your parents’ back because he’s a bad rap?

The perfect poster girl of Hawkins who deserves dates at Enzo’s rather than quick stops at twenty-four hour diners, who deserves more than rusty vans and makeshift beds in the backseat, who deserves more than stick-and-poke tattoos and drugstore cologne. The girl next door who deserves more than a metalhead who works at a record store and lives in a goddamn trailer park.

Eddie is eternally fucked.

He is also even more eternally fucked because he knows there’s a large part of him that can’t even fathom the idea of you with another guy. Another boy who’d spent five out of his seven days with you in the suburbs. Another boy who’d act like he knew your body as well as Eddie did — and Eddie knows your body, knows how much pressure you need on your clit to cum, knows what kind of kisses makes you desperately press your tits against his chest, knows how to angle your leg just above your head so he can hit that favorite gushy spot, knows how to calm you down with snacks and beer after just one orgasm or three. 

He can feel the last weeks of summer dwindling down. 

Yet, the sun is still attuned to a blinding wash of golden, the birds loud, grass still greener on this side of Hawkins. 

And you still take Eddie’s breath away everytime you walk down that front porch. Denim shorts, a studded belt that’s actually become yours more than his, a black Corroded Coffin tank and that damned pair of red Chucks… but yeah, you’re totally not his girlfriend. 

So why is he seething at the visual of you bent over the hood of your car, sudsy sponge in hand as you scrub at your new Corvette while Steve fucking Harrington hovers around you like an irritating fly around forbidden fruit? 

Except, is it forbidden if he knows exactly how it tastes?

Fuck. Eddie’s fist clenches around the steering wheel of his van, knuckles turning alabaster as you make — what he assumes — a variation of your witty one-liners that causes Steve to throw his head back in a booming laugh, so loud that it echoes through the bustling streets of young children riding their bikes and playing hopscotch.

You’re funny. But not that funny.

Eddie knows you’re allowed to have friends. He knows that. He also knows that Steve Harrington isn’t a threat. They’re buddies for Ozzy’s sake, but could you even blame him? 

Harrington, who was the star of the highschool basketball team. Harrington, who lives two blocks down in a fancy two-story house with a fucking pool. Harrington, who’s popular with all the ladies and has charisma like a true gentleman. Harrington, who is the definition of Hawkins’ beloved boy next door. 

And what a perfect pair you two could be if Eddie just removed himself from the equation. 

“Boo!” 

You slam your palm against the van’s windshield, chuckling heartily with crossed arms as Eddie jumps at the sudden disturbance. There’s a youthful crinkle by your eyes, lashes fluttering wildly against your cheeks as the dark-haired brunette scoffs at you and cranks the window down with a flexing jaw. “The hell, Y/N…”

You giggle at the slight twinge of irritation in Eddie’s tone of voice, wringing your fingers together against your stomach as you playfully narrow your eyes at him accusingly. “Were you spying on us, Munson?” A gasp falls from your rose-tinted lips. “And here I was thinking we finally got over that phase.”

Bashfully, he massages the nape of his neck. “Well, when you’re bending over the hood like that…”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” You fire back immediately, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you regard him affectionately with a knowing smirk. “Am I under… arrest for just trying to clean my oh-so-dirty car?” Your face scrunches into a theatrical worry, “Damnit, will I be serving time, mister?”

Maybe you are that funny. 

“You really wanna hear the damage?” Eddie winces, slowly reaching over and tucking a wisp of hair behind your ear, bright dopey irises following the movement of your pursed lips. “Tsk, it’s not looking good for you, ma’am. Five years on one count of bribery. Another five on one count of indecent exposure. Under the state of sex and drugs, I hereby must declare you guilty of all two counts, miss Y/N. Behind bars you go!”

You bite your tongue, the muscle poking from between your front teeth as you prop your forearm up on the window and rest your chin on it. He could absolutely kiss you right now. Kiss you in front of Harrington. Kiss you in front of the whole damn town and make his worries all go away. Kiss you until the entire universe knows you’re his.

“You won’t even let me make a statement?” You whisper airily, voice rasping through your permanent fixture of a giddy smile as you hold Eddie’s gaze, tiptoeing so that your level with his eyes. 

“Another three for coercion, woman.”

“So it’s working, then?” You quirk your head at him curiously, lips twitching with excitement. “And since when were you… so in tune with the law, Eds?”

He brushes a relaxed knuckle over your cheek. “Never said I was, sweetheart. Just on the watch for dangerous girls like you, yeah? Total heartbreakers.”

That shuts you up. 

Eddie’s heart blossoms at your falter, the slight part in your lips as a shaky sigh leaves you and fills the intimate air. It’s warranted — given that you’ve been nonstop fuck buddies for the past couple months already. There hasn’t been a day where he hasn't touched you in some heated, loving manner. Although, maybe you’re confusing loving with sensual. Who knows?

You step back, recovering from your flustered speechlessness before you’re making a beeline for your car. “You gonna come out and say hi, Metallica? Or are you just gonna keep watchin’ from there?”

And to Eddie’s dismay, Steve is still propped against the side of your Corvette, honey eyes squinting past the sunlight as he watches the metalhead finally take reluctant steps to your driveway.

“Hey, man! What’s up?” He wants to play friendly? Oh, he’ll play friendly then. Steve claps a gentle hand against Eddie’s shoulder, grinning widely. “You taking Dustin to the arcade today, or am I?”

“Nah, nah. I just…” Eddie clears his throat awkwardly, stuffing his clammy palms into his back pockets with one eye shut. “… was in the area. Wanted to, uh, you know… just drop off some records for Y/N. Huge sale at the store today.”

“Yeah? Shit, might stop by.”

“Oh, yeah. Totally.”

Totally not.

The conversation doesn’t get much better from there. In fact, Steve nearly ignores him for the rest of the time being as the yellow-shirt fiend follows you around your car like a dumb, lost puppy. Eyes drifting over the sweaty back of your neck as you reach over the hood, tongue darting out to lick his lips as you mindlessly wipe at the soap on your arms or your legs while chatting him up.

Eddie knows desire and he sees it clear as the goddamn day on Harrington’s stupid face. He knows his friend means no harm, that this — whatever this is — is far from a competition, just two guys with a similar admiration for a pretty, smart-mouthed girl.

Fuck off, man. Anyone but her.

Eventually, Steve leaves. Something about Robin still not having her license and needing a ride to this girl’s house. But his stay lingers for more than it should and god, is it painful to watch. A quick, cheeky hug, arms encircling your waist. A blushing cheek nuzzling the top of your head. A giggly whisper to your ear that makes you laugh hard into his neck. A soft exchange of ‘I’ll see you soon.’ and ‘Call me, Y/N.’

You pull the garage door down behind you.

And somehow, you’re still able to turn to Eddie and look at him as if that whole interaction wasn’t a total slap in the face. Hands on your hips as you approach him, sponge discarded on the roof of the car, dimples tugging at your cheeks as you lean beside him — almost nostalgic as the first day you spoke — and cross your ankles out in front of you with a questioning tilt of your head.

“You’re quiet.” Your elbow nudges him. “That’s a first.”

He scoffs exasperatedly under his breath, fiddling with the chain across his belt loops with a self-wallowing shrug. “Mm, well, there wasn’t much room for me to talk back there.”

You watch him, smile fading awkwardly as you pick at your nails. “Okaaay, um…” 

“I had no idea that you and Steve were even close. Let alone… talked to each other. I mean, should’ve… should’ve expected it given you two live in this fairytale bubble together.” He laughs, dry and far from genuine.

There’s a heavy, uncomfortable tension that hangs in the air. Wafting between the two of you. Filling the empty gap between your anxious bodies. It irks you. His tone, the dull edge of it. The screech of nails against chalkboard.

You itch at the bridge of your nose, glancing away when Eddie turns to look at you. “We’re just friends. Always have been.”

Always have been. He should have known. Always have been — even when you were fucking, even when he took you to those diners and searched for you backstage at his tiny gigs, even when he taught you how to drive in his janky van, even when he made all those mixtapes for you. 

All of that just to get an always have been, while Eddie himself remains a never will be.

“Fuck…” He chuckles venomously, wiping his hands on his thighs as he storms off towards the garage, while you follow hot behind his aggravated trail. “Okay, Y/N.”

Why did he ever get his hopes up?

“Is there — hey, what is your goddamn problem, Eddie?” You pull at his shoulder, scowling as he pries himself away from your touch like you’ve burned him. It baffles you, eyebrows falling in a blunt unfathomable line as Eddie sends you a look that can only mean: don’t. Don’t what? Don’t care? Don’t talk to me? Don’t speak? “What’s gotten into you? We were fine earlier, no?”

“I dunno, you tell me.”

“I-Is this about Harrington? Eddie, I don’t even know why you’re upset… listen, me and Steve are literally just friends, I told you before and I’m telling you again.” A dry laugh slips out of you, “There’s just — we share a lot in common, okay? He lives, like, just down the road, we were in sixth grade together, our parents get along, he — get this — he likes The Cure, and it’s just… we just work. Friends, end of story.”

“And us?” 

“Us.” You repeat. Borderline incredulous. Perplexed. “I’m so confused right now. Hold on—“

“What does all… that make us?” Eddie turns quickly on his heels, closing the gap between the two of you as he gestures passionately with raised brows, lips tugging into a poisonous laugh. “Because it sounds like we’re just having fun and wasting each other’s time, Y/N.”

You gape at him, widening your eyes and tilting your chin up in defiance. “Isn’t that exactly what we’re fucking doing?” You snarl, canines on display as you poke at his sternum. He inhales deeply, watching the ferocity in your gaze heighten. “I don’t know if you’ve ever realized, but I am not your girlfriend, not some fantasy that—“

“Don’t.” He interrupted with a growling snap, your ego rising progressively with the determination to defend yourself.

“You can use to escape…”

“Really? Christ, really? What, like you haven’t been playing pretend with me either? When you have this — this perfect life with a perfect car and your perfect prince charming and your perfect neighborhood.” Eddie drawls mockingly, stretching the dramatics of his voice for emphasis. You hold each other’s stare, eyes coated with a film of indignation. “What’s the perfect girl next door wanna do with me anyways…”

Your face falls, breath hitching in your throat as you feel your chest tighten immensely. “You’re being mean, Eds.”

“Open your eyes, Y/N!” He retaliates with a menacing step forward, head tipping to watch the flicker of emotions across your daunting features. “You basically said it yourself. That Steve has everything that I-I don’t and if that’s what you want…”

“Is that what you really think of me?” 

Oh.

Oh.

He’s hurt you.

In an effort to spew out all of his own doubts, his feelings, his insecurities, Eddie wounded you. Had he not realized the weight of his words? The loaded gun he had been waving around all this time, letting himself snap only for you to get caught in the crossfire of his (valid) fears? He’s fucked up. Royally. And judging by the quiver in your bottom lip, the welling tears of frustration in your eyes, the bitter frown that’s taken over your once sweet-smile, he’s struck a bad nerve. 

A harsh blizzard in the summertime. A rainy day while the sun shines. A thunderstorm amongst a blue sky. Beauty in the madness.

Even when you’re angry, you devastate him.

“Sweetheart…”

You keep him at arm’s length. Guarded. Distant. The walls he had been so eager to break at the beginning of summer had rebuilt themselves right in front of him without difficulty as you looked away, pained. “Don’t sweetheart me.”

“I got… listen, I got carried away back there and I just…” 

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

All clarity has left his head. He’s too far gone into this, too deep into the grave he dug for himself, six feet under and somehow he still keeps digging and digging. 

What’s a little more salt to an already open wound?

Eddie stalks over towards you with a chilling swiftness, invading your personal space and trapping you against the hood of your car. “Fuck me, huh? Yeah, cause that’s what you do best, Y/N.” He repeats sarcastically, the words dripping from his quirked lips and seeping into the warmth of your skin. 

His voice holds a rasp to it, one that makes your body react in ways that are neither appropriate or helpful. Get a goddamn grip.

“Yeah? Sorry, am…” You challenge, feeling Eddie’s body drive into yours. Can’t get distracted. Can’t. It’s wrong, especially when your argument is — oh, he’s hard. His erection throbs against your thigh, stiff denim pressing against naked skin. “… am I the one who’s too pussy to put a label on whatever the hell this is?”

“I’m the pussy?” He pushes. You push back. “Says the spoiled little princess who has to sneak out at night because she’s scared mommy and daddy are gonna find out she’s been messing around with someone other than prince charming.” He bites out cruelly. “Who’s the pussy now?”

No backing out this time.

“And yet, you seem to have a lotta trouble staying away from a tight, wet cunt and a girl who’ll suck you off.”

“Oh, fuck off, Y/N.” The heavy aggression makes the hairs on your arms prickle, the inherent awareness that Eddie has you trapped, nowhere to escape this poisonous confrontation, makes you squeeze your thighs together. 

He exhales raggedly, recovering from the large blow that you just threw at him. 

“Did I stutter?” 

He blinks at you. “You’re a real sweetheart, you know that?” You almost growl, a cruel laugh slipping past your lips in an effort to say — don’t even try me, but Eddie’s turning you around forcefully and bending you at the waist with a hand between your shoulder blades, the other hovering over your ass before you can even say anything. “A tight cunt, huh? Is that what you wanna be? Just a tight, wet cunt for me to use whenever I fucking want because I’m — what was it again? — too pussy to put a label on this?”

“Munson, don’t you fucking—“ You glare at him over your shoulder, gasping as he tugs your shorts down and warms his palm over your outer thigh, leisurely bringing it over a soft ass cheek before a loud, erotic slap fills the garage. 

The surprised moan that leaves your body betrays you.

The fucking audacity of him to spank you? After all of that? After everything you just spewed at each other?

Eddie fucking laughs in your ear, studying the way you take your fleshy bottom lip between your teeth and a wave of embarrassment floods your face. “I bet you’re soaked right now. Bet you’re getting off on how upset I am with you, sweetheart. That’s kinda fucked up, don’t you think?” His knee nudges itself between your thighs, the cool edge of the car digging into your stomach while a familiar needy heat fills your cunt. “Yeah, I fucking know you.”

He knows you. 

You stand your ground, holding your nose up high even as he sensually traces the lacy trim of your panties with haunting fingertips. “M’not your s-sweetheart. Or your princess, you know.”

He hums, nodding his head slowly as he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “Oh, you’re not? M’not my little slut either then, huh?” He strikes you again, your bruised hips jerking forward against the hood with a subdued whimper, palms splaying out helplessly on the metal beneath you as you thrash in his grasp. Your ass stings with every strike to your cheeks, reddened and sore with the force of his wide open palm. “Insatiable fuckin’ girl, how much more can you take? How much more till you realize how much I… fuck…”

Till you realize what?

A gasp rips right out of your throat when he roughly pulls your panties down the swell of your ass. His hands come to spread your thighs to reveal the slick between your folds, a testament to your hidden arousal as another slap comes down to your puffy lips, leaving his palm wet and shiny. 

You muffle your merciful whining with a groan, knowing full well that you shouldn’t be enjoying this, this stupid fucking foreplay, this stupid masculine show of dominance, being turned on shouldn’t have even crossed your mind in the first place.

Men.

You jeer at him over your shoulder, teeth baring like an animal when he grabs onto a fistful of your hair, arching your back up from the car as he mocks your own gasps against your ear. “Very mature of you.“

“I’m not the one who’s practically dripping on my thigh right now, babe.”

“Yeah? Well, your cock seems pretty happy to see it.”

Eddie shoves you back down onto the hood, releasing his suffocating hold on your hair with a disgruntled hum. You push your ass back against his erection, feeling him grip your waist harshly for leverage. 

You must be purple all over, darkest at where he bruises you. Not that you’d complain. He’s done worse. 

“Fuck, s-stop that, Y/N.”

“Taste of your own medicine.”

“Stop it.”

“You literally spanked me.” You bite out while he takes a painful hold of your wrists, twisting you to face him despite your struggling efforts. He’s seething, messy bangs cascading in front of his face as he looks down at you through long lashes, jaw clenched visibly. “You spanked me, Eddie.”

Yet god, does he look good.

But, no. You’re furious. You’re bubbling with absolute distaste for the boy in front of you. So angry, that you can’t help but scowl as your own hands fly out towards his heavy buckle, chains jingling against his thigh as your dexterous fingers undo his belt. 

His nose nudges desperately against yours, panting against your parted wet lips as you roughly press your forehead to his with a pained expression. “How is it you can be a total asshole but I still…” You speak through gritted teeth, cut off by a guttural groan from Eddie when you reach into his boxers and take his velvety, stiffening cock into your hand. “… still want to fuck the shit out of you?” 

“Y-Yeah?” He cups your cheek, firmly dragging his thumb down your bottom lip and watching it bounce back into its natural place. “Fuck, too stubborn to even say you want me.” He dips his finger between your lips, studying the way your cheeks hollow out instantly to suck the digit, your warm tongue coating it in thick, stringy saliva with a muffled moan.

There, you see a piece of the kind metalhead you met that one summer day.

You nip at his thumb, smiling when he hisses at the sensation and pulls away. “I’m already getting on my goddamn knees, Munson. Just shut the fuck up and let me do what I want.”

“Always doing what she wants… typical.”

“This is the part where you say...” You sink to the concrete, looking up at him with narrowed eyes as you tug his pants all the way down. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry for being a fuckin’ dick who doesn’t know the first thing about communication.” You shove his boxers down to his ankles, nipping at his thighs before you’re running your wet lips across the side of his shaft with a whiny, teasing drawl. “I’m so sorry for getting absolutely mad at you for no goddamn reason. I’m sorry for calling you a spoiled brat. I’m sorry for putting you up on a stupid fucking pedestal. I’m sorry for assuming that you and Steve can’t be more than—“

“Okay, you’re done here, sweetheart.” Eddie grips the base of your head, ruthlessly pulling your mouth down onto his cock with a throaty grunt. You gag from the sudden sensation, eyes welling up immediately as he wriggles himself snug between your lips. “C-Christ, you’re perfect like this. Mmm, fuck. Fuckkkk. Gonna fuck your face till you cry, how does — shit, how does that sound?”

And you can’t even reply. Can’t even refuse his offer (not that you wanted to anyways). Can’t even have the last word because your mouth is full of his throbbing cock, your nose buried in the heady scent of his happy trail, his heavy balls squished against your chin as you try to even out your breathing. 

But, fuck, he’s big. And you’re panicking. You’d know he’d never hurt you, not even if he’s angry. It’s just… he’s so thick. And well, a mouth can only take so much, right?

Your hand darts out to catch yourself against your car as Eddie thrusts himself forward, the sloppy tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat as he holds your face in place — one hand cupping the underside of your chin and the other just above your forehead. “Shit, Y/N… yeah, can’t fuckin’ yap your ass off now, can you? Pretty girl with a big, talkative mouth… can’t even take my cock.”

Now, that flips a switch in you.

You grip the backs of his thighs, drawing him closer to you until a pathetic hmpf! leaves your mouth. Eddie’s just as surprised, fingers tangling themselves harshly in your hair as you bob your throat up and down. There’s spit bubbling from the corners of your lips, pre-cum dribbling down your jaw as Eddie grips onto the edge of the hood for dear life, his chin dropping to his chest in awe. You make the effort to glance up at him, nearly smiling at the visual of his furrowed eyebrows, the choked moans that echo through the garage, the pink flush that crawls up his straining neck.

There’s a good boy.

God, you’re practically dripping onto the floor.

“F-Fuck, you know just how I-I fucking like it, don’t you? Always a messy girl. Always so goddamn insatiable, jus’ takes and takes… even with my cock down your throat, I bet you want more. Fuck, never s-satisfied, are you?”

You pull off of his cock, coughing wetly for air as you jerk him slowly in your hand, tears blurring your dizzy vision. 

“And yet you still don’t believe that I don’t want anyone else’s cock e-except yours, Eds?”

An unspoken translation of saying: I want you. Just you.

His gaze softens, jaw still clenched, but his eyes change. They sparkle with relief, rather than anger — his mouth purses into a resigned, close-lipped smile and before you know it, he’s tugging you back onto your feet, gingerly running his palm across your cheek, inhaling the flowery scent of your hair before you’re drowning in a heated kiss that can only mean ‘nothing matters except how bad I need you right now.’

His fingers card through your scalp, your ear resting between his forefinger and middle as you grind against each other, pumping him in your grasp as he switches between tongue and teeth and his lips and fuck—

“You’re so pretty. S-So beautiful, it makes me so fuckin’ angry.” Eddie rasps, biting down the column of your throat as he holds your face tenderly. “I don’t want anyone else but you. Just y-you. Even if you piss me the hell off.”

You chuckle in amusement, your laugh quickly transitioning into a high-pitched yelp as he suddenly picks you up and places you on the cold hood of the car, spreading your thighs apart with a warning slap to either one. 

“Aw, you love me, Munson. It’s hot when you go all alpha.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me.”

Forcibly, he pulls your hips to the edge, dribbling a thick white glob of spit onto your messy cunt before he spreads you open with the calloused pads of his fingers. You lean back on your forearms, jaw unhinging as Eddie cooes at the embarrassing string of arousal leaking from your needy pussy all the way to your puckering asshole. 

His touch is hot and heavy, marking your trembling frame with another purpling bruise as he hooks an arm under your knee and presses a kiss to your leg. “You’re damn gorgeous like this.”

“Touch it already.”

He tsks. “Insatiable.”

“I’m getting bored.”

“This isn’t gonna fucking work.” Eddie snarls under his breath, and you nearly see the frustration beading off of him as he drags you off of the hood, palms and fingers flying all over your body as he forces you onto your feet and bends you over again. You jerk forward as he buries his face between your ass cheeks, his nose nudging at your cunt while he laps at your swollen clit. His fingers keep you spread open, kneading the fat of your thighs before he’s fucking his tongue into you. 

“Ah — you fucking — ah — taste delicious,” He chuckles, “You’re literally such a messy girl. Pussy already leaking with my spit.”

Your mouth falls open, nails scraping against the metal before Eddie slurps at the arousal between your folds. “F-Fuck, Eds… I’m… fuck, your mouth feels so — so good, need m-more…”

“Need more, huh?”

“Mmm.”

“Didn’t know my mouth was the key to getting you to finally shut the fuck up.” He cooes, his dominant tone exuding false pity as you rock back against his face.

“Eddie— fuckkkk…“ Your entire body lurches when his mouth drops to the tight fluttering ring of muscles above your cunt, two fingers scissoring your cunt as he dips his tongue into your ass. “Okay, fuck… that’s — that’s h-hot. E-Eddie, god… I’m… you’re…” You shudder violently, burying your face into your forearms with a pathetic laugh of disbelief, “… that’s gonna make me cum…”

“You see, that’s the fucking goal, dumbass.”

“Call me d-dumbass one more—“

“Dumbass.” You cry out as his hand comes down on the back of your thigh, leaving the skin raw and red. “Yeah, that fucking turns you on. Cum on it. Fuckin’ cum, sweet girl. You like this shit.”

Yeah.

You like it too much. But Eddie doesn’t need to hear that when you’re practicing spasming on his fingers, a warm gush trickling down the heel of his palm as your cunt swallows him all the way to his knuckles. You feel him lean over you, his chest molding to your back as you come undone for him and let out a choked sob of pleasure. He pulls you up by your throat, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you reach up to fist your hands through his hair and draw him nearer. 

“Fuck — Eddie — it’s, fuck… I’m… I’m cumming, s’too g-good, f-fuck...”

He sighs blissfully, “Yeah, baby. That’s it. Ride it out. You got this.” Your moans fill the air in broken, choppy gasps and breaths, Eddie’s free hand massaging your clit as you twitch against him. “So hot when you cum, don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to it.” 

Your lashes flutter wildly as he reaches up to brush your bangs back away from your forehead, tucking them behind either ear as he peers down at you. 

The gesture is so tender, you and Eddie almost forget why you’re mad at each other. 

He’s the first to draw in a breath, shaky and nervous. 

“Hey, you with me?”

“Mm.”

A beat, then a waft of uncertainty fills the air.

“I’m… I’m sorry for, uh, spanking you.” Oh. Not what you were expecting… surprised, you start to snicker in amusement, hiding your face in his neck as he chuckles shyly. “I’m being serious, Y/N. Stop — stop laughing, it’s making me laugh.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Well, I mean… I didn’t, you know, ask you.” Eddie strokes his palm up and down your torso, hand dipping beneath your tank top. “I always ask you, like, if that kinda shit is okay. Consent and stuff.”

He sounds like a child, unsure and guilty. Struggling to find purposeful words, to make sure he’s doing this right.

“Consent and stuff…” You repeat in a smiling whisper, running your hand gently down the side of his face. You turn to face him, slinging your arms across the back of his neck. “Eddie, I liked it. Thought it was obvious.”

“It was obvious. I felt it,” He grins in return. “I just… I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m… making you do shit that you don’t want to. Like ever.”

“Never that, Eds. I feel…” I trust you. I adore you. I’m better with you. I like you. Maybe I love you. It’s only been a couple months and you’ve ruined everyone else for me. “I feel safe with you, always.” You drag your knuckles across his sharp jaw, watching the way his throat bobs when he swallows. “Are we gonna talk about the Steve thing?”

“Definitely not off the hook with that one.”

“You know that totally hurt, right? What… what happened back there?” Eddie sighs, clasping his hand on top of yours, eyelids shutting as he leans into your touch. 

“Overreacted.” You hum in response, giving him a soft nod. “I just… got too into my head about all of it. Like — like seeing you with him felt like a wake-up call. As if I was… god, I don’t know. Back in school all over again, just realizing how I didn’t fit in there, and then with you since you have Harrington who’s all… preppy polos and hairspray, everyone’s fucking favorite, the goddamn equivalent to whatever the hell you are, Y/N.”

You smile sadly, realizing just how deep the extent of his frustrations are coming from. “And what am I, Eds?”

“Perfect.” Eddie whispers, his words hot against your lip like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re perfect. You… I’ve never been this obsessed over a girl before. God, it’s pathetic.” His hands find the back of your neck, and he guides your mouth onto his. “You’re the worst.”

He’s addicted to the heat of your tongue, the way your body so eagerly caves into his as he backs you up against the hood once more. 

“Crazy you t-think I’d ever flirt with Harrington.” His cock hardens against the inside of your sticky thigh, the tip of him catching on the swell of your clit as he topples over you and hungrily runs his teeth along your neck. “When clearly, I have my eyes set on a whole different guy.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s hands squeeze your ass harshly, gripping you impossibly closer. “What about him?”

“S’kinda the jealous type…” You gasp as he guides your fingers around his cock, pumping him once, twice, three times before he’s lining himself up with your soaked entrance. “Fuck — but it’s hot when he is… makes me wanna get him all riled up…”

“Sounds awfully familiar, sweetheart.”

“Great smile, a pretty laugh… ugh, fuck…” Your forehead falls against Eddie’s shoulder as eases himself between your folds, filling you up with his shaft until the bush of dark curls at the very base of him brushes against your clit. “A-Amazing tattoos… even better hair…”

“Better than Harrington?”

You snort, nails digging into his bicep. “Nine-hundred and ninety-nine percent better.” 

A moan falls from his lips when you shift against him, cunt clenching around his prick helplessly as he stills inside and lifts your head off of him. “Couldn’t have j-just made it a thousand, hm?”

“S’cause you stink, Eds.” He carefully draws his hips back, only to thrust inside you hard and slow as lighthearted laughter rings through the air. “F-Fuck, there had to be… had to be something wrong with you, or else you’d be too…” You hiss as his thumb finds your clit, circling over the sensitive bundle of nerves before he’s hooking his other hand under your knee. “Oh, my god… don’t stop.”

“Words.” He whispers against your lips, eyebrows raising for emphasis. “C’mon, babe. Talk to me.”

A sob nearly rasps out of you when you feel his cock deep in your belly, every stroke deeper and wetter than the last. “Or else you’d be too g-good to be true. Shit, just like that. Fuck, I only want you. Fuck. Eddie—“ 

You cry against the incursion of his tongue — a rough, open-mouthed kiss. Riddled with frustration, with pleasure, with anger, without caution or grace, with words neither of you can really say.

“Taking m-me so well, Y/N. That’s it. You like this?” He gasps between each slam of his hips, locking you in place with a bruising hold. “You like me fucking you on this car, yeah? You insatiable girl.”

Fuck, it’s good. It’s erotic, the glistening slick of your cum sticking to the curled hair around his shaft, the shine of your thighs as you squirt around him, his teeth digging into your shoulder as his cock wedges your stubborn cunt open and spread, gaping for him as you angle your ass up to meet each sloppy, harsh stroke he gives you.

Filthy slut, stretched you open, didn’t I?

Pretty girl, you’re doing so good for me.

Your mind gets lost in his endless swirl of degradation and praise, deliciously reeling in his back and forth of calling you a whore and then calling you an angel not even a minute later as he drives into your cunt.

“Fuck. Fuck, Eds.” 

“If it’s too much, I can — god, we can stop, Y/N.” He drops his head, shoulders shaking as he tries to go easy. “Jus’ say the word, sweetheart, and I’ll stop. Fuck, whatever you want.”

“No. Keep going. Please. Please. Please.” You don’t fucking care. The stretch, the sting of him, it feels almost like the first every time you have sex. “Does it look like I want you to stop?

Eddie snarls and fucks you harder. The thick head of his cock near-bruising your cervix as he punches up into you, your pleas and the sounds of skin slapping against skin ringing through your skull.

The lewd squelch of his shaft driving into your cunt turns him hysterical, and before you know it, he’s hiking you up further onto the hood of the car, grasping the hinges of your knees and forcing them against your bouncing tits.

He’s turned you into nothing but a looping mixtape of fuck-fuck-harder-please-Eddie-Eddie. And fuck, does it overfill the cup of pleasure deep in his belly.

“Baby, I’m…” Your hand reaches for his, desperate and frantic as you interlock fingers and Eddie presses reassuring kisses to each of your knuckles. “I’m gonna…”

“What’s up, hm?” He whispers gently, the sincere concern in his voice tugging at your heartstrings while your ribs rattle with another pleasurable sob. “G-Gonna cum on my cock, sweetheart? Your pussy must need it so bad, yeah? Yeah, I know. Fuck, m’gonna get you there. I’m gonna do so good for you.”

He rears back, before spearing fully into you. Sweat rolls down the side of your forehead, your back arching into Eddie’s sticky chest, his thumb slipping between your wet lips while he works your sore cunt open. 

You can barely speak, torn between a fluttering consciousness and the rising warmth between your thighs that your mouth seems to move faster than your brain. “M-My good boy.”

Eddie lets out a huff. 

Then, smiles as bright as the innocent, summer sun. 

“Fuck yeah, mama. Cum for me. Cum on that shit.” 

Your orgasm hits you before you even realize it’s coming. 

Such a suffocating build-up, that you almost forget that your pleasure is a reward, your belly cramping and spasming as the walls of your cunt squeeze around Eddie’s cock. 

You open your eyes as the high flows through you, and when Eddie meets your fucked-out hazy gaze, a word dangles from the tip of his tongue, burning through his throat and stabbing at his chest as he grits his teeth and restrains every part of him that wants to say: mine. 

The raw claim of it. The power of such a minuscule word that implies something deeper than fucking behind closed doors and spending midnights in parking lots. Bars and motels turn into cafés and a shared apartment. Cuddling in the backs of janky old vans turns into ‘good mornings’ and ‘how’d you sleep?’ in a queen-sized bed. 

Eddie realizes it now, how he’s never had something to call his. To call his own. 

But then you laid out on that lawn one day and…

He’s scared, though. Horrified. You’re free-spirited, you’re open, you’re the rose and the thorns all at once, bright and optimistic and kind. And yet, he can’t risk scaring you away with something so… possessive and certain. 

Instead, Eddie tightens his arms around you and thrusts deeper, slotting his mouth over your lips before he offers you a promise. The only promise that’ll give him some sort of peace, to keep him at bay in case you can’t meet him halfway. 

“I’m yours.” 

The words are muffled against your skin, but either way, you inhale sharply at it. Your hands fumble around Eddie’s neck, cupping him at the nape before you’re pulling him in closer and easing your mouth onto his with furrowed brows and watery eyes.

“And I’m yours.” He chokes on his moans as he strokes into you, your tongue rolling against his as you kiss him hungrily, the warm press of it taking his breath away. “I’ve always been yours.”

Eddie whimpers at that, cumming with his head buried into your shoulder. “M-Mine.”

His last desperate thrusts have you reeling, gasps and sobs being pricked out of you as Eddie fills you with his warmth. His cum slowly seeps out from your cunt when he pulls out almost too quickly for your personal liking, body falling against yours as he places a palm on the hood of the car to steady himself. 

You’re sore. 

Eddie takes a few moments to catch his breath, panting against your chest as you entangle your fingers at the back of his head. “I meant it…”

“What?” He exhales out, a tinge of confusion clear in his tone. 

“Meant that I… I only want you. S’true.” You smile and hold him gently by the chin, picking his head up and off your shoulder. “Jus’ you, Eds.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Eddie chuckles heartily, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before he presses a kiss to your arm. “Hi, by the way.”

“Mmm. Hi, you. You feel okay?”

“Fuck, I’ve never been better honestly. Came so hard and you’re — oh, look how stretched out you are.” He hums, running a thumb up your drenched slit. A shy laugh bubbles out of him, “Should be the one asking you if you’re okay, sweetheart.”

“I’m on cloud nine. I dunno about you.”

“Baby, I’m past the damn clouds. I’m all the way up in the sky with the big man himself.” Eddie dips his digits between your folds, mewling as you jerk your hips against him. He collects the mixture of your juices on the tips of his fingers, raising it up to his lips before he’s sucking on it like his last meal. “Delicious.”

“Perv.” You duck your head, shying away from his kisses before he catches your mouth, sighing against your lips. “Do it again.”

He pauses, brown eyes glistening with adoration.

“Insatiable, I tell you.”

He helps you to your feet, hand outstretched in front of him like a proper gentleman as you wobble onto your legs, pulling your panties and shorts over your ass as Eddie mirrors your movements. He kisses you once more as soon as he’s buttoned his jeans, securing his heavy belt buckle while your teeth knock against each other.

“Eddie…”

“Yeah?”

“My carrrr.” You whine, wringing your arms around his neck as you glance back at the Corvette. “It’s all filthy again. Thanks to you, you know.”

He gasps, placing a hand over his heart while you sneak out from under him and snatch the sponge atop of the car. “Well, call me a dick then.” 

“Dick.” 

And before he can even see it coming, you’re throwing it at him, the sponge landing against his bicep with a loud squelch! that makes you burst into laughter. “Oh! Oh, we’re playing dirty? Okay, fuck you too, then.”

You squeal as he runs at you, soap drenching your clothes as he grabs you by the waist and squeezes the sponge over your front. 

“Eddie!”

Again, Eddie Munson is eternally fucked.

But that’s okay, because not only can he call you a plethora of pretty names, he can also call you the only one that truly matters: mine.

His. 

The perfect poster girl of Hawkins who — okay, sure — one hundred percent deserves dates at Enzo’s rather than quick stops at twenty-four hour diners, who deserves more than rusty vans and makeshift beds in the backseat, who deserves more than stick-and-poke tattoos and drugstore cologne. The girl next door who deserves more than a metalhead who works at a record store and lives in a goddamn trailer park.

Yet, all at once, the perfect poster girl of Hawkins who somehow likes twenty-four hour diners and the greasy food that comes with it. Who likes throwing fries at him from across the table because he still abhors The Cure and still thinks his music taste is superior. 

The girl who prefers his rusty van over a regular car because the smell is comforting, and that it reminds you of a home away from home. Reminds you of your nights downtown and the really early mornings he’d spend reading Lord of the Rings to you in the back, surrounded by blankets and clothes.

The girl who demands that your first tattoo not be done by a professional, but someone with stick-and-pokes and bat tattoos on his arm. Someone who smells like cedar and wood, gasoline and a fresh pack of cigarettes. Steady hand or not, as long as it’s done by him.

The girl next door who loves the metalhead that works at the record store and lives in a cozy trailer park.

So yeah, maybe Eddie is eternally fucked.

But at least you’re by his side through it all.

[userlando]

✧･ﾟ 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

steve murphy x female!reader summary ⤍ work is piling on, bogotá is suffering from a heatwave and all you want is steve murphy. warnings ⤍ 18+ (mdni), co-workers to lovers, explicit language & smut, public sex, unprotected sex (piv) a/n ⤍ surprise surprise, of course i'd circle back to steve murphy some day. hope i made it justice. prob won't be the last i write of him since this was a lot of fun, so hope you enjoy this one lovies <3

It was brain meltingly hot in the office today, perspiration on your forehead and bra uncomfortably pinching your torso, to the point where it was almost antagonising you. It had been hot the moment you got out of bed this morning, and it hadn’t gotten any better throughout the day even though you’d opted to stay back in the office and work on the mountain of stacked papers that only seemed to grow by the hour on your desk.

You’d think that the heatwave would settle when people had begun to filter out, emptying the office space little by little. But the sun was still shining tauntingly through the windows and the floor fans were doing their best to keep up.

You glared at said fans, watching them spin round and round with the occasional squeal. A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back against your chair, ignoring the discomfort of your shirt sticking to your back and reaching out for the nearest folder you could use to fan yourself with. The people in the office could really use an extra two swipes of deodorant and cut back on the cigarettes. The odours were starting to settle in your nose in the most unpleasant way and you didn’t know how much longer you could stand it.

It was clear that you weren’t going to get much work done anymore, but you’d be damned if you stepped foot outside the building with the sun still beating down on the city of Bogotá and you had a feeling that your apartment wasn’t much better than… this. It had too many large windows with afternoon sun.

Your freezer contained ice lollies though, something you’d craved all day. And your apartment offered you the liberty of wearing a long tank top with no pants and no bra. But it didn’t have Steve Murphy.

Steve Murphy, who was sitting across from you with his back leaned against his chair in a similar position to yours. He was reading from a folder, eyebrows tightly knit the way they always got when he was concentrating and you took a moment to silently admire the arch of his nose and the inviting pink of his lips. His hair had been styled halfheartedly in the morning, but it was now sticking up from running his fingers through it and the strand were clumped up together from the sweat and moisture in the air. Nobody made sweating look as good as Steve did. It should’ve pissed you off but it was a sight for sore eyes.

Your thoughts stuttered to a halt when he stuck a chewed up pen in his mouth and bit into it, looking a little annoyed all of a sudden and you knew he’d finally given up on making sense of the endless amount of scripts and documents you’d spent the last three days pouring through. Carrillo was truly a closeted sadist for assigning you so much work to go through in such little time.

There was a small clearing of a throat from the side and you glanced to the left, feeling like a kid who’d gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Javier wasn’t looking at you, but there was a small smile playing on his lips that let you know that he’d definitely caught you ogling the blond man sitting in front of you. You reached your leg out and kicked him in the shin, earning a startled yelp from him and a questioning glance from Steve.

“Sorry,” you said with no remorse in your voice. “Muscle spasm.”

Javier narrowed his eyes at you like he could see right through your bullshit, flicking a stack of papers on his desk before picking some new ones up to read through. You could’ve bet a few bucks that he wasn’t reading through them as intently as he had been two hours ago. His mind had already checked out for the day, as had yours. You couldn’t blame him.

The three of you worked in moderate silence and the occasional annoyed grunt and comment thrown into the air, for the next hour. The sun was finally starting to set, casting shadows in the moderately empty office but you were getting more agitated by the second.

The heat was getting to you and fucking Steve couldn’t stop chewing his lip and touching his neck.

It all took you back to that one godforsaken night a few weeks ago. You’d gone out with the two of them for a drink, and Javier had wandered off at some point; Mumbling something about getting laid. And he’d subsequently left the two of you alone at the bar with more drinks in your systems than necessary and sexual tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

You’d sworn to never involve work and pleasure when you transferred to Colombia to work on catching the drug lord, and yet you’d found yourself pressed up against a wall in the far back of the bar and your tongue shoved down your partners throat. The taste of whiskey on his tongue had been intoxicating, everything about him had been irresistible. But it had been a one time thing, that’s where you set your boundary and Steve had respected it in his own way. He hadn’t tried anything with you, but there had been the occasional eye contact and suggestive comment. You’d be a filthy liar if you said you didn’t enjoy it just a tiny bit.

You must’ve started fidgeting in your chair because you caught Steve glancing up, not picking his head up from where it was slumped. The sight of him looking at you through his lashes made something in your stomach squirm.

“What?” You mouthed, biting the inside of your lip when his lips transformed into a smirk. It was like he could read your thoughts in your eyes. “Fucker.”

His smile got wider somehow, and he quickly managed to tamper it down when Javier suddenly sighed loudly. You both turned your gazed toward him, just in time to watch how he stood up from his chair and picked up a few folders.

“Need to make copies.” He explained, as if one of you had asked him. Javier didn’t need your permission though, nonchalantly grabbing his blazer and walking out of the room and you had a feeling that was the last you’d see of him for tonight.

You glanced back at Steve to catch him already staring at you, and you tried to not feel so self-conscious about the way your hair was probably a damp mess and your face sweaty. It looked good on Steve, but you couldn’t pull it off like he did.

“You done with that?” He asked, like you hadn’t been having a staring contest and you gave him a questioning arch of the eyebrows until he clarified by nodding at a folder by your arm.

“Have at it.” You sighed, handing it over to him before standing up from your chair.

It scraped against the floor and you glanced around to see if you’d disturbed anyone with the obnoxious sound. Aside from a few officers on the other side of the room, it was completely empty. And that made something redhot run through your blood.

You walked over to the water tank to fill your mug up with water cold enough to give you a brain freeze, thinking about maybe taking off and going home. Javier had once again left you alone with Murphy, and the heat was melting the last of your common sense.

There had been one close call where Carrillo had paired you and Steve together for a stakeout; monitoring a warehouse on the outskirts for any signs of drug transportations, but you’d smoothly gotten out of it and had Peña jump in instead. There was no telling what would happen if they put you and Steve in a car during the night with nothing but the two of you to keep each other company.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t been friends before the bar incident, it was quite the opposite. Being a woman in this field was tough, but Steve had - along with Javi - welcomed you like his own surprisingly quickly.

There were only so many times you could carpool and watch a shitty movie cuddled up on the couch before you started treading over dangerous water. A phone call home didn’t bring you the same comfort as greasy food on the couch after a long day of chasing ghosts and criminals. It was easy to feel homesick when alone, so it was a good thing that you had your partners a few doors down if you ever needed them.

“It’s way too fucking hot to work.” Steve complained and you gave a laugh with a nod. He flicked the papers onto the desk and leaned all the way back on his chair and you took that as a sign that he - much like you - was done with work.

You rounded the corner of the desk and tried not stare too hard at his arms when he reached up to rest his hands on the back of his head. His biceps were bulging a little too invitingly, and you had to shake yourself as you perched on the edge of his desk. There was no mistaking his wandering gaze as he slowly looked up your legs, to your upper body until he reached your eyes and you raised your eyebrows to show him that you’d caught him looking.

He didn’t seem too embarrassed though, judging by the slow smile forming on his face.

“Might be time to call it for tonight.” You said, glancing around the half-empty office. “Not like we’re gonna make any more progress than we’ve done today.”

Steve made a sound in his throat like he agreed with your sentiment, happily accepting the mug of water when you handed it to him. You watched him take a sip, throat bobbing as he swallowed and you suddenly felt a little too hot under your clothes.

“D’you wanna head over to mine? Grab a beer and just kick back.” He asked, glancing up at you and you nodded slowly.

“Sure.” You watched him stand up, shuffling papers and folders around in a poor attempt to organise his desk before giving up and reaching for a packet of cigarettes. He stuck one between his teeth and lit it up. “Do you think Javi will be back?”

Steve looked at you with an are you serious? look, and you tried not to think about how hot he looked with a cigarette hanging from between his lips. Cocky looked so good on him.

“You’re lucky if you see him any more today.” He replied, grabbing his jacket and pushing in his chair.

You made a sound of agreement and walked around the desk, picking your bag up and showing a few folders inside it before the both of you were set to go home.

It couldn’t have been in your head, the tension in the air as the both of you walked out of the office. It felt like you were barely hanging onto a thread and it seemed to grow even thinner when the blond man touched your waist as he let you pass by him first through a doorway.

The two of you locked eyes for a split second and that confirmed everything that you needed to know. And that’s what you used as an excuse as your eyes flickered back and forth until you found a door that you knew lead to a documentation room, not hesitating for a split second as you reached your hand back and blindly grabbed Steve’s hand in yours.

He let you lead him way too easily, your hand shaking a little as you turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. And that’s when Steve took over, putting more of his body weight on your back to help you get into the room faster. You didn’t think of how unethical it was, or how it was such a bad idea to hook up once again with your partner at your workplace, of all places.

You didn’t even think of how absolutely stifling it was in the small room, too focused on the way Steve was staring you down like a predator eyeing it’s prey. He closed the door and turned the lock without taking his eyes off of you, and it was dark but not dark enough for you to miss the smirk playing on his lips as he walked you backwards.

You reached your hands out to grab at his disheveled tie, yanking hard enough for a breath to escape his lips before you settled your mouth over his in a heated kiss. There was a loud bang as he placed a hand flat against the metal drawers by your head to keep himself from stumbling into you, a moan creeping its way up his throat and you revelled in the taste of his tongue.

It was warm inside, suffocating really, but you needed more. You needed him closer and on you. He didn’t have any problems with complying when you snuck an arm around his torso and had the other one grab at his hair, turning your head slightly so he could lick deeper into your mouth.

You could taste the coffee he’d been sipping on a few hours ago and smell his aftershave that transported you back to that night at the bar where you’d been in a position just like this. He slid his mouth down your cheek, jaw and pressed sucking kisses and licks against the side of your throat. It was hard to stay still when the sharpness of his moustache hairs pricked and scratched your sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, always smell so good, baby.” He was panting, and so were you.

There was no doubt that he could feel your heart beating in your throat, right under his lips where he was definitely sucking a mark that wasn’t gonna fade within the next week. It should’ve made you furious, because that meant scarves and long collars in this unbearable weather but it only made you keen and pull him in closer. The thought of him marking you up for your co-workers to see, for Javier to give off that infuriatingly smug grin and for Steve to proudly parade around; Knowing he did that.

You were a proud woman, having worked your ass off to get where you were today and you’d be damned if you were to be seen as someone other than their own person. But something about fooling around with Steve; Breaking the obvious unspoken rule that wasn’t really a rule. Not really. Rules were hardly a thing to follow within these walls if they weren’t reinforced by the colonel himself.

“Steve, you better fuck me now or I’ll scream.” You tried to sound threatening, but your voice sounded too breathy and it only made Steve laugh like he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

“So needy,” he whispered, pulling his head up to look at you and you reached forward to steal a kiss from his lips that he was all too happy to give. Hearing and feeling him sigh happily against you made your stomach feel like it was bottoming out, all the feelings you’d been trying to hold in, spilling out.

He brought his hands to the front of your torso, squeezing at the swell of your tits over your shirt and sliding his hands down your quivering stomach until he got to the button of your jeans, letting out a noise of frustration. You watched him unbutton your jeans with a smile, taking your chance to grab at his messy hair and tilt his head to the side so you could kiss the delicate skin of his neck.

You didn’t see it, but you could feel his hands falter where they were struggling to unbutton your jeans, his head throwing back for a few seconds like he was trying to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. You could’ve taken mercy on him and help him get you out of your pants, but it was a little too enjoyable for you to kiss and nibble at his throat and earlobe. You’d only hooked up twice now, but it didn’t take a genius to find his sweet spot seeing as it was right beneath his ear.

“Couldn’t have worn a damn skirt.” You heard him mutter as he crouched and you grinned.

“Not very —“

“Practical. Yeah, I know. So you’ve said.” You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could hear the eye roll in his voice and it made you smile even harder. Steve could be an asshole, but you’d be damned liar if you said that he wasn’t a good listener.

He finally pulled back and yanked your jeans down your legs, crouching down to help you out of them, one leg at a time. You ran your fingers through his hair and almost recoiled when he glanced up at you from his crouched position; Caught off-guard by the softness in them. The blue of his eyes made something fierce squeeze in your chest and you let out a small whimper when he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss between your legs, over your panties.

You watched him kiss his way up, and it felt like coming home when he finally reached your lips and pried then open with his own. There was no doubt that the man could kiss, and you loved every second of it.

It made you jump a little when he pulled your panties to the side, the pads of his fingers swiping through the mess that he’d created. He let out a shuddered breath against your lips and rocked back just far enough to look at you without the both of you going crosseyed.

“I don’t have a condom on me.” He murmured, and if you’d looked hard enough then you would’ve seen remorse in the blue of his eyes.

You tried to collect your thoughts but it was difficult when his fingers were circling your clit. Your hands grabbed at his shirt, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you ripped a hole in it.

“I’m on the pill,” you said, feeling your cheeks heat up a little as his eyebrows climbed on his forehead. “And I’m clean. I trust you.”

He searched your eyes for a moment, and it would’ve almost been tender if it wasn’t for the fact that he got two fingers up your cunt and was fucking into you like he was testing out how wet you were.

It felt like an eternity when he finally nodded, offering you a small smile and a quick kiss.

“I’m clean too.” He pushed his fingers deep, making you gasp and buck into him. “And there hasn’t been anyone else after you. Or even before you.”

The implication was there, and you revelled in his confession because those had been thoughts that had been plaguing you for a hot moment. Javi had his line of women to call and you didn’t know if that was the case for Steve. You spent a lot of time together outside of work, but there were still gaps in time where he could’ve hooked up with whomever he pleased. This job was hard and it put a whole lot of pressure on your shoulders, so much so that the average person would cave from it. It was only normal to seek basic human intimacy and lose yourself in it, even if it was only for a night or an hour.

It made your belly turn a little sour whenever you thought of it, you just didn’t want to admit it out loud because that would somehow make it seem real. Make your feelings for him real. You weren’t sure what that meant.

Crossing the line with your partner a second time went against everything you’d believed in. You never wanted to get involved with anyone like this because your work was dangerous enough, add a person you cared for into the mix and it made it even more terrifying.

“Hey, you with me?” Steve’s gentle voice brought you back from your inner turmoil and you blinked at him, giving him a nod.

“Yeah, I’m here.” You replied, giving him a small smile when his lips turned up in reassurance. “Come on, I’m ready. Fuck me please, Steve.”

Steve groaned like he’d never heard anything sweeter, pulling his fingers out and bringing them up between you. He didn’t even hesitate to slip his digits inside his mouth to clean them off and you felt your entire body heat up at the crude sight. It reminded you of all the nights where you’d go out to grab a bite after work and he’d be licking his fingers clean from frying oil and grease. You’d found it a turn on then, and it certainly was a turn on now.

“You’re an asshole.” You giggled at the filthy smile playing on his lips, getting your hands on his trousers and unbuttoning them.

You glanced between the two of you and stuck your hand inside his underwear to fish him out, heartbeat picking up at the weight and warmth of him in your hands. You could hear him breathing against the side of your head, pressing his lips against your temple and making a piss poor attempt of stifling his moan when you got a good grip on him and slid your hand to the base.

“Feel so good in my hand, Steve.” You hummed, closing your eyes and marvelling in the press of his body when his hand started giving out to the weight. He was moaning quietly into your ear, voice rough and raspy as you jacked him off. “Can’t wait to feel it inside of me.”

He hummed out a drawn out groan, bending a little at the knees to get a good grip on your right thigh and hauling it up over his hip. The new angle allowed him to nudge against you and you gasped, leaning into it.

You were too busy looking between the two of you, and you didn’t register his other hand sliding up to cup your cheek until you were staring right into his eyes in the darkness. He was observing you, you realised. The moment felt a little too intimate to have in a decrepit room after office hours, but you didn’t dare to look away from his gaze.

His thumb ran over the bottom of your lip. “You okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile, nodding your head to show him that yeah, of course you’re okay.

“I’m more than okay. Now, come on before the janitor makes his rounds.” You urged him, earning a startled laugh from the man.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, gripping himself and leaning a little more of his weight against you so he could notch right against your hole.

Your eyes fluttered closed when he pressed in, feeling him filling you up quicker than you expected but there was something about the burn that made you want more. So you didn’t protest, only gripping his shoulders tighter until he bottomed out.

Steve was watching your face the entire time, eyes struggling to stay open because fuck, the heat and the tightness of you gripping him made him feel like he’d died and entered the pearly gates of whatever heaven existed. The small hitches in your breathing was like music to him, and he longed for the day he could get you in his bed and fuck you properly until he had you moaning without the fear of being caught.

You were a loud one, that’s what he’d garnered from the one occasion you’d hooked up. But you were still holding back and he could tell by the way you gnawed at your lips and bit incomplete circles into his shoulders that did fuck all to silence your pretty sounds.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” He murmured in encouragement when he started thrusting, hips meeting yours in the awkward angle but he knew he was hitting something good and deep inside of you. It was written all over your face. “Clenchin’ up so nicely around me. What a pretty sight you are.”

“Steve.” You moaned, treading your fingers in the strands of his damp hair and bringing his mouth to yours in a sloppy kiss.

It was all teeth and tongue, noses bumping and teeth knocking but it made you weak in the knees all the same. You indulged yourself for a few moments, letting yourself get lost in his taste and touch before breaking the kiss, leaning your forehead against his and watching him through blurry eyes as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Seeing Steve lost in the feeling, hips working against yours and arms grabbing at you to keep you steady and hold you close was a marvel to see. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get tired of the little pinched expression on his face when something felt particularly good for him; How his mouth would drop open into a little O and his eyebrows would draw together. Kind of like how they did when he’d sit across from you at your desks while he struggled to read Spanish.

Your stomach was knotting up, the telltale sign of your end nearing and you let go of his shoulder with one hand to shove it between your bodies and hook your hand into your panties.

The touch of your fingers against your clit made you clench, which made Steve’s thrust stutter and his breath get punched out of him.

“Keep going,” he encouraged you, nodding his head and jostling your head in the process form where it was leaned against his. “Touch yourself for me, wanna feel you come.”

It was cliché, and ridiculous how fast you neared the edge of oblivion at the whispered words he was speaking against your mouth. They sounded so demanding, breathless and absolutely filthy.

There was a second of desperation where the two of you clung to each other, his hips bruising yours and his hands no doubt leaving marks as he pulled you tight to his body. Your hand cramped up and you had just enough time to lean toward his shoulder and bite down before you were sent over the edge with a muffled shout.

You heard a distinct guttural moan, and you couldn’t tell if it was coming from you or Steve thanks to the sound of the blood rushing in your ears. But you could absolutely feel how he buried himself inside of you and let himself go, your already sensitive body shaking where it was slumped against his.

There was no telling who was holding up who, but you suspected that he was doing the brunt of the work because you couldn’t feel your fucking legs and your mouth was still open against his shoulder. You picked your head up when your senses slowly started seeking back into your body, making a sound in your throat when you realised that you’d been drooling.

Steve tilted his head to the side at the noise, gaze following yours and he let out an exhausted laugh.

“Is it weird if I find that hot?” He asked, voice hoarse and low and you laughed.

“Shut up,” you winced as he slowly let your leg back down on the grimy floor, slipping out of you in the process. “Oh, gross.”

Steve snorted, cupping a hand against your cheek and pressing a kiss against the side of your head. You bit back a smile at the tender gesture, busying yourself with adjusting your underwear so you didn’t have to look at him.

He didn’t say anything as the both of you got cleaned up as best you could, redressing yourselves and you didn’t want to chance a glance at him just yet. You didn’t know what you’d find written on his face; whatever emotion or expression it would hold. You weren’t quite ready to face it just yet.

You watched his back as he walked up to the door, eyebrows raising in amusement when he cracked the door open and peeked outside into the hallway. He must’ve deemed it clear, because he slid it open and stepped to the side, reaching a hand out to gesture you to get a move on.

You didn’t waste any time to slip back outside again, the hallway feeling much cooler than the stifling confines of the documentation room. There was nothing you craved more than a shower at that moment, feeling sticky all over. And the fact that you were absolutely ruining what was left to salvage of your underwear.

“Are we still on for that beer?” Steve asked, distracting you from your wandering thoughts and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

His hair was looking worse for wear, cheeks flushed and lips bitten raw and pink. There was no way that anyone could take a look at you and not think that you’d been screwing each others brains out. You almost feared looking in a mirror, afraid of what you’d find in terms of marks and scratches.

“I hope you have some at your place because all I have is milk.” You replied, earning a small shoulder bump from the man next to you.

“I’ve got you.” He opened the door leading the way out to the street. “Besides, I’ve got better fans in my apartment.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Yours was only days away from falling apart into pieces. You just hoped that yours wouldn’t break down tonight when this heatwave was still active and raging. You’d actually cry.

Steve unlocked his door and opened the passenger door for you, regarding you with a look in his eyes that made you stop in your tracks.

“What?”

“Would you wanna stay over tonight?” He asked, forehead wrinkling and your eyebrows raised.

He looked almost nervous. Uncertain. Like he didn’t know whether you were going to blow him off or take him up on his offer. It made you pause as you searched his face, and you didn’t know why you suddenly felt an overwhelming rush of adoration but it made your knees shake a little.

“You mean sleep in your bed?” You asked, voice lilting into a teasing tone and it made Steve smirk.

You watched him tilt his head back and forth, as if he was unsure but the smile on his lips was playful and it made you feel a little giddy.

“Amongst other things.” He replied and you laughed.

“Scandalous.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, tongue in cheek as he struggled to refrain from smiling too big. You turned and started to climb into his truck, the sound of a loud smack making you let out a loud yelp. You didn’t even register the slight pain in your asscheeks until you’d turned fully and sat down on the seat; Realising that he’d just slapped you.

“You’re a sleaze, y’know that?” You glared at him, but Steve only grinned like he was proud of himself.

He pushed the door open even wider and crowded your space, sliding his hands up your cheeks to cup them and bring your face to his. You blinked up at him, a little breathless at the sight of his blue eyes so close up to yours.

“You still like me, don’t you?” He murmured, corner of his lips tugging and you couldn’t help but press a kiss against it; Watching it transform into a smile.

“Just a little.” You lied, earning a longer kiss from him.

“I’ll take that.”

[urhoneycombwitch]

you can save this for one of your horny honey hours or something if you'd like but I'm standing outside of your window with a large sign and a megaphone like "🗣️📢 Wake up world! Open your eyes to the divine truth! Marathon Sex with Eddie!"

like you ever have those (ovulation) days where you're horny literally from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to bed? And you could probably have like 178 orgasms in a row and STILL what more? Yeah... yeah okay now imagine reader going through that but also at a time when Eddie's libido/testosterone or whatever (idk how male biology/hormones work but stick with me) is high and they're both like 🤝 let's lock in

it starts off normal enough, a round or three and a break and they think okay, that's gotta have cured it for a while. But then some time passes and it's like oh, no, the Horny is still there so then it's abandoning the post-sex movie for more sex! and more! and more!

and sure, there's breaks to clean up, grab some water and snacks, crack a window open, but it gets to the point where they gotta just be like, fuck it, turn the fan on, put a bowl of water and some washclothes and lots of snacks and giant water bottles on the nightstand, and just try and fuck this fever out! And it's round after round and giggling and jokes in between until it's hours later and post shower sex with nasty sheets they're too tired to change just sore and sated like 🤜🏻🤛🏻 good game babe

+18 mdni

no cuz i’m soaked 🫣🤭 why would you say this… to torture me… ??

heavy on the giggles. the unbelievable, holy shit I can’t believe you just came that many times in a row type of giggles. you’re both covered in a sheen of sweat that has re-formed and re-dried several times, skin tacky where you’re pressed together.

and he’s begging you to quit laughing, ‘cuz you get so tight around him like a vice, but that only makes you titter more, little minx that you are, Eddie squeezing bruises into your hips with a string of expletives and moans.

“fuck- ah, ah- sweetheart, shit, please- quit it-”

you pay him no mind, just as insatiable, slipping a hand between your hot bodies to rub a slick finger over your clit.

Eddie tilts his hips up, angling to find that gummy spot that always light you up- bingo. your face crumples, brows pinching, mouth dropping open with a whimper- “there, Eddie- oh fuck, honey, yes, gonna come, gonna-”

your orgasm crests, crashes like a wave into you, back arching off the mattress, pebbled nipples pushing into Eddie’s bare chest. he stills his hips, fully sheathing himself inside your pulsing walls, knocking your own cramped hand away to wring the last bits of pleasure from your clit himself.

that rock-salt voice the whole time, low in your ear, talking you through it- “fuck yes, sweetheart. let it go- tha-at’s it, baby. you’re coming so hard, can feel you choking my cock-”

he rocks into you once more, spilling deep with a low moan, ending in a whine of your name- “so good, angel. fuck.”

takes him three minutes to get hard again. you top this time, having rolled out your shoulder from earlier. dedication to the sex marathon is not taken lightly.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hi! so according to my close friend who’s also my beta reader, i apparently have amazing descriptions when it comes to character movement and dialogue but what i lack is describing my surroundings, and according to her it makes her only able to imagine the characters ‘in a void’. how do i make my writing more immersive without constantly breaking character action to describe the surroundings (which seems to be all that i can do to avoid that effect)?

i know i’m probably struggling with this because i myself am the author so i can imagine my character surroundings perfectly fine, so how can i still spot and avoid this in the future?

Incorporating Surroundings Into Description

There are three tricks you can use to help you incorporate your character's surroundings into the scene:

1 - Incorporate description of the setting into the beginning of the scene to set the stage for where everything is about to unfold. For example:

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, 2nd paragraph of chapter three, after Katniss describes being led into the Justice Building:

Once inside, I'm conducted to a room and left alone. It's the richest place I've ever been in, with thick, deep carpets and a velvet couch and chairs...

Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon, beginning of scene two, chapter five:

The laird received me in a room at the top of a flight of stone steps. It was a tower room, round, and rich with paintings and tapestries hung against the sloping walls...

2 - Have the characters interact with the environment throughout the scene. For example, your character could:

-- sit on furniture, peek inside a door, or look out a window -- notice decor items like photographs or paintings -- touch or fidget with an object, like skipping a rock on a lake

3 - Have the environment interact with your character throughout the scene:

-- change in weather or lighting and its effect on environment -- sounds or smells related to the environment -- movement or action related to the environment

So, using all three of these techniques... let's say this is a couple paragraphs in, after some exposition:

Andrea stepped onto the patio and marveled at the yard setup. Twenty-four chairs--twelve on each side of a white-carpeted aisle--were positioned in an arch facing the three-part trellis. Bright pink and deep purple flowers stood out against the white trellis, their green leafy tendrils and delicate petals draped daintily over the top of the arch. White fairy lights twinkled from the trellis and surrounding trees, and even in the golden sunlight of late afternoon, the effect was magical. At sunset, it would be breathtaking.

While the bridal party finished their own preparations, Andrea went to the bedroom where her child was putting on their wedding outfit. Outside, the low din of voices was beginning to build as the string quartet played soft music.

While Zen's best friend fussed with their hair, Andrea peeked outside to catch a glimpse of the spouse-to-be. They had chosen to wear a tuxedo with a short black skirt, and although they looked nervous, their eyes kept flickering to the house, and Andrea smiled, knowing their eyes would light up when they saw Zen in their amazing outfit.

So... this scene is going to be a wedding, and we set the stage early by describing the setup of the backyard wedding. In the next paragraph, we have the environment interact with our character by creating sound (string quartet, din of voices) which reminds the reader about the yard setup just beyond the bedroom. Finally, in the last paragraph, we have the POV character interact with the immediate environment (the bedroom) to peek outside and make observations that again root the reader in the outside environment (the wedding setup) but also reminds the reader that the character is currently inside the house, and the wedding will be outside the house.

By using all three of these tricks, you can avoid having your character exist in a void, because the setting is setup initially and actively exists for the reader throughout the scene.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[moralesluvr]

thinking about soft!miguel witnessing his son or daughter being born 🥹 and he’s jus all Teary eyed

PARTY OF THREE | m. o’hara.

even under the dim atmosphere of the hospital room, miguel thinks you shine— brown skin glowing underneath the fluorescent lights that beam from the adjacent window, eyebrows knitting together as a groan tumbled off of your lips, back arching. the pain that flickered through your eyes before they fluttered closed had miguel’s big heart racing, protectiveness overwhelming him as he tried to be as supportive as he could.

although, he lost points for execution when he told you to ‘just push’, resulting in a scolding from you through grit teeth as you told him to try pushing a literal human out of you.

he was silent after that.

his eyes flickered to your wedding ring, your lovely piece of jewelry that gleamed in his brown irises as he grabbed your bejeweled palm, squeezing as fat tears slid down his cheeks.

seeing you like this, legs spread open and hand on your round tummy with sobs escaping your throat, he almost couldn’t bear it. something about the way you were squeezing his hand set him into a trance, love drunk on your strong body, and the way you still looked beautiful as you were in the process of delivering your beautiful baby.

a scream rips from your throat, tears sliding down your cheeks as you cursed loudly, “fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“you can do it, mi esposa.” miguel murmured, planting a kiss on your ringed hand as you squeezed his own, body convulsing as you gave your last push all that you had in you when you heard incoherent coos and cries.

your body goes limp, legs trembling against the uncomfortable hospital sheets, but you don’t care about comfort right now. the nurses in front of you are wrapping your lovely baby girl in a pink towel and when they hand her to you, there’s no ceasing to your crying, hands trembling as you tutted at your newborn.

“she’s so…perfect.” your husband chimed as he caressed her head with a soft hand, “look, mama…she has your nose.”

“and your eyes.” you smiled, beaming at your husband from below as you kissed your daughter, “hello, honey…i’ve been waiting so long to meet you…”

the amount of kisses you pepper on her soft skin aren’t measurable by number. she’s so beautiful and she looks just like miguel, no matter how much he protests that she’s identical to you.

and when he holds her, something inside of you ignites, so powerful and ethereal that it brings more tears to your pretty eyes. he’s swaying her gently, kissing her cheeks and admiring her baby-soft skin. (literally)

you could tell he was already so in love with her. he practically was cling to her, nose resting on her forehead gently as he coddled her, but still verbalizing to you about how good of a mother you would be and how wonderful you did.

“nearly took me out.” you had sighed, “but i would do it a hundred times over. well, maybe not a hundred, but-“

miguel’s laugh is what cuts off your sentence, and the first thing you think of is that it’s warm. the type of warm that only you could bring him, that your newborn could bring him— and it’s so sweet that you bask in the moment while you can. his flashing smile and squinted eyes, he’s so beautiful, you think— and nothing could change the beauty of this moment that you both share.

miguel looks down at your daughter with a twinkle in his eye as he beams a smile,

“i love you, gabriella o’hara.”

and when he waltzes to you, gorgeous face reddened and warm, he kisses your forehead,

“and i love you, my strong mama.”

[abibliophobiaa]

hello my love!

I will choose the word...

full 😏

e.m. x f!reader; mentions of oral, f and m receiving; p in v smut ahead; (550 words) 18+

-

Midnight rain drapes the room in darkness. All but for the dainty flicker of flame emanating from the candle you left lit on your windowsill.

The same light casts a shadow on your wall now. Catches on the yellowing pages of your books stored away in the bookshelf nearest the bedroom wall.

It outlines the ripple of muscles along Eddie’s arms as they strain, bracketing the sides of your head. Accentuates the curve of his back, the dimples just above his flank. Those same dimples the balls of your feet have fitted themselves into.

The vaguest hint of cinnamon hits your nose the longer the candle burns. Hides the musk of Eddie’s sweat and cheap cologne.

You lean forward and press your mouth to the underside of his jaw.

His skin flushes deeper, the saltiness of his exertion tangy on your lips, before he drops down to one elbow and slides his tongue over your own, parting your mouth for him.

Your hips are rising to meet his, thighs trembling where they hook him in place.

Where they drive him deeper into you.

Always deeper.

It’s been hours. At least it feels that way.

Moments pass like the droplets that glide down your bedroom window.

Their gentle splashing is like the ticking of a clock—only time means nothing now as neither of you has anywhere to go, nothing to do, no one to see.

So he plucks orgasms from you with the ease he strums his guitars.

Gentle fingers sliding through your center, parting you for him at first. A press of thick digits, until he’s crooking just right into that place only he’s ever been able to find. They’re joined by that tantalizing tongue that has you mewling, singing a song that only he knows the beginning, middle, and end to.

You do the same. Marking sloven paths down his chest with your lipstick stained mouth, peppering skin with love bites that trail a path below his waistline, and further still, where you had watched him grasp and tug at the comforter, fingers in your hair, singing your praises as you swallowed all he had to offer.

Now you’re on round three or four, you’re not quite sure, mind a hazy swirl as his hips move languidly against yours. A steady motion, a slow drag in and out against your walls, your back arching into the mattress with his every thrust.

He’s trembling.

Breathless pants dance along your skin, seep into your brow, heat you from the inside out.

And he’s whispering, broken and raspy against your temple, “Come on, baby. Give me one more.”

His request is all it takes to have you coming. To have you whining as your walls clench around him, as his release floods deep within you.

Leaves you full of love, full of him.

He rolls over onto his back, body limp and lax, his arms there like a blanket to draw you against him.

Gentle fingers brush sentiments of affection into your skin. A game he plays sometimes when he’s so gone on you. A secret language between you two.

He traces xo along your bicep.

A sweetheart near the base of your spine.

I love you in the middle of your back.

That one is new.

“I love you,” he repeats, this time audibly.

You echo the same.

-

[lordcrumps]

Sul Sul! Cats and Dogs Stuffs!

Sul Sul! Some windows, wall coverings and the curtains converted from TS4 Cats and Dogs!

Enjoy!

DOWNLOAD @ lordcrumps.com

@sims4t2bb - think this is the names of everything Buy Bella Curtains set

Build - Windows Easy Breezy Arch and railing The Port Hole Lemon Slice Lunette Lit Lookout Miniature Cross Shape Casement Sailors Sight Seaside Shorlight The Greater Wall Hole The Great Wall Hole The Teensy Winder Three Good Dogs Sitting Transparent Triptych

Build - Wall Coverings Double Trouble Panelling Palatial Planking Posh Stripes Rounded Edges Shacked Side Shingles Shaken Shingles Split Personality Panelling

[shewrotesomething]

Jumin Han - The Day He Realized He Wanted to Marry You

People like to think that CEO’s have it easy. That they sit in their big office with their feet up on their mahogany desk, smoking cigars as they watch the money come in. 

Wrong. It’s weeks of working 80 hours. It’s every minute of your day meticulously planned. It’s stacks of paperwork, 30 urgent emails in an hour, it’s meetings upon meetings upon meetings, it’s… missing three date nights in a row.

Jumin has warned you that these few months will be an especially busy period, but he’ll be sure to fulfill his ‘boyfriend’ responsibilities.

Well… that hasn’t exactly panned out as well as he thought.

The first time he had canceled, you waved it off and said there was no issue. The second time, your smile had wavered, but told him you understood. He tried to console you by saying you could eat at the restaurant by yourself. It was dinner time and the reservation was still there. You turned him down and said you’d rather go home and eat at your place.

And now, well, he was lucky that he couldn’t see your face when he called you to cancel. Still, you were uncharacteristically quiet throughout his monologue. At the end of it, you simply said, “I understand. I’ll catch you later.” 

If you had gotten angry, screamed at him

and cried through the call telling him he was a liar 

and that he always chooses work over you… 

well, he’d take that. In fact, he’d rather have that than the quiet surrender you gave. 

As Jumin’s hands danced across his keyboard to reply to an email, he told himself he can’t drown in the issue too long. What’s done is done, instead, he’lld make it up to you a hundred times over. He’s going abroad next month. He should take you with him. At the hotel you’re staying at, he’ll be sure to fill up the place with your favorite flowers, a nice candle lit dinner, a new outfit, and any purchasable item that you even happen to breathe on. 

Later, he’ll tell you about it. He’ll apologize and tell you about the trip. 

It was nearly lunch time when the glass door to his office swung open.

Before he could even tear his eyes from his computer, the intruder spoke, “Jumin Han.”

There you stood by his door. Hands crossed over your chest. The stern expression on your face made his fingers freeze mid-sentence.

“…hello,” was his lame greeting.

You crossed the room and rounded his table to stand by his side then, to his surprise, set a timer on your watch.

Jumin arched his brow and spun his chair about to face you “What are you—” He clamped his mouth shut when you planted yourself onto his lap and wrapped your arms around his frame.

“There’s a 10 minute window before you go to a lunch meeting. It’s mine,” you declared.

Jumin’s hands retreated from his computer and wrapped around your frame. “Were you feeling lonely, dear?”

“Yes,” you answered with a petulant pout. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you tell him. He could feel the vibration of your voice on his shoulder. “I know this is your life and I won’t be selfish about it. Just give me 10 minutes.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around you. 

There would be times where a passing comment, or a conversation thought to be out of earshot, would say that you were lucky to be with someone like him. Rich, brilliant, young, and handsome, Jumin Han. That was ludicrous. All along, always, he was the lucky one.

“Next mo—” he cut himself off. No, the trip next month was too long. No. “Let’s have dinner tonight. Whatever you want.”

You gasped and giggled. You broke away from the hug to look at his face. “Really? Are you free?”

“I’ll finish work by 8 in the evening, is that okay?”

“Yeah! I can wait. We don’t need to go out. Let’s just eat at your place and watch a movie!” You paused and hummed in thought. “I think I know a good movie that you and I can watch. It’ll be great.”

His hand reached up to caress your face. “I can’t wait.”

It’s a good thing that the trip is next month. It’ll give him some time to find out your ring size and rent a villa for the proposal

[mlm-ficcollection]

Jasper Hale X Male! Reader (part. 1)

(I couldn't live with myself, leaving you all with the old version of my fic when I have an updated one. So here you go, updated fic! Meaning, that if you've read something similar to this on here, or something exactly like this on Ao3, then it is mine. This is part one of, if everything goes as planned, three parts.)

(Part. 2)

---

"This is (y/n)."

The voice sounded blurry to him, as if he was underwater. Where was that ringing coming from? Was it even ringing? He wasn't sure, might as well just be him, might as well just get tinnitus because honestly, that would just be typical wouldn't it. Why was it so dark?... Maybe his eyes were just closed.

Memories, memories (memories had to be the key to figuring this out, right? Right.) - what was the last thing he remembered? He was in town to go shopping. Working late left him to do his groceries in the evening. It was dark, at least past 9 pm, and there weren't a lot of people out on the narrow cobbled city streets. No people. That's how he liked it.

A group of broad and tall statures with guns came out of nowhere. The rest of it was blurry- there was shouting, three rounds of bullets being fired, and then he felt the impact of his body hitting the ground. He remembered losing his vision, and feeling himself stop breathing.

And now he was here. And he realised he was not exactly sure where 'here' was. And he realised he should be dead (why wasn't he dead?).

He could hear distant arguing. But maybe they were right next to him. He wasn't sure of anything at the moment, not that he was sure of much usually. 

Parts of what was being said were comprehensible.

"....isn't safe..."

"...let him die!..."

"...dangerous!..."

"...what could I..."

(Y/n) opened his eyes just a little, only to be blinded by a heavenlike light. Squinting, he could see that the room he was in was very white, almost sterile. However, he had a feeling this was no hospital room. Then again, he was still not even sure where he was.

A groan escaped him as he felt his head start to pound, nausea rising in his throat. The people talking suddenly stopped, their attention on him. He couldn't make out any of their faces if he wanted to, and honestly, he didn't care much for that right now - not with his splitting headache. It would be absolutely lovely if they could give him something for the headache though. 

A wave of pain washed through him then, burning at his nerves and spreading through his body like a wildfire spreading through the woods. He hissed, body contorting and arching as the stabbing agony continued rocking through him, numbing every other sense he had.

"Stay with us-!"

"-me the morphine-"

And (y/n) passed out again.

---

The next time (y/n) woke up he was in a significantly more comfortable state. There were no echoing arguing voices around him and no pounding in his head as if it were splitting open. In fact, he could hear the distant sounds of birds chirping and the wind rustling through leaves. Was he in the woods? He'd just been in the city.

His throat felt scratchy, though (is this how those people in desert movies felt like?) And as he opened his eyes he was pleasantly surprised by no little sterile rooms, coupled with no blinding lights. Slowly, he sat up.

His eyes focused, and he glanced around. There were giant windows all around him, and outside of the glass was, indeed, a forest. A fucking forest (?). Not to mention, he couldn't remember ever having this good eyesight. (It had been one of his favourite problems to neglect - opticians are expensive.) 

And he also realised that none of the windows were open, which was odd, seeing as he could hear the birds as though they were right next to him. Could be some weird new glass, though. People do crazy things with glass nowadays. 

The living room, which he assumed was where he found himself, was bigger than his whole studio apartment and decorated with minimalism in mind it seemed. It honestly looked like the home of an eccentric rich man. If this was a kidnapping it was the highest class kidnapping he'd ever heard of. Five-star rated kidnapping. 

(Y/n) wasn't a very big fan of minimalism. (Then again; not his house.)

As the young man stood up and absentmindedly roamed around the house, he realised that he was... Seemingly alone. Awkwardly peeking into every room he came across and calling out only seemed to confirm this; his own voice being the only thing echoing back to him in response.

He wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign in this situation - first time being kidnapped and all.

Finally (y/n) ended up in the kitchen. Yeah, some water would definitely soothe the dryness in his throat - motherfucker, had they fed him a desert when he was out??

He sighed and reached up to tug open a cabinet, and stumbled back, caught off guard as he tugged the entire cabinet door off of its hinges. He stared at the door in his hands with wide eyes. (The fuck?? It's not even heavy...)

"...huh."

He hesitantly put the door down, squinting at it suspiciously and assuming the hinges or the wood was very weak or something. Maybe there were even termites in the wood. He grimaced at the thought of termites as he grabbed a glass for himself, and went over to the sink, grabbing ahold of the sink handle and pulling it back.

Only to yell out in shock as he pulled it off the entire handle, separating the handle from the entire fucking sink, with water now spraying out of it.

He put the glass down (dropped it on the counter) and grasped at the hole, desperately trying to stop the water from pouring out and soaking him and holy shit was it wet holy shit holy shit- 

The clearing of a throat behind him split the silence. His head snapped in that direction, wide eyes staring over his shoulder only to see a blond man in a doctor's jacket, sporting an amused smile on his face. 

Behold the aforementioned rich man, I suppose.

"Uhh... It was like this when I found it."

The man tilted his head, and did not seem convinced.

---

After around two hours of explaining the situation, there were three things (y/n) was now sure of.

1. (Y/n) had almost died earlier, and the man in the room with him, Carlisle, suspiciously surprisingly nice for being a rich man, had saved him.

2. He had saved him by turning him into a vampire. He was now a vampire. A fucking vampire.

3. He had been invited to live with him and his other kind-of-but-not-really adopted kids, who were also vampires. It was some sort of clan situation. ("- you mean like, as in a gang?" "(y/n), no-") 

The offer was extremely kind. And the mansion he was in currently was a palace compared to (y/n)'s apartment in the city. Thinking about the sheer size of the mansion was a good distraction from the fact that vampires and vampire clans were real, and had apparently been for a long fucking time.

He also knew that he had pretty much wrecked this man's kitchen. He was ignoring that fact as well. Besides, they were vampires, they didn't even use the kitchen!

Carlisle was nice to him. The doctor had a calming... Feel to him, and explained the situation in a soothing, practiced manner, that showed it was clearly not his first time explaining this. (Y/n) needed that, because he was just about one more life-changing fact away from having a breakdown. Carlisle explained that (y/n) was free to go should he choose, but also explained the dangers of being a lone vampire. ("I-I mean I haven't even met the other people here, I don't know if I can-" "That's alright, if you want to wait until you've met the others that's perfectly fine.")

And also. That thirst in his throat, was a thirst for human blood. (Y/n) violently recoiled as Carlisle stated this, though he couldn't deny the way his throat itched more at the idea, how his mouth seemed to water with venom at the mere mention of human blood.

Carlisle was very clear that there was one condition for letting him stay; he had to drink animal blood instead of human. (Y/n) had agreed quite vigorously. ("Yeah, duh, fuck yeah I agree."). (Y/n) didn't like the sceptical look Carlisle gave him at that. He got the sudden feeling that it wasn't that easy.

---

Their conversation was cut off as a door opened across the house, and the rest of the stoic family walked in, quietly. (Y/n) stood up hesitantly, preparing himself for a round of handshakes that never came. None of the 'hi, you must be new here' or the other normal things you'd expect meeting someone for the first time. They simply watched him back. He couldn't help but feel intimidated. Were all vampires like this?

"(Y/n)," Carlisle thankfully took the word, "these are the other members of the family."

The young newborn took his time to examine each one of them, glancing away from time to time and pretending he had the dignity not to stare. (This is so fucking awkward, holy shit.)

There was a kind-looking woman who approached them, standing next to Carlisle and smiling encouragingly at (y/n). 

"Esme. Carlisle's wife." She introduced herself, exchanging a disgustingly adorable look with her husband. Suddenly he felt like he was intruding, so he averted his gaze to the rest of the family.

The rest of them stood quietly in front of him in a line, almost giving off the feeling that they were standing guard. Which was a little bit odd. Did they usually do that? Carlisle had told him how dangerous newborns could be. He wondered if they were watching him for any sign of danger, if they were tense and ready to pounce on him.

The position made it easier for (y/n) to inspect them of course, but surely they could have said something...

From left to right: There was a blonde woman, eyeing him suspiciously. That was fair, he thought; he was new after all. He wondered if Carlisle had forewarned them at all. They didn't seem all too surprised, so he must have. (Y/n) smiled hesitantly at her and his gaze quickly drifted to the man next to her.

This man was... Big. Broad and tall, he practically overflowed with mischievous energy. He smirked back at him as their eyes met. It was possible it was because (Y/n)'s gaze might have lingered a second too long on the man's physique-

The newborn heard a snort from the guy next to him. He looked over at the guy confused, raising an eyebrow.

This man had a typical short-sides-long-on-top-haircut, as well as prominent sideburns. It was certainly... A haircut that one can have. His eyes were glued to the floor, an amused smile on his face, as if laughing at a joke only he knew. (Y/n) found it... Slightly infuriating. The red hair on his head was eye-catching though, he had to admit.

Next to him was a short girl who looked as though she came from a fairytale; like she might grant you three wishes. She grinned gleefully at (y/n) with big sparkling eyes, and (y/n) smiled back, relieved at the almost immediate acceptance he felt from this person. This was maybe the closest thing he'd gotten to a greeting from these people.

(It struck him then that all of them were... Attractive. He wondered if that was part of being a vampire. Was he hot now? He had to look in a mirror.

...

Could he look in a mirror?!)

He heard Carlisle speaking next to him, introducing the members and cutting his spiraling thoughts short.

"This is Rosalie, Emmett, Edward, Alice, and-"

Lastly, there was a man.

He was undeniably very handsome, with his dirty blond curly hair and pale skin (which they all had- was that a vampire trait??). His eyes carried the same yellow tint as all the others in the room- but his were different. They seemed to look into him, not through him the way Rosalie did. He felt seen.

The man in question stepped forward and offered his hand for a handshake (finally a normal fucking greeting. Holy shit.) and introducing himself before Carlisle got to. 

"Jasper. You're the newborn, right?"

He spoke with a Southern accent, which was... strangely attractive on him. (Y/n) tilted his head, observing him as he spoke, not avoiding the piercing eye contact. 

It did however take all of his self-control to not reply with 'duh' to this question.

Instead, he shook his hand, nodding slowly.

"Yeah, that's me... The-the one and only."

Carlisle appeared next to them all of a sudden. (Y/n) liked to think he hadn't noticed his approach because Carlisle moved very quietly, and would adamantly deny getting lost in the moment.

"Jasper has... Experience with newborns. He will be helping you control your urges and figure out how your body works- as you have already noted, your abilities have changed. "

He explained, looking between (y/n) and Jasper. (Y/n) nodded silently, not taking his eyes off of Jasper while Carlisle spoke, and Jasper all the same. Therefore neither of them noticed the knowing look that was exchanged between Edward and Carlisle, nor the curious glances between the rest of the family members, or the wide grin on Alice's face.

---

The gentle sounds of a forest filled his ears, and the smell of dirt and nature filled his nose. It was pleasant, not like the oil and smog that festered in his nose and drooped down his throat in the city. The increased sense of smell was, in this case, definitely a good thing about being a vampire.

It was currently only him and Jasper, out in the woods, a place they had frequented the last week while waiting for the vampirism in his body to 'calm down' - a thing it apparently needed to do before they started trying to control his strength. 

(Y/n) thought it was ridiculous, honestly. So what, he broke a measly kitchen door. That didn't mean he was outrageously strong. American houses are practically made of cardboard anyway! But yet... 

"Pick up that log."

Jasper broke the silence as he pointed to a fallen tree, speaking with that lovely accent of his. If only what he said wasn't so incredibly stupid.

(Y/n) scoffed out a laugh in response, arms crossed over his chest.

"Are you joking? I can't pick up a fucking tree! I'm a vampire, not fucking... Superman!" He sputtered, gesturing wildly to the trunk. 

Jasper rolled his eyes and walked past him, over to the fallen tree. The newborn scoffed at him, shaking his head and looking away. Is this guy fucking crazy?

There was a creaking sound, and the next time (y/n) looked over the man had picked up a tree, and was now effortlessly holding it over his head. He looked at (y/n) with a slightly annoyed expression, that he certainly couldn't care less about because Jasper was holding a fucking tree over his head.

(Y/n) was speechless. This guy is fucking crazy-

The dirty-blond man dropped the tree to the ground, casually dusting off his hands as he wandered back over to (y/n).

"Not only are you a vampire; you're a newborn. You're at your strongest point. If you don't learn to control your strength, you could very well accidentally kill any of us."

He stated, crossing his arms over his chest and gazing out over the forest. (Y/n) watched him with shining eyes, amazed and slightly overwhelmed by the situation he found himself in.

The newborn simply nodded dumbly, closing his mouth and walking over to the fallen tree. He swallowed nervously, glancing up at Jasper. The other man offered no support but a piercing and expectant gaze - and somehow that was enough for him to fully know that Jasper believed in him.

Before he knew it, he was holding a tree over his head. He let out a surprised laugh, not caring about the dead leaves falling around him like snow, and looking at Jasper with wide eyes. He dropped the tree to the forest floor with a thud.

It became clear that he actually wasn't human anymore. He couldn't be. Not with the way his skin sparkled beneath the sun and the way physics seemed to bend for him. He wasn't human anymore. 

Maybe he was Superman after all?

 

---

"So, we have to figure out what to tell your family, your relatives etcetera..."

It was hardly two weeks into his stay as Carlisle went through the steps of living like a vampire, keeping his eyes fixed on (y/n) with a slightly worried look on his face. Something told the newborn that Carlisle found this to be the hardest part of transitioning into a vampire. 

The group was currently in the living room, and dusk had fallen. (Y/n) found the house to be more homelike during nighttime - the lamps cast a yellow glow that reminded him of fire and made the whiteness of the interior seem less... Constricting.

The topic of (y/n)'s family made the newborn freeze up beneath their excruciating gazes, and he felt a chill run down his spine. He wondered if he had grown pale or if he just felt like he had. He probably couldn't grow pale, could he? No blood and all.

This was an unavoidable subject, the one of his family. Yet it was one he would be more than happy to ignore for the rest of his life - because with the subject of his family, there would be explanations needed, questions answer that he really would prefer not to answer right now.

(Y/n) glanced down nervously. He wasn't sure whether he actually wanted to have a conversation about them. Not now, not yet.

"I-it's fine, they won't mind."

He looked up at Carlisle with a sorry attempt at a reassuring smile on his face. Carlisle frowned.

"They threw him out."

(Y/n) sputtered and spun around, coming face to face with Edward. Edward, who had just told everyone he had been thrown out, abandoned by his own family. Had he any blood his cheeks would burn in shame by now. That stupid mind-reading was getting annoying.

He shot him a glare. Edward merely shrugged.

Fucking asshole. 

"Yes, thank you, Edward."

When he turned back to Carlisle, Jasper was now standing next to him, arms crossed over his chest and with an equally as concerned look on his face as Carlisles. This fucking guy just seems to manifest, he thought.

"Why would they do that?" Jasper mumbled in confusion, more so to himself than genuinely asking. 

"It's because-"

"Edward don't you fucking dare." (Y/n) quickly shot a fierce glare back at Edward, warning him, before looking forward again. He glanced between Jasper and Carlisle (looking just as concerned as before), and then looked down, taking a shaky breath.

This could end badly. It had a track record of ending badly. He didn't want it to end badly. Not with them.

"I'm...I..."

He sighed as he trailed off, digging the heels of his palms into his face and trying to clear his head. Coming out never really did get easier did it? 

"just-... Okay just give me a moment."

"He's gay."

"Edward I swear to fucking mother of Christ-"

Carlisle had to physically stop him from getting into a fight with Edward that night.

[moonlightndaydreams]

“Mmmpphhh. Fuck! Ji– Jisung. You’re ripping it!” you scream, your face pressed into his tuxedo jacket, a makeshift pillow for his princess on the bathroom floor. He hisses, smacking your ass while he continues his assault. Jisung’s neatly styled hair falls into his face as the sweat rolls down his round, flushed cheeks. He knew he only had a brief window of time before his performance. But he just couldn’t wait. When you left your seat to go to the restroom, he followed you. As soon as he saw ‘Out of Order’ taped on the door, he knew it was a sign from the gods. He immediately texted Chan before you both snuck inside and locked the door. 

“Is my big fat cock tearing up your sweet little pussy?” He teases, reaching underneath your quivering form to rub your clit.

“Mmy dress–you're ripping– my dress!” Trying to formulate a complete sentence is futile while you're bouncing back, your ass meeting his hips. Your mind is just as wrecked as your body. Fuck it. You reach back to yank up the delicate lace of your dress, further ripping it to expose your lower half completely. You arch your back, growling like a bitch in heat. Thankfully, the sounds of the award show going on within the arena is deafening enough to drown out your sinful vocalizations.  

“That’s right. FUCK. THE. GODDAMN. DRESS. Cum on my cock Princess.” His hands grip your ass and spread your cheeks apart for a better view. The sight of his cream coated dick makes Jisung lose it. He slams hard into you a few more times, hitting your sweet spot and your legs damn near give out as your cum. Jisung rides you through your high before spilling into you, accompanied by a stream of curses. A few moments pass before he stands and helps you up too. He straightens himself up as he looks you over. Jisung laughs. The scraps of material are pitifully clinging to your gorgeous body. He's an animal and he knows it. As soon as Jisung laid eyes on you earlier, he warned that you were going to get fucked in this dress before the show is over. At the time, you laughed it off. But you really should’ve known better. He always keeps his promises. You look in the mirror and you are not laughing now. There is no way in hell I can go back out there looking like this. Three fast knocks on the restroom door startle you. But Jisung casually unlocks the door and cracks it open, just enough for a hand to push a gown on a hanger into the room. 

“Your ass better be on stage in twenty minutes Han!” You hear Chan yell as Jisung closes the door.

@kangnina what a lovely gift you have given me. The whole scenario of Hannie fucking you on a bathroom floor… the frantic and desperate need for him to rail you so good that who cares about tearing your dress? In that moment all you can care about is him slamming his stone hard, perfect cock into your cervix and filling you with his cum.

You want him to tear your body to pieces - not just your dress. You’d thank him for it in fact. You’d beg him to put it in any hole - no prep, and let him use you to his heart’s content. You’d let him do anything he wanted.

It’s a vision… a beautiful and filthy vision of the pair of you not being able to even wait until you get home. But Sungie likes the thrill of a sneaky fuck, doesn’t he? And you love a Sungie with no self control.

…..

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itshannjisung @queenmea604 @queen-in-the-shadows @weareapackofstrays