#today is not the day to be pushy about anything good

[hungharrington]

i feel it coming, babe

technically the sequel to a little less conversation this is yet another piece for girlies (gn) with bad sex experiences <3 remember sometimes it takes more than once to get it right honeys :D 12k words, fem!reader, MDNI THIS ENTIRE BLOG IS 18+

Okay so, you’ll admit, you might be beginning to get it. 

A smidge. A pinch. 

It’s just— well, how are you not supposed to understand it? How can you not get the thrill and fervour over sex when it’s with Steve and he looks like that. All golden tan skin and hazel eyes that look at you like he might eat you whole and— and he treats you like… 

Like there was never anything wrong with you.

Even after that balmy afternoon spent in his sheets, with his mouth between your thighs, pulling noises out of you that you’d never even heard before, he’s been so perfectly so. Not pushy, yet still that lingering hunger you can see simmering beneath his skin, hidden in the flex of his fingers. 

Part of you almost worries, a little niggle burrowed in the back of your mind, that it was all a fluke.

That nothing had really changed all that much between you— that the next time things start getting heated, the chemistry won’t be there. Or it’ll be weird and off, or you will be, and really, you were probably lucky to have that first time with Steve so good but you can’t expect that again. 

But then… there is one difference at least, to combat all your swarming thoughts a fluke. The kisses. 

When you think of Steve Harrington and his playboy past, you can’t say, of the words tossed around in the high school corridor, that clingy is something that comes to mind. Not that he had been described as anything other than charming… but you don’t mind pleasant surprise of coming to learn this about Steve. 

It means kisses all the time. 

On your hands, scattered across your knuckles, when he’s dropping you home from a date. Kisses pressed to your hair and forehead, when he’s scooching past you, when he’s saying hello and his hands are busy, when you sit between his legs on the sofa. 

He kisses your shoulders, up along the curve of your neck just to see if it’ll still make you laugh a bit when he finds that ticklish spot beneath your ear. Adores sweeping back your hair to plant a kiss against your skin with the sweetest little ‘mwah!’ so quiet you don’t think you’re meant to hear it. 

And your lips… you don’t think they’ve ever been so kiss-bitten in your life.

One night with Steve can leave them blooming with colour, all the blood beneath them rushing with pleasure as he kisses your mouth soft — sometimes hard, sometimes sweet, always maddeningly. 

He greets you with a kiss always, one hand curled gently around your chin to tilt it up perfectly. And always after, a grin spreads across his face, brown eyes crinkling and pink lips barely restrained his joy. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” He’ll always says, or some variation.

Which, yeah, that’s new too. Sweetheart. You haven’t quite figured out how to not melt to a gloopy gooey mess when he says it just yet. It’s a damn good thing that your boyfriend is a gentleman and he politely doesn’t comment when you fluster, only gets the smallest hint of a smirk. 

For all your past worries about not kissing him for fear of leading him on, you hadn’t realise quite how much you were depriving yourself of affection. Steve’s certainly turning you greedy— and he’s all too happy to sate your appetite for it. 

Today, it’s drizzly. The colour of the sky is a bright ashen grey, enough to warrant a headache and inspire a day inside. In the distance, you can see the thunder clouds rolling in and bringing a blanket of shadow with them. 

They reach overhead much quicker than you’re expecting and you’re barely a block out from Steve's house before the rain starts coming down. 

Try as you might, raincoat tucked tight around you, you’re still a bit drenched by the time you make it to Steve’s doorstep. One freezing finger presses the door bell. A chime sounds inside. 

You rub your hands together to try warm them as you wait, cringing at the whisk of wind that twirls your hair up and about. Your hands shoot up and you nervously flatten the wild strands back down— right as Steve opens the door.

He’s got a towel around his neck, one hand scrubbing it into his wet hair. Judging from his ruffled t-shirt — put on in a rush and exposing his tummy — he’s just got out the shower. He looks surprised but happy to see you.

“Sweetheart, hi-hoooooly shit,” He sticks his head out the door, eyes wide as he takes in the weather. His hair flicks as he turns back to you. “Did you walk the whole way from your house? In the rain?” 

Your shoulders form a meek shrug. Before you can speak, his hands are on your shoulders, tugging you inside, across the doorway. He kicks it shut behind you. 

“Christ, honey, what’d you do that for?” His hands fret a little bit, rubbing at your shoulders. He gently picks a piece of hair that’s stuck to your cheek, placing it behind your ear. 

“I mean,” You start, a little confused. Your hands tighten on your overnight bag, wringing the handle tightly. He knew you were coming over, right? “I thought we— on the phone, we made a plan?” 

Steve breathes a soft laugh. “Yeah, we’ve got plans. But I would’ve come got you instead of making you walk through the rain. C’mon, what  kind of boyfriend do you think I am?” 

His use of the word boyfriend still makes you glow. You smile, nope, you grin all cheesy — and it doesn’t help at all when Steve’s hands trail down your jacket to hold your own. He wiggles the handles of your bag out from your frozen fingers and drops it behind him gently. His hands dart back to cover yours.

“Dear god, I think you’re about two minutes from losing a finger.” His eyebrows have scrunched together in worry. He brings your hands up to his face, cupped in his own, and blows hot air on them. It tickles but you can’t stop smiling. 

He pulls them back, rubbing his thumbs over your icy fingers and peers down at them. Your heart coos at his concern. 

“What’s the verdict doctor?” You jest, making your voice all breathy and dramatic. “Am I gonna make it?” 

Steve frowns harder at your hands, his face serious when he tilts it back up to face you. “I’m afraid we’re gonna have to amputate.” 

You gasp dramatically. 

Steve grins. He runs over your hands once more, one of his fingers creeping up your wrist, trying to find a ticklish spot. You squeal a little, trying to pull back but he holds your hands firm in his own. He continues his serious voice. 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but it’s your whole arm. We’re gonna have to chop it right off.” 

His fingers are half way up your sleeve, making it bunch up and you’re laughing so much it’s warming you up much faster than him blowing on your hands. You push his hand away playfully and Steve relents, putting his hands up in surrender. 

“Okay, okay, you got me.” He grins. “I’m not a real doctor.”

You laugh again, reaching up to tuck back your hair that’s fallen forward in your squirming. “Uh huh, a real doofus is what you are.” 

Steve rolls his eyes endearingly, his hands reaching out to snag your waist this time. He tugs you closer. Your feet stumble and when you press against his chest, you’re delighted to find he’s very, very warm. You're definitely soaking his shirt a bit with your coat but if Steve cares, he doesn't say.

“Just realised I didn’t properly say hello,” He murmurs, a little quieter than before. 

And when one of his hands moves up and curls beneath your jaw, holding your chin gently, you know what’s coming. If you weren’t already holding your breath in anticipation, he probably would’ve stolen it with his kiss.

His plush lips are soft and with a loving little hum, he kisses you.

All the lights around you look a little dewey and heart-shaped when Steve pulls back — though it may be just your own lovey-dovey eyes. You sigh without meaning to, all honeyed and sweet, and Steve softens immeasurably at the sound. 

“Okay,” He shifts his hands back down to your hands, rubbing them lightly. “I’m not kidding, even your lips feel frozen. D’ya wanna take a quick shower just to warm up?” 

Something about you flushes at his suggestion— a runaway thought about getting in his shower, it getting steamier and steamier, especially with Steve slipping in to join you halfway. You clear your throat to push away the thought and focus. 

Your hair is wetter than you’d expected, sticking to your neck in cold tendrils. A shiver zips down your spine. All your scandalous thoughts aside, it sounds like a pretty good idea. 

“Yeah,” you nod gingerly. “Yeah, okay, it wouldn’t mind the warm up.” 

Steve steps back, bending down to scoop up your bag deftly. He holds it for you as you unbutton your coat as quick as you can with your frozen fingers, shivering in relief as you shed the drenched layer. Droplets of rain spray in the rustle. Your coat finds a home on a peg beside the door.

It’s comforting how easy it is to follow Steve up the stairs, drinking in his cosy attire from behind— gone are his usual tight fitting jeans. Instead, he’s donned what you guess is his pyjamas; a plain ringer tee and red, plaid, and long flannelette pants. His feet are warmed by fluffy socks that have reindeer prancing about the fabric. A flash of his tan ankle makes you stumble for a moment.

Steve trades your overnight bag, with a smile and a promise to keep it safe, for a pillowy white towel, soft as ever. He leads you into the bathroom off his bedroom, depositing your bag on his bed along the way. 

His fingers find the switch for the heated towel rail and while you fold the towel over it neatly, heart humming in content at being taken care of, Steve starts the shower. He sticks one hand in, holding it under the spray and grimacing at the cold— until the chill slips away beneath the steamy hot water. 

“Alright,” Steve says, pulling his hand back. He gives it a little shake, droplets splattering on the tiles. “All ready for my best girl.“ 

He gives a cheesy and charismatic smile as he wipes his hand dry and if you were brave enough, you might give him a little thank you kiss for it. You aren’t just yet — but when he moves to slip by you, you halt him with a soft hand on his torso. 

“Thank you.” you say, quieter than you intend. You push on the balls of your feet and plant a quick peck onto his cheek. 

Pink blooms beneath where your lips touch. Steve looks like he melts a bit, lashes fluttering as he sucks in a sharp inhale. Turns out neither of you are getting any closer to getting used to the affection. It’s sweet to know it goes both ways. 

“I’m gonna—“ Steve breathes, his hand drifting up, his index finger pointed out to the door. “I’ll be nearby if you need anything. Or if you fall. Just like, uh, yell- or scream. Or— you know what, you’ve taken a shower before.” 

He stumbles out towards the exit, pulling two awkward thumbs-up over his shoulders. The door swings shut behind him, closing with a quiet click. 

Your clothes pool to the ground, a trail leading towards the shower as you move with haste. Though you’re sure the Harrington's won’t notice, you don’t want to waste the hot water. 

The heat soothes you— swathes of relief washing down your body, picking up every piece of ice in your skin and sending it swirling down the drain. It doesn’t take too long to get back to warm and toasty. 

Still, when your eye catches on it, you can’t resist. Steve has a body wash that smells heavenly. You pick it up, flick back the cap, and take a whiff — just to check it’s the one that’s been infiltrating your very dreams. Steve, even on a daily basis, manages to smell so good it drives you close to delirium. 

You’re more than happy to steal it for yourself today. You take another sniff of the bottle in your grasp, just to inhale it with a sigh. The sweater he let you borrow the other week has the exact same smell; a musky perfumed scent, with a hint of bergamot. 

You dollop some in your hand and lather it all over. Properly cleansed and throughly warmed up, you let the final suds whirlpool down the drain before shutting the tap off and stepping out. The fluffy porcelain coloured towel is toasty in your hands as you pluck it off the rail.  A sigh in appreciation comes out as you dry off, twisting it around yourself. 

It’s as you stand there, refreshed and smelling of Steve, in just a towel, do you realise you’ve forgotten to bring in clothes to change into. 

On his bed, Steve sits idle — because what else is Steve supposed to do when you’re in his shower? When you’re naked in his shower. Naked in his shower and probably using his soap and lathering it up down your body and on your boobs and— oh my god, soapy boobs and— 

Steve’s pulls himself from his thoughts with a rapid shake of his head, just in time for the bathroom door to rattle open and your shining face to peek through. 

You look a little flushed, maybe from the heat, or from the lack of clothing. Steve can see your bare shoulder, his eyes tracking a drop as it rolls down your collarbone. None of this helps his runaway thoughts. 

He stands up without thought. Then he realises how strange he might look, like a dog standing to attention. 

“Feeling boober?” Steve says, like an idiot. Heat floods his face as he realises his flub. “BETTER! Are you feeling better?” 

He’s thankful that you at least laugh, a pretty sound that you tuck behind your hand. You have the nerve to wiggle your eyebrows at him, a far cry from the confidence he’s come to expect from you in the past. Steve can’t deny— he adores it. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

“God,” Steve groans. He shoves his face into his hands and turns around, his back to you. His words are muffled over his shoulder. “Don’t even ask me that right now.” 

Another laugh titters out of you. Steve can’t resist peering over his shoulder. The steam curls out through the gap of the door, leaving dew on your skin. You look ethereal, like a dewy angel from a dream.

“Alright,” you relent playfully. You’re fighting a smile and losing, badly. Steve yearns. “Can you please pass me my bag?” 

This next time the door opens again and you step out, there’s less tantalising skin to tease Steve and his wandering mind. There’s still a flash of wet skin, the curve between your shoulder and neck. Steve wants to lick it, kiss it, devour it til the skin beneath is riddled with the bruises of a lover. 

For a moment, you’re simply admired — Steve’s eyes on you, adoring and soft, as you creep out the bathroom like you don’t want to make too much noise. 

You notice in your absence Steve has cajoled a little tray table into his room, tucked up at the foot of his bed. Atop it sits a chunky television, antennae sticking up in perfectly straight lines. The ones at home on yours are slightly warped from all the readjusting. 

“Hey,” Steve says. He’s on the bed this time, and while he doesn’t get up this time, he sits up straighter as you emerge from the bathroom. You put your bag down, abandoning it by the door and try to quell your nerves. 

Steve, unless he’s somehow obtained x-ray vision and hadn’t told you, can’t see the nice matching set you’ve got beneath your comfy clothes. 

He won’t see it— unless this night goes where you think it might, where you hope it might, but even still, the thought manages to make you fluster. 

“Hi.” You say back, voice closer to a whisper. 

The bed sinks beneath your weight as you climb on to situate yourself beside Steve. He’s all soft corners and crinkled eyes, his arm raised up in an instant for you to tuck yourself under. Even warmer in his arms, your heart delights when he gives you a little squeeze.

“Alright, movie time!” The television at the foot of the bed pulls Steve away from you. He unwinds his arm enough to crawl down the bed. The grey ringer shirt he has one slips forward a bit and at your angle, you can catch more than a sliver of his tan tummy. 

Without thinking, your thighs press together tightly as heat flares between them. You can trace the alluring wiry trail of hair with your eyes until it disappears into his pyjama pants, continuing out of sight. A part of your wants. 

You want to see where it goes, want to curl your fingers into his waistband and work it downwards, you want find out if the moles go all the way down his thighs like you hope they do.

Hunger sinks its teeth into your skin; a hunger you’ve been getting more and more familiar with. 

“Okay, pervert,” Steve’s cheeky remark shakes you from your thoughts and you start to stammer. He’s clearly caught you staring. “Can’t say I blame you for ogling—“ 

“I was not—“  

“— because I have been told before that I have a very distracting and attractive behind.” 

You sputter and despite your best efforts, a little laugh splutters through as well because well, yeah, he’s not wrong — but your brain is stuck on repeat with something else entirely. 

Tummy, tummy, tummy, the hair on his tummy, the hair leading down into his pants.   

“Yeah, uh huh, okay, Harrington,” You slump back against the pillows with a dramatic sigh, clearly teasing. “If you say so.” 

The television flickers to life right as Steve lunges back towards you with all the energy of a labrador puppy. He squishes down onto you so quickly that you actually squeal in surprise. 

“Oh, I’m back to just Harrington now?” He pouts, squeezing even closer to you. You’re laughing, flattened beneath him in a way that you can’t even wiggle your arms out. He’s draped across you dramatically. You trust him completely. 

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” 

“I thought my name was,” He leans closer and kisses your neck. “Boyfriend. Or baby. Orrrrrr,” 

He kisses up your neck and onto your cheek. His hazel eyes are bright, crinkled in his grin so much that his lashes kiss in the corner. He kisses your nose. “Handsome.” 

“Mmmhm,” you revel in the never-ending affection, glowing from the inside with happiness. You wiggle your arms to make Steve push himself up, just enough to free them from being smothered against your chest. Free to roam, your hands find the sides of his face. 

“What about…” You begin. Steve watches you closely, evidently gleeful from the touchiness of your hands. He pushes into your palm, turning to kiss it fast. “My snookums.” 

You exaggerate the word, your voice going all sugary to butter it up. You watch as emotions ripple across Steve’s face— the twitch in his nose as he tries not to outright frown at you. How polite he is. 

It’s only as he catches the grin spreading across your face, wicked and just loving watching him squirm at the terrible pet-name, does he catch on to your jest. A sigh of relief and a chuckle whooshes out of him at once. 

“Oh, thank God you’re joking.” He drops all his weight into your waiting hands, grinning when you let his face flops forward into your chest. His words are completely muffled as he speaks into your chest. “That could’ve been serious grounds for a breakup.”

You huff a laugh and nudge him up best you can. “Yeah, alright, drama queen. Your movie is starting.” 

Steve’s head pops up, his head twisting back towards the television like he had forgotten about its existence until you had mentioned it. 

“Oh true,” He says. He pushes up off you to sit himself up, shuffling back so instead you can lean on him. Re-situating his arms around you, Steve hums absentmindedly as he throws a leg over you, tangling it with yours. Thoroughly intertwined, you both sink back into the pillows. 

The credits roll up and off the screen, the first five minutes of the film whisked away while you and Steve were settling down. Now, the opening scene begins, the grainy picture on the screen buzzing as it plays the VHS. 

You get approximately two minutes of silence, your and Steve’s heads turned towards the television, until distraction kicks in.

You do your best to ignore it as his head turns towards you, your eyes still focused on the screen, but all your attention runs to Steve. He nudges a little closer to you, his nose pressing into your temple and right as you realise he’s smelling you, he says— 

“Did you use my body wash?” 

You freeze. 

“I— was I not supposed to?” Your voice comes out a bit weaker than intended. 

Steve lets out a soft noise, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, only worrying you further. He starts to shift around a bit, retracting his leg back an inch, his nose no longer nudging close along your temple; all actions that contrast his assuring words. 

“No, no, no, it’s fine, you’re fine—“ Despite his words, he shifts again. His hips shuffle backward, one of his hands moving down subtlety as he can to fuss with his pyjama pants. 

It takes about two more seconds for you to get it — clued in by Steve’s suddenly scarlet cheeks and his embarrassed expression. 

Your mouth drops open a bit unwittingly. 

“Are you—“ 

“Yes.” Steve grates out. He abandons fixing the growing tent in his pants to cover his face with his hands, rolling slightly away from you. You can feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating off him. His words are slightly muffled from behind his palms. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean— I didn’t even realise that was something that got me going until, like, right this second.”  

It’s adorable that he’s so flustered and that he’s apologising. You’ve never had that happen before. You’ve never had someone so conscious of how it might seem— never someone like Steve who doesn’t seem to come with any expectations. 

A thread of relief jolts through you. It reaffirms what you already know; anything you want to do will be done on your terms. 

And with his eyes covered up, if you glance down at his pants for good hard look…. well, that’s between you and the universe.

“Steve,” your fingers curl around one of his wrists, tugging it gently. You try to coax his face out of hiding, your smile somewhere between giggly and endeared. “It’s— it’s okay, really, you don’t have to apologise. I— I mean, I’m honestly flattered.” 

Steve deflates a bit, torn between relief and his still persistent concern. He had made a committed plan that he wouldn’t make any moves until you initiated it first and yet, here he was, like every other male in Hawkins. Popping a boner the moment you settle down to innocently cuddle. God, he’s the worst!

A pout forms on his lips. He wishes he could rewind the last 2 minutes and spend the whole movie holding his breath. 

“What is it about the body wash?” 

Your question takes him by surprise, given the way his other hand drops off from covering his face. He blinks up at you, cheeks still with a hint of cherry red. 

“I- I dunno.” He admits. “Like I said I didn’t even realise that…” 

Steve’s cheeks flush with colour again. He clears his throat. “That would have that effect on me.” 

Something within you preens, a fire stoked by his honest admission; a zing shooting down your spine because you don’t think you will ever get used to hearing how Steve wants you.

“Well,” you begin, the word more timid than you hoped it would be. You clear your throat and cast a glance at the television, feigning casualness. “If I was the cause…” 

You let your hand come up, brushing across his warm tummy. Look up at him through your lashes, hoping, praying it looks sexier than you’re feeling— which is somewhere between flustered and foolish.

Still, Steve’s throat bobs. You watch his eyes dart down to your lingering hand, an inch or so above his waistband. 

“Maybe, I can be the remedy.” 

A tiny groan scrapes out of Steve’s throat, like he would love nothing more. Even so, he pins you with a sincere look, hazel eyes burning into yours. 

“You don’t have to do that.” He assures you. “I mean—“ He coughs awkwardly. “It will go away, uh, in time.” 

“I’m aware how it works, Steve.” 

“Oh, are you?” Steve jokes— laughing when you wallop him in the chest. He grabs your hand, stopping your assault mid-motion with a cheeky smile. “Okay! Okay, I deserved that.” 

He releases your hand and you let it fall onto his chest. Nerves prickle beneath your skin but with them is something new, something you’ve only gained since your time with Steve; anticipation. 

Steeling your anxiety, you let your hand trail down his chest slowly— enough time that he could halt you before you embarrassed yourself. But he doesn’t. Steve watches you closely, his chest rising and falling a bit harder as your hand nears his waistband. 

This time, you don’t stop. You let your fingers brush over the tented fabric hesitantly, torn between wanting to watch your hand or to see his face. As confidently as you can, you palm across his bulge— feeling the heat of his hard length thickening up under your hand. 

Steve groans lowly. 

You look up at him as you rub him softly, taking in his large pupils and pink lips. He’s watching you too, his eyes darting between your face and the hand on his cock. 

“Is this okay?” You check. The movie crackles on in the background, idle noise. Steve nods quickly, a curl of his hair falling down onto his forehead. 

“Yeah,” He says, voice breathier than it was a minute ago. You try out a harder rub, beginning to feel out the shape of his cock, and you curl your fingers around it. Steve groans again, a little bit louder, his eyelashes fluttering. 

Still, he composes himself enough to ask, “Is this okay for you?” 

“Hmmm,” you draw out the noise, the smile on your face giving away your faux-thinking. You squeeze him again, right as you murmur, “Maybe make that noise again and I’ll see.” 

But any noise he makes is captured in your mouth as he surges forward, one of his hands curling up under your jaw. His fingers slide into your hair and his lips are sweet and soft, hungry for more against your own. 

You can’t help but melt under his kisses, body relaxing into the sheets as you let yourself be kissed breathlessly. A warmth pools deep within your chest, drooling down into your stomach. Anticipations sinks in. Your thighs rub together. 

Losing the nerve and the focus, your hand slips up to cup at Steve’s hip— but if he cares, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he takes it as a cue to press forward, leaning his weight onto on his elbows to hold his weight as he shifts up, his lips never leaving yours. 

It’s one smooth motion, the way he slips a leg between your own, his body held up and hovering above yours. He kisses, slow and languid. You ache. Your lips haven’t ever been so kissed before. 

It isn’t until his thigh shifts up and presses just right do you notice it properly — unable to swallow your shallow gasp, lips halting against Steve’s as a bolt of pleasure blooms deep in your gut. Your eyelashes flutter, a shadow of embarrassment threatening your cheeks. 

“S’okay?” Steve whispers, not relenting any of his closeness. His lips brush yours. 

You nod gently, a quiet hum sounding in your throat. You’re not entirely sure you can form words right now. Not when it feels like your heartbeat is everywhere — when you can feel the heat between your legs, the tightness of your nipples as they peak, the undeniable thrum of lust building within you. 

And certainly not when you can feel Steve, his hardness pressed up against your thigh, his pupils bigger than usual. They’re ringed in that hazel you love— a colour that might be your new favourite ever. 

Fuck, you’re in deep. What an incredibly sappy thought to have while you’re getting hot and bothered. Did Steve think that way about you too? Think about the colour of your eyes while he kissed your mouth?

“I…” You finally find your voice and Steve pulls back a couple inches so he can see you properly. His eyes dart over your face adoringly, his lips rosy red from all the kisses and quirked into a smile. He looks at you as if you’re everything. 

“I want to…” You say, unable to find the words to finish your sentence. Embarrassment winds up inside you, ready to spring free but Steve seems uncaring at your hesitance. 

“You wanna what?” 

He kisses the corner of your mouth with a hum. Endlessly patient. Somehow your stomach churns a little faster at that. Nerves stand up on their end, a thousand uneasy prickles over your body. 

“I want to.” You say this time, firmer. “Do more.” 

It still sounds too mousy coming out and you see a flicker of something on Steve’s face. 

“If you do, I mean.” You add on quickly. “I want to if you do.”

Steve huffs a quiet laugh, like the idea of checking in with him was a bit absurd. His gaze roams over your face slowly, taking his fine time just looking at you. He looks as though he doesn’t quite know what to say. 

He lands on, “You don’t seem sure.” 

Your heart flip-flops at the wrinkle between his eyebrows, his concern evident. He fixes you with a serious, sincere look.

You nod, your hair scrunching up against the pillow as you do. “I am. I just…” 

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and worry it, thinking of how to put this. You’ve said it before, you’ve told him how it was in the past, how you hadn’t enjoyed it and yet…

Feeling too squirmish under Steve’s intense stare, you avert your eyes to look at the ceiling and swallow the knot in your throat. 

Your voice comes out a whisper. “I want to try but I’m not sure— I just I can’t promise that I’ll- that y’know, I—” 

Eyes crushing closed, you try to seize your bubbling anxiety before it seizes you. This is Steve. You trust him wholly. Just a moment ago you were thinking about how much you like him and—

“Hey,” Steve murmurs lowly, nudging his nose into yours. Your eyes open. He smiles softly when he says, “I have no interest in doing something you don’t enjoy.” 

The protest flounders up inside you before you can stop it. “But—“ 

“So,” He cuts you off pointedly. “If we give it a go and you don’t like it, that’s okay. We can just figure out what you do enjoy, okay?“

For a long moment, you just stare up at him.  

“Yeah? So we can just try and if it… If I…” You flounder for words, sounding like you think it must be too good to be true. You stare up at the ceiling as you try to verbalise the biggest hurdle, the final niggling worry.

You peer back up at Steve’s face. “You… you wouldn’t be disappointed if we started but then I wanted to stop?” 

Some emotion shutters across Steve’s face, a flash of devastation. You mistake it for annoyance. 

An unwelcome hitch suddenly twists in your stomach. “I'm sorry, I know that you— we already- last time, we talked about this and I should know—“ 

“Stop it,” Steve interrupts with a soft shake of his head. “Stop doing that, it’s fine to feel unsure or- or to not know what you like. It takes time and experience to figure what you do like.” 

His hand shifts up, brushing the hair back from your forehead. He leaves it there, the warmth of his hand a comfort. His fingers curl lightly into your hair. 

“That’s all I wanna do,” He breathes softly, his lips tugging up at the corners. He looks unbearably earnest, his brown eyes shining. “Just wanna do what you like. Wanna figure out what you like.” 

He leans down and kisses your cheek. Then your jaw. Then that soft sensitive spot under your ear. You squirm but this time for all the right reasons. 

“Y’want me to do that?” He murmurs. 

You’re breathing a little heavier and when Steve nips at your earlobe sparingly, just a love bite and a flash of teeth, your breath catches loudly. Desire surges through you, hot and straight between your legs. 

It takes another moment to remember he’s asked you a question. 

“Yeah…” you breathe. You wanna nod but you don’t want him to stop what he’s doing. Your throat bobs as you swallow. “I wanna do that. Wanna— wanna learn what you like too.” 

Steve hums, a pleased sound, and he kisses languidly at your neck. His lips, soft and plush, scrape against your skin in a way that gathers heat low in your gut. Your hips tilt forward an inch, moving against his thigh almost imperceptibly.

“Yeah?” 

The way he says it, the way the word rolls out of his mouth, all husky and low, makes your nipples peak. 

“We get to learn together, hm?” He kisses your neck again. The soft press of his tongue and the gentle scrape of his teeth have you gripping the sheets, almost white knuckled. 

Suddenly, you can’t stand to not be touching him. Your hands fly from the sheets, fingers curling around his midriff, feeling at the warm skin. His t-shirt is warmed by him. You slip your hands beneath it as he bites where your shoulder meets your neck, soft enough to make you sigh. 

Your hand finds skin. Finally, finally, you get your hands on that damned happy trail that’s been all but haunting your daydreams for the past months. 

As Steve kisses down your neck, you trace the line of hair with your finger slowly. Your thumb strokes the coarse hair all the way down to his waistband, gentle and hungry all at once— trying to commit it all to memory. Unwittingly, Steve shivers at the motion. 

“Fuck,” his breath shudders against your neck. He tucks his face in closer, fighting the urge to press his body up against yours and grind. You feel the twitch in his hips anyway. “You drive me crazy.” 

“Me too,” you gasp when he pulls off your neck, blowing cool air across the heated skin he’s been dedicating himself to. You wonder if a bruise will come up, beautiful and kiss-bitten. You clench a little at the thought, the heat between your thighs only increasing. 

A mark from him— a mark of a lover. 

You want to give one to him too. Managing to remember you can do things with your hands, other than just pawing at his back, you shift them up to curl into his hair. Tugging gently, you coax his face up enough so you can nose alone the length of his neck. 

Steve’s panting and you can hear his breath catch when you start planting kiss after kiss on his skin— dragging your bottom lip across those glorious moles you adore so much. 

Without meaning to, you press him back and Steve lets himself roll back onto the mattress, his hands tugging you closer. You take the invitation and struggle for a moment to get up over his hips, one leg too tangled in the blanket on the bed. 

“My leg,” you laugh weakly, having to retract a hand from his hair to free it. When you do, you settle down, straddling his hips, and try not to lose your confidence. Still, you can’t help apologising. “Sorry.” 

Steve peers up at you lovingly, frowning a little when you apologise. “What? No, it’s fine.” 

He shifts one hand and grabs the loose blanket beside you and then hefts it up, throwing it as far as he can off the bed with a grunt. It lands somewhere behind you with a soft noise. 

“Blanket’s fault.” He says, brown eyes back on you. “Freaking cockblock. I got rid of him, babe, don’t worry.” 

You snort a little, leaning down to kiss his perfect lips.

“My hero.” You murmur sarcastically against them. 

“Ooh, say that again, baby,” Steve moans exaggeratedly, throwing his head back onto the pillow dramatic, his eyes screwed shit.  

You laugh, unknowingly relaxing a little further into him. You swat at his chest. 

“Steve.” 

“Oh!” He moans again, all girlish and fake, and twists his head in the other direction. “I love it when you say my name like I’m an idiot!” 

You gasp, but it’s still hidden in your laughter as you hit his chest again, for a different reason this time. 

“Don’t say that!” You say genuinely. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.” 

Steve drops the act, his eyes creasing open to shine up at you. He’s glowing beneath you, cheeks a bit flushed and grinning like he’s a little bit in love with you. You think he might be. 

“No, you don’t.” He agrees. He soothes his hands up and down your sides. “Only idiot is that idiot who let you think there was anything wrong with you.” 

“Ugh,” you scoff. “Please don’t bring him up ever again— least of all when we’re in bed.” 

Steve squeezes your sides gently and smiles up at you like he hasn’t heard a word you’ve said. “Noted.” 

And then you kiss him. 

For a couple of minutes it’s this easy, lazy making out that you love. Though, it’s like there’s a furnace turning up beneath you both, the intensity getting more feverish with every kiss. When Steve finally pulls back from you, panting, he looks as flustered as you feel. 

“Can I take these off?” 

His fingers are curled into the waistband of your pyjama pants. You nod before you can overthink it, letting him shimmy them down your thighs and settling yourself down on the comforter. Steve sits up a bit beside you, to tug them down your legs and off your ankles. 

Steve’s focus is on his hands but your gaze is stuck on his face— and you watch as he tosses your pants behind him carelessly. His eyes fix on your cunt, hidden away behind your lacy panties. 

“Woah,” he murmurs softly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. He leans down on his elbows, one arm on either side of your hips and pings the elastic on the cutest lingerie you own. “These are very pretty.” 

He sounds like he means it, his voice tinged with lust. It gives you a moment of confidence. 

“Yeah?” You ask. You slide your hands up, pushing your shirt up gingerly as you to reveal the matching bra to him.

Even from your distance, you can see how Steve’s pupils dilate, blowing way out. “You like them?” 

Steve let’s out a pained noise as his head flops over, his nose pressed into your hipbone. One of his hands reaches down between his legs, adjusting himself in his pants. 

He looks back up at you, hair a bit mussed, and pouts.

“That’s not fair! That’s so not fair. Did you plan this? Blindside me by wearing my body wash and then surprise me with matching lingerie?” 

The way he says it, all faux accusatory, makes you grin. He sits up long enough to tug his own shirt off, discarding it behind him, and crawls up the bed to kiss you. You catch a glint of the single chain he wears around his neck before he's kissing you.

“You—” Kiss. “look—” Kiss. “so—” Kiss. “fuckin’—” Kiss. “hot.” 

He pulls back, taking a moment to just gaze at you before he leans back further, scuttling down the sheets til he’s paused between above your legs. 

Something within you flares hotly at the memory of the last time he was in the position. You feel a warm pulse in your cunt, a trickle of slick coating your panties. Your hips shift an inch— half nerves, half anticipation.

Steve kisses you over your panties, like last time, the first chaste and on your clit. The next is a little lower, a little slower, his lips parting further and his tongue pressing languidly against your core. You squirm, breathing a little heavier. 

His hands grips gently at your hips, moving up to smooth over your thighs. He lets his fingers slip forward, the tips of them pressing lightly into your inner thighs. He pulls them further apart and ruins you a bit when he kisses sweet along the skin of your thigh. 

“I’m pretty sure we could just do this every time and I’d be happy,” Steve says, but it’s paired a chuckle fringed with nerves.

He looks up at you and you realise it is a bit of nervousness— like he’s worried you might find it embarrassing just how much he likes it. 

Your blood hums in response, warmer, all of it rushing down your body. You don’t know quite what to say to that, so you say, “Yeah?” 

Steve smiles, that flash of nervousness already gone or cleverly hidden. He gives your thighs a gentle squeeze with his large hands and rubs his cheek up against one of them. 

“Are you kidding me? I think I’d do anything you wanted just to hear those noises you made again.” 

Your lips part slightly in surprise. He’s always so startlingly honest and forward with his feelings but, somehow, it still manages takes you by surprise— that he’s not at all shy about how much he likes you. 

Scrambling for an appropriately sexy response, you come up blank and instead decide to press your thighs together. Between them, Steve’s cheeks squish forward, his lips forming an absurdly funny pout. 

“Hey!” He exclaims.

It comes out a little muffled with his face squidged up and the mixture of both his face and voice makes you laugh. You release him, legs falling apart, feeling the breath of his laugh again your skin. 

“Kidding, you can warm my ears anytime you want, honey,” He’s still grinning up at you when he says it. Part of you know he’s being completely serious. 

Your gut burns low. You resist the urge to squirm, feeling the heat chase down to your cunt. It’s hard to relax when he manages to make you feel so keyed up. 

“Stop getting distracted.” You jest. 

“You stop getting distracted,” He jibes back, but his focus drifts back down, his eyes darkening with a fiery lust. 

He rubs the skin of your thighs again, soothingly, and lets one hand creep forward til his knuckles are brushing up against the edge of your panties. His thumb presses forward, into the wet spot you’ve soaked through. 

Even so, he still asks, “How we doin’? Still feeling good?” 

You nod quickly, then think verbal confirmation is probably far better. “Yeah, still good.” 

Realising you’re staring up at the ceiling, hard, you flick your eyes down between your legs. Even if it doesn’t feel particularly sexy, you still have to say it. “Thank you for checking.” 

“Of course,” Steve says. He pinches the elastic of your panties lightly, his eyebrows raising in question. “Gonna take these off, yeah? Then you let me know if you don’t like anything I’m doing.” 

Despite your history, a huge part of you wants to say yeah, fat chance of that because yeah, you’re beginning to wonder if your boyfriend has some genuinely magical fingers. And a magical mouth. And wait, does that mean his co—

The thought gets ripped away as you feel your panties get tugged downwards and you quickly lift your hips to help. Though he’s seen you bare before, it’s impossible to stop the flush that rolls through your body, hot and tinged with embarrassment. You want to close your legs but Steve between them prevents that from happening. 

“Here,” Steve hums, reaching a hand up to scoop up your own from the bedsheets.

He gives it a quick kiss on the palm and then moves it up to land in his hair. “You let me know how m’doing, okay?” 

Your fingers curl into his brunette locks automatically and grip tightly when he leans in, his hot tongue dipping between your folds. Pleasure drips into your body as he begins to lick softly, his skilled tongue finding your bundle of nerves quickly and twisting around it. 

Heat builds. You close your eyes and let yourself enjoy it, soft pants escaping your lips as Steve kisses and suckles where you’re most sensitive, til there’s a moan lacing every breath. 

Fuck, he’s so good at this. How is he so good at this? 

One of his hands on your thighs starts to knead gently as the other one slides forward, til his thumb is rested at your slicked entrance. He hasn’t stopped sucking on your clit but your sudden sharp inhale catches his attention. 

“Sorry,” you say instinctively. 

“It’s fine,” Steve soothes, his thumb circling around your soaked hole, which clenches in response.

He kisses your thigh. Desire burns you up from within, your fingers twisting a little tighter in his hair, giving away your nerves. 

“We’re just figuring out what you like, yeah?” He muses, his words half comfort, half lust. 

You nod but don’t speak, trying to trust him enough to let his words calm you. Steve gives you a moment to breathe before he resumes the work with his mouth, his hot mouth suckling at your clit once again. 

He waits until you’re back to those quiet, shy lusty little noises before he tries again, prodding softly at your entrance in warning before he gently sinks his finger in. You gasp again, hands tightening in his hair — as something molten hot shoots right up your spine. 

“Steve,” you cry out his name. It feels... good, which feels like a fucking miracle in itself. He begins to fuck the finger in and out slowly, still lapping at your clit. A heat that you’ve only felt once before starts to nip at your skin, bleeding into each nerve. 

Your panting grows heavier and without meaning to, you clench down around him, desperate for a little more. 

“See, you like that one, huh?” Steve mumbles against you, his dark eyes flashing up to take in your face contorted in pleasure. His cock thickens unbearably in his pants, too confined. You nod, hair scrunching up against the pillow. 

“Yea—yes,” You say, feeling your hips rock down an inch. You want more of that. 

Steve obliges, more than willingly, adding another finger. It slides in with little resistance. It’s hotter than anything else to get to see you like this, pliant and horny, rocking your hips against his mouth. 

To get to make you like this— sucking on your cute little clit and fucking his fingers in, hearing the adorable squelch of your wetness. You’re so turned on it makes his brain melt a bit, the way you’re leaking all over his fingers. Steve’s cock throbs desperately— but he wants to make sure you’re stretched out enough to take him. If you want that, that is.

He eases one more finger in, keeping a careful watch on your face to see how you take it. You keen beautifully, back arching slightly as he curls his fingers and begins to stretch you out. 

You pant deliriously, these tiny whimpers beginning to slip out your throat. Steve wishes he could see your face, the cute scrunch of your brows as you moan— but happily settles for latching his lips back onto your cunt. 

Three fingers feel even better than two, you find, as you grip the sheets tightly— you’re throbbing but in this torturous way, balancing on the edge of too much and not enough. There’s a hint of pain lingering at the back, but not enough to distract you from the pleasure. 

It takes you by surprise then, when the pleasure suddenly tapers off, your eyes creasing up open and head popping up. You realise Steve is slowly stopping, his slick fingers slipping out of you as he sits back up a bit. 

“Why’d you stop?” You say without thinking.

Flushing, you quickly follow it up. “Every— everything okay?” 

God, you sound wiped. Your chest is still heaving and your clit twitches, missing the stimulation of your boyfriend’s mouth. The air smells honeyed and perfumed with sex. 

“You tell me,” Steve murmurs sweetly, his lips grazing the inside of your knee in an almost kiss. “You said you wanted to do more. Is this enough more?” 

Your heart nearly bursts in the pure consideration. God, he’s so fucking nice to you. So unbothered to take things your pace, so attuned to making you feel good. You know that you could happily do this more for the rest of the night. 

But it’s not what you had in mind — and the longer you wait, the more you’re beginning to crave getting Steve to a similar state you’re in. Moaning, flushed in the face, his hands buried in your hair. 

“We can do more,” You say, your voice dropping back into that shy whisper. 

Steve watches you closely, his hand still absentmindedly rubbing at your thigh dotingly. 

You clear your throat and speak a little louder. “I wanna do more.” 

“Yeah?” Steve says, his grin growing. He huffs and shakes his head a little, dropping your gaze. 

“I mean, believe me, even if we just—“ He gestures vaguely between your thighs. “— did this all night? Night well spent.” 

You know he means it, especially with his hungry gaze that dips back down, his tongue slipping out to lick his bottom lip briefly.

You press up onto one elbow and reach out one hand, hooking your finger over the one single chain he wears. There’s a ring looped on it, the one you gave him as a promise, and just the sight of it makes you glow inside. 

You tug the chain forward lightly and him with it, Steve shifting up the bed til you’re nearly face to face, his frame hovering above you. The beds dips beneath his hands as they crawl up to either side of your waist, his intense eyes locking onto your face. He might be holding his breath. 

Swallowing, you move up and press your lips to his in a slow, soft kiss. It turns deeper, hotter, heavier. You swipe your tongue into his mouth and Steve lets out a pitiful noise in response, pressing his mouth against yours desperately. 

Drawing back with a little gasp, you open your eyes and repeat your earlier sentiment, “I want to do more.” 

Steve watches you, his exhale shaking slightly. You dot a kiss on his cheek quick, pulling back to meet his eyes.

“I want to do more with you.” 

A kiss on his other cheek, just as fast. Pink blooms beneath where your lips touch.

“I want to do more, right now.” 

Steve smiles splits into a grin, his eyes shining as he chuckles, the sound doused in fondness. “Okay, okay, I got the message,” He murmurs. 

Pushing back to sit on his heels, he turns and rummages around in his bedside table for a moment. You lay back on the pillows and try catch your breath, knowing it’s only a matter of time before it’s stolen once more. 

When Steve pulls back, there’s a row of condoms in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other. He tears off one of the condoms and throws the rest of them behind him without thought.

You can’t help but tilt your head up, neck straining a bit, not wanting to look away for a moment as Steve raises onto his knees and pushes his boxers down. His cock kicks up, released from its confines with a soft slap against his happy trail. 

Unwittingly, your mouth waters a bit.

And look, you’ve seen a dick before, okay? It’s pretty hard to sleep with someone and not see one, unless you have your eyes closed the entire time. 

But Steve’s cock is… pretty. 

Pink and aching, the head of it slick with a bit of pre-cum— that you realise he’s gotten from being worked up whilst eating you out. You gush a little at the dizzying thought. 

You want to touch it — or put it in your mouth so you can drool over it, can suck on it, can feel the heady weight of it on your tongue. Or, as you realise what the ache of your cunt means, you really, really want him to fuck you with it. 

Instinct drives your thighs apart, beckoning him between them. Steve’s eyes darken as he notes the motion, moving a bit more hastily to tear the condom packet open. He rolls it down his length, quick and precise. 

“Okay,” Steve breathes, reaching out for the lube and drizzling a generous amount into his palm. He keeps the bottle within reach as he slicks it over his heavy cock, a beautiful groan pushing out his throat as he does. 

“Okay,” He says again, a little breathier than before. Shuffling forward, Steve lines himself up with your core gently before halting. His eyes dart up to your face.

“You let me know if there’s anything you don’t like or you wanna stop.” 

You nod, his ardent care only serving to fuel your lust. You’ll coo over it in the afterglow— right now you want to be around him, want to feel him pulsing inside you, want to feel full where you’re suddenly feeling so, so empty. 

Steve shifts forward, beginning to sink into you with a low groan of pleasure. 

The first few seconds are bliss — Steve’s done his job well at warming you up and something hungry awakens with a burst of pleasure as you take the first few inches.

Then, something a little more uncomfortable joins the mix. 

You try not to squirm, disappointment inflating as your pleasure is robbed by the twinges of pain. It’s not unbearable but you’re enjoying yourself less. Steve moves in another inch and then discomfort abruptly becomes pain.

You inhale sharply, teeth gritted together, and Steve stops moving in an instant. 

“Woah, y’okay?” 

You nod, even as your eyes slip shut. Half of this is a mental game, you know that—you’ll never loosen up if you don’t try to relax. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly, voice a bit tight. “Just— just gimme a minute.” 

Steve murmurs a quiet sure but after a moment he says, “Wait, lemme—“ and moves forward so he’s hovering above you instead of sitting back, your faces much closer now. The jostling doesn’t help but having Steve closer does. 

He keeps his hips as still as he can and kisses your cheek. You don’t open your eyes just yet, willing yourself desperately to relax, to enjoy it. You take a deep breath.

“We can stop,” Steve whispers. 

You shake your head. Creasing your eyes open, you move your hands up so you can twine them around Steve’s neck in almost a hug. Steve leans down and kisses your cheek again, then steals a kiss from your lips. 

“I wanna—“ You gasp, frustration mounting at how the pain doesn’t seem to be subsiding. You sound miserable as you cling to him closer. “I want this to work.” 

“It’s okay if it doesn’t,” Steve responds, his arm shifting up so he can trace his thumb over your cheekbone. 

The movement moves his hips forward another inch, pain spiking so severely that you wince aloud, your face pinched in discomfort. That’s all it takes for Steve to shift back, easing out of you gently. You’re devastated at the relief that follows. 

“Okay, I’m not doing that if it hurts you—“ 

“It wasn’t,” You lie fruitlessly. You know Steve heard your wince—but maybe if you lie, you can trick your body. 

Hands coming up to cover your face, you scrunch your eyes up, annoyed at how they sting with tears so quickly. Your voice is all wobbly when you say, “I’m sorry. I'm sorry, I really want this to work, Steve.” 

Steve aches at your words, moving in to tug at your hands. His voice is soft, sweet.

“Hey, hey, I know that, sweetheart.” 

You don’t let him in, hands still shielding your face. He kisses your knuckles instead, his thumbs swiping up and down your wrists comfortingly. 

He waits a moment before he continues, voice buttery soft, “I know you want this. It’s not your fault if your body only likes it some ways and not others. You can’t control that and I know that.”  

You take one deep breath and it shudders as you inhale, sounding far too teary for Steve’s liking. He tugs at your wrists again, relieved when you let him pull them away tentatively. You aren’t crying but you look damn near close. 

“What’s got you so upset, huh?” Steve coos, nuzzling in close, his nose brushing against yours.

He releases your wrists to cup your face, tender and soft, his brows knit together in his concern. “You know I don’t mind- I told you that I don’t care what we do, just that you’re enjoying it.” 

You take another shaky inhale, a little more stable than the last. Steve can feel how you move to press back against him, nuzzling him back. You take another moment before you reply. 

“I just-“ You start, voice still tight. “It’s so stupid. I wanted it— I wanted to enjoy it. And that doesn’t even seem to matter to my body. It doesn’t even change how it feels and that sucks. Like I can’t control this part of me.” 

Steve listens dutifully, waiting til you finish and your eyes find him.

“Well,” He starts, averting his eyes somewhat sheepishly. “Take everything I say with a grain of salt, okay? But… your body doesn’t hurt just to mess with you, right?” 

He waits a moment for your tentative nod. “Right. So, it’s not for nothing. It’s trying to tell you something and- and ignoring that isn’t having control. You have to listen and work with your body — it’s your partner in all this.” 

“I thought you were my partner,” you whisper, the small smile on your lips giving away your joke. Steve faux rolls his eyes and kisses the tip of your nose. 

“I’m your other partner.” He smiles. Then sighs, casting his gaze above your head for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “Am I making any sense?” 

Wiggling one hand up, you place it on his cheek tenderly and begin to whisper. “You’re making a lot of sense actually.” 

Steve sighs, leaning his face into the palm of your hand with a huff. “Well, that’s a relief.” 

For a minute, there’s only quiet. Your emotions come down from their swell and you take the time to admire the beautiful boy above you, who seems to be doing just the same to you. 

After a moment of time, you clear your throat and say, “Can we try again?” 

Steve seems to think on it for a moment before he nods, turning to kiss your palm. 

“This is gonna make me sound like a total guy,” He says, words muffled against your hand. His brown eyes flash up to yours, darting between them. “But maybe we should try from the back. Like, different angle and all.” 

You snort, unable to hold it in because it does sound like such a guy thing to say. Even so, you give a little nod, eager to try something else. You don’t even want to acknowledge the mounting dread around disappointing Steve — even with all his assurances, you can’t help but feel as though this has been one gigantic let down. 

As Steve shifts back, you become suddenly aware of the lubed up slick spot on your thigh where Steve's cock was resting and scrunch your nose with a laugh. Peering down, you drag a finger through the wetness left on it. 

“Ew,” you laugh. 

“Ew?” Steve echoes incredulously. “Alright, that’s it.” His sits up and back, his hands darting down lightning fast, manoeuvring you all of sudden. He hooks his hands under your hips and lifts, twisting so you’re suddenly splayed on your front. 

You’re giggling all the while, drunk on the feeling of your boyfriend’s hands as they trail up your sides. The hair of his tanned scrapes against your back as he leans in, mouthing along your shoulder towards your neck. 

You find your knees and prop yourself up on them, lifting your hips off the sheets of Steve’s bed. At the angle he’s draped himself over you, it’s a perfect line up of his cock with your cunt, the head of it teasing your entrance when you push back. 

You're relieved that your emotional moment hadn't killed the mood altogether. That same hot, pulsating want from before tears through you and Steve takes a stuttering breath, the slightest moan in his throat. You feel his forehead press against your shoulder blade, as though he’s trying to compose himself. 

“You-“ He says, the word catching in his throat. As if unable to help himself, his hips grind forward, pushing his aching cock between your slick folds. You make pitiful, keening noises in response, a thread of pleasure run through the two of you. 

“You ready?” Steve asks shakily. He relents some of his closeness to grab the lube, giving another generous drizzle into his palm to slather over himself. 

“Please,” you whisper, pushing yourself back an inch. 

This time when Steve pushes himself in, the bliss stretches out, lasting more than just the first couple seconds. You make a high, breathy sigh of a noise and your head drops forward. 

Steve pauses, his breathing on the ragged side, and checks in. “Still feeling okay?” 

You nod feverishly, a whine building up in your throat that threatens to escape if Steve doesn’t move. Or maybe if he does move. You can’t tell — can’t tell anything other than how good it feels to have him inside you, hot and throbbing. 

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out. “Yeah, keeping going, please,” 

Steve grunts, complying in an instant, sinking his cock further in. Something inside you tightens up again— but it’s not nearly as noticeable as last time. Still, Steve recognises it and he slows for a moment. 

“I’m okay,” you assure breathily, face nearly pressed into the bed. You need him to keep moving. 

And he does; his cock sinks in another inch right as his hand creeps around your hip, searching for something blindly. You barely get one moment of confusion before his calloused fingers drag through the slick on your cunt and move up, pushing against your clit purposefully. 

You moan, loud and high. The friction of your clit is enough to make your thighs spread a little wider and your hips move back before you even realise what you’re doing, almost the rest of Steve’s cock sinking inside you. It feels good but something else pinches up inside you.

Steve moans, muffling the sound into your skin as he hides his face in your neck. 

You pant, suddenly dreading how you can feel the prick of pain on the fringes of your pleasure if Steve stretches you too far. "Don't- n-not too much," You warn gently, the words all breathy, still swathed in your pleasure. "I—uh— fuck, I don't think I can take it all."

You feel Steve's nod against the back of your neck, accompanied by a low hum in his throat.

“Y-yeah, okay,” He stammers. His hips roll forward and he follows your word, not quite pushing all the way in. "F-Fuck."

His breath is hot on your neck and the sudden urge for his kiss is nearly overwhelming. Even not facing him, the way Steve drapes himself around you, gentle even with how he grinds his hips into yours, feels intimate. Your cunt gives a soft squelch. 

“Oh fuck,” Steve gasps, stilling completely — the feeling of you wrapped around him is enough to nearly push him to the edge. He screws his eyes closed and whimpers, trying to keep himself together. 

“Y’okay?” You whisper breathily after a couple of moments, forehead pressed into the sheets. Your hips move just a little bit, shifting in a little circle so his cock slides out an inch, his fingertips grazing across your clit again. 

“I—ngh-“ Another whine slips out from his throat at your movement and Steve’s hand slips back, gripping your hip tightly. “Jesus Christ. Y-Yeah I’m good, just trying not to— fuck- end this too quickly.” 

He moves a bit, readjusting him arms to hold weight up a little easier.

“But you’re really wet and, like, really warm,” He grunts, almost accusingly. “And I really like you, so,” 

You can’t help it — a little laugh titters out of you, one of pure delight because Steve is sincere about his feelings. The laugh only serves to make Steve groan louder. 

“Shit,” He gasps, his forehead pressing into your shoulder. “You can’t laugh right now, it’s so not helping.” 

“Sorry,” you laugh again, a little more apologetic this time. 

Then, after a moment of gathered bravery, you say, “I don’t think I like this position. I can’t see your face.” 

Steve makes a pained noise from behind you, a breathy and sharp inhale, and suddenly his grip on your hip is twice as tight. 

“I’m gonna need you to stop talking. Please.” He grits out, voice sounding tight and barely restraining the moan in it. “I’m trying really hard here but you’re making this impossible.” 

Steve shifts on his elbow again, bicep bulging as he lowers himself to one side. His hips press into your backside, sinking himself further into your wet heat, as he settles his weight down onto the mattress. The springs make a noise in protest. 

You’re still closely intertwined, Steve pressed up against you, still throbbing within you, but now it’s more like… you’re spooning.

You settle down too, forcing out an exhale to let yourself melt back into Steve’s chest. 

He lets out a soft groan again but the new position means he can bury his face in your neck properly— and when you turn your head right, he seizes the chance for a kiss. 

He kisses sweet and slow to begin with, plush lips nipping at yours as if you’re not already in the throes of sex. Like he kisses you hello. His nose nudges against yours and he shimmies an arm beneath you on the bed. It curls itself around your stomach and Steve uses it to bring you even closer. 

“Is this better?” He whispers. He nudges his hips for a bit, giving a gentle thrust. Something warm flares at the pit of your belly, hungry for more. “Still okay?” 

You nod, a whimper escaping your throat as you steal another kiss from his lips. “Yes,” You whisper, lips scraping against his, hardly believing it. “Feels— feels good, baby,”

Steve finally gives in to his moan, a beautiful noise that sends heat rushing between your thighs. He begins to move more, building a gentle rhythm as he fucks into you, sensual and adoring all in one. 

Time drips away. You feel much warmer now, pressed up against Steve’s chest, with his kisses all around. One of his hands stays dutifully between your legs, pushing around your bundle of nerves and pulling weak, soft noises from you. The other, you cling to, your fingers twisted as best they can with his.

Pleasure wraps the pair of you up til a soft glow of sex and love settles over the both of you. Steve murmurs doting words, an endless stream of encouragement pouring from his mouth as he nibbles at the shell of your ear. 

Still feelin’ good? Yeah, you are. Just listen to you- sounding so pretty wrapped around my cock. 

Fuck, your pussy makes the cutest noises. So wet f’me, isn’t she? God, you drive me crazy. 

You’re taking me so well, yeah? Being so fuckin’ good f’me- letting me know how you feel. M’so lucky - fuckin’ love— love this with you.

You don’t even realise when every gasp out your mouth has turned into a moan, each breath building and mounting. Your chest heaves and Steve’s motions go from lazy to focused. His hips slow a little but his fingers over your clit speed up, dancing across the nerves perfectly. 

You clutch desperately at the arm he has wrapped around your waist, your head thrown back to rest on his shoulders with your eyes screwed shut. Your hole clenches wildly as you hurtle towards your orgasm— and go right over the edge without warning. 

You make this cute little gasping noise, high pitched and wrapped in a pretty sigh, and Steve doesn't think he's ever heard something so sensual, so pretty. His blood seems to thrum in response, pleasure turning the coil in his gut tighter and tighter.

Euphoria melts into your body and you sag into it with a drawn out soft moan, turning your face to search for Steve’s in an instant. One of your hands darts up, sloppily reaching for the back of his neck, suddenly starved of a kiss. 

You find his lips right as Steve finds his peak— his handsome face screwing up as he all but whines into your mouth. You capture it, some heavy, open mouthed kiss of desperation shared between you. 

Pleasure flows over you, hot and heavy, fuelled by the frantic grinds of Steve’s hips into yours as he whimpers into your mouth. Even though some part of you feels vulgar, another, louder, part of you feels like you've taken part in something sacred. Steve's fierce kiss certain feels akin to something holy.  

After a minute, the euphoria fades. You settle back into your body, feeling the scratch of the cotton sheets beneath you, the sweat of Steve’s chest on your back, the slightly discomfort in between your thighs. 

Steve can feel it, the moment you tense back up, some unwelcome twinge of pain in your gut. He’s shuffling back and pulling out before you even have to ask.

Without his chest to lean on, you roll backward naturally and flop onto your back, still panting lightly. Steve shifts up to hover above you. 

“You good?” He asks, that same breathlessness in his voice. He smiles handsomely, his hair a little limper than usual, flopping over his forehead. He looks gorgeous. “You did great.” 

That almost makes you laugh, the sincere praise so like one might give a child, but Steve seals it with a kiss to your forehead. Your laugh turns into a sheepish but giddy grin. “I’m gonna take the condom off, I’ll be right back.” 

He disappears from your line of sight for a minute or two and you can hear him rustling around in his room.

Without any distractions, you suddenly remember the film you’d put on in the beginning, still running at the end of the bed— the final credits are just starting to roll. The streetlights glow a little brighter in the evening dark through the curtains. 

You huff out a breath and your smile comes without even trying. In fact, if Steve hadn’t come back when he did, you’re sure you would’ve started giggle to yourself madly, cocooned in your own contentedness. That same awed, gleeful smile just like the first time round.

“You look like a dope, smiling like that, you know that?”

Steve’s wearing a pair of boxers, green plaid, and he’s got a fresh, warm wash-cloth in his hands. 

"I didn't know that," You muse playfully.

“Hey,” He changes tone to less playful, kneeling on the bed. You notice the change of clothes in his other hand when he throws them onto the duvet beside him. “M’just gonna clean you up a bit, that okay?” 

You’re sure there’s a pinch of embarrassment in you somewhere but, still blissed from your orgasm, you can’t manage to find it. Steve is quick and precise, the warm cloth wiping up any excess sticky fluids. He kisses the inside of your knee when he’s done. 

“All done,” He murmurs, climbing back off the bed in the direction of the bathroom, switching off the television as he does. He gestures to the clothes at the foot of the bed as he walks. “Y’can wear these if you want.” 

Finally feeling less flattened, you shift up to lean on your elbows. He’s grabbed you a pair of his boxers, the matching blue pair to his green, and one of his old Hawkins swim-team shirts. You slip into both quickly, your heart going a bit fuzzy with how soft the shirt is. 

Then you crawl beneath the covers, blood still rushing far faster than usual and a satisfied tiredness beginning to sink into your body. You can't help but thinking it all over — Steve's mouth between your legs, the feel of him sinking into you, the ecstasy of falling apart in his arms.

Part of you hadn't wanted to acknowledge that, well, it fucking worked this time and you enjoyed it. A niggly fear about jinxing it. Like if you pointed it out, it would incite the likelihood of your body turning on you once more. Robbing you of pleasure and experience in equal measure.

But when Steve comes bounding back to the bed, dragging back the covers to join you beneath them, you speak first.

"So, that didn't suck." You say excitedly, biting back your grin as Steve settles down beside you.

Together, you share one pillow as he scooches in closer. His hands reach out, searching for you amongst the sheets. When he finds your hips, he uses them to drag you closer to him, a halfhearted cuddle.

He lets out a puff of air against the pillow, a light snort. "I mean, hopefully it didn't just not suck."

If you had more energy, you might give him a playful shove because you know he knows what you mean. He'd seen the whole display of nervous emotions attached to sex all the way leading up to it.

Instead, heart feeling awfully gooey in your chest, you seize the opportunity to press in closer to him. Your head tucks beneath his chin, your lips barely grazing his throat.

"It was really good." You whisper, lashes fluttering as your eyes fight to stay open. Steve's warm on a good day. He's hot as a furnace with all the blood that's pumping around still. Perfect for snuggling up with.

"Yeah?" He sounds delightfully pleased, but not the smug kind. He sounds happy that you enjoyed it.

Then he whispers, "Told you it wasn't you."

His big palm sweeps up your back soothingly.

He's right. You've never been so glad to be on the receiving end of an I told you so before. Not that Steve would say that (at least, not right now).

Cuddling in closer, you wriggle one hand out from beneath the covers, not bothering to pull back or open your eyes when you murmur, "Just had sex high-five?"

You can feel Steve's laugh as it rumbles through his throat. It's an inside joke now, it seems.

"Hell yeah." He wiggles one hand free and slaps it against yours, probably a little harder than necessary. You laugh too, the sound a mixture of joy and sleep.

And yeah, okay, you might get it now. The whole big fuss around sex that everyone seems to make—but maybe you don't entirely agree with them.

There was something more in the... trust. In knowing that Steve wouldn't have cared which way it happened, as long as you were both enjoying it. In the intimacy shared, even before you had ever slept together. In the waiting. In the wanting—for both yourself and for Steve.

There's some grandeur discovery you've uncovered, you're sure of it, about the mystery and craze around sex. You just keep losing the string of thoughts to your slumber which drifts ever closer.

Oh well. You can always put it all together in the morning when you're not so tempted by sleep and bundled up in the arms of a boy who you love. For now, you drift off, fulfilled and content.

tags below! (seven months later...)

@roanniom @madaboutjoe @huang-the-geek @pootcullen @superskittles

@hales-who-loves-to-reid @spear-bearing-bi-witch @daisiesandinvasives @season4steve @thelauraborealis

@mmmunson @everythinghasafacee @katethetank @sorry--for-the-mess @matterdontminduntildone

@blowing-mikey @astoryreader @mulletmcghee @sugarcoatedstarkey @pullhisteeth

(these are just the ppl in the tags that mentioned wanting to be tagged! if i know u follow me and are a regular, i didn't bother tagging u cos i know you'll see it hehehe <3)

[nadvs]

home before dark (part four)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

Rafe is being selfish again. When he offered to sleep in your room, it was so you’d feel safe. But that wasn’t entirely why he did it.

He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t for him, too. Something about being around you gives him a sense of quiet when he’s so used to noise.

It’s disorienting feeling a pull to someone he used to avoid, but life stopped making sense to him a long time ago, so why try to find the logic?

Rafe collects the blanket and pillow from the guest bed he slept on last night, figuring he’ll just sleep on your floor.

The way he touched you earlier tonight is playing like a song in his head. When did he get so soft? He’s hardly ever sober for this long. It must be messing with him. It was just a kiss on your cheek, but his heart pounds when he thinks about it.

Then you noticed his gun and looked at him with such disgust that he knows you’d be horrified to learn what his mind sounds like these days. To learn how much anger he has burning through his veins. You’d run in the opposite direction.

You told him you’ve never said anything bad about him. He’d like to keep it that way. So he’ll take all this fake stuff and enjoy it from a distance, far enough removed from you to avoid taking any risks.

You’ve been tucked into bed for a few minutes when Rafe comes through your open door, darkness filling every corner of the room.

After you accepted his offer downstairs, you parted tensely, as if either of you had said one wrong word, the agreement to sleep in your room together would lose all legitimacy.

Rafe’s tall figure quietly makes a bed on the floor a few feet away. He lets out a low grunt when he lies down, turned away from you.

You stare at his back, thinking about how he said whatever you did wrong wasn’t on purpose. You should probably let it go. He’ll never talk about it. But the curiosity is relentless.

After a few minutes of watching Rafe turn from his back to his side over and over, you break the silence.

“Is your brain doing it again?” you ask. Your voice makes the knot in his chest loosen.

“What?” he rasps.

“Is it not turning off?”

He doesn’t respond. You talked about this hours ago at the party, but it stayed with you. He’s not used to this much attention on him. He usually has to fight for it.

“If it isn’t, maybe I could bore you to sleep,” you offer.

“I bet you could.” A second later, Rafe feels a pillow you threw from your bed hit his chest and roll beside him. He smirks in the dark.

You clarify, “I meant I could distract you.”

“For real this time? I don’t need another interrogation.” You love that you can hear a smile in his voice and hate that you can’t see it. Little by little, he’s acting like your friend again.

“Since when is asking one question an interrogation?” Last night, all you did was ask why he was helping you.

“See?”

“Oh, my God,” you sigh with a laugh. “Okay, let me think… I can tell you about the errands I ran today?”

“I’ll be out cold in a minute.” You laugh again and Rafe smiles up at the ceiling. Making you feel safe feels good. Making you laugh like that feels even better.

“Rude,” you say. “Pass me that pillow so I can throw it at you again.”

In the dark, you watch him reach for the pillow on the floor and tuck it under his arm. You breathe out a chuckle.

You pull your duvet up to your chin, unable to believe that the same Rafe who ignored your every attempt to talk, who wouldn’t even hold eye contact with you, is on the floor of your room, joking around with you.

You start to ramble about the shopping you did after he left your house this morning, getting into every menial detail, down to the long line at the gas station.

At first, Rafe can’t imagine falling asleep to this. Your voice humming through the dark is soothing and even though you’re trying to make your story boring, he’s interested.

But eventually, his eyelids get heavier. You’re dozing off, too, but it’s not until you hear his breaths grow deeper that you allow yourself to succumb to the fatigue.

Your senses are blurred and bleeding into each other like paint on a messy canvas, and while you’re confused, you know one thing for sure: you’re terrified.

Ty’s behind the wheel and the car is barreling down the busy freeway at a vicious speed. It’s storming and he’s laughing and you can’t scream. You can’t even speak.

Anne’s car is coming right for yours and Ty won’t slow down no matter how hard you try to gain control of the wheel and you brace for impact, but suddenly you’re in your fifth grade class and you’re crying and everyone is staring at you.

You wake up to big hands holding your shoulders, gently shaking you. A low and soft voice whispers your name, coaxing you to wake up.

Your eyes open to see Rafe standing over you in the dark and you realize your cheeks are wet with tears. Consciousness slowly wraps around you. It was a nightmare.

Your adrenaline pushes you to sit up, your chest heaving. His hands drop off of you, but he’s still standing and leaning over your bed, inches away.

“Bad dream?” he asks over the sound of your shallow breaths. Your whimpers are what woke him up. Hearing you crying in your sleep like that was painful.

You rub both eyes with your knuckles and try to catch up with reality.

“I was in the car with Ty and he was driving too fast and then I saw your mom-” You immediately shut up. In your fog, you forgot what you’re allowed to say and what you’re not, and by the way Rafe stands straight, you know you messed up.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching for his hand. His fingers are still and don’t curl around yours. The fact that you pull him towards you shows just how disoriented you are. “Can you sleep up here?”

“What?”

“Can you sleep up here?” you mumble dazedly. Rafe’s already sinking onto the mattress before you finish asking your repeated question.

You turn to face him when he lies down. You curl into a ball, your hand still gripping his as you try to breathe slower. You remember your other pillow is on the floor and you lift your head to shift your pillow to the middle so that he can rest his head on it, too.

Rafe stares ahead, listening to your fast breathing and his loud heartbeat. He’s struck that even when you’re in a half-asleep trance, your instinct is to make sure he’s comfortable.

And to ask him to lie next to you. To be close when there’s nobody around to prove your pretend relationship to. You actually find comfort in him. He thought he was starting to find it in you, too, but then you mentioned her.

You shudder when Rafe’s hand twists out from yours, losing the anchor reminding you that none of it was real. But then you realize he did it to put his palm on your cheek.

“You’re good,” he reassures you. He frowns when he feels a tear on your skin. “It’s alright.”

You nod under his touch, your eyes shut, swallowing hard and cupping his wrist. He’s still trembling from withdrawal.

The dream took you to when you were ten and Rafe’s desk was empty and your teacher told the class he lost his mom a couple of nights ago, so you’d spend the period making sympathy cards for him.

It’s important we show him he’s not alone, she said and you were so upset that you didn’t know how to do that when you were supposed to be best friends. You stared at a blank piece of paper for long enough that your teacher told you that you could work on something else.

You did eventually make him a card. And you visited. And you called. And you tried talking to him over and over.

But nothing you did or said was ever good enough. He shut everybody out and you were no exception. Maybe someone else would be mad at him for it, but you couldn’t ever find it in your heart to be. You still can’t.

“I’m sorry,” you say into the dark, wishing he knew just how heavy the pain you carry for him is. You feel frantic now, the emotions washing over you with no mercy, as if you just learned she died all over again. “I’m sorry for everything. You were just a kid-”

“Don’t,” Rafe interrupts. “Just sleep.”

You sniffle and he swears he can feel his heart crack but he can’t indulge you. He can’t open the wound he pretends isn’t still bleeding. He can’t talk about how his life crumbled into ruins and he’s still sitting in the rubble.

He lost his mother, his security, and eventually his mind, and there’s no point in talking about what he can never get back.

Rafe’s hand slips off of your cheek but your fingers remain wrapped around his wrist. He lets you keep holding onto him as you fall back asleep.

The sunlight is coming through slitted blinds when Rafe’s eyes open. He couldn’t see your room last night, but now that he can study the space that is so you, his mind starts racing.

You’re asleep next to him, head tilted towards him on the pillow you’re sharing. He gazes over your pretty features, the slope of your nose, the shape of your lips.

How could someone so sweet hurt him so fucking bad? Last night was brutal. You mentioning his mom without any warning was like a sharp jolt of electricity. He was an idiot to think he could find comfort in you.

You’ll always remind him of it. Of the helplessness and the horror and the agony. He can’t handle it. Even if you never talk about it again, your presence alone is a reminder.

You shuffle awake and reach out for him, but his side of the bed is cold. He’s not on the floor, either. You look out the window to see his motorcycle is still where he parked it last night.

When you come down to the front room, Rafe is in the same chair he sat in the night of the storm, grudgingly playing with his ring, staring ahead with a hard frown.

He sees you and immediately stands up, eyes darting away from you like the last few days didn’t happen at all. All his coldness is back.

“Finally,” he grunts. You watch him stalk past you with screwed up lips. “Lock the door behind me.”

You realize he was waiting for you to wake up. And now he’s acting like you’re contagious with something he’d rather die than catch, rushing out of your home, triggering the alarm when he opens the front door.

You follow him to punch the code into the security system and then quickly open the door he closed, watching him stride down the steps towards his bike.

You’re in a haze. Last night, he held you so gently and you fell asleep inches away from each other. This morning, he can’t get away fast enough.

It’s what you said. You mentioned his mom. You knew it was out of bounds, but you were so frightened and disoriented and spoke without thinking.

“Wait,” you say to his back. But Rafe continues on his way, making you feel just like you did in your nightmare. You’re speaking but it’s like nothing is coming out.

“Please don’t go back to ignoring me,” you call louder, a shake in your voice. This makes him pause. You swing the door shut behind you and close the distance, stepping out into the brisk morning air.

You face him and he looks absolutely wrecked. Guilt digs its sharp claws into your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “I was out of it.”

Rafe stares down at the paved ground, his jaw tightening.

“You’re always gonna remind me,” he mutters.

His sentence is simple, but it carries the weight of your broken friendship. It hits you that you could never mention the past again, not a single memory or anything about his loss, and it still wouldn’t be enough. You’re a constant reminder.

“That’s why you never wanted anything to do with me?” you say. Rafe looks at you again. Your eyes have lost all their light.

It’s just a part of the reason the bridge between you can’t ever be rebuilt, but talking about it with you is torture, so he’ll let you believe that that’s all there is to it.

“You can go,” you say quietly, stepping back. If being with you just brings back painful memories to him, you won’t subject him to it any longer.

Every muscle in Rafe’s body aches as he drives home. His head is hammering with pain and his bones weigh a million pounds and he’d kill for a hit of anything right now. He needs the escape.

Just when he thought he found a place to slow down, you reminded him of why he’s always running. As soon as he’s sure your ex is done bothering you, he’s out.

As you watch Rafe drive away, the gate opens when the sensor detects a vehicle leaving the property, and you notice the mailbox is open.

You pick up the mail to see an envelope with your name handwritten on it. Panicked, you rush back inside, locking the door. You know it’s Ty, finding yet another way to contact you.

You would’ve noticed the mailbox was open when you got home with Rafe last night. He did this overnight or early this morning.

When you finally find the courage to read his letter, dread forces its way into your body so roughly that you’re not sure you’ll ever feel happy again.

You feel some relief when Sarah texts in the group chat a couple of hours later asking if anyone wants to go shopping. It’s the distraction you need.

It’s late afternoon when you meet her and your mutual friend Lia at the mall, trying to get your mind off of Rafe’s coldness and Ty’s persistence and your own pain.

Afterwards, Sarah invites you both to her house and soon, the three of you are sitting in her room, chatting and listening to music.

The door is open and when a figure passes by, you look up to see Rafe. He glances at you for a second, then goes right back to ignoring you, continuing on his way without another second of hesitation.

When he got home, he took a couple of shots before he fell asleep in his bed. He woke up still partly buzzed and he can’t handle seeing or talking to you right now.

Sarah shakes her head in the corner of your eye. She noticed him, too.

“Jesus, Rafe, that’s how you treat your girlfriend?” she half-shouts. Two pairs of eyes land on you as your friends await your reaction.

“We’re in a fight,” you say, anxious that the topic has come up and that you’ll have to lie your way through it.

“Already? Didn’t you just start dating?” Lia says.

“Yeah, it’s sad,” you say with a downcast laugh.

Rafe chews on his thumbnail as he kneels against the hallway wall. He should’ve kept walking, but he’s secretly hanging onto your every word.

“I still can’t believe you guys are together,” she says. “I didn’t even know you liked him.”

“I did,” Sarah laughs. You look at her with wide eyes. “Come on, you never let anyone say anything bad about him.”

“Why do you?” Your eyes jump to Lia.

“Why do I what?” you say, trying to play it off.

“Like him,” Lia replies.

You figure while all of this is a sham, you can at least answer this question with full honesty.

“He takes care of me,” you say. You think about how you laughed together in your bedroom last night. “And I have fun with him.”

Regret gnaws at Rafe. Even though you’re upset with him, you still speak of him kindly. His growing feelings for you would be so much easier to get rid of if you were like everybody else, writing him off, calling him psycho.

“Yeah, you look like you’re having a lot of fun,” Lia replies with a playful nudge, trying to bring some humor to the room. “Seriously, are you okay? You seem off.”

You believe it. Your mind doesn’t feel any clearer since last night’s nightmare.

“I’m really freaked out because of Ty,” you admit.

“It’s crazy that he’s still bothering you,” Sarah says.

“It is. He won’t stop. I saw footprints outside my front door last night and I think they were his. That would mean he found a way around the gate,” you tell them. “And then there was a letter from him in my mailbox this morning. It was so creepy.”

Rafe’s body stiffens.

“God, that’s like stalker level,” Lia says. “What’d it say?”

The sound of Rafe saying your name interrupts you. You look up to see him standing in the doorway, staring at you. He cocks his head, silently beckoning you to come out.

When you face him in the corner of the hallway, far from Sarah’s room, you cross your arms and let him start the conversation.

“That asshole left you a letter?” Rafe mutters quietly. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Embarrassment turns in your stomach. He was eavesdropping.

“You wouldn’t have answered,” you reply.

“Yeah, I would’ve,” he says sternly. “What’d he write?”

You bite your bottom lip in anguish, choking back your tears.

You’re clearly shaken up. Rafe’s protective instinct overpowers him. He grasps your arm, squeezing gently, giving into his every impulse around you like he always does. You breathe slowly, eyes darting away.

“What did he write?” he repeats. His hand is so warm, a hard contrast from how cold you know he can be.

Your mind turns over the scribbled words on the crumpled page Ty left for you. It was mainly nonsensical, but some phrases stuck with you like a dagger to your heart.

“That he and I are meant to be,” you recall. “And that I know deep down we’re supposed to be together and he’ll keep waiting until I realize it.”

“What a fucking creep,” Rafe snarls, dropping his hand off of you. He’s not going to miss the next opportunity to beat the hell out of the guy and get him away for you for good.

The intensity of your nightmare and the shock from your argument still hurts, and as you look at Rafe, his hair falling over his forehead, his skin pale and his lips pursed in anger, you don’t have it in you to ask him to continue doing this for you.

“You don’t have to do this anymore,” you say. “I’ll stay with friends until my parents get back.”

“What?” Rafe’s pulse quickens. This thing with you isn’t real, he knows that, but it feels like you’re breaking up with him.

“We’re just hurting each other,” you tell him.

“No,” he says. “No. I’m keeping you safe. I’m taking care of you.”

He can’t possibly be hurting you. He can’t be fucking up yet another thing in his life.

“Rafe,” you exhale, defeated. “This whole thing was a bad idea. I’m just a reminder to you. And you’re…”

“I’m what?” he asks.

“You’re always going to keep me at a distance,” you say.

You hang on to what feels like your last shred of hope. You wait, hoping he’ll deny it, hoping he’ll finally meet you in the middle. You thought you had infinite faith that he’d let you in again. But after this morning, you’ve reached the end.

“Listen, I’m…” Rafe begins. Being with you hurts sometimes, but he can’t allow you to be in any danger. “I’m not letting you deal with him on your own.”

“I won’t be on my own,” you respond. He scoffs. Your friends couldn’t scare him off like he can.

“I can’t risk anything happening to you,” he says quickly. “Just… we’ll keep doing this until he finally gets it, alright?”

You’ve been barely grasping onto hope and his words are enough to keep you from letting go. That’s when you accept the fact that you’re doomed. You’ll never give up on him.

“Alright,” you say. Until he finally gets it. Your time with Rafe is limited. But nonetheless, it’s time.

He breathes out in relief. The possibility of disappointing you is more painful than he imagined. He can’t mess this up.

You leave him standing in the hallway, knowing you’ll have to walk away for good when all of this is over. You wonder if you’ll be able to do it without it breaking your heart.

Later in the evening, Sarah invites a few more friends over, who then invite their friends, and soon, the backyard of the Cameron estate is buzzing with conversation and laughter, the beach a glittering backdrop to the spontaneous party. You’re not surprised the space filled up so fast. This is all Kooks do these long summer days.

You find relief in the fact that Ty probably wouldn’t come. Not to Rafe’s house. You stand by your group of friends under the setting sun, the crowd growing around you.

When you spot one of Ty’s friends, your stomach sinks. If he’s here, maybe your ex is, too. It’s best to be cautious.

You search the crowd for Rafe. You noticed him a little while back, drinking with his friends, but he’s nowhere to be found now.

When you break from your group to ask Rafe’s friends where he went, they only offer you shrugs.

You slip into the quiet house, your heart starting to pound at the possibility of Ty finding you and Rafe not being around.

You find Rafe’s name in your phone and dash up the grand stairs, your phone to your ear as you decide to hide in Sarah’s room until you’re sure you’re safe.

It rings once before he answers.

“You okay?” he says.

“Where are you?”

“I’m - uh…” Rafe starts to clean away the lines of coke he made on his nightstand. He never hid it before, but with you around, he’s ashamed of his drug use now. That he needs it. That he couldn’t stay away. He finished his first line before you called. “I’m in my room.”

“I’ll be right there,” you say.

He panics, spilling the powder in his rush, wondering how many seconds he has left before you catch him mid-relapse.

The door opens and he catches your eyes darting to the hardwood floor, covered with coke he didn’t clean up on time.

Rafe’s at the edge of his bed, glaring up at you.

The last time you were in this room, he was just an innocent kid, and now he’s hunched over and drugged up and living through grief you’re not sure he’ll ever be able to bear.

He tries to shove past the shame, focusing on what he’s supposed to be focusing on.

“Is he here?” Rafe asks, standing up, filled with a rush of energy from the drugs.

He approaches you, his pupils blown, rubbing his nose. You stare up at him with concern. He’s so obviously trying to hide the fact that he just used.

“I don’t know,” you say. “I saw his friend and I thought I should find you in case he came.”

“Shit,” he mumbles, erratically shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have left you alone out there.”

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not,” Rafe says, his agitation growing. He was fighting the urge to use as long as he could. Then he told himself he’d just do a couple of lines and go back downstairs, but something could have happened to you in those few minutes. “It’s not okay. I fucked up. All I do is fuck up.”

You watch him pace back towards his bed, raking his hand through his hair. He’s nearly hysterical.

“That’s not true,” you say. Is that really what he thinks of himself?

“You don’t…” Rafe lets out a defeated huff as he sits on his bed, his head in his hands. “You don’t know me.”

It’s a painful reminder. But he’s right.

He stands up again, his breaths heavy. He needs to get this anxiety and anger and fear out the best way he knows how. With a fight.

“He better not be here,” he mutters.

Rafe stalks past you quickly and you follow him as he rushes down the stairs.

He darts towards the crowd scattered across the backyard. You trail him as he pushes through groups, his fists clenched tight.

He realizes your ex isn’t here and turns to look down at you in the middle of the crowd.

“Who’s his friend?” he asks, panting. You can tell that at this point, he just wants to hit someone. He doesn’t care who. And you’re not going to lead him to a guy who hasn’t done anything wrong.

“He has nothing to do with this,” you say over the chattering surrounding you. “Ty isn’t here, okay? That’s what matters. I’m safe. You didn’t fuck anything up.”

The worry in your eyes is almost too much for Rafe. He doesn’t get you. Whatever you see in him doesn’t exist. He feels like he needs to prove to you how wrong you are.

“I couldn’t last two nights,” he says. “I wanted to get clean and I couldn’t last two nights.”

Your face falls. The ground you’re both on feels shaky. You didn’t know he thought so low of himself.

“It’s not all or nothing,” you say. “You don’t have to get it on the first try. It’s…” You almost say an addiction, but you don’t want to insult him.

“It’s a habit and it takes time to break,” you conclude.

Rafe exhales shakily, his body jittery. He looks so upset that you couldn’t leave his side if you tried.

“I need to get away from all this noise,” you say. “Can we go down to the water?”

Rafe curtly nods. He needs to get away, too. The commotion around him is only fuelling his rage.

You stride towards the boardwalk leading to the private beach. The party wasn’t too loud for you at all, but he looked overwhelmed, so you fibbed just to get him out of the chaos.

You quietly walk towards the beach under the dark orange sky. Even with the baggage between you, it feels good to be by his side like this. You just wish it didn’t hurt him to be around you.

You ran up and down this boardwalk so many times as kids. One morning, you fell and scraped your knee and even though you were fine, Rafe put his arm around you to lean on him the whole way back up to the house so his mother could bandage you up.

Now it’s your turn to help him. However you can.

You make it to the sand. The crowd’s sound is just a dull roar behind you now that you’ve reached the beach.

You look over at Rafe to see his chest still rapidly rising and falling as he gazes out at the sea. You wonder why he was hiding it. He never shied away from snorting lines in the middle of a party before.

But by the look on his face, you can tell. He’s ashamed. His words ring in your head. All I do is fuck up.

“You can do it,” you tell him. “You can quit.”

Rafe looks at you and expels a dismissive scoff.

“Doubt it,” he murmurs.

You settle onto the sand, legs stretched out towards the water.

“Why?” you ask.

He stares out at the sea again, the shallow waves curling and tumbling into the shore beneath the setting sun. When he thinks about the hours you two spent out here, it’s like the memories aren’t even his.

He leans to sit next to you, arms resting on his propped up knees. You want so badly to talk about all the silly games and conversations you had out here years ago, but you know better now.

“Why do you care so much?” Rafe finally says, his voice low. You gaze at his profile and notice his lower lip just barely tremble. There’s a fragility in his face that you’ve never seen before.

You take a breath. How can you possibly answer without bringing up the past?

“I just do. Whether you want me to or not.” You say it with a soft chuckle in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

His shoulders slump. Before all this started, he was sure nobody cared about him. Not really. Not when it mattered. But you do.

You bite your lip, desperate to make him feel better.

“I’m not scared of him when you’re around,” you say. “I didn’t think that was possible. And maybe you weren’t downstairs when I was looking for you, but you answered my call right away. So, no, you don’t fuck everything up. You’re helping me when you don’t even have to.”

“I do have to,” he replies.

“Why do you think that?” You know he has a sense of loyalty towards you, a sense of owing you something, but maybe, just maybe, he’ll give you a warmer answer this time.

Rafe’s heart is racing. He’s failed so much. He failed making his own dad like him. He failed staying away from the coke. He’s not going to fail you.

“You’re the only person left who gives a shit,” he admits, unable to say about me out loud.

His words send a shiver through you. Just like in your bed last night, even though there’s nobody around to prove anything to, you touch him. You cup your hand around the inside of his elbow and squeeze.

Feeling your skin on his is a rush for him every time. The only contact he’s had with other people for years has been violent. But you’re so gentle with him and it unravels his anger.

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat. Or he tries to. But he can’t. The coke is making him manic. He took too much. He’s overwhelmed by your affection and he can’t stop what his body’s doing in response.

When you watch a tear run over the curve of his cheek, your shock and concern and sadness give you an ache so painful, your breath hitches.

Before he can try to leave, you lean on him, your temple pressed against his shoulder.

He’s humiliated. He’s actually fucking crying in front of you. So much for being the strong person keeping you safe. Behind everything he pretends to be, he’s weak.

It’s odd to cry in front of someone and not have them tell him to man up. You simply nuzzle against him and tighten your grip.

“Rafe!” someone calls in the distance. “Dude, what the hell? Why’d you leave?”

You both look back to see a group of his buddies stumbling down the boardwalk, laughing drunkenly.

“Shit,” Rafe grunts, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands. His friends are probably looking for some blow. They can’t see him like this. He’s pissed you’re seeing him like this.

You can see how his guard is suddenly up again, how frantic he is to cover his tears.

“Should I…” you stammer, “try to get them to go?”

Rafe shrugs, at a loss, pulling the collar of his shirt up to wipe the evidence off of his face.

You watch his friends get closer and your mind rushes through how you can possibly get them to leave him alone.

It’s ridiculous, but it may be the only thing that’ll work.

“Maybe…” You take a breath to gain a bit of courage. “Maybe we just do what we did at the party last night?”

Glossy blue eyes land on you. He thinks back to the way you held each other, the way he kissed your cheek.

“I don’t know,” you say, words rushed. “Maybe if they think you’re in the middle of a hook-up, they won’t interrupt? It’s stupid, but I don’t know what else we could do.”

The invitation ignites a fire in him. Suddenly, Rafe’s hand cradles your jaw and he pulls you in. You were expecting a hug or something tame. But he kisses you.

Everything that felt heavy in you lightens. His lips are even softer than you imagined. Your mouths melt together and it feels so natural that you almost forget this is all a tactic.

Everything in and around Rafe blurs when he kisses you. He doesn’t feel weak or fucked up or like a failure. He just feels you. Kissing him back. Tasting him like he’s tasting you.

You hear Rafe’s friends’ voices grow louder and you pull back, glaring at them.

“He’s busy!” you shout. Some of them laugh, others holler, but the guy at the front of the group throws his arms up and turns around.

“Say no more,” he slurs, laughing. “But hurry it up, will you?”

You watch them stumble back towards the house and you realize you can hear your heartbeat. You wish it was from the rush of getting away with a lie. But it’s not. It’s from the lie feeling this good.

“It worked,” you say. When you focus on Rafe again, his eyes are on your lips. Then, he quickly looks away, his hand lifting off of you.

The air between you is thick and awkward and you nervously clasp your hands together.

He looks out at the water again. So do you. You’re not touching anymore. And even though he’s right next to you, he suddenly feels miles away.

(part five)

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[steddieas-shegoes]

It’s been done in every which way but Eddie being in an accident of some kind that leaves him paralyzed, but his doctors believe he could walk again with intense physical therapy

He’s stubborn and absolutely hasn’t dealt with any of the trauma of the accident and takes it out on his physical therapist, Steve, who is used to patients being pretty angry about their situation

He always meets Eddie where he is though, tries to keep a smile on his face and joke when appropriate and even shares his cookies from his lunchbox with him

Eventually, Eddie starts making some progress, but instead of being happy about it, he panics and cancels all his PT appointments for the week

Steve tries calling, texting, emailing, doing everything he can to encourage him to keep going, but it all goes unanswered until Gareth, one of Eddie’s closest friends, calls him on Eddie’s phone

He’s depressed and he won’t get out of bed, he’s given up. He’s tired of being in pain and having to try to so hard just to move his damn legs a little

Steve isn’t usually this personal with clients, and tells Gareth he can’t discuss anything medical with him due to patient confidentiality, but insists he should try to drag him to the office the next day before it opens

And somehow, probably through guilt, Gareth manages to wheel a very sullen and grumpy Eddie into the side door entrance to the office at seven in the morning

Steve tells him to come back in an hour to pick him up and Eddie ignores the goodbye Gareth says to him

And Steve pretends nothing is wrong at all, goes through the usual temperature and blood pressure check, asks how he’s feeling and gets a grunt in response, asks if there’s any pain and gets an eye roll

But Eddie met his match in Steve because Steve then pushes him to the center of the workout room, where a large mat is out and a walker is set to the side

“What’s that?”

“Your walker.”

“I don’t need one seeing as I can’t fucking walk.”

“You are today.”

And Steve knows he’s pushing and he hates being pushy

But he knows what his clients are capable of, and he knows without a single doubt in his mind that Eddie is ready to use the walker for five to ten minute increments. He has the leg strength and the stubbornness, he just needs the belief in himself

“Do you want me to hurt myself worse?”

“Of course not. And if you get tired, the seat on the walker is right there. But you can walk and you will walk.”

“And if I call Gareth to come get me right now?”

“Then I don’t believe my services are of value to you anymore and I’ll wish you the best.”

It pained Steve to say it because he knew he was fucking good at what he did, maybe the best in town. His clients often had to wait for his availability to open for weeks or months at a time because of how many people were referred to him

But he said the right thing because Eddie huffed, groaned, and cursed under his breath before wheeling himself to the edge of the mat to hold onto the walker

He pulled himself up

His legs were shaking from not being used for the last few days more than the bare minimum, but his determination was clear

Steve slowly pulled the chair away as Eddie unlocked the brakes of the walker and glared at Steve as he took one step, then two

Sure, he was relying pretty heavily on the walker, maybe more than Steve would’ve liked to see, but he was moving

He made it across the mat and then locked the brakes, sat down on the pad on the walker, and gave a sarcastic grin to Steve

“Happy?”

“Are you?”

And maybe Eddie wasn’t ready to be asked that because he was suddenly sobbing, covering his face as tears flowed down his cheeks

Steve gave him a few seconds before moving to kneel in front of him, pulling his hands away

“You deserve to have your life back, Eddie. You’ve been lucky to have the chance to walk again. Let’s not waste it, okay?”

Eddie spent the rest of the session walking across the mat and taking breaks every two minutes or so

It was better than Steve even expected, but he reminded Eddie not to do too much at once

Eddie didn’t miss any more appointments with Steve, and every appointment, he seemed to be more charming and flirty, more like “the old Eddie” according to Gareth, who drove him most days

Steve never admitted it out loud, but he knew what he felt for Eddie was different from other clients. It felt more personal, and it felt like it could be more someday

When Eddie graduated to a cane, Steve’s services were officially no longer needed

And Eddie decided that he should probably take Steve out on a date

“Since I can walk and hold your hand now,” he winked.

Steve should say no, but he doesn’t

Because holding Eddie’s hand feels even more right as his boyfriend than it did as his physical therapist

[slashers-gf]

I'm here for you... pt1

I don't know it this is good or not. Sorry for any misspelling. I was trying to write this quickly 😭 Might make a part 2 of this. Hope you enjoy 🫶

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Kenji Sato x reader

Word count: 3k

Summery: You and kenji are childhood best friends. Kenji hasn't been answering you for several days, and you start to get worried. You go to a good place to see what's happening to him and to try and help him.

"Damn it, kenji, why haven't you been answering me? It's been several days since you're not answering my texts or calls." I've been trying to contact kenji for days and nothing. Today was the day I was going to go confront him.  I got to the car and made my way to his house.

**Meanwhile with Kenji**

"Please go to sleep emi '' trying to rock emi to sleep.  "She's fussy,"  Mina says, looking at what's happening. "Oh really, i didn't notice," kenji said sarcastically. 

The baby kaiju seems to be finally settling down.  "Ah finally" seeing as it's starting to close her eyes and breathing slowed down.  

"It appears y/n has arrived and is outsode right now," showing security camera. "Damn it, why she her right now. What am i going to do about Emi? She already knows that im Ultraman. "  Looks at the sleeping kaiju and puts her back into the glass cylinder unit. "Mina, i need you to take care of Emi and hide her."  Mina follows the order and hides emi and watches over her.

"Hey, open the damn door," states to bang on the door till someone opens it. Kenji grumbled to himself before heading towards the door and opening it, leaning his muscular frame against the door frame.

"What do you want?" Kenji crossed his arms, not too pleased by your sudden presence.

"Why have you been ignoring me? I've called and texted." Stats to get angry by his attitude. Kenji avoided eye-contact and looked at everything in the room except you.

"I've been busy,"  He answered. It was a shitty excuse, but the truth. Just a lie to hide the truth. 

"Oh, busy is that it" gets more annoyed.  Kenji rolled his eyes and looked away from you once more. "Obviously."  His tone was cold and sharp. It was different from how he usually spoke to you. He was usually quite gentle and cheerful, but this attitude was the complete opposite. It was as if he was purposely trying to push you away... but why? 

"Tell me the truth, what's happening?"  Kenji sighed and gripped onto the door frame, his body language was closed off, guarded...as if he was trying to hide something 

"I told you, I'm busy,"  He said firmly, his eyes darkening. He was clearly agitated at the fact that you were questioning him.  "That's not it, and I know it,"  seeing how he is being suspicious.

  Kenji grit his teeth together and gripped the frame of the door so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He looked away again and spoke in an annoyed tone.  "Why are you so pushy about knowing everything? Huh? Just drop it and piss off already"

" Because I know when you're lying, so tell me what's wrong."  See how he was acting, and I started to get concerned about him. Kenji snapped, and the irritation that he had been pushing down had finally boiled over. He stepped forward and locked eyes with you, his voice raising*

"No! Okay!? I don't want to tell you or anyone anything and I don't plan to! Just piss off!" 

"What the hell is your problem?"  I started to raise my voice.  Kenji ran a hand down his face in frustration, scoffing. "My problem is you! You just can't seem to take a damn hint and leave!" 

"Are you fucking kidding me right now. I come here because I'm worried about you and your just going to act like a piece of shit "

Kenji's eyes darkened, and a cold, bitter laugh slipped past his lips. "You're worried about me, huh? Sure, as hell doesn't seem like it! You've been nagging me this whole time to open up like I'm some sort of sob story that needs saving!"

"Well I am fucking worried, I always have been. I'm your best friend and I'm just trying to understand and help you" lowers voice and gets hurt by what he has just said. 

Kenji's shoulders slumped, and he leaned against the door frame again. He looked tired, beyond exhausted mentally and physically. His voice was quiet and bitter.

"Well...you don't need to, okay? I'm fine..Everything's fine" he said, sighing. 

"Wow, you really are just childish and only care about yourself and not others about you? " turns about and starts to walk towards my car.

Kenji froze, his heart hammering in his chest. Why did what you said hurt so badly? He bit back the tears that began to well up in his eyes, his vision going blurry. He had been pushing you away and yet here he was on the verge of tears. He cursed under his breath, clenching a fist and quickly turned around, grabbing your wrist and yanking you back towards him. "Where are you going!?"

"Home clearly since you don't need my help with anything ."  Trying to break away from his grip. Kenji's grip on your wrist tightened as he held you firmly in place, preventing you from leaving. He hated this feeling and hated how his heart ached in his chest. Damn it...why did he feel so vulnerable around you... "Just..just stay" He said quietly

"Why? why should I if you are just going to keep lying to me over and over again? " turning back to look him in the face. 

Kenji groaned and let go of your wrist, running a hand through his raven hair as he avoided eye contact once more. He bit his bottom lip and looked off to the side, contemplating on answering your question.

"I'm not lying.."  He said in a quiet whisper. He was lying. He hadn't told you everything.. but in his heart, is that really lying?  "I just..." *He closed his eyes and let out a deep exhale  "I just don't want you to worry..." 

"I'm here for you, and I've always been since I was a kid. But I don't want to  watch you like this and treat me like shit, " I said, looking at his face. 

Kenji flinched, his eyes snapping open. He winced at your words, his heart panging once more and his stomach twisting into knots. He hated this.. Why couldn't you just listen to him and leave him alone? He didn't want you to witness his breakdown, his pain, his struggle. He was supposed to be strong... to be the one that people look up to. A broken hero.. but could he really say that?

Kenji cursed once more, grabbing your sleeve and pulling you away from the door and into the apartment. 

"Hey, let go of me," trying to get out of his grasp.  Kenji ignored your protests and tugged you into the apartment further, closing the door behind you and shutting the world outside behind him. He finally let go of you and stepped away. 

"No! You wanted to come here and now you're here. You're not leaving until you listen to me!" 

"Why should I if you are not going to tell me what's really wrong and not want my help?" Looking at kenji to see what his reaction is. Kenji clenched his fists tightly, his body growing tense. He knew you were right, and he knew he had no right to be mad at you... yet there was an anger that was welling up in his chest. His jaw clenched. "I don’t need your pity, okay?! Stop acting like I need your damn help!" He said, raising his voice.

"So you're just not going to tell me anything then?" I said as Kenji closed his eyes and sighed, his shoulders slumping once more. He looked defeated. As much as he tried to keep up the tough act, he just couldn’t. He was exhausted and tired..he just didn’t know how to explain everything to you without burdening you further.

"Look...it's not that I don’t want to tell you anything..it's just..”  He couldn’t look you in the eye, choosing to look down at the ground instead 

"Go on" I said, wanting him to continue on with what he was saying. Kenji’s jaw clenched, his fingers tapping against his leg anxiously.

 Where did he even start? He thought. He closed his eyes and opened them again, staring straight into yours “Promise me you won’t say anything…to anyone, alright?:

"Yes, of course I already know your ultraman, and I haven't told anyone," getting concerned about what he was going to say to me. Kenji relaxed slightly. He had to admit he did feel relief in the fact that you already knew. He crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. “I’m assuming you want the reason as to why I’ve been distant..correct?” Kenji sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache, and he hadn’t even started yet.. “It’ll be hard to explain, hell you might not even believe me but…”  He trailed off and sat down on the couch, motioning for you to do the same. 

I followed and sat next to him on the couch. "Kenji, you know that you can tell me anything, right?" Looking at his expression. Kenji nodded, staring down at his now clenched fists resting on his lap. He felt vulnerable, vulnerable, and terrified. Scared of what you’d think.  “I know, I know.. just..”  He swallowed his saliva, his throat suddenly feeling very dry  “Just listen, ok?” 

"Yes, of course I'll listen to whatever you say." Seeing how he was reacting, I know something major was happening to his life. Kenji breathed in slowly before exhaling. He knew he had to say it. He had no choice but to spit it out. It was better if you heard it from him rather than later.  “The reason…”  He swallowed nervously once more. “The reason I’ve been closed off and distant with you…is because I don't want you to hate me." His voice began to tremble. 

"Kenji, I would never take you no matter what happens." Seeing him like this broke my heart, knowing he was suffering, and i wasn't there to console him. Kenji shut his eyes even tighter, his body trembling as he fought the tears that welled up behind his eyelids. God, he was so pathetic. He was on the verge of tears again, and this time, his resolve finally broke. The dam of tears broke and poured down his cheeks like a waterfall as he choked out a broken response. “You’d say that now…but you won’t when you find out the truth..”

I look at Kenji and grab his hand. Kenji’s lip quivered as he felt your hand grab his, the touch of your skin against his was suddenly too much for him. He looked at you with tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes red and puffy. “Damnit..”  He muttered, using his other hand to wipe away tears, but they just kept coming.. he hated how damn emotional he felt, and yet at the same time, it felt like a relief in a way.. 

"Kenji, I'm going to be here for you no matter what, so tell me so I can understand and help you, kenji."  Kenji’s heart twisted. Your words only made him feel guilty. He didn’t deserve the kindness you were giving to him, but yet here you were. Willing to listen to his story. He looked down at your hand that was holding his and gently squeezed it, enjoying the feeling of your hand in his. He swallowed hard and nodded, knowing he didn’t have a choice. He had to say it.. “Okay..okay you wanna know the truth?”

Kenji took a deep breath. This was it. There was no turning back now. He gently pulled his hand away from yours and ran a hand through his raven hair. His voice went quiet, and it was shaky as he spoke. “Please..promise me that you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you. This can’t leave this room..” 

"Yes, of course I promise kenji," giving his hand a squeeze to comfort him.  Kenji closed his eyes and slowly took another breath, steeling himself to say what he knew would change everything. He clenched the couch in his fists, the soft material of the couch bunched up beneath his strong hands “Okay..here it goes…” Kenji’s chest tightened, and his heart raced. He swallowed once more before he spoke, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. “My mom.. passed away a couple of years ago..”

I stay quiet and just listen to him and what he has to say. Kenji’s eyes began to water as he recalled the memory of losing his mother. It had left a permanent scar in his heart, one that he knew would never heal. He cursed silently under his breath, squeezing the fabric of his jeans. " She was the most important person in my life. My rock..so when I lost her, it hurt like hell. And the pain didn’t go away..not even to this day..”  

" I know how hard it can be on you. You loved her very much, and she loved you, but she wouldn't want to see you crying like this. "  Kenji knew you were right. Every word you said was right. His mama wouldn’t want to see him this wreck. That was for certain, but he couldn’t help it. The pain was too damn much, and as much as he hated to admit it, he had finally reached his limit...“Why, why did she have to pass away? I just don’t understand..” He whispered, his voice cracking as he looked down at the floor, fresh tears falling down his face.

" Sometimes life doesn't go the way everyone wants it. There are going to be times when you just want to disappear from this world. But you know it's not your fault or anyone's. She loved you very much more than you think. It's okay to feel like this. You are human, too. You don't need to act strong just because you are ultraman. "  Kenji nodded, listening to your words. Sometimes, he was so used to acting tough and strong that he forgot he was just a regular person with emotions. He felt silly having a miniature breakdown, but at the same time, he felt relieved. After all, he hadn’t shared this pain with anyone before..

 He swallowed hard, looking down at his lap “I know..it’s just sometimes the pain gets too much, and I wonder why it had to happen to me. I miss her so much. Some days, I'm feel like I’m going to go crazy..”

"I know you do. I miss her, and she was like a second mom to me. Remember when she would have those game days when we were little, and she would cheer for you." Recalling those memories that we had shared together with his mom.  Kenji chuckled as the memories came flooding back. The game days, they were always his favorite…he couldn’t believe you remembered them too. He smiled warmly, his dark eyes gleaming with sadness.

“Yea I remember…we would get so rowdy that sometimes it would get out of hand, and we’d get in trouble. I swear I’ll never forget that time when we both broke the vase…and mom yelled at us like hell..”

"You have many fun and happy memories with her. She always wanted you to be happy."  Kenji nodded, the corners of his mouth curving into a small smile. There were many happy memories, and he had to admit that. His mind began to recall one after another.. their laughs, their games, their fun days…but as quickly as those happy memories came, the pain came rushing back.  “I know.. I know she wanted me to be happy, but hell. It’s just so damn hard without her..”

"It's okay to feel like that, but you can't just push everyone that cares about you away," I said, looking at him and how he was quiet. Kenji stayed silent, his eyes downcast once more. Deep down, he knew it was true. Every word you said was true. But he didn’t know why he was so scared of accepting it. The thought of losing someone again, the thought of losing you.. “You’re right..but look where it gets me..I’m just a wreck..”

"I'm here for you to lean on me," I said, knowing that no matter what, I was going to stay by his side.  Kenji looked up at you once more, his jaw tensing. A part of him wanted to keep pushing you away and hide his vulnerability away.. but the other part just wanted to pull you into his arms and not let go. “Why? Why are you still here? Why are you still bothering me..? I’ve been nothing but a jerk to you..” 

"I don't know, I've been with you my whole life. You're someone precious to me, and I don't want that precious someone to suffer in front of me, " I said, smiling at him.   Kenji’s lip trembled, your words of kindness overwhelming him. He had a feeling you’d say something cheesy like that..yet at the same time, it was just the truth. You stuck by his side through everything, and he realized how many times he probably took your friendship for granted.. “Damnit..”  He muttered quietly, looking off to the side. “You’re far too nice for your own good, you know that?” 

"Really!? I think I'm just doing the right thing. " I said while laughing.  Kenji rolled his eyes and managed a small laugh in response to yours. Your optimism always got the best of him, even in the darkest of times. But deep down, he felt grateful. I am grateful that you hadn’t given up on him, even when he had pushed you away. “Yea yea you’re always right like the smartass you are..”  He said, shoving your shoulder lightly. 

"Don't call me that," I said while flicking his for heard with my finger.  Kenji flinched when you flicked his forehead, rubbing the spot and pouting at you. He huffed and folded his arms across his chest, scowling at you. "Ow damn’t..” He grumbled, his lips twitching in an almost smile* “Oh come on, you know you love me calling you that." I slightly blushed at this but looked the other way so he couldn't see. 

"Ya ya, whatever, so are you going to keep pushing me away?" I asked, looking at him for a reply. *Kenji stayed quiet for a few moments, his mind racing as he tried to come up with some snarky retort, but the words got lost somewhere in his throat. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, admitting his defeat* 

“No, No I’m not going to keep pushing you away..”  He said, his voice quiet. “It was stupid of me, anyway. You’re right, I’ve been a jerk and I’m sorry..”  He looks down at his lap. "Wow, the infamous kenji Sato said sorry to sorry one," I said, smirking. *Kenji rolled his eyes and huffed, smacking your shoulder this time* 

“You’re lucky I’m being nice right now, or I’d knock that smirk right off your face..”  He scowled half-heartedly, his dark eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. Despite his rough exterior, the truth was that he really missed this. Missed being around you like this...

"So are you going to tell me why you smell like fish and barf?" I said, looking at him up and down.  Kenji froze in shock. 

“Ah crap..”

To be continued...

[celestelunia]

Hi!! I’ve been loving your writing so far! And I agree, there’s not enough Ruggie love! mayhaps we can get a Ruggie x fem!reader is like Mitsuri Kanroji from demon slayer? Like she’s all happy and touchy and he’s just really flustered by everything she does (not sure if you’re comfortable talking about body types because Mitsrui is very curvy, so if you want to pls do!) the ending is up to you, just make it super fluffy

🩷

Hi 🩷-san!

I'm so glad you've been enjoying my writing so far!! Thank you! >w<

I'm so sorry this took so long! I'll be honest....I've only seen the 1st season of demon slayer. Shame on me! I need to continue watching it lol

Not sure if this is true to Mitsuri's character, but I tried my best. 🫶 It's one of the reasons this took so long 😆

TW: Guy being rude and pushy. Reader has a curvy body.

"Here! I got this for you. Make sure you stay hydrated!"

"I had some extra sandwiches that I packed for you. Here~"

"Oh. Your hair is a bit of a mess. Let me fix it for you."

Ruggie just sat on a bunch with his hands in his lap with a deep blush on his face. His ears were flat against his head as he felt you run your hand through his hair. Outside of the physical affection, it also didn't help that your rather busty chest was right in front of his face! He didn't know where to look!!

He wasn't sure why you started to dote and pamper him, but all Ruggie knew was he didn't know how to handle it. The hyena had to always fend for himself. To find his own food and to help provide for his family and friends back home. This sudden onslaught of attention left him feeling at a loss.

Not that it was a bad feeling or anything. Being treated with kindness by a beautiful and sexy woman was surprisingly....nice. More so than he would have thought, considering how females were back in the Sunset Savanna.

"There we go." You said after removing your hand from his hair. "You really need to learn to take better care of yourself, Ruggie."

Ruggie just nodded his head before glancing away from you with his face still red. "Y-yeah." Even the tone you used with him was so sweet and caring! His heart was having a hard time handling it! Clearing his throat, the hyena stood up as he gave you a small smile. "Got class coming up soon, so I'll catch you later."

"Okay. I have some time after classes today if you want to go out together? I heard they have a new flavor of donut." You said with a smile as you noticed his ear twitch at the mention of his favorite food.

"I'll meet you by the statues of the sevens after class." Ruggie said with a smile before he headed off to class.

As you watched him leave, you turned to head towards your own class. You have always admired Ruggie's tenacity, and despite what people thought of him, you liked him, and other people's opinions weren't going to change what you saw.

After the day came to an end, you stood by the statues of the great seven as you waited on Ruggie. A short while later, he came running up to you before the both of you headed off into town.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself." You said with a laugh as you watched Ruggie happily munch away on a couple of donuts he was holding.

"Of course. You can't go wrong with a good donut." He replied with a grin. "Wait here. I'll go grab us something to drink." He said before heading off towards a small stall that was selling drinks.

As you waited for Ruggie to return, you were suddenly addressed by some random stranger.

"Here there, beautiful." The man said grin as his eyes moved up and down your body. "How about we go get something to eat? I'll show you a good time."

Instantly, an annoyed look crossed your face as you made no effort to hide it. "I'm with someone." You said, hoping they would get the point that you had no interest.

"Come on, baby. Don't be like that. We can have some fun together." The strange said as he moved closer to you. The look he was giving you made you feel sick. It was a look you've gotten before and one you hated. The look like you were just some kind of object or plaything. It wasn't like you were aware of your body or looks, but you also didn't see any reason to be ashamed either. It's annoying people like this guy who needed to learn boundaries.

Just as the stranger started to  reach out towards you, you took a step back but stopped when you noticed he seemed to be struggling.

""W-what...the....?" The man grunted as his body shook lightly before he turned around and started to walked towards a large fountain that was nearby. As he reached the edge, you watched as he man suddenly threw himself into the fountain as water splashed up.

With surprise writen all over your face you suddenly heard a voice as someone walked past you towards the man who suddenly gasped as he emerged from thr water in the fountain.

"The lady said she wasn't interested." Ruggie said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Hope the water here helped to cool you down a bit."

"You bastard! What did you do to me?!" The man yelled as he pulled himself out of the fountain.

"Not that it's any of your business, but you should consider yourself lucky that all I did was make you to a bath. If you want to see what I'm really capable of, then by all means, continue to make an ass out of yourself. I don't mind at all. Shyeheehee." He said with a grin as he waited for the man's next move.

Unsure of this hyena power and the whispers coming from the crowd that was form, the man just huffed before he turned around and left.

"Damn jerk." Ruggie whispered under his breath. While he was waiting in line for the drinks, he happened to glance over and noticed some guy getting a bit too close to you and how uncomfortable you looked. In that moment, Ruggie felt his skin crawl at the sight, and before he knew it, he had already activated his signature spell on the guy. No one messed with you like that!

As he turned around to check on you, Ruggie let out a small "oof" when a body came colliding into his. Stumbling back a bit, he glanced down to see you with your face hidden against his chest and your arms wrapped around him in a hug.

Feeling his face grow hot again, Ruggie just kept his arms up as he wasn't sure what to do. "A-are you okay?" He asked as he blushed heavily at the feeling of your body pushed up against his.

"Thank you..." You muttered against Ruggie's chest before she slowly glanced up at him. "I always feel safe with you."

Ruggie froze as he felt like he had been just shot through the heart as you looked up at him with your large eyes and the light blush that dusted your cheeks. Ahhhh! He really was becoming weak when it came to you.

Relaxing a bit, Ruggle slowly returns the hug before he places his hand against the back of your head. "You don't have to worry when you're with me." He said without thinking, and almost immediately, he wanted to slap himself. Since when did he become so corny!? You, on the other hand, just smiled as you pushed yourself up closer to Ruggie's face.

Once close enough, you placed a gentle kiss against his cheek before smiling. "As thank you for being my knight, I'll treat you out to some dinner."

Feeling like his heart was going to explode from his chest, Ruggie cleared his throat before he took your hand in his. "Let's just enjoy the rest of our date."

At the word date, you felt your eyes widen at the fact that he said it first and the fact that you had been debating on how to officially as him out. Feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness, you wrapped yourself around Ruggie's arm before smiling. "Mm!" You really couldn't have asked for anyone better to be with.

[sweetfushi]

hihihihi i hope ur having a very good day and that this request is even understandable and grammatically correct!!!!!! this thought has been plaguing my mind sososos much but i reallyreallylyly want just a short drabble or anything w jjk (any character u find that fits best idm) of them like drawing a bath n washing your hair after a long day or smth smth (nooooottttttt in a suggestive way plsplsplspls)

okay thats it >3< !!!! im praying this doesnt come off as pushy T_T

PAMPERING YOU AFTER A LONG DAY

fluff | satoru gojo, toji fushiguro, kento nanami x reader, stress, frustration, running you a bath, washing you, no suggestiveness just pure fluff and comfort <3 | word count. 1.7k ◦ notes. hihihihi nonnie!! don't worry your grammar is fine and you didn't come off as pushy at all, i hope you enjoy mwah

SATORU GOJO.

Satoru can tell something is up when you toss your decently-expensive blazer haphazardly on your desk, showing little care when it inevitably slips and falls on the ground. He doesn’t need you to tell him, he picks it up in an instant and throws it on the back of your office chair.

“I would ask how work went but you don’t look like you’re in the mood to answer questions,” he huffs, somewhat amused. “Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure today was a universally terrible day at work. Everyone on the street looked miserable as hell,” he assures you through the kiss he places to the top of your head.

“Oh I’m sure,” you mumble, recalling the frustration you experienced facing your arrogant supervisor. “Sorry, that tone wasn’t aimed at you.”

“I didn’t think it was, dove, but thank you for the reassurance,” he laughs softly, the breathy sound evidence of his own exhaustion.

Satoru starts to head out of your office to let you settle down, but pauses in the doorway. You barely pay him any mind other than a small smile as you pull your laptop out of your bag and place it on your desk, and mutter incoherently about how disgusting the five empty snack wrappers in your bag are. He continues to watch as you let down your hair from its bun toss your hair tie beside your laptop.

“Come to the bathroom in ten. Vanilla or floral?”

You squint. “What?”

“Scent. Pick.”

“Why are you talking in half-sentences? And vanilla.”

“Why aren’t you used to it? And alright,” he retorts with a long finger pointing at you, before narrowly dodging the pen you throw at him by rushing out the doorway and seeking refuge in the bathroom.

The bathroom that, ten minutes later, you find yourself being pampered in. Satoru is sat on a stool beside the bathtub as you soak in the water, stretching your legs and fluttering your lashes at the therapy the hot water provides to your aching muscles. Speaking of, you don’t have to strain a single one as Satoru doesn’t let you lift a finger. He’s massaging your shampoo into your hair, gently scratching your scalp and inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla.

The water reaches your chest and provides the perfect height for you to make shapes with the bubbles and bring them close to your face to inspect before blowing away. He watches as you repeat this process with multiple shapes, some more recognisable than others, and feels himself desiring to kiss you.

“Do you think–,” the moment you turn your head to ask, Satoru’s lips meet yours quickly yet so dreamily and so gently. You practically whine into the kiss, both because he cut you off and because you’re caught off guard by how intimate the moment suddenly becomes.

So much so that you’re left panting by the time he pulls away and flashes you a faux innocent smile, to which you glare at him and tense up like a cat when he starts rinsing the shampoo out your hair. After he applies a mask in your hair and clips it up, Satoru struggles to maintain a healthy heart rate when you rest your arms on his knees and your head on them, eyes lowering with the appearance of tiredness.

“I can’t wash you like this, baby.”

“Just for a bit.”

A minute goes by. “How long is a bit?” He finally asks.

“A lot.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“I can finally show you what I’ve been workin’ on,” Toji smirks, taking your hand in his after you manage to shove your shoes off by the door. He’s been working on the spare room you had for a month now and would refuse to let you even peek any time you asked. You assumed that your husband had finally resorted to illegal money-making tactics to fund your lifestyle, but he was (suspiciously) quick to shut that idea down.

When he did need help continuing the project, he had called in a few men you weren’t familiar with to assist. You’d complain about the random men in your house, to which he’d pull you in for a kiss on your temple and insist that it’s worth it.

He unlocks the door to the room and rushes behind you to cover your eyes. “Is this necessary? You’ve already made me wait a month.”

“A few seconds more can’t hurt,” he retorts with a snicker at your enthusiasm. He uses his elbow to push the door open and only when he guides you to step into the room and close the door behind you does he lower his hands from your eyes. “Surprise.”

Surprise was an understatement. Toji had renovated the room to almost appear bigger and function as a spa, with extensive windows along the top of the walls that are big enough to let fresh air in but small enough to not actually show the interior of the room from the outside. A massage table stood in the middle of the room with two tables at either side of it, both neatly organised with numerous body oils, lotions and Vogue magazines.

“If you don’t say something in the next second I’m gonna assume you’re plotting to kill me.”

“I love it.”

“Thank God.”

You giggle at his exaggerated exhale and turn to tackle him in your embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to your height for your own comfort. Toji smiles into your neck, resting his hands on your lower back and letting himself inhale your scent and delightful aura.

“Now,” you start as you break away from the hug, “I believe I’m in need of a masseur.”

Toji - or your masseur - is quick to have you strip down and lay you on your stomach with a white towel over your backside. He laughs at your heavy sigh and the way your head flops down onto the table, simply letting him work one of the oils on your skin and tense muscles. Every so often, when he feels you drifting off to sleep, he’ll bend down and place a kiss on your hairline, sometimes hearing you mumble in response.

His fingers are calloused enough to draw you out of your slumber after a minute or so, but you don’t complain since they’re the same fingers that ward you into that sleep initially. You don’t talk at all aside from a few incoherent murmurs, ones that even when Toji responds with “hm?” to, you don’t repeat or say any clearer. He has to contain the soft, breathy laugh that threatens to escape at your dazed, drowsy state - he doesn’t want to disrupt your peace.

“You good, mama?” Toji asks breathily, slowing his movements momentarily.

You groan in response. “You better keep those hands moving, boy.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You can hear the grin in his voice but can’t find the strength to glare at him for it let alone lift your head to do so.

KENTO NANAMI.

The first thing you notice when you walk through the front door is the delivery bag by the bin. You wonder why it’s not in the bin, but also why it’s here in the first place. You’re certain you have leftovers that are enough to feed you two for the evening. However with closer inspection of the bag, you realise it to be of a bakery that is very much raved about, both at work and on social media.

I’ll be damned if I let this man finish these sweets without me.

“Kento! I’m home!” You call out, expecting a prompt response from the kitchen or living room. Instead, you hear some shifting and clanging upstairs, likely in the bathroom, and hang your jacket up before trotting up the stairs. “Are you okay? What was that sound?”

“Ah, I’m fine, sweetheart. I didn’t anticipate making this much noise, though,” he replies sheepishly just as you push the bathroom door open. Once you do, the aroma of something you can’t quite place your finger on caresses your senses, making you shut your eyes to fully indulge in it. Nanami chuckles at your rapidly relaxed demeanour and dries his hands off before coming over to embrace you.

“Hi,” you smile into the crook of his neck.

“Hi,” he reciprocates, sighing contently at the feeling of your hands roaming the expanse of his back. He shifts you in his arms so that his left is swung over your shoulders, while the other motions towards the relaxation project that is your bathroom. As you let yourself admire the filled bathtub, lit candles and rose petals decorating both the water and some of the floor, you’re reminded of the sweets.

“Do I also get a cake?” You stare up at him pointedly.

Nanami recalls the delivery he made and rubs your left shoulder. “Also isn’t the right word here, I swear I haven’t had any yet,” he laughs breathily, letting you strip while he positions the small tray table on the edges of the bathtub. When you’re finally relieved of your clothes, you practically squeal at the sight of numerous cakes, brownies and fruits decorating the wooden tray, barely giving Nanami enough time to stand before you’re crawling into the tub and snuggling under the warm water.

“Now I know you washed your hair yesterday,” he says as you start to feel his hands gather your hair and clip it up, “which is why I want this to be focused on easing your stress. Both physical and mental forms.”

You’re practically gaping at the rate at which he’s making your heart race from simply his words and gestures. Reluctantly you are to admit that perhaps Nanami deserves to have some of your sweets. Realistically, it would be days before you’d finish them all. “Come here and give me a kiss, you,” is all you respond with, to which Nanami complies eagerly and results in him groaning under the soft feeling of your hands rubbing the back of his neck.

Your hand trails up to scratch his scalp and he shivers in delight, allowing his hand to grasp your jaw gently but with enough grip to make you shiver and smile into the kiss. The kiss that inevitably ends because you need to breathe and let Nanami tend to you.

When he reaches for your body wash, you grab his arm and insist that you eat first. You need some sugar in your system before you crash from sheer relaxation under your husband’s attention.

“Feed me, husband.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “As you wish, my wife.”

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post. all that is included in this post, aside from the photos, fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[shadeysprings]

So Good. So Bad.

—Stalker!Ex-Boyfriend!Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

Summary — The Halloween party you and your friends attend turns upside down all because of your jealous ex.

Warnings — noncon/dubcon, toxic relationship, mass murd3r, k!lling spree, somewhat public sex, cuckolding of some sort, almost drugging, Lloyd being toxic and psychotic. There may be more I haven't mentioned but please read with caution.

Word Count — 7.2K

A/N — I know I said Sunday but my muse said no. Story #2 for my FREAKtober Fest and my second time exploring Lloyd as a character. The writing process was tedious yet exciting. The title and inspiration of this fic was taken from the song ILYSB.

Gif by the amazing @steve-kemp

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

Aside from having the same shift as your best friends, restocking is the only thing you like about your work. Although it’s physical, it’s mostly mindless tasks done repeatedly, and the black shirt you wear acts like a shield from annoying customers who pester the ones in blue.

Your shift starts like clockwork; time in, grab the products from the warehouse, and begin stocking the shelves until you have to clock out. Though today was a bit more taxing than you expected with the cable aisle once more in disarray and you being tasked to reorganize and set everything in its proper place. You don’t understand the need to put in so much effort into something that will just end up messy at the end of the day.

But you do it anyway. 

Upon arriving at the aisle, you begin sorting out the boxes and dismantling the hooks from the shelves. You’re happy enough to be doing this alone—the quicker you work, the faster you’ll be able to relax and waste the time away. That is, until Kate stands beside you, seemingly tensed as she starts helping you. 

“He’s here again. TV aisle.” You don’t need for her to say anything more to know who she’s referring to and it just makes you sigh as you grab a box of an HDMI cable and hang it on the hook. “Jensen’s trying to help him but he’s being pushy about talking to you. How does he always know when you’re here? Didn’t you already change shifts?” She asks.

How you wish you knew the answer to that. “I did.” You say in exasperation. “Did he say I was on break?”

“You know we can’t lie. Besides, we have no idea if he already saw you before he came in. He could have seen you while you were on your smoke break.” She expounds and you feel a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over you. “Just—talk to him. Tell him to leave. If he tries anything, we’ll call the cops.”

“Yeah. Like they’ll do anything about it. Vince wouldn’t even allow that—bad publicity and all.” The sigh that once more leaves your lips is despondent. You don’t know what else you can do to make him leave you alone. “Fine. I’ll deal with him.” The box in your hand ends up being crumpled from annoyance.

“We’ll be keeping watch.” She says, a measly attempt to comfort you. But you take it anyway with a smile and push away from your cart to hopefully turn away the pesky client.

It’s been almost two years since you broke up with Lloyd. The sweet air that he once had turned bitter when you saw just how jealous of a person he was. You thought it was cute at first, comforting him after a fit and telling him that he was the only man in your life—until it wasn’t and he threatened your friend, John, even challenging him to a fight at the back of the club when he placed his arm on your shoulder as he introduced you to his girlfriend. 

Since then, he changed and the relationship you thought was almost perfect, snowballed into endless fights and the revelation of the toxicity he kept hidden. You thought you could make him realize that there was truly nothing to worry about, that his jealousy was misplaced. But you were very wrong, especially after he demanded you quit your job and move in with him instead. You’d make a really good housewife, was what he said and you knew you had to draw the line.  

It wasn’t the life you wanted. And it pained you to leave because you did love him but with the way he acted, you questioned if he truly felt the same for you for even the simplest of things, he failed to trust you. And ever since, he hasn’t stopped following you. Everywhere you went, at work or home, he was there, simply watching, observing and you’ve done all you can to push him away. But no matter how hard you try, he can’t take the word no.

The first thing you notice when you see him is the twitch of his mustache when he smirks. He looks pristine as ever with his yellow polo shirt and white slacks that match his black loafers—a complete mismatch to your black shirt, jeans and sneakers uniform. And it has you thinking, what the hell did he see in you?

“The new models just came in yesterday,” You hear Jensen tell him but it’s obvious that Lloyd is not listening, certain that he’s staring at you even with his blue eyes covered by sunglasses. “I can show them—”

“Ah, just the girl I was looking for.” He says, cutting off Jensen and stepping past him to head over to you. 

“Sir, she’s one of our warehouse staff. I’d be happy to assist you in—”

“Beat it, nerd!” Lloyd snaps as he stops to face Jensen, rolling your eyes at his misplaced annoyance. “She’s the one I want to talk to.”

“It’s okay, Jen. I got this.” You tell your co-worker, gesturing for him to leave.

“You sure? I can stay if you need any he—”

“Are you fucking deaf?! She said she’s got it, loser!” Lloyd turns from where he stands and you’re suddenly alarmed to see him charge over at Jensen. “Beat it or I’ll make you.” He threatens and you immediately wedge yourself between both men when you see Jensen isn’t backing down.

You place your hands against Lloyd’s chest, stopping him from getting any closer. “Lloyd, stop it! Not here—Christ!” Your voice raises an octave when you scold him, facing Jensen right after and unintentionally glaring at him. “Just go, Jake! I said I got this!” It surprises you that you sound quite like Lloyd but it doesn’t deter you from pushing Lloyd back further.

You hear Jensen speak but don’t understand him as you grab Lloyd by the hand and pull him over to the other aisle, heat rising up your neck when you notice several of the shoppers looking in your direction. There’s never any peace with Lloyd—everywhere he goes, chaos follows.

Once you’ve pulled him away from prying eyes, you startle when he stops walking and tugs on your hand, his arm immediately wrapping around your waist as he holds you close. He gives you a sickeningly sweet grin, effectively trapping your hand against his chest.

“What the fuck do you want, Lloyd? Why are you here?” You bite.

“I’m looking for a TV.” He says smoothly, “Besides, I missed my little Kitten and I know that kitty of yours misses me too.”

You want to roll your eyes at his crass comment. “You know I work in the damn warehouse. I know nothing about them.” You reason, grunting as you try to get away from his hold. “We have a sales specialist who can help you with that.”

“Oh, but I want you to show me the options.” The hair on his lip twitches when he smirks, “Or I can complain to your manager that his employees aren’t helpful to their customers.”

“Seriously? You’re going to act like a fucking Karen?”

“Would you like to see me try?” He challenges.

That’s the last thing you needed from him and you don’t question that he would stay true to his word and make sure his complaint reached top management. Letting out a sigh, you nod at his request and show your best customer service smile before saying, “How can I help you?”

Your shift finally ends and you can’t wait to go home to wash off the day. After Lloyd pestered you with all the TV selections you showed him, he left with nothing and you tried your best not to show your annoyance at him though he knows he’s riled you up—he always does. 

Bidding your goodbyes to Kate and the rest as you leave the store with Jensen in tow. He offered a ride to the station—something he always does and one you couldn’t refuse after the long day. You just want to go home and curl up in your room and hope that Lloyd doesn’t show himself again after that awful stint. 

“Tough day, huh?” Jensen asks as he brings the engine to life and drives off from the parking lot. 

“Yeah. I’m just glad it’s over.” You respond, leaning back against your seat while you hug your backpack against your chest.

“Yeah.” He echoes, hearing his fingers tap against the wheel. “The line at the tech depot was pretty long too. Seems like every computer within town is falling apart.” He jokes, and you think it’s an attempt to lighten the mood. You still feel tense with the altercation he had with Lloyd—you just wish for once one of them would listen to you. 

“Hey, sorry about earlier.” He says and you visibly cringe when he mentions it. “I know you could handle him but knowing that he’s bothering you, I couldn’t just step away from—”

“Look. Jensen.” You sigh as you turn to face him. “I appreciate your concern, really, I do. But no offense, it’s none of your business. I don’t need a knight in shining armor to come and rescue me each time that idiot shows up. The others stay away because of how reckless he can be and I just don’t want you to get caught in the line of fire. Just let me handle him.”

You know full well why Jensen couldn’t get past that. After admitting to you his feelings since he found out you were single, he’s been subtly dropping hints about asking you out. You’d probably have taken up the offer if you met him before Lloyd but the trauma your ex has imprinted on you just leaves you thinking that any man who would dare go near would be the same. 

Silence fills the small space, along with a flicker of tension. You think Jensen would disapprove of your words, that he would insist on giving his unwarranted help. But all you hear is a sigh and you see the nod of his head. 

“Okay.” He utters, the rubber covering the steering wheel squeaking when his hold on it tightens. “I won’t meddle any—”

“JENSEN!” You shout and grab onto the handle of your seat when a car suddenly turns and blocks your path, Jensen stepping hard onto the brakes. 

“What the fuck?!” He shouts as he rolls down his window but you, on the other hand, sit still when you see Conrad, one of Lloyd’s buddies, step out of the car and walk over to Jensen’s side. “What the hell is wrong with you, bro?!” Jensen growls as he unlocks his door, ready to step out.

But you’re too late to warn him—Conrad pulling open the door and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, trapping him against the side of his car. Lloyd then suddenly appears, with Chris in tow. He goes first to Jensen, the latter flinching when he raises his fist at him, threatening to lay a punch before leaning down and framing his arms over the edge of the window.

Your eyes dart to Jensen when he grunts against Conrad’s grip, glaring at Lloyd when he stares you down. “What the fuck are you doing here, Lloyd?!”

His eyes meet yours, darkness swirling around the blue and you can already tell that he’s angry. “What are you doing here, Kitten?” He says, a cocky grin on his face. “You couldn’t wait for me to pick you up so you got into this loser’s car?” He tuts, chin nodding over to your side and your door suddenly opens, Chris, pulling you out aggressively. 

You look around, hoping to call for help but you curse Jensen when you notice he went through the back roads. No one ever passes here, especially at this hour, and now the both of you are at the mercy of your ex who you see looming over your co-worker. 

You gasp when Lloyd sends him a punch, trying to pull away from Chris’ grasp to help Jensen, but it’s no use. You’re rendered helpless as you watch him send another blow, making the other bowl over to which Conrad pushes him further to the ground.

“Stay away from my girl, asshole!” Lloyd threatens before spitting at the other man, your eyes grow wide when Lloyd takes you from Chris and drags you to his car. 

You hear the sound of tires being slashed and several glass breaking along with Jensen’s pained grunts. You knew Lloyd could be reckless but you’ve never seen him this way before. He opens the passenger door and pushes you in, slamming the door harshly before getting inside himself. He doesn’t wait for his companions before driving off, your hand grabbing the side of the door with the speed he’s going. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” You shout. “Let me out of here!”

“You keep testing me, Kitten. Running off with other men like that.” He growls and you scream when he takes a sharp left, cars honking left and right at how careless he’s driving. 

“Are you that daft?! We’re over, Lloyd! We’ve been for years!” You shout amidst the panic that rolls through your veins, eventually getting the courage to hit him on the shoulder when he gets on the main road. 

But you soon realize your mistake when he stops at an alley and his hand immediately wraps around your neck, pulling you towards him. You grab on his wrist when he squeezes tight, your eyes wide as you fear that he would choke you, kill you on the spot. 

“Lloyd—” you gasp, slapping on his hand as tears fall from your eyes. “Y—you’re hurting me.”

“I will only say this once, Kitten, so you better listen.” His hot breath spreads across your cheek when he pulls you closer, the tick on his jaw setting you on edge. “You’re mine and no one, not even you, can change that fact. Got it?”

All you can do is nod, to agree with every word he says if it means you get to keep your life. 

“Good.” He huffs, the anger in him somewhat seeping away, loosening his hold around your neck. “Good girl.” The praise that used to send shivers of desire within you now has your stomach twisting in disgust. “And if I see that weirdo or any other man going near you again, you know what will happen.”

You nod once more and gasp when he completely releases you, leaning against your seat as you try to regulate your breathing.

He drives once more and you’re thankful he’s slower this time, doing your best to stay calm as you look out the window. “Where are you taking me?” You ask, although you already have an inkling of his answer when you recognize the area you’re in and the direction he’s driving to. You haven’t driven in and out of these roads for almost two years. After you and Lloyd broke up.

The smirk he gives you is enough of an answer.

“Are we going to pre-game before the party?” Bucky asks as he plops down onto the couch in the employee lounge, shaking a tumbler of his protein shake in his hand. “Last year’s booze ran out so fast, I went home seeing straight. I don’t want to be sober on Halloween night.”

“You never want to be sober, Barnes,” Kate comments as she rolls her eyes, yet her interest seems to already be piqued. “But he’s right. Are we going to drink before the party or should we just hit the club after? I have a friend who can get us in at this club for free.”

“That could work but I’d rather enjoy the night drunk then get wasted at the club.” Bucky responds, taking a sip of his drink. “We could just meet up at someone’s place and pre-game there, then we can all go to the party together. Would save us gas too if we just take one car.”

“Who even lives near the venue?” 

You tune yourself out from their conversation and stab your fork into your lunch as the Halloween party is the last of your concerns. Besides, you don’t think Lloyd would be happy with you attending and you wouldn’t dare give him the opportunity to ruin the event for you and your friends or give him any reason to be mad again. 

Your friends exchange ideas, listing down people’s names of who they’ll be inviting for their plan of drinks and whose place they’ll be crashing when the door of the lounge opens and you freeze in your seat when Bucky calls out Jensen’s name.

“Hey buddy! You live downtown, right?” Bucky asks, patting the space beside him to which Jensen accepts. “We were thinking that—the fuck happened to your face?”

Your grip on your fork tightens when you chance a peek at both men, feeling your stomach drop when you see the bruise staining Jensen’s cheek. 

“Oh that?” Jensen chuckles, his fingers running against the side of his face. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and I slammed against my door frame.” You know he’s lying, though you’re somewhat thankful he didn’t expose what Lloyd and his friends did. Still, you feel the guilt nipping at the back of your neck. 

“You’re such a klutz, Jake.” Kate says with a laugh. 

Jensen makes a face in her direction and you look away when his eyes meet yours. “Why were you guys asking if I lived downtown?” He suddenly asks, shifting the topic. 

Bucky takes the lead again. “We were thinking of doing drinks before heading to the party. And since you live closer to the venue, maybe we could just meet at your place?”

“Depends. Do I have to provide the booze?”

“We can bring some and you prepare some.” Kate responds. “Sounds good?”

Jensen hums audibly as he thinks of his decision. You feel the tension circling around you as you sense his eyes on you while he speaks. You don’t dare to look up, keeping your focus trained on the lifeless pasta in your lunch container.

“I’m in. Though who’s coming? My apartment isn’t that big so I can’t really hold a huge crowd.” He finally says.

“I’m there.” Bucky says, mouth full of his protein shake. “Tell me what you guys want and I’ll bring it.”

“Me too. Though I’m bringing my boyfriend along—that cool with you guys?” No one seems to object and you look up to face your best friend when she nudges you. “You’re coming too, right? Amber’s dragging Nick along and we won’t be complete without you. I even planned this super cool costume for us.”

You feel your body shake at her question. The pressure of going to the event with your best friends growing in your chest, colliding with the added stress of meeting at Jensen’s place and the fear of Lloyd finding out about the plan. 

“I don’t know.” You say with a frown, closing up your container as your appetite has already turned sour from the anxiety crawling up your spine. “You know I don’t do well at parties. I’ll just stink up the mood.”

“Aww come on. Please?” She begs with those puppy eyes she always uses to convince you. “You’ll be with us and if it gets too much, we’ll leave. And if you’re worried about that psycho ex of yours showing up, I can just show Andy in his direction and he’ll show him a thing or two.” You want to latch onto the assurance she gives you but she doesn’t know Lloyd like you do. 

Still, you could probably think of a way to convince him—he’s never been apprehensive of you spending time with your friends. Except it’s not only them who would be with you; Bucky and Jensen would be there as well, and you’ve already witnessed what he’s done to the latter, the evidence staring you in the face. 

And that would mean you would have to lie. Though is it really lying if you’re just omitting out the information he doesn’t want to hear?

But the plan didn’t go as expected. 

Instead of heading over to the company party after drinks at Jensen’s apartment, like what was discussed, you find yourself nursing a red cup full of shitty alcohol in a dimly lit house while surrounded by your friend group and people you only assume to be Bucky’s college frat buddies. 

You tug on the skirt of your black dress that’s a little too short for your liking, the cat headband already irritating you with how long you’ve been wearing it. You don’t know why you’ve agreed to Kate’s idea for the three of you to imitate the costume from that movie—you’re just glad she didn’t push you to wear a bodysuit and that Amber was happy to trade with the mouse theme you were originally assigned to do. 

Speaking of your best friends, you walk around the living room as you try to look for them, no longer wanting to be alone amidst the foreign crowd. But you frown when you see Kate at the corner of the room, her boyfriend’s hand planted firmly on her ass while they make out. Amber, on the other hand, was just on the other side, with Nick barricading her against the wall like some prison guard. Though with the smile you see on her face, she doesn’t seem to mind being isolated by him.

Your eyes then dart towards the front door when the cheers of men grow louder than the music blasting in the house. Three people walk in, each one wearing a mask over some effortless casual clothes underneath. But the one wearing the iconic ghostface catches your attention, noticing him looking your way with the other two standing behind him following suit. There’s a somewhat eerie familiarity to their masked gaze that makes you look away and leave from where you stand.

“Not really what you’re expecting, huh?” You startle when someone says too close against your ear, making you look up and chuckle when you see Jensen smiling at you, an opened beer bottle in his hand. 

“It feels like I’m back in college attending a frat party.” You comment, making the both of you laugh and tapping your cup against his bottle when he raises it to you.

“You went to a lot of parties in college?”

You shake your head. “Not really. Wasn’t really a party type.”

“Same. But I had no choice with my roommate dragging me to every party.”

You have no idea why Jensen is speaking to you—after what he endured with Lloyd and his buddies, you’d think he’d steer clear of you, probably even fear you thinking that history would repeat itself. But deep down, you’re happy to be in his company, choosing it over being alone in a place you don’t even know half the people in. 

The both of you chat for a while, finding a less crowded spot in the kitchen and helping yourselves with the food and the drinks that are out and free for the taking. You still feel bad when the bruise on his cheek remains prominent, though with his purple button up and baggy gray slacks, you think it blends well with his cosplay of Bruce Banner when you asked him who he was supposed to be. 

“I’m sorry for what happened to you, Jen.” You tell him with a frown, leaning against the edge of the counter as you look down at your drink. “I didn’t think Lloyd would actually hurt anyone.”

“It’s fine. It’s just a bruise.” He assures, giving your arm a pat.

“What about your car? Didn’t they trash it?”

“They did. But good thing I have insurance.”

It surprises you how positive the air around him still is despite the misfortune he’s met because of you. You almost envy his happiness, and the happiness that your friends have and you find it almost unfair that Lloyd wasn’t like Andy and Nick, doting and loving towards their girls, when both those men are his friends. You wish he’d learn a thing or two from them about handling relationships the proper way. 

Sadness then swirls around you as you contemplate on what your life has become; always scared and cautious, that Lloyd would hurt another because of his jealousy, because of his unspoken obsession to completely possess you.

Your train of thought stops when you feel your cup being taken from your grasp, Jensen replacing it with a fresh one, fizz floating to the top of the amber liquid. “Jack and Coke.” He says. “Your drink looked a little stale.”

But before you could even take a sip, you hear spine tingling screams coming from the living room. You think it’s some scary prank someone has pulled on another, you and Jensen looking at each other and pushing away from your perch to investigate the commotion. But in just a flash of a second, the whole house is in chaos, people running, scrambling for their lives while the three masked men you saw earlier run amok, shooting and stabbing the party goers one by one and leaving them bloody and dead on the ground. 

No sound escapes your lips as you’re gripped by fear upon witnessing the bloodbath, your body refusing to move even when your brain tells it to. But the hand that grabs onto your arm has you shouting in shock, only to be muffled by another and your eyes wide with horror thinking that they’ve got you. But to your relief, it’s only Jensen and he places a finger against his lips, telling you to be quiet before pulling you amongst the havoc for a way out. 

You try the backdoor first but for some unknown reason it wouldn’t budge open no matter how hard he yanks it. He tries the window above the kitchen sink as well but just like the door, it’s screwed shut. He pulls on you once more, leading you down the hall this time, the rave music playing loudly in your ears pumping the adrenaline in your veins while the sound of the screams die out one by one. 

He makes it to the end of the hall, the staircase free from the killers but with bodies lying lifeless on the steps—a woman with her throat cut wide open and a man with a bullet right between his eyes. He looks back at you, telling you to be quiet once more as he gestures that you both will be heading up. But before he could even set foot on the first step, one of the masked men appears and kicks him forward, making him topple over the corpses. 

A scream is then wretched from your throat when you’re suddenly pulled back, the stranger trapping you against him while he positions his knife just under your chin, feeling the sharp edge of the blade kiss your skin. The man from the stairs kicks Jensen in the stomach then again, your co-worker writhing in pain as another joins his attacker, this time with a metal bar which he slams against his chest.

“Hello, nerd! Long time no see.” The one who kicked him greets, the timbre of his voice making your heart pound against your chest. No! “Whatcha doin’ with my girl, huh?” The stranger asks before pulling off his mask and you freeze when you see Lloyd’s face. He then turns to you, a cocky smirk playing on his lips and sending you a wink before he asks, “Whatcha doin’ here, Kitten? Thought you were at a company party?” The sly twist in his voice has you on edge.

The smirk on his face then fades, turning into a scowl when he nods at the man who’s got you trapped against him. You’re then released from his hold but not for long as Lloyd simply takes his place, grabbing you by your arm, wincing from his tight grip and dragging you into the living room where you see countless bodies lying lifeless on the ground and the walls of the house painted crimson.

He shoves you against the couch where you fall against something cold and sticky, only to realize too late, crying out to see that it’s Bucky you landed on; his blood staining your dress and your hands. But you’re then pushed away from him, falling back on the cushions as Lloyd kicks his body off the surface to take the space he once occupied. 

You feel like you’re about to convulse as you cry when Lloyd wraps an arm around you. You try to push away from him, not wanting to be near him but he shakes you like a rag doll, making you stop before gesturing over to someone you cannot see as your eyes are blurry from your tears and remain locked on your dead friend’s feet. 

“Gentlemen, thank you for all your help.” Lloyd says when the music finally dies and you look up, surprised to see Andy and Nick standing unscathed with only splatters of blood staining their costumes. But what has you more jarred is seeing Kate and Amber bound and gagged, sitting against the floor, they’re eyes wide in fear as they squirm to be free from their restraints. 

You’re suddenly off your seat and on your feet, determined to get to them, to help set them free and run away from this horrid place. But Lloyd is quick to yank you back, grunting when you fall onto his lap and his strong arm wrapping around your waist to hold you in place.

“Relax, Kitten. They’re safe.” Lloyd assures, his gloved finger grazing against your cheek. “Just had to go through some extra measures to keep them out of the way.”

“We did our part, Hansen.” Andy says, pulling Kate from the ground who forcefully tries to pull away from his grip while Nick does the same with Amber, who in turn quietly follows while tears keep running down her face. “Just don’t forget the deal.”

“Yeah yeah. Just make sure your bitches know what to say if they’re questioned.” Lloyd responds with disinterest. “Meet me by the end of this week for your payment.”

It’s all the words the men exchange before dragging away your friends, their wide and fearful eyes being the last you see before the door closes behind them. 

The sound of wood being dragged across the tiled floor then makes you look forward, seeing Chris and Conrad, now with their masks off, placing a chair in front of you and Lloyd while the latter drags Jensen’s beaten body and forces him to take a seat. Both men then go to work, effectively binding their captive’s wrists behind his back with tape and his ankles to the legs of the chair.

The sight of his damaged state breaks your heart as you helplessly feel guilty upon thinking that everything that has happened to him is all your fault. You never should have come here in the first place as soon as you found out about the change of plans. You should have just gone home or better yet, you should have just stayed at home where you know Lloyd would be.

Yet the universe could be so cruel.

“Look what we found on him.” Chris says in a serious tone before pulling out a small ziplock bag from Jensen’s shirt pocket and tossing it over your lap. You glance down at the clear packaging, seeing several small white tablets enclosed in it. What?

“Lover boy here was so desperate to get laid he brought roofies with him.” Conrad adds with a laugh, pushing on the back of Jensen’s head hard that his body jolts forward.

The bag is then taken from your lap, Lloyd holding it up close to his face as he inspects the white circles. You yelp when you’re suddenly shoved off his lap, falling over to the floor while Lloyd steps over to Jensen and grabs him by his hair, pulling his head back while he holds the baggie in front of him, breathing heavily like some wild animal through gritted teeth.

“You were gonna drug my girl, weren’t you?!” Lloyd spits out his words and on Jensen’s face, tossing the tablets in Conrad’s direction, your throat eliciting a gasp when he holds a knife to his neck this time. “Did you take any drink from him?!” He asks, but it takes a second for you to realize that he’s talking to you. He turns in your direction, eyes dark with anger. “Any fizzy shit this asshole gave you?!”

You don’t understand what he’s asking, why the sudden interrogation—then it hits you. In the kitchen while you were busy with your thoughts, Jensen took your stale drink, as he claimed, and replaced it with another. No—it can’t be. He said it had coke in it and sodas make a fizz. 

“I won’t ask again, Kitten.” Lloyd pushes and you nod out of fear, knowing that he would find out that you’re lying to him if you said otherwise.

The look on Lloyd’s face shifts into something that makes the hair on the back of your head stand. Like something sinister has possessed him with the way his lips curl in a playful manner. 

A groan leaves Jensen’s lips when Lloyd releases him and you push yourself back against the couch when he goes for you next.

“Lloyd, please—!” you beg as he tucks the knife in his pocket, yanking you from the ground and shoving you forward, planting you firmly in front of Jensen before forcing you to bend over. “Let’s just go home—you already beat him!” You cry, pushing against Jensen’s thighs when Lloyd doesn’t budge and keeps dipping you further.

You feel like you’re going to gag when the metallic stench fills your nose especially with how close you are to your bleeding co-worker and you attempt once more to push away from him, no longer wanting the both of you to suffer. But the world suddenly feels like it’s turning upside down when you feel Lloyd pushing up the skirt of your dress, a grunt leaving his chest when he roughly rips your panties off your thighs.

“Now, don’t be like that, Kitten.” He says in a syrupy tone. “Don’t you want to at least show him his sick fantasy of fucking you?” The tell tale sound of his zipper being undone fills your ears and you’re shocked frozen, scared to the wits end that Lloyd would take you here amongst the dead and in front of your friend who he’s beaten to a pulp.

You look away from Jensen when you feel Lloyd’s cock brush against your ass, his tip teasing your pussy lips. You then shout when Lloyd grabs you by the back of your neck, forcing you to look back at your friend who has one eye swollen shut, while the other is stained with blood and brimming with unshed tears.

In one swift move, Lloyd enters you, gasping for air at his sudden intrusion. Pain blooms at the pit of your stomach when he doesn’t allow your walls to adjust and begins fucking you at a brutal pace, your nails digging into Jensen’s thighs as you try to endure your abuser’s torment. 

Your body jolts against the chair, following Lloyd’s callous thrusts. You’re then washed in humiliation when you hear Chris and Conrad snickering at your sides, seeing them watch you with perverse eyes, sickened to the core as the thought that they enjoy what they are witnessing comes to your mind.

Both men then hold Jensen in place when he starts squirming in his seat that he almost topples over. Lloyd then abruptly pulls you up, pressing your back against his chest but only to grab on the straps of your dress and harshly pull them down from your shoulders, having your breasts spill into the open.

“She’s got perfect tits, doesn’t she, lover boy?” Lloyd taunts as he keeps up the pace of his hips, grabbing your breasts, kneading, squeezing, and pushing them together. “Why don’t you feel how soft they are?” And it’s as if things couldn’t get any worse, Lloyd moves you forward along with him, tipping forward when your knees hit the edge of the seat. His hands grab onto the back of the chair and you wail in horror when he forces your breasts to press against Jensen’s face, the sticky blood smearing all over your skin.

Lloyd laughs and so do his friends and all you feel is shame and disgust at what he’s doing to you—that the man you once loved would hurt you in the sickest way possible.

A gasp is once more wretched from your throat when Lloyd slams hard against your cunt, feeling his thick cock slide even deeper when your walls grow wet, the toe curling sensation from his tip repeatedly hitting that sweet spot of yours trying to take over. You feel like a woman possessed as you grit your teeth, pushing hard against the unwanted pleasure that slowly begins to crawl up your skin and seep into your bones, not wanting to give Lloyd the satisfaction that, despite such circumstances, he still manages to make you feel such a way.

Yet your attempts are deemed fruitless when you whimper and eventually turn into a moaning mess, your body responding to each of Lloyd’s touch; your pussy walls clenching around his throbbing cock with each thrust he makes and how your skin shivers, singing each note in sheer perfection as you climb higher and higher to your peak.

“You see that, nerd? You see how she turns into a fucking slut when you fuck her good?” He goads between heavy breaths, adjusting the position of his legs to have you lean more against his victim, his hands grabbing onto your tits once again only to rub it further against Jensen’s face, feeling the bristles of his goatee rub roughly against your skin. 

“Too bad you’ll never get to have this.”

Lloyd's hips begin moving more erratically, the sound of your skins slapping with one another filling the stolid air. You swallow thickly, refusing for any more moans to leave your lips as you’re slowly enveloped in ecstasy, Lloyd’s cock pulsing deep in your pussy.

A blinding white light suddenly fills your vision and you shake uncontrollably as you come hard around Lloyd’s shaft. Tears once again spring from your eyes and you’re confused about what causes it. Is it embarrassment from feeling the pleasure? Pain from Lloyd’s roughness? Or is it sadness of how the evening of fun turned into a nightmare? You can’t think as you’re dissolved into nothing, your body floating in orgasmic bliss. 

Lloyd follows soon, growling low and animalistic as he keeps his cock buried balls deep, painting your pussy walls with streaks of white as he spills his seed, filling you to the brim.

You think that it’s finally over, that Lloyd’s objective has finally been met. But a life draining gasp then fills your ears—not from you or from Lloyd but from Jensen. And it’s only then that you realize what has happened when you see Lloyd’s hand gripped on the hilt of the knife with the blade stuck deep into Jensen’s chest.

“No!” You cry out as Lloyd stabs him repeatedly, grunts of passionate anger escaping him each time he sinks the blade into the body before you. 

Tears of despair and horror are what fall from your eyes, closing them as you hope that this is all a bad dream. You ball your hands into fists as you try your hardest to close in on yourself, to leave this place of torment that Lloyd has condemned you into. 

Yet, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t. With the sound of metal hitting bone, along with the devious laugh of the men around you and the way your body shakes from Lloyd’s continuous blow, you’re repeatedly pulled back into the present, unwillingly witnessing the murder of your friend. 

You suddenly feel your body shake, your chest tightening that you think the room is losing air and the smell of blood getting stronger and stronger that it makes bile ride up your throat. With Lloyd’s final stab, he pulls you away with him, leaving the knife buried in Jensen’s throat. The world around you suddenly turns, your vision spinning uncontrollably that before you could even let out a scream, everything suddenly goes dark.

You sit inside the employee lounge along with the others in somber idleness. The police came over just before the store opened and ordered that it remained closed for the rest of the day to make way for an investigation. Vince wasn’t happy with the commands of the law enforcers but there’s nothing he could do—there was nothing anybody could do.

A massacre, one of the officers said. A mass murder, another voices, declaring that some of the victims were employees of the store. You already knew who it was—Bucky and Jensen.

One by one, the employees were interrogated, some taking minutes while others taking hours. You glance at Kate who sits across from you on the lunch table, noting the small bruise on the side of her neck. You try not to imagine what Andy told her or did to her that night. You don’t even dare to ask as you refuse to relive the grim evening, nor want to feed her any memory of it.

You sit up once your name is called and you feel the eyes of your other co-workers land on you. The detective, stout and looking somewhat annoyed to be doing such a thing, looks your way and asks your name once more to confirm your identity.

He beckons you to follow him and you do, but not before looking down at your best friend when she grabs your hand, seeing the fear etched in her eyes. You give her a small smile and give her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting her go and following the detective into the other room. 

You do as you’re told when he tells you to sit, staring down at the round table that sits between the both of you as you wait for his first question.

“I’m Detective Bodecker.” He starts, his belly protruding as he leans back against his seat. “And I just want to ask you a few questions regarding your co-workers. Is that okay?”

You nod.

“Do you need some water? Anything to make you comfortable?”

You shake your head.

“Very well. Let’s begin.” He hums and grabs his notebook from the desk, flipping a page. “Where were you on the night of October 31st?”

Your mind suddenly begins reliving the night in question. Jensen’s bloody face and Lloyd’s devious smile playing in your head. You blink those thoughts away, not wanting to give out any information on your face.

Taking a breath, you begin your tale. 

“I was at a party—”

[floralcyanide]

˚₊✩‧₊◜kinktober 2023! ―

― day eleven ⛧ throat fucking

Ethan Landry x F!Reader

After embarrassing Ethan all day, he gets his revenge.

warnings: smut, throat fucking, oral (m receiving), cum eating, masturbation, mentions of throwing up, gagging

word count: 939

author's note: ugh there's something about ethan throat fucking you without warrant like omg. it's a need. anyway please enjoy and let me know what you think (:

kinktober masterpost | kinktober taglist form | main masterlist | main taglist form

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

All day long, you’ve been sassing Ethan and embarrassing him. But this is nothing new. Both of you have a weird relationship- you’re friends but hate each other. However, behind closed doors, you would fuck. None of your friends know about it and never will. As you walk with Ethan to his apartment to “study,” you can feel his anger radiating off him. You’re smiling and all but skipping beside him, pretending you have no idea what’s coming. As you both approach the building, Ethan lightly guides you up the small steps to the entrance, his hand burning on the small of your back. You both walk through the lobby and into the elevator, where you both silently stand. You drop your ignorant facade as the tension grows thick. You bounce back and forth on your heels as the elevator surges up a few floors before eventually slowing to a stop. Ethan allows you out of the lift first, following behind you, no doubt staring at your ass. When Ethan unlocks his door, he lets you go inside first. He softly closes the door and locks it, calmly dropping his keys on the table in the hall. You stand awkwardly in the foyer as Ethan stares at you with dark eyes. 

“Get on your fucking knees.”

You have to take a moment to process his harsh demand, as he’s never this pushy, but you still obey. Ethan walks forward, standing right before you as he looks down at you. He grabs your chin, gripping it hard as he tilts it up so you look directly at him. You don’t dare blink.

“I’m going to pull my cock out, and you’re going to suck me off like a good girl,” Ethan says plainly, “Even though today you’ve been anything but.”

You nod the best you can despite Ethan’s grasp, watching almost eagerly as he undoes his pants and lets them drop to the floor along with his underwear. He gives his already half-hard cock a few strokes, his eyes not leaving yours.

“Open up,” Ethan says, and you open your mouth as told.

He slowly pushes his length past your lips, relishing in the feeling of your warm tongue on the underside of his cock. You let your cheeks suction around him as he moves closer to the back of your throat. It clenches around Ethan’s length as he lets it push further down. You gag, and Ethan chuckles darkly.

“Get used to it. You’re gonna be choking on this dick all night since you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

Ethan pulls almost all the way out of your mouth before slamming back in, his tip hitting the back of your throat. He groans at the sensation of your wet mouth taking him. You swirl your tongue around him as Ethan lays dormant on your tongue for a moment before pulling out again. Steadily, Ethan gains a rhythm as he starts fucking your mouth. You moan around his length, making him shudder. His hands dig into your hair, gripping it tightly but not as tight as he can. Ethan uses the leverage he has over your head to guide it along his cock as he plunges it deep down your throat. He repeats the action repeatedly as you gag, spit drooling down your chin and onto the floor below. Tears stream from your eyes and down your cheeks as Ethan speeds up his thrusts. Now he’s relentlessly fucking your throat, not giving a single fuck that you’re probably going to throw up. Your throat is so tight, wet, and warm that he gets lost in the feeling. You’re getting lost in the feeling of your cunt pulsing in your underwear, but keep your hands to yourself because you know you’ll get punished for touching yourself without permission. And you’ve already pissed Ethan off enough today. 

“Fuck,” Ethan curses, “Just like that,” he says as you bob your head.

You relax your throat, letting Ethan have full access without issue.

“Rub your pussy for me, baby. I know how wet you get just from me throat fucking you.”

You don’t skip a beat and immediately dip your hand underneath your skirt and past your underwear, rubbing your clit vigorously. You’re so wet that the sound of your cunt and your saliva squelching around Ethan’s cock are audible around both your moans. You’re groaning and whining as you buck into your hand, letting Ethan mercilessly fuck your throat as he pleases. He twitches as you cum, loudly crying out as you rub against your hand, your mouth hanging farther open as Ethan lets himself go. His thrusts are violent and fast as he finds the perfect spot in the back of your throat to aim at. You’re groaning anomalistically as your second orgasm approaches, the vibrations making Ethan twitch again, his own orgasm creeping up. As your second orgasm tears through you, you scream from the pleasure as the rumbling of your throat sends Ethan past pleasure and straight to euphoria. His cock pumps cum down your throat and over your tongue, your mouth filling with Ethan’s seed. You let Ethan catch his breath as you inhale through your nose, waiting for him to see his handiwork.

“Keep your mouth open, babe,” Ethan says tiredly, pulling out of your mouth.

He groans at the sight of his cum all over your tongue, urging you to swallow. You happily consume his release as his cock jumps from watching you lick your lips clean. “Now,” you wipe your mouth with the back of your wrist, “It’s my turn to fuck your face,” you smile.

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[eowynstwin]

reviewing the prelude

previous - neighbors - next

John misses you.

There is no noise next door.

Silence, in Price's line of work, almost always precludes trouble. The quiet stalk of a fireteam toward an objective; the abrupt halt of an informant’s intel. Never good. Always the guarantee of a day’s bad end.

Usually, he can hear the creak of your mattress as you get up—the thing must be ancient, and he’s concerned for your back—and the rumble of your plumbing as you turn on the sink first thing in the morning. You’re always up about an hour and a half after he is, close to eight-thirty, and you usually meet him outside about an hour later. Slow riser, you are.

(He tries not to fantasize too much about tiptoeing around in the mornings as you snuggle in his bed, wrapped in his blankets as he gets breakfast ready for the both of you.)

But today there’s not a whisper of your horrible bedsprings from the other side of the wall. The pipes remain silent. When he steps outside today, he will be alone.

You’re gone for two days. He can handle that long. He can.

Still, he lingers in bed the first morning, agitated, too warm in the sheets but stubbornly trying to act like he’s still perfectly comfortable. It doesn’t work. The bed linens dampen as he starts sweating, and his morning wood is more insistent than it usually is. He sighs and gets up, lays the blankets back to let them air dry, and gets his day started.

Once he’s in the shower, and the water has warmed enough to step into, John angles the shower head to spray a little higher and leans against the cool tile wall. Hot water pounds his chest, streaming down between his pectorals and over the jumping muscles of his stomach as he takes his cock in hand and gives it a stroke from head to root. He closes his eyes.

John does not have any shame in jerking off, not really, but a niggling something always tickles the back of his mind when he thinks of you while doing it. Like he’s being too pushy, even in his own head, when he knows that you’re not on the same page as him yet.

He shouldn’t be thinking of your hand wrapped around him instead, as his fingers cover your clit and dip into your cunt, when he’s not even sure you will have him at all. John does not like to indulge in fantasy that cannot become reality.

I wanted to touch you. John snarls, bucking into his hand.

He hadn’t lied to you. He hadn’t. He can wait as long as you need. If he gets to have you, he wants you eager. He wants you certain. He wants you to relax into him without fear or doubt. Whatever he wants from you is secondary to that—he can’t enjoy himself, enjoy you, if you don’t trust him.

Would you trust him if you knew you inspired his hand to wrap around his cock?

He doesn’t know. He’s not sure. All he knows is that after he left that night, you did the exact same thing he’s doing now. That has to mean something.

He remembers it—your distant cry making it to him through drywall, insulation, and the patter of his own shower, and if he closes his eyes he can almost fool himself now, as hot water slides down his back and chest, that he can hear it again—

I wanted to touch you—

He comes, short and hard, palm sliding fast up and down his shaft, groaning roughly as his cum hits the tile. Water streams down around his face in steady rivulets, joining it.

He wants you to trust him. He wants you to let him spoil you rotten.

Turning the water off once he finishes his shower, John keeps thinking as he absently towels off. He keeps getting the sense that there’s something he’s missing.

If you want him—and he knows now, you do want him—why haven’t you said anything? He thinks about all of the times he’s tried to flirt, tried to make his interest known, only for you to treat it like a joke. Incorrigible, you call him, as if his overtures are the result of some unsatisfied appetite. As if you haven’t, from the very start, given him every reason imaginable to want you.

He studies himself in the bathroom mirror as he touches up his beard, remembering the linger of your gaze across his body. He is not a vain man, not quite, but even he might like to preen a bit over how good he looks for pushing forty. He can’t keep up with Ghost at the racks, nor Gaz on the track circuit, and Soap has him beat at the punching bags, but Price has logged every personal best within the last three years. His shoulders are broad, his chest hard and defined, and his waist tapers nicely down to wide thighs and full calves.

He runs a hand across his stomach. He’d never managed, though, to get the cut look he sees in perfume ads and superhero movies these days. Is that what women like now? Is that what you like?

If it was a complete lack of attraction on your part, he’d understand. But Price is a details man. He misses nothing, especially when it comes to you. The way you look at him, the way you move around him reveals more than he knows you ever intend to. He hears your breath shorten when he’s close, sees your pupils dilate, your brows soften. You don’t lean away when he leans in.

He remembers your gaze again, the first morning and many mornings after, and snorts at himself. Attraction, he’s fairly sure, isn’t the issue.

So what is, then?

Rather than spend the morning moping, and waiting for the ambiance of your morning routine that simply would not come, John finds a clean pair of sweats, laces into his trainers, and goes for a jog. Running has always helped him think.

Part of him wonders if his fixation is inspired in part by a long dry spell. Price hasn’t been with anyone in a long while—months, actually. His last encounter had been with a woman he’d been casually seeing in between deployments.

She’d been nice enough, certainly eager for him. They would meet, have drinks, maybe a meal, and have sex. He’d spend the night and leave early in the morning. They didn’t talk much, not at least about anything serious. She never asked about his work. She never really asked much about him at all.

Which had been the arrangement. Price had been candid about his situation from the beginning—his work came first, and he had little room in his life for much else. He couldn’t offer her much in the way of long-term commitment when he had to make peace with the real possibility that each deployment was one he might not come back from. She’d seemed to understand. It had taken Price a while to figure out that she just…hadn’t really cared.

It was more likely, he knew, that she simply could not grasp that he could die. Few civilians could really wrap their head around that fact. He couldn’t really blame her for that.

But he couldn’t deny either that seeing her had started to make it feel like his insides were slowly decaying. All he was to her was a big, rough man who would throw her around in bed and wouldn’t bother her with trite things like domesticity and mortality. A fantasy. Nothing more.

He’d broken it off in person, frank and respectful, and she’d taken it as well as he’d hoped.

Then she’d texted him a few weeks later inviting him over for drinks. He neglected to respond and blocked her number.

The cool morning air is sharp in Price’s lungs, painfully welcome, as he counts his breaths in the back of his head. He’d given up after all of that. He didn’t need sex. He didn’t need a relationship. If the walls of his flat closed in around him when he was home, alone, well—that was the sacrifice, wasn’t it? The price he paid to be able to go out into the world and fix things that other men only complained about after watching the news.

It shouldn’t matter that these days those problems didn’t stay fixed anymore.

Price finishes his circuit and comes to a gradual stop back at his front doorstep, panting hard, hands on hips as he heaves and wonders if maybe he should cut back on smoking.

He looks to your window, dark and shuttered. You always have a hot mug of coffee pressed between your palms.

He could try coffee.

The day passes. John spends some time getting his affairs in order for the end of his leave, reads the latest book you’ve lent him (a retrospective on the rise and fall of the American cattle boom), spends an hour at the gym, two at the pub, and comes home again to dark windows next door.

It’s dull. He misses you. And once his front door closes behind him, hours of silence loom in the periphery.

He’s settling into his armchair for a game on TV—championship league, nothing worth paying attention to, John just can’t stand the quiet—when his phone, deep in his pocket, vibrates. When he pulls it out, his heart leaps.

It’s just a text message. He unlocks his phone and navigates to the chat. You’ve sent a photo: a glass, filled with some sort of liquor and a couple of ice cubes, set on a rickety old plank of wood that must be a table.

Ordered this in your honor. Pretty good! Not sure of the brand. Can’t remember the one we got either

John smiles. He can’t help it. He even laughs a little, and taps on the picture to zoom in—your hand is in the frame, laying gently alongside the glass, nails painted a pretty light color and a thin silver ring around your index finger. He takes this in with the voracity of a man starving.

Macallan, he replies. The best. That looks good though

Three dots dance as you type. My coworker says it’s Johnnie Walker

I take it back, dump that swill on the ground, Price types, grinning harder.

It’s really fine! you protest.

He imagines your expression, the kind draw of your brows together in spirited defense—an expression he’s seen on you many times, advocating for some character or another that he has developed a grudge against.

God, does he miss you.

Fine for uni lads maybe, he sends.

You do remember who I’m supervising on this trip?

John snorts. Point taken. Then, impulsively, I’ll get you something even better when you’re home.

Home. When you’re home. As if home is one place, and not two, separate places merely conjoined.

You spoil me John

He sends back immediately, I’m trying to

There’s a lag. John realizes belatedly that perhaps he’s doing it again, coming on too strong. He can’t help it. When he knows what he wants—when he knows he can pursue it—he does not bother with half measures. He has been through and done too much to hedge his efforts while knowing how easily things can escape his grasp.

He has to remind himself that holding onto you too tightly, though, could cause you to slip through his fingers.

Then, finally—I don’t know why

Bells ring in John’s head. Can’t a man treat a woman he fancies? he asks.

Dots jump for what feels like several minutes, disappearing several times. He imagines you typing rapidly, that worried look he’s seen so often creasing your brow and tightening the corners of your mouth.

Eventually, a cascade.

I don’t know WHY you fancy me

There’s nothing really interesting about me

I’m quite boring

Not like you

You’ve been so to many places and done so many things and I’ve never even left the country and I don’t see how you could even like talking to me much less do anything else

I teach lit and read books and that’s all my life is and that’s not really sexy

You must have better options

I may be a little tipsy sorry

John’s frown deepens with every successive message.

This is it. This is the answer to his question, or it’s somewhere in there. He’s been wondering all day—now, this is his chance.

I’d like to call you, he replies. Is now a good time?

A brief pause, with John’s stomach hanging suspended in the air the whole time.

Then, Yes

He dials you. You pick up on the first ring.

“Hello,” you say.

[ninisreading]

FEEL BETTER - spencer reid

pairing! Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

prompt! Spencer sees you haven´t been yourself lately, so he searches way to make you feel better.

warnings! just fluff

words! 662

Everybody was aware of Spencer Reid´s lack of interaction with women, so it wasn´t a surprise for anybody when the new female SA made his hands sweat and words start coming out of his mouth like a plethora of nonsense. That however, made your stomach turn, how could a man so gorgeous be nervous around you? You had always classified yourself as this awkward and shy individual, so what effect could you possibly have on a more awkward, shyer man?

All your doubts remained unanswered up until today, a humid, rainy and boring paperwork day, with Prentiss going around chanting god-awful jokes and Morgan constantly teasing you about newfound information on your attraction towards the boy-genius. So yeah, it was a shitty day, add that to the fact that your landlord had called you hours before notifying you of your lack of payment, so you had ditched the idea of having a good day hours ago.

Even within the loudness of the office and own sleep deprivation, Dr Reid did notice your low pitched grunts and silent cries; he prided himself in his ability to observe people. Or maybe it was just you and his ever long infatuation that made everything be about you.

So he thought to himself, well- if you were having such a bad, torturous day, what could he do to help?

He could make you a coffee- no, he had already prepared one for you as soon as you came in that morning, and you were probably going to think he thought you looked awful and you needed energy and you would start to hate him and there would be no more dreams about picnics and solving murders together. No, he couldn’t make you a coffee.

Buy you flowers? Spencer could definitely make a run for the little market right around the FBI´s headquarters, but; wouldn’t that be too suggestive? He liked you of course, but he wasn’t aware of your feelings and coming off as too pushy may scare you into never talking to him ever again and he would rather change his name and move to nowhere before ever having to endure that type of embarrassment.

So no, none of the things that the “How to make your girlfriend feel better” handbook said worked, so what was he supposed to do? Make you his girlfriend and see if that would help? – No- wait what.

“He looks deeply in thought” Said Garcia as she looked right into the kitchen from her spot on Morgan´s desk.  “Probably fantasizing about going on a date with (Y/N)” He replied, and while they both laughed together at Spencer´s absence of charisma, you started turning red from just hearing the conversation while passing by. Was the doe-eyed, lanky boy standing opposite to you truly hoping to have a date with you? Still, you couldn’t really believe anything Derek had to say.

That´s why, when entering the kitchen, you made the great decision to ask Reid;

“What are you thinking about, handsome?”

God. If you could have taken a picture of that face Spencer made when he turned around and saw that it was in fact you, and not some prank Emily was pulling on him, you swear you would have. Red cheeks, surprised eyes and a big toothy smile you were greeted with. Maybe you had died, and this was an angel receiving you with open arms in the depths of heaven.  Or it was just Reid. Fleeting the kitchen space quickly, you managed to catch him whispering to himself a quiet answer to your question.

That probably was enough to make your day better, possibly even your week, however, when you came into the office the morning after, you found on your desk an overpriced, full of chemicals ( As Spencer would state, despite his 50% coffee/50% sugar disgusting creation) caramel latte, along with a bouquet of white lilies.

And a beautiful boy grinning at you from the other side of the room.

[samkerrworshipper]

suffer in silence | barca femeni x reader

warnings: self harm, depression, mentions of abuse, alcoholism, angst, fluff, anger, treatment of sh scars… i don’t proofread so sorry if theirs typos xo

“Y/n, can we talk to you for a minute?”

Your attention was captured by Alexia, who was flanked on either side by Lucy and Mapi. You kept your eyes centred on the ball at your feet, you didn’t want to talk to any of the olderwomen, you wanted to continue your shooting practice.

“Can’t I talk to you after this?”

It was a deflection, one that was well overused by you at this stage, normally you would deflect until the women forgot about it or you had enough of an opportunity to slip away from them.

“No, come with us.”

Alexia’s voice was as cold as Antarctica, like a cold piece of ice pressed against your skin, brutally freezing you to your spot on the pitch.

“I’m good.”

It was stupid for you to try and defy the woman, she was terrifying. Alexia’s jaw locked itself, your eyes unable to meet the older woman's cold ones. Mapi reached out, clutching down onto your bicep hard enough to make you wince, her practised fingers bearing down on your skin and yanking you towards them.

“Not a smart idea little girl, we were going to be nice and let you have a say in this but now you’ve gotten yourself in trouble.”

You were dragged behind the older women, some of your other teammates that were still on the pitch watching as you kicked your heels down on the ground in which you were being hauled along. Mapi’s grip was inescapable though, her iron-like grip on your bicep so tight that you were forced to her hip, having nowhere near enough strength to stop her from walking you directly towards the tunnel. She walked behind Alexia, letting the captain lead the way into the locker room. Once Lucy had closed and locked the door behind you Mapi pushed you down onto one of the benches, her arms falling to your shoulders to stop you from trying to escape the women.

“I’m pretty sure this is kidnappery.”

Your voice was a low murmur, you were teetering on the edge with Alexia and you knew it, you knew that one little push would have her hurling over the cliff, a storm of anger pushing her.

“What in god's name made you think it was okay to behave that way on the pitch?”

You knew Alexia had been nothing but disappointed with your conduct recently, she’d been on your ass about getting your shit together and you’d been ignoring her, for a multitude of reasons. This week though, it had all gone downhill for you. You were currently on a six day bender, something you were not exactly proud of but didn’t really have any intention of ending. Today though, everything had been so much words and early on in training you’d gotten in a tussle with Ingrid that you weren’t exactly proud of, which had then resulted in a fairly heated interaction with Frido which had ended in Keira dragging you away from the older woman to prevent anything serious happening.

“Ingrid was being pushy.”

It was a lie and you knew it, the girl was a complete golden retriever, she couldn’t hurt a fly if she tried and she’d been nothing but nice to you, for some reason she’d just been getting on your nerves today for some reason.

“No she wasn’t and even if she was that is hardly an excuse to be so aggressive to a teammate.”

Alexia’s voice was brutally harsh, beating down on you with no mercy.

“Nobody was hurt.”

Your words were even meeker than before, your confidence shrinking as the minutes went by.

“She very well could have been if Keira hadn’t managed to get to you in time.”

Alexia’s voice was pointed, she wasn’t accepting your weak attempt at an excuse.

“Okay, I’m sorry, can we be done now?”

The last thing you’d wanted after that training session was to be sitting down in front of a very angry Alexia, Lucy and Mapi on the flip side of a lecture that you were aware was probably overdue.

“No, we’re not done. Aitana talked to me this morning.”

Aitana was your best friend, your roommate, and you weren’t exactly sure what she’d told Alexia but you knew from the facial expression she was giving you that it couldn’t have been good. You racked your brains trying to think about what Aitana could have told her, she knew more about you then anybody else, she was like your sister and you were a little bit worried about what she could have told your captain.

“Aitana doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

It was another deflection, because there was a very small, niggling chance that she was bluffing and that small chance was enough for you to stay defiant. You tried to keep your eye contact with Alexia, but momentarily averted it when the vulnerability of the conversation became too much.

“She seemed to know quite a lot this morning when Salma found her balling her eyes out in the bathroom. It took a good half an hour to get her to calm down before she was coherent enough to tell us what had her so worried.”

You bit down on your lip, you still weren’t exactly sure what Aitana had told Alexia, and you weren’t stupid enough to give away information that hadn’t been revealed, so you let the sentence mellow out in the room, trying to figure out what there was for you to say.

“Aitana is antsy about the Ballon D’or, she’s hardly been sleeping lately, let alone thinking straight.”

Alexia’s eyebrows rose almost up to her hairline, her right one cocked at me, silently asking me if I was really lying to her right now. One thing Alexia hated was lying, it was her pet peeve. I didn’t think that I was blatantly lying to her right now though, just avoiding telling the truth.

“I agree, she is antsy. But she’s also an observant girl, and she’s a strong one, she doesn’t get worked up over nothing, that’s why I was so perplexed when we found her having a mental breakdown. To her credit, it took quite a lot of work from our end to try and get to the bottom of it, but she cracked eventually.”

This whole situation, Mapi’s hands secured on your arms to stop you from moving from the bench, Alexia looking down at you from her spot standing above you, Lucy standing by the door like a security guard. It was screaming interrogation, screaming some kind of intervention and it was making you feel sick to your stomach, because whilst you’d been in a fair amount of trouble over the years with Alexia and your teammates, it had never quite looked like this.

“Aitana does not know what she is talking about.”

Your words were forced out between your gritted teeth, you weren’t sure what she’d told the women, but based off of their facial expressions it really wasn’t good, the mixture of anger and concern written all over their face enough to tell you that their dismay stemmed far further than your actions on the field.

“She seemed to know what she was talking about when she told us that you’ve hardly been spending any time at home, that you are out every night, gone far before she’s in bed and home long after she’s awoken. She says that you’ve been binge drinking, and that you’ve been engaging in some other self soothing behaviours that are hardly disconcerting.”

This was the point where you could try and reason with Alexia, or you could flat out lie. You felt like you were at a crossroads, a part of you wanted to just break down, let her know just how much pain you’d been experiencing for the past few months, but you weren’t going down without a fight.

“Aitana’s full of shit.”

Your voice was nowhere near as confident as you wished it to be, you felt like your body was being washed out to sea, like you were floating on a raft in the middle of the ocean and just slowly drifting out of reach.

“Aitana has never lied to me, you however, do not have as good of a track record. I would give you the benefit of the doubt, but the shakiness, excessive sweating, clammy hands, dilated pupils, agitation and tremors are a pretty sure sign that you're coming down from a pretty bad hangover.”

You purse your lips, and ignore the way that Mapi’s hands had now released themselves from your arms and she’d seated herself down next to you, one of her palms coming down to rest on your knee. The whole approach was very different to the one that she had with you a few minutes ago, her harsh grip transitioning to one that resembled comfort.

“C’mon cariño, you can tell us what’s been happening, we’re here for you.”

Mapi’s voice was practically cooing at you, so gentle, like a piece of silk. You kept your facial expression stock still, trying your very hardest to keep up your shields that you’d been holding up with your bare hands for weeks now.

“Nothing’s happening, I’m fine.”

It was a flat out lie, so much had been happening, so much stuff that you’d never wanted the light of day to see, things that were making you feel anything but fine.

“Take off your shirt y/n.”

You felt your whole body jolt at the question. Alexia had probably seen you thousands of times without a shirt on, hell you’d probably seen eachother naked hundreds of times. But something about the nature of the request, the intention behind it, made it feel so wrong to you, especially with three sets of eyes beating down directly onto you.

“Excuse me?”

There was worry behind your words, a different kind of worry that stemmed from the pit of your stomach, a worry that Alexia knew more than she was letting on.

“You say that Aitana is lying to me, then prove to me that some of the things she’s told me about you are untrue and I’ll start believing what you are telling me.”

Parts of your body tensed up that you’d never felt tight before. The coil in your body winding itself up as tightly as it could, your whole body stilling at Alexia’s words.

“That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is you lying to me, so make your decision.”

Alexia’s voice was so harsh, so protective, fired backwards at you with anger. You knew that most of the anger came from her overwhelming protective tendencies that she had for you, you were like her daughter, or younger sister, a responsibility that she took very seriously. Sometimes she was overbearingly protective, if anybody did as much as touch you on the field they were dead meat, and almost guaranteed to be on the receiving end of a brutal tackle the next time the ball came anywhere near them. She loved you like a sister, and loved you enough to have realised that right now, you were driving yourself to the edge of a cliff and she wasn’t sure how far off you were from going over the edge and she would be damned if she let you go overboard without putting up a fight.

“I’m not lying.”

It was a weak argument, one that you knew Alexia would struggle to believe, an argument she would just brush off like a piece of lint on her shoulder.

“Okay then, show me that.”

Your jaw stayed locked, Alexia mirroring the same face, neither of you wanting to recognise the others argument.

You didn’t know what to say or do, because you knew what you were hiding, and Alexia did as well. But something about airing it out, admitting it, showing her it, made all of it so much worse, like it wasn’t just something you were struggling with, it was going to be something that the three women were aware you were struggling with and that made it so much worse for some reason that you couldn’t explain.

“Come on hermosa, you don’t have to hide from us anymore, you can show us, we’re here for you.”

Mapi’s words struck your heartstrings, pulling and tugging at them intensely, bringing tears to the back of your eyes. It was like a good cop bad cop type situation, the two contrasting Spanish women taking up all of the room in your brain.

Mapi tucked gently at the sleeve of your Barcelona hoodie, a gentle reminder of what it was that they were asking of you.

“You won’t be mad?”

Alexia’s brick wall of a face dropped a little bit, the sternness and toughness on her face dissipating enough for her to give you a little reassuring smile.

“Never.”

You let out a deep breath, tugging strongly at the bottom of your hoodie and beginning to tug it over your head slowly.

Underneath you were wearing nothing more than your sports bra, so as soon as the material was removed from your body everything that you’d been working so tirelessly to hide was on reveal and it made you just a little bit sick to your stomach. What if they hated you? What if they didn’t understand? What if they thought you were crazy?

Alexia took in a deep breath, sucking in a decent amount of oxygen as her eyes darted across your upper body and stomach, raking across your skin.

“Lucia, can you please retrieve the first aid kit, it should be in the medical cupboard.”

Lucy nodded deftly as Alexia, surprise clear on her face as she took a look at your body, her eyes popping just a little bit out of her eye sockets as she looked all over your body.

Alexia, after taking a proper assessment of your body, seated herself down beside you on the bench, sandwiching you between her and Mapi. Alexia’s hand fell down to your thigh, rubbing a little circle against your knee as she awaited Lucy.

Lucy quickly returned, retrieving the medical kit that Alexia had requested and handing it over to her before sitting herself down on the floor of the rooms, directly in front of the three of you.

Alexia very quickly dived into the kit, picking out a few items before handing the kit back to Lucy and looking down at you, a lot of emotions passing through her eyes.

“I’m going to treat these, and once I’m done we are going to sit down and talk about it, alright. I’ll apply some burn cream and disinfectant, just to stop infection, it’s going to hurt but the last thing we need is you getting some form of infection, so hold Mapi’s hand and just take some deep breaths for me.”

You nodded at Alexia, taking a look down at your abdomen only to be faced with the scattered self inflicted burns and scars that littered your toned stomach. It wasn’t something you were proud of, but it also wasn’t something that you were scared of.

Alexia got to work immediately, picking up the cream and pressing a little dollop to her finger before very gently beginning to work it into the tattered skin across your abdomen. It wasn’t pretty, and you winced as the disinfectant seeped into your skin and burned.

Mapi clutched onto your hand, rubbing circles into your palm with her thumb whilst whispering sweet Spanish nothings in your ear. You clutched onto her, as Alexia continued her process, not faltering once even as you cried out and whined, she knew that she had to do this and stopping every time you exhaled was only going to make the process so much more stretched out and painful.

Once she finished with the disinfectant she moved on to a burn cream, which hurt less but still stung all the same. She gently worked it into the markings, taking time with every one to focus individually on them. Her brows furrowed deeper with every single mark she located, you wondered if she was taking a tally, it was something Ale would do. She wasn’t exactly a worrier, but she was an empath and the kind of person that took responsibility for everything, and internally you knew that this would just be another one of those things that she’d think was her fault and you hated that, because it couldn’t be any further from the truth.

The process of watching Alexia finish up with cleaning the wounds was more painful than anything else, listening to her exhale as she tucked the cream tubes back into the first aid kit and looked up at you, a unsure frown on her face. It wasn’t a deep one, not the kind that gave you frown lines, the kind that quirked the corners of your mouth up and didn’t fully reach your eyes. An anxious frown, not a sad one.

“How about we go back to my house? We can talk about this over some dinner, how does that sound cariño?”

Whilst Mapi had phrased it as a question, you knew it actually wasn’t, she knew just as all of you did that in the next half an hour everyone was going to trail into the locker rooms, and whether she wanted to admit it or not, there was a good chance that this whole situation was going to make a scene and none of you wanted that kind of attention.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

Mapi looked over at Alexia, her eyes attaching to the slightly younger woman, a silent prayer for her to back her up.

“Sweet, let’s just get you back to Maria’s, and we can sort it out there, yeah? We’re all worried about you.”

You locked your jaw, you wanted to say no, but you also knew it would be pointless, the word no simply wasn’t a phrase that was a part of your vocabulary in this interaction.

“C’mon hermosa, let’s get out of here.”

Alexia pulled her jacket from her shoulders, draping it back over yours and zipping it up to the top, leaving none of your now treated marks on show. Mapi had already reached into your cubby, collecting the groups bags and hauling them onto her broad shoulders, the defenders muscular arms not even looking strained by the weight of your fours bags. Lucy was tasked with getting you standing, a job you thought you could do by yourself, but found to be a struggle when you realised that your legs had sort of numbed themselves, a cloudy kind of bizarreness that had spread itself out across your body. You let Lucy take the reins with you, swinging one of your arms over her shoulder to assist her with hauling you out of the rooms and directly out into the car park.

You were practically dead weight, having to focus all of your energy on putting each foot in front of the other. It was hard work for you, but you were rewarded when you finally made it to Ale’s car, Lucy helping you into the backseat and following you in, pulling you into a hug whilst she tasked herself with getting both of your seatbelts clicked in. As soon as they were, and Alexia and Mapi had taken their seats in the front they began driving.

You let your body relax into Lucy’s, not doing much thinking, just allowing yourself to exist. It was hard work sometimes, allowing yourself to exist. It was easy enough to go through the motions, to just force yourself to do the basic things, but actually existing, actually living, it fucking sucked and it was fucking hard work. When you pulled up at Mapi’s house, Lucy helped you back out of the car and practically hauled you up the stairs and into Mapi’s house. It was harder work than it seemed, you were mostly dead weight, so Lucy was dragging your whole bodyweight. When she did make it to the door, Ingrid was waiting there, with bottles of water and a big fluffy blanket that Lucy very quickly wrapped around your shoulders and with the assistance of Ingrid they managed to lift you up and onto the couch in the middle of the apartment, letting you tuck yourself into the blankets and pillows.

Ingrid was the first one to sit down with you, bringing your blanketed form into her arms and cradling you against her chest. A lot of the time they forgot just how young you were, only just 19. You’d been running with the big girls since you were 14 though, making your debut for both Barcelona and Spain that year. You were still a kid though, you were mature and you were more than good enough to be where you were, but sometimes the women forgot that you were simply just less experienced, and far younger than any of them.

“Jeg har deg vakker, der er greit.”

Ingrid’s words were murmured against your forehead as she pressed a kiss to your hairline, pressing a bottle of water to your lips. You took a few tentative sips, before pushing the bottle away with your face. Ingrid didn’t push you, she just nodded and placed it down on the coffee table before focusing back on you. Ingrid was a good soul, sometimes too much so. Sometimes she just cared too much, but right now it felt like just enough, especially considering just how much hurt you’d been forced to feel over the past few hours. Ingrid was making you feel loved, something that you’d been lacking over the past few weeks.

It was a few minutes later, or maybe a few hours, though you were doubtful over the latter because it was still light outside when Alexia, Mapi and Lucy joined the two of you on the couch. Alexia looked like she’d been crying, something you were not used to, nor expecting and it played with your head, had you made her sad? Was it your fault that she had been crying?

Alexia sat down in front of you, on the floor, finding your hands and taking them in her own, looking you eye to eye. You moved yourself a little bit out of Ingrid’s arms, not fully removing yourself from her embrace, but moving yourself so you could focus more on Alexia.

“Bebita, how long?”

The question was vague, but you knew what she was asking and suddenly it made everything feel so much more real, you couldn’t shove this under the carpet, or try and act like it had never happened, because it was happening, right now in front of you.

“Ale.”

Your words were pleading, she shook her head at you, her face gentle but stubborn.

“No, you can’t pout your way out of this. I’m not going to be mad, or disappointed, I just need you to be honest with me, that’s all I ask hermosa, just be honest with me and we’ll work this out, I promise.”

Your eyes fell to the carpet. You could feel Mapi and Lucy sitting down beside you on the couch, Mapi’s hands coming up to massage your shoulders and Lucy’s falling to your lower back, tracing gentle patterns across the skin.

“Since I was 16, I stopped when I was 17, picked it up after the World Cup, after the trials and what happened with Jorge.”

Alexia’s breath caught in her chest. She knew that she should have tried harder to support you when it was happening, knew that you weren’t fully okay after everything that had gone down at the world cup, especially after it had been revealed how the coaching staff had been treating you, and keeping it a secret.

“Okay, thank you for telling me. You’ve been going through a lot, and it’s understandable that you needed something to compensate for all the pain you’ve been feeling. But this can’t go on hermosa, not when you're harming yourself in the process. It’s not safe for your physical health or mental health. You're dependent on it, and it’s understandable, as a kid you found something that worked for you, that took away a fraction of the pain you were feeling. It helped you survive, I commend you for that, truly. You found a way to live in a world that wanted nothing more than for you to fail, good on you. But you aren’t a sixteen year old girl anymore, cowering in a corner from abuse and hate, you are 19 and you have people around you who love and cherish you, mi amor. You don’t have to rely on the same survival techniques that you used as a kid, because you aren’t a kid anymore. You can live now, go on holiday, wake up at 5am to watch the sunset, and party. You can have fun without other people's permission, you can be whoever the fuck you want to be and not have to apologise for it. That’s the best part about growing up, that you get to be whoever you want, unapologetically.”

Alexia’s words were so honest, so raw, like they were coming from the very depths of her heart. It hit you hard, right in the chest, like a punch to the stomach, because what were you supposed to say to that?

“I don’t know how to do any of those things.”

Your words were murmured from your lips, only just leaving your voice box. It was the honesty of the moment, the honesty of expressing to these women that you’d never done any of those things.

You were fairly certain that honesty was your favourite thing in the world, because it wasn’t easy to be honest. It was easy to hide behind white lies and blurred screens, but you couldn’t hide behind honesty. The best way to love another person is to be honest with them. You’d fallen in love over the years with honesty, with people's honest moments. Their unmade beds, the moments when they were drunk and crying and can’t be anything but honest with you in the moment. The look in a person's eyes when they realise that they’ve just told you something about themselves that is humiliating or not necessarily the norm, or the look somebody gives you when they’ve just woken up and they’ve forgotten where they are, or the gasp they make when their favourite character dies in a movie. You fell in love with people and their honest moments all the time, a slip up of words, smeared makeup, daydreams, breakdown, mourning, anger, laughter. When somebody is honest with you it makes you happier, it makes you more yourself with them because you trust them with you, with the real you. You become the first person that is looked at when something is going wrong, the kind of person that you can be strong for but also exhausted. You can laugh but also talk about trauma. That person for you right now was Alexia, a woman who was lying everything out in front of you and the sheer honesty that she was showing you was forcing you to break at the seams.

“That’s okay, that’s what we’re all here for. We’re going to be here to support you every single step of the way, but that starts with you making the promise that you are going to try. I understand relapse is a part of the cycle, I’m not naive or stupid, I know that you’ve got an addiction, just like any other. So I’m not asking you to stop right this minute, or try and tell you that we’re just going to turn your life around with the snap of fingers, because we won’t. I want you to promise me that you are going to try though, and come to us if you have tendencies. Surviving isn’t pretty, y/n/n, it sucks and it’s fucking hard. I just need you to be honest with us though, just tell us the truth, because there is zero point in bullshitting us when we are going to find out anyway.”

You sucked in a deep breath, nodding at Alexia’s words.

“I’ll try.”

Alexia smiled and nodded at you, taking a deep breath as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. You felt the demon that had been in your head slowly start to silence itself. For you it had always been one more mark, just another one to add the the collection. It was never about stopping, never about caring. Why would you care? You were put on the planet to serve your country, that was your job. It didn’t matter how you got there, just that you did get there. Now you were there though, and it was all coming crashing down on you. There was no reward for the years of abuse, neglect and pain. The damage to your body and soul didn’t matter, nothing did. You were just another casualty, another body left to the pile.

“You deserve a good life hermosa. The abuse, trauma and pain you had to endure, the unbelievable pain that has changed you forever, makes you a fighter. With the memoir of scars, you are a warrior born into the mess of life but you are a brave soul, one deserving of love, if you’ll accept it.”

You felt like there were glass shards pressing to your throat, digging into the skin and your oesophagus. You didn’t know how to explain it but you were angry. Angry that you were being forced to recover from something that you should have been protected from. You were too young to be this ghost of pain, children were supposed to be happy and free and yet that was something that you hadn’t truly experienced in the last five years. You could have been a little girl, and yet the people who were supposed to protect you failed you and no amount of healing would change that. You were never getting your childhood back, or not the version of it that you wished to have. It hurt, from the inside out, knowing that you were never going to have that part of your life to reminisce over, that one day, when you had kids of your own, maybe. You’d never be able to tell them the stories, tell them about your own childhood, because for you it had all been soccer.

“I’m going to try for you, te prometo que.”

Alexia smiled at you, nodding and pushing herself up off of Mapi’s rug and joining your pile on the couch, nuzzling herself into you, essentially sandwiching you in between the four women.

“We know you will tesoro, and if you fall we’ll be here to catch you, we’ve got you from now on, no more hiding from us, si?”

You nodded hopelessly into Alexia’s chest, letting yourself fall into the women and having faith that they were going to catch you, that you didn’t have to fight this battle all by yourself anymore.

[chakoru]

habits they developed in your relationship

౨ৎ seventeen

seungcheol - massages

imagine this: you’re laying on the sofa with your legs across his lap. he’d just softly massage you. not too hard yet not too soft to the point where you wouldn’t feel a thing. sitting in silence and letting the background ambience soothe over you both is his ideal pass time. being in your presence is a gift he will forever cherish.

jeonghan - photos

snaps a picture of you at every given chance. If you’re just walking hand-in-hand, he’d tug your hand and tell you to smile whilst he pulls out his phone and takes a picture of you. trust, he has an album just for you on his phone with 300+ pictures.

joshua - sticky notes

you woke up alone this morning. rolling over and finding nothing but an empty joshua sized dent in the mattress. groaning as you stretch out your arms and head for the restroom. you open the door, and there it is - todays notes. “had to leave early, i miss you already:(” another on the fridge read “made something special, eat up my love”. even in his absence he could make you grin like a child.

jun - breakfast

if you’ve come home stressed the day before he’d plan a cozy day for the two of you to relax. some days he’ll wake up early to cook up breakfast; if you were really feeling worn out, he’d go as far as to print out a ‘menu’ with options like “water on the rocks” to be fancy. always expect a whipped cream happy face on your pancakes.

hoshi - writing reviewing

when he comes up with lyrics or just simple ideas that he thinks could possibly be good—he’d immediately rush to you. always beyond excited to hear your opinions and grow from them. a lot of times he’ll write something about you and let you read it out to see if you’d notice, if you do, he wiggles his eyebrows and throws in a comment like “idk i just kinda wrote about this person i’ve been obsessed with lately” and smirks at you.

wonwoo - games w you

he’s a gamer. we know this, he enjoys being left alone to play games but recently he’ll wait for you to join him. he wouldn’t bombard you either. once he notices that you’ve finished whatever you were doing, only then will he ask if you’d want to play with him. if you didn’t really feel like playing and just watching, he’d pull you into his lap and stay like that. he just wants you near, the feeling of your heartbeat soothes him.

woozi - back hugs

he isn’t big on pda, which is the complete opposite of you. You’d hug him and kiss up to him at any and every chance you got. He’s gotten very used to it and started showing his love in the same way. You’re cooking? Walks behind you and just hugs you. Laying down? snuggles behind you. He just adores you in silence.

dokyeom - soft talking

no matter how strong you put yourself up as, he’ll forever see you as a fragile piece of art that deserves to be handled with extreme care. once he gets home, he drops the screaming and just cuddles into you—absorbing your scent and immediately melting. won’t ever raise his voice at you, ever. but he does love to talk, and when he does, he uses the sweetest voice you’ve ever heard. and it’s only for you.

mingyu - playing with your hair

he will watch youtube videos on braiding and all that. he loves running his fingers through your hair, and if you happen to have curly hair, he’d love to play with it all night. you are so mesmerizing to him in every way possible. if you got the sudden urge to dye your hair, he’d ask for permission to do it himself.

minghao - follows you

he’s very firm on his own decisions, but with you, he’d do whatever you please. suddenly feel like shopping? ok, get in the car. like that. there are times when you think maybe you’re too pushy, bc why else would he be obeying you like a puppy??  but he always—Always reashures you that it’s purely because he loves you and would absolutely do anything to keep you smiling.

seungkwan - journaling

he would sometimes stay days away from home for work, and in that time he’d often find himself writing for you. at first he found it odd, he’s never written like this. but soon enough he ends up purchasing a blank book. when he misses you or even when he just has too much running through his mind—he writes it out. he wrote you a few cheesy poems he thought were publishing material.

vernon - painting your nails

when you first asked him to help you, he was struggling. he didn’t think it would be so difficult to just paint.  “ja-jan..” he mumbles as he shows off your freshly painted cuticles, you let out a laugh when he looked away in embarrassment. since then it’s become second nature to him. he goes out every now and then just to buy a few new colors he thought would look so amazing on you. surprisingly enough, he’s gotten better than you, designs and all.

dino - just dance

he loves being in your presence. with you just being near him, he’s comfortable. but sometimes he just can’t sit still. one morning you were forced out of your sleep by the exageratingly loud noise of music. upon walking into the parlor, there he is, dancing to crazy in love by beyoncé, “join me” he asked. since then it’s been normal to play these with him. it gets so competetive, if he lost severly he’d grumble all day. but he loves that time with you best of all.

[cloudrumble23]

Puppet girl wanted her to get to know the other ghosts in the pizzeria. To help her "adjust." To prevent corruption from taking over her soul.

Well fine. Cassidy could do that, even feeling the rage boiling under her skin as she considered the thought of anything other than plotting her revenge on their killer. Did the puppet even care? Probably not.

Still, Cassidy could handle it. She could make friends with that quiet kid who never left the suit. Puppet girl hadn't even had a chance to have a conversation with him yet since she was too busy babysitting everybody else to prevent them from corrupting.

The golden suit was crammed far back in the corner anyway. Nobody really seemed to acknowledge it, and Cassidy knew that the puppet girl only knew about it because she'd put Cassidy's soul there. Unintentional companionship, Cassidy thought to herself, squatting down in front of the suit to examine the eyes.

Sometimes there was a faint pinprick of light when she did this. Other times, there wasn't hardly anything to spot. Today was a bad day. She squinted intently, trying to make out the spot of light that she knew was there constantly, but there was no sign.

Resigning herself to actually talking to this kid was maybe not a good idea. He was hard enough to communicate with on a good day, and today was definitely not one of those. Still, Cassidy dove straight into the suit, knowing she'd have to go deep to find the quiet kid who shared the suit with her.

"Are you down here?" Cassidy called, looking around the eerily red space. "Hello?"

She heard a faint sob in response and hurried over to it, seeing him curled up in a ball on the weirdly colored grass.

"Okay," Cassidy sighed, pulling him upright. "What's the deal?"

The boy had his face buried in his hands still, something that continually frustrated Cassidy. They'd encountered each other briefly before, and he never tended to speak. She knew there was the lingering mark of death on his face, a flag of red spilling down an otherwise monochrome appearance.

In life, Cassidy might've even said he was cute, but she didn't have time for such things anymore.

Her fingers looped around his wrists as she adjusted herself to sit in front of him. "Look, I'm not typically the pushy type, but you're the person I know best out of anybody here, and I'm supposed to be making friends so that I don't get corrupted or whatever. Which means you gotta deal with me."

He didn't respond, even as she managed to peel his hands away from his face, revealing thick, oily tears that spilled all the way down his face and coated his hands. Corruption, Cassidy thought suddenly, a chill running through her.

"Okay..." Cassidy exhaled slowly as he peered at her through his eyelashes, briefly distracted from his emotional turmoil.

She swiped at the substance, hoping it was easy to remove, but she ended up smearing it across his face more. "Umm, oops?"

He only blinked at her, seemingly unbothered by the mess.

"Look, I gotta be honest here. This is way out of my range of knowing what I'm doing. And uh... puppet girl says corruption is bad." Cassidy gestured at their hands, coated in corrupted something or other. "And this stuff looks like corruption."

"Oh," the boy answered softly. He glanced at his hands and then at hers. "I'm sorry."

"What? No, you don't need to apologize. We just need to-" Cassidy took a deep breath, something she wished was still helpful. "Okay, why were you crying?"

The boy's mouth thinned, trembling slightly.

"Never mind," Cassidy said quickly. "Could you tell me your name?"

"I... I guess..." he replied, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm... Evan..."

"Okay, Evan." Cassidy tried to smile at him. "I'm Cassidy. I possess Golden Freddy."

"That's not his name," Evan said immediately, his mouth turning down in a frown. Something flickered in his eyes, a memory of some kind. "His name is Fredbear."

"Uh huh." Cassidy didn't know what to make of that. She really did need to talk to the others, didn't she? Clearly, there were many things she didn't know. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that. I just kinda gave him a nickname, I guess."

"It's alright." Evan clasped his hands together in his lap. "That's a lot of blood."

"Oh, yeah..." Cassidy looked down at her torso, still unimpressed with the fact that the bloodstains had carried through with her death. "It's a symptom of death, I guess."

"Do I... Do I have one of those?" Evan asked, his mouth creasing in worry. "Is it on my face?" His voice seemed to get higher with every realization.

"I-" Cassidy didn't know how to respond as he crumbled into tears again. "Yes? I mean, we all have those. It's okay, don't cry."

Her reassurance didn't seem to get through to him.

"Hey," Cassidy pulled him into an awkward hug, making him tumble half into her lap. "It's not a big deal. Even puppet girl has some bloody marks on her face too. And her neck."

Evan hiccuped. "Really?"

"Yeah, it's something we all deal with. I mean, it still sucks because that's so invasive to just know how other people died, but-"

"At least we're all in it together?" Evan asked, the tears spilling from his eyes no longer dark and inky.

"Yeah." Cassidy tried to smile at him. "We've still all got some stuff we can keep private though, like what we were like when we were alive, but as far as dying and our killer go, we got stuff in common."

"Our killer?" Evan seemed horrified. "He killed other people? Besides me?"

"Yeah? He killed all of us," Cassidy's mouth twitched. "Did you not assume that?"

"I thought it was an accident. He said he was sorry and that it was an accident," Evan started muttering to himself, hyperventilating.

"Okay, I think you need to calm down a little bit-"

"Calm down? We're dead because of him!" Evan's eyes flashed, and the hysteria in his voice increasing as he spoke. "He lied to me!"

The black inky substance was leaking from his eyes again.

"Evan, we all had that feeling of hopelessness that you're feeling right now, and I know it hurts, but please. You'll be corrupted if you don't calm down!" Cassidy felt pressure rising behind her own eyes as she spoke. The threat seemed much more likely now that she was witnessing it happen.

Evan shuddered in her arms as she tried yet again to wipe away the tears. "I'm so bad at this," she said to herself as she continued to make it worse.

"Join the club," Evan whispered, gripping his elbows with what would've been bruising force in life. "I can't ever seem to get anything right, either."

"It looks like I made a finger painting on your face," Cassidy admitted, wrinkling her nose.

Evan huffed out a small laugh. "Probably an improvement to how I looked before."

"Nah, I think you're cute, but I made it worse." Cassidy scoffed.

Evan froze. "You... what?"

"I made it worse?" Cassidy answered with a questioning tone. "Like, I made you cry a bunch, and then I smeared it all over."

"Oh, right. Yeah, that makes sense." Evan shook himself out of something.

"Did you always used to cry this much?" Cassidy asked, suddenly curious. She'd never heard him talk so much, and he was going to probably never do this again.

"Always," Evan said regretfully. "My family hated it. Mikey and Lizzie said I was the crybaby of the family, and they were right. It was so stupid. Mikey told me to 'man up' all the time and be a better older brother to Lizzie, but I just..."

"Your brother sounds like a jerk," Cassidy said.

"He's worse than a jerk, since he killed all of us," Evan huffed, peering up at Cassidy's face.

"Wait, what?" Cassidy frowned, suddenly confused. "Jeez, how long ago did you die?"

"Like... four years ago?" Evan answered, sitting up.

"But..." Cassidy was even more confused. "You seem too young to have died so recently. Like, your brother is a full-grown adult."

"No he isn't." Evan's face wrinkled up. "He was only fourteen when I died, so he wouldn't be older than eighteen right now."

"That makes no sense." Cassidy replied, shaking her head. "I died two years ago, and he killed me while wearing that stupid yellow bunny suit."

"Rabbit suit?" Evan echoed. "No, that wouldn't be Mikey. Mikey hated Spring Bonnie. Father kept trying to convince him to have more interest in the animatronics, but Mikey only cared about Foxy."

"Then..." Cassidy's throat tightened. "We weren't killed by the same person. We couldn't have been, not if you were killed by your brother."

"You were killed by my father," Evan told her, his face twisted in a different kind of sorrow.

He's trying to tell me without making me cry, Cassidy realized. How could anyone end his life like that? Evan was too sweet for his own good, and clearly some people hadn't appreciated him the way they should have.

"How do you know that?"

"He never let anyone else wear that suit, Cassidy. Not unless something changed after I died."

"Oh..." Cassidy didn't know how to feel about that. "So, your brother killed you, huh?"

"It was an accident." Evan stood up. "I don't..."

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Cassidy said quickly. "I was just curious."

Cassidy stood up and glanced around a bit. "Do you ever wonder why everything down here is red?"

"Sometimes," Evan shrugged. "I don't see anything in any other color anyway."

"You... don't?"

"No."

"Have you ever left the suit?" Cassidy asked. "I only ever see you down here."

"I didn't know I could leave." Evan blinked at her.

"Come with me." Cassidy said suddenly. "You have actually been living under a rock, for real. Come see where we are."

"Oh. Okay..." Evan reluctantly followed Cassidy as she made her way out of the suit and back into the real world.

"So, this is Parts and Service." Cassidy gestured at the grungy room filled with broken animatronics.

"Who is this?" Evan asked softly, having walked away from Fredbear to trace a line down Foxy's snout.

"That's Foxy," Cassidy answered, coming to stand by his side. "Fritz doesn't tend to hang out around the suit much, not during the day anyway."

"Wow," Evan said, his voice wavering. "They actually made them all into animatronics?"

"Yeah, there's Freddy, and Foxy, and Bonnie, and Chica. They're a bit rusted out, and now they're just used for parts, but..." Cassidy shrugged. "I mean, the kids go around and have fun during the day, pretending to still be alive."

"You say that like you don't," Evan turned to her, clear tears running down his face. Does he ever stop crying? Cassidy wondered.

"I don't tend to join in. I'm a bit too aggressive for the things they like to do."

"What do you like to do, then?" Evan asked, his hand still resting gently on Foxy's head.

"I don't know. I just don't feel like playing anymore. I don't feel like pretending to be alive when I know we were all murdered, you know?"

"I guess..." Evan blinked. "What if you could help kids who were still alive?"

"Help how?"

"I don't know. Cheer them up when they're down or something, I guess. Like you did with me."

"I wouldn't say I cheered you up," Cassidy scoffed. "You're still crying."

"These are good tears," Evan replied.

"Well, I don't think that would work, in any case. Nobody can see or hear us."

"They can't?" Evan sounded disappointed. "Well, that's..."

"They can see the suits moving, at least," Cassidy offered. "It's just that you can't really communicate, and I've only ever used the suits to scare the security guards."

Evan stroked the fake fur on Foxy's head, not seeming to really be listening anymore. His shoulders drooped and the tears were darkening again.

"Hey, what's up?" Cassidy asked, finding herself reaching for Evan's face yet again to clear up the corrupted tears.

"It's nothing."

"Clearly that's not true," Cassidy pointed out, holding her inky hand in front of Evan's face. "Tell me what's going on."

"I want to see my family again. I guess I was just hoping that I could tell my brother that I forgive him and miss him and-" Evan cut himself off with another sob. "It's stupid."

"It's not stupid," Cassidy replied stubbornly. "I bet we can find a way."

"What if he doesn't even come here, Cassidy? What if he-"

"Foxy's his favorite, you said, right? Well, if that's true, we need to find a way to get him back in commission so your brother comes back. And then we can try to find a way to get communication between you two again."

"Why are you helping me?" Evan asked. He looked so silly with his face all squished like this, but Cassidy couldn't help it.

"Because I'd like to do something good for once," Cassidy whispered. "And I think it'd be nice to see you smile."

"Oh," Evan answered as Cassidy stretched his cheeks up to force his mouth into a makeshift smile. "Hey, stop it!"

Cassidy laughed. "Make me."

Evan swatted at her hand, a short huff of laughter escaping his mouth. "I can't!"

"Then you're stuck! Oh no, how terrible it is to smile again!" Cassidy grinned in his face, finally relenting in time to see him naturally smiling.

He giggled. "You're ridiculous, Cassidy."

And you're adorable, Cassidy thought fondly, surprised by the sudden protective urge that washed over her. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I dunno. Depends on if you're ticklish or not," Evan replied, the silver of his eyes gleaming menacingly as he dug his fingers into his sides.

Cassidy gasped, surprised that the same jolt of nerves she'd always felt when she was alive was still possible as a ghost. "Hey!" She laughed, even as she crumpled forward, tucked into Evan's shirt as she continued to struggle.

"You want to know the best part about this?" Evan asked, grinning down at her. "I don't even have to stop."

He was right, Cassidy realized. She was laughing so hard she couldn't draw breath, but since they were dead, it didn't make a difference. It's crazy how much joy there still is, even after dying, she thought, still struggling to squirm free.

Maybe the puppet girl had been right after all. Cassidy just needed to make some friends.

Or a friend, she thought looking up at the laughing boy who shared the suit with her.

There was still joy after death.

Especially with Evan around.

Thank you to @pixlokita for this adorable piece of fanart for this, by the way!

[kittyhui]

heard you’re in need of some thoughts so i am here to deliver!!

thinking about having your first time with woozi. tbh i can see it taking Months until he finally works up the courage to finally talk about sex with you,,, not because he’s nervous or anything but he likes you sooo much and doesn’t want to be pushy or give u the idea that he’s a pervert (even if he is cus u drive him a little insane). he’d be sooo gentle,,, double checking that what he’s doing is okay and moaning into you when you respond positively to whatever he’s doing.

alternatively i’m thinking abt the first time he gets a little rough with you. maybe he’s stressed or something but he has all this steam he needs to blow off and the gym just isn’t cutting it. it’s such a switch up from how tender and soft he is as a boyfriend it makes your head spin. as soon as he realizes he’s being rough he stops n is like “wait i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to be so rough w u” but actually him displaying his strength has u dripping everywhere n u tell him that and he double checks that you’re okay before he manhandles you n pins ur wrists to the bed.

ooo ooo ooo!! i’m also thinking about,,, bcs we get ttt next week for gose,,,, going on a little camping trip w him n the rest of the boys and they’re all having a good time n woozi decides to drink cus he does that now,,, n he feels like a horny drunk to me but like not overly horny. he just needs you, and he’s drunk so he’s clingyyyy. i can see him sobering up a little bit still needing you so when it’s time to wind down and go to bed (or when he decides he can’t deal with the noise of everyone doing drunk karaoke) he pulls you into the bedroom n lays down beside you n fucks you from behind,,, like spooning you,, with his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. n it’s so intimate bcs you’re so close to each other n he’s biting down on your shoulder to keep himself quiet.

ugh god he drives me sooo insane. if i have any more thoughts i will think them into your inbox.

-baby fever anon

baby fever anon… the BUTTERFLIES I GOT

first time with hoonie 😵‍💫😵‍💫

* both of you being nervous to talk about the subject

* it got to a point where anytime you kiss him for longer than a second he wants to pounce on you

* when you both finally talk and you tell him you’re ready, he’s so nervous

* he doesn’t want to hurt you; he’s never took someone’s virginity before and he really does not want to fuck up the experience for you

* when you finally get to it, he’s so sweet. he’ll prep you so well, praising you while you moan for him to do more

* i dont think he’s much of a talker during sex but when he finally slips in he’ll tell you how good youre doing and that’s there’s only a little more to go there is a lot more to go..

* he’d kiss youre lips gently, murmuring into them to relax and its okay..

* he’d look you in the eyes as if to ask are you okay? should i stop? you practically read his mind when you mewl for more seconds after

* he’d make you cum so many times before finally finishing into a condom, not knowing how you would feel about it being on your bare skin yet

jihoon being rough for the first time is something my sick mind has thought about before and ughhh

* he’s the sweetest fucking boyfriend you could ask for

* quite literally worships the ground you walk on

* So, when he gets in a mood, he will never see you in that state, resorting to working out to clear his head and calm his nerves

* today was a shitty day for jihoon. after work he goes to the gym to fix his attitude but he could not shake the feeling. it was getting late though, so he went home to you

* he gets home and you can tell his mood is different. as the two of you stand at the kitchen counter talking you can see his unfocused eyes looking at you.

* you start talking about your day and even though he loves hearing you talk about anything random he just wanted to kiss you.

* grabbing your hips tightly and pushing you into the counter, he mumbles a shut up before mashing his lips on yours. before he got too carried away, he hears your caught-off-guard voice squeak at the sudden actions.

* “fuck- baby im sorry, didnt mean to surprise you like that.. did i hurt you” he apologizes, removing his tight grip of your hips.

* you shake your head no, face flushed from his kiss still. “liked it. you can be rough if you want to, ji….” you murmur out, too shy to even meet his eyes.

* before you know it, he’s jackhammering into you on said kitchen counter, manipulating your body for his own pleasure. his feral groans echo in his apartment and you can’t think about anything but how mean he’s being and how much you love it

fucking in secret.. he’s such a cliché JKJK

* hoonie inviting you to an overnight get together with his members

* typical seventeen party shenanigans ensue and everyone is drunk.. including your boyfriend who lost one too many drinking games

* the night progresses and you can feel that jihoon refuses to leave your side at all. while you two watch the others sing karaoke, he has you in his lap, his bright red face leaning on the back of your neck and his hands hugging your waist

*you finally decide to slip away (more like jihoon practically pulled you away, mumbling something about loud dumbasses) into your shared room. you can still hear the boys singing but you were partied out and so was jihoon. 

* he pulls you into his arms, spooning you. he kisses your neck softly. he mumbles something into your skin that you dont catch but soon you feel him growing hard behind you

* “‘m sorry, doll. lemme fuck you.. need you so badly” he softly moans, grinding into your clothed thigh. you say yes, instantly feeling the effects of his words.

*when he finally fucks into you, he’s still in the spooning position, too lazy to move.

*but when he hears your moans, he’s quick to cover your mouth with his hand. “mmh baby- gotta be quiet. d-don’t want anyone finding out what we’re doing in here, right?”

*he starts to fuck you harder, humping you like he was insane and even with his hand on your mouth, moans still slipped out, loud and proud

* he was no better. his groans filled the room and he knew it was only a matter of time before someone would catch on so he bites you. your shoulder jumps at the sharp pain felt and a moan falls from your mouth but jihoon clamps his hand harder over it

* “so fucking loud, doll. fuck- so warm! need to stay in you forever…” he reached his tipping point, cumming into you and stilling immediately, hand slipping off your face. you sigh as you hear his heavy breathing

* he fell asleep. fucking lightweight

a/n THESE WERE SO CUTE UGJWJEBE now i wanna write a full semi public sex jihoon fic tho…

[cloud-acee]

[ breakfast bunch ]

office crush to lovers. wotakoi inspired. wc: 2757

the city was bustling with busy as per a usual weekday. heels clacked and leather shoes hurried on the sidewalks, navigating their way to work. that wasn’t the case for you. today was a day off work because of some event in another department that did not concern yours and sunwoo’s, allowing a day of rest.

it was past 9 am and you have just woken up feeling quite a bit mislaid, not knowing what to do. usually around this time you’d be in front of your computer, typing away your work reports while taking bites out of the breakfast sandwich sunwoo always got you.

not having the energy to figure out what to spend today for, you mindlessly scrolled through tiktok curled up in your bed until a message dinged your phone.

nunu: morning

nunu: u up?

two messages sent after the other popped into your screen and you immediately clicked on it, not quite eager, but excited to know whatever sunwoo has planned for the day just so you could join in. hence, you responded and exchanged messages after so.

y/n: yea why

nunu: bfast?

y/n: let usssss

y/n: but where?

nunu: hb that sandwich place where i buy our usual?

y/n: oooh bet i’ve always wanted to try dining there

nunu: aightt, you know my place just message me when ure near so i can wait by the bus stop

y/n: got it 🤝

y/n: i’ll get ready now bye bye

nunu: you be careful, see u !!

acknowledging his last message with a heart reaction, you locked and threw your phone to the bed as you stood up to get ready, your face planted with an unconscious smile. you didn’t really know if you were happy with the idea that you won’t be couch potatoing for the day, or because you get to see sunwoo.

he’s part of your everyday now, not only on work days but even on weekends where you usually meet out to eat and hang, having been alone in each of your apartments. the friendly company of each other brought you both comfort. at work you got to play adults, but outside work you both get to act like teenagers with your endless playful bickering, midnight ice cream runs, and tv marathons whether it's an anime or movies or series. you loved being with sunwoo.

not further delaying your movements, you hopped into the shower preparing for whatever is to come today.

sunwoo, on the other hand, was all dressed already. he opted to message you after he's ready to go out just to avoid the possibility of you arriving in the meeting place earlier than him, not that it was a chance at all, but he wanted to make sure anyway just so he knows you wouldn't be waiting all alone. he meant to ask you to breakfast last night but argued within himself, not wanting to appear too clingy. sunwoo has always been careful about how you might see him. he wanted to be around you, but not always, not too pushy to scare you away. he didn't want to be too obvious, especially not when he's had some feelings he himself is yet to confront.

he saw you as a colleague at first, he respected you as a workmate. sunwoo saw your brilliance and wit, and he found you admirable. he didn't even notice when he started to feel.. things, he thought for sometime he just saw the good things in you, not realizing it's past mere compliments about you that he kept himself. the man was falling, oh he fell quicker than he could keep track of his feelings.

but he would never admit them. not even to himself, perhaps to sunwoo, acknowleding the heart is followed by rejection. and he enjoyed being with you too much to waste the bond, so he settles with your friendship. not that he was complaining, if anything, he was grateful to even be close to you, and much happier that you two were the closest among your workmates. sunwoo was contented but he'd be lying if he says he wouldn't want anything more.

the walk down the bus stop didn't take long enough for the thoughts that preoccupied his head. anyway, sunwoo already got to the meeting place just before you messaged to tell him you were around 5 minutes away.

basking in the morning air, sunwoo was glad the traffic had died down, allowing him to enjoy watching the vehicles that drove by. each one of them dropping and picking up new passengers, until it was you coming out of the bus.

sunwoo stood up with a small smile as soon as he saw you and you shoot him a smile back as you observed his clothing, he was dressed in a hoodie and jeans, just as you expected.

"do you even wash that hoodie? didn't you wear that last week?" you asked teasingly as soon as you were in front of him. the small smile on his face that welcomed you fell into a playful annoyed face, “at least i wash my hair everyday.”

he likes teasing like this, “hey, you’re not supposed to wash your hair everyday because it’s going to keep the natural oil and stuff,” you huffed as you followed him walking. “so you’re supposed to stink?” he joked even more.

“no i do not stink!” you said loudly laughing in between. “you have got to stop believing everything you see on tiktok,” sunwoo exclaimed laughing along with you.

the teasing and the tiktok banter kept going until you were a crossroad away from the small sandwich shop marked with a logo familiar to you.

as soon as you entered the sandwich shop, you heard the old lady stood behind the counter chirp a greeting to the man who held the door before you, “oh sunwoo, good morning!”

sunwoo kept his hand on the door as you took your steps but his eyes immediately went to the old lady, greeting back to her with another “good morning” paired with a gentle smile.

she had went back to cutting the ingredients as you walked towards the counter with sunwoo, checking on the menu. you observed the store and it felt like a subway but homey, maybe because of the seats and tables that are not too fancy but neat and pretty in color. seeing the freshly cut vegetables reminded you of your hunger and the smell of the sizzling meat didn’t help either. you continued scanning the menu when a conversation between the two started.

“are you getting your usual?” asked the lady as she looked at sunwoo. “yes but i’ll be dining here this time, you don’t need to rush preparing it,” sunwoo answered in a chuckle. apparently, sunwoo’s habit was no different to yours, always rushing in the morning.

the lady took note of sunwoo’s additional coffee order before turning her head towards you, “how about your order, dear?” she was sweet. you felt no pressure choosing a sandwich for breakfast but you didn’t feel adventurous today so you went with the order sunwoo always brought you.

“i’ll just have the regular sandwich with mayo, onions, and cheese, but without the pickles and tomato please,” you answered politely as you pulled your wallet out of your bag to prepare payment. just before you looked back up at the lady, you added, “i’ll also have the same coffee sunwoo’s having.”

this time you looked at her and she had this quizzed look on her face, as if solving a math equation stamped on your face. you only looked at her with both your eyebrows raised, mirroring the same look of confusion as you wait for a response.

“oh it’s her!” she exclaimed with her face lit up. you couldn’t understand what she meant but sunwoo seemed to get it when his eyes squinted then grew bigger as soon as the thought registered. “you’re sunwoo’s girlfriend aren’t you!? the one he always buys this breakfast sandwich for!” the lady said excitedly, wrinkling the corners of her eyes.

sunwoo looked as speechless as you did, perhaps you were as red as each other too.

the lady smiled so big you didn’t have it in you to burst her bubble, so you just pulled your lips in a warm smile as you bobbed your head slightly. “he always did get me my breakfast sandwich,” you responded as an agreement to the sandwich part, glossing over the girlfriend bit.

“what a sweetheart you have here, kindness in love goes a long way!” she said with the same level of excitement as she turned to sunwoo and talking once more, “and you have got a girl so pretty! how did a clumsy sunwoo score such a lady!?”

sunwoo only laughed in embarrassment as he scratched the back of his head. the mood was lighter and you laughed with him too. he didn’t look at you but he played along ignoring the statement that made him blush, instead clearing his throat before speaking to you, “you can take a sit now i’ll take care of it.”

not wanting to protest, you only nodded your head and smiled once more at the lady before pulling yourself out of the counter. you chose a table just next to the window and settled your bag on it, with sunwoo following not so long after.

he slipped into the chair opposite to yours quietly but spoke eventually, “i’m sorry about that,” he chuckled awkwardly. “i knew her since i moved here for work and she suspected the extra sandwich i was buying with my usual order was for a girl,” sunwoo laughed at the memory.

rushing through the streets, sunwoo held his leather bag in his left hand before he got to the front of the sandwich shop near the corner of his apartment, pushing the door with his right hand. the old lady recognized him, he’s been a regular since around three months ago— right when he moved to the area.

just as sunwoo approached the counter, the lady beat her to it and asked, “your usual in 5 minutes?”

he laughed lightly answering, “yes, please. but with the regular sandwich too minus the pickles and tomato.” he says as he pulls some cash out of his wallet. this was when the lady noticed it, of the three months sunwoo’s been a regular, the last three weeks of his order included an extra sandwich on some days.

she couldn’t stop her tongue when she asked, “so your girlfriend doesn’t like pickles and tomatoes?” sunwoo was quite shocked, but he liked what he heard.

you were both new to the company but you came a bit later, resulting in the two of you working on some stuff together and sticking together during lunch breaks, having not much friends from the older employees. sunwoo found you so easy to be with. and quite frankly, you could say the same. you talked about a lot of things, especially anime. but besides your similar interests, sunwoo also learned about the absence of breakfast in your daily routine having such a shit sleep schedule that you wake up late and miss the time to prepare or buy anything to eat most days, if not every single day.

so one morning when he was getting his sandwich, he decides to buy two to give you the other one. he ‘accidentally’ ordered two so you got to eat it now because one was enough for him and it would’ve gotten stale if he keeps it for lunch. you do anyway, but you fish out the pickles and tomatoes before doing so. sunwoo mentally took note of the abandoned bits of vegetables and ordered one without them the following day.

you didn’t really think much of it then, just glad sunwoo was generous enough to share his food with you. sunwoo, on the other hand, was relieved. he wouldn’t really know how to explain if you ask him why he gets you breakfast.

claiming the paperbag containing the sandwiches, sunwoo thanked the old lady for always getting them done in 5 minutes. “oh don’t worry there’s not much customers anyway. you go now, you lovebirds have a nice day,” she grinned warmly.

it has become his routine since then, the lady’s too, that he had completely forgotten about the assumption she made months ago.

you intently watched sunwoo as he spoke of the memory so fondly. “i would’ve warned you about it but it slipped my mind, i didn’t really explain anything to her and just let her think of it like that, i’m so sorry,” he finished.

“no, no problem at all, it’s fine!” you answered wavering your hand in quite a panic, not wanting to make sunwoo feel bad.

you really didn’t want to sadden that lady with the information that you two, in fact, were not dating. but admittedly, being called that made your heart flutter. oh, who were you kidding? anything sunwoo did— anything related to sunwoo, made your heart flutter.

the lady was right, he was such a sweetheart. always so mindful when he was teaching you about the work stuff he learned about some months earlier than you, accompanying you to non-work events (who knew sunwoo would join you to a sticker convention), sending you tiktok edits of your favorite movies, looking after sickly you in your apartment, making sure he's got an extra hair tie in case you lose yours— the list could go on but it’s that sandwich that you look forward to most days.

upon having this surge of realization, you felt your cheeks heat up as you spoke shyly, “i mean, it wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

sunwoo only looked at you surprisingly with his eyes looking even bigger than they already do, but he also looked confused as his brows raised and furrowed quickly as if he was figuring a puzzle out. his head jumbled with words to form whatever question was meant to be asked in a situation as such, which he had never been in. did you mean what you said? did it mean you felt the same way he did?

his brain was racked with so much thoughts that before he got to ask what you meant, the old lady had already dinged the bell, calling for sunwoo’s name instead of his order number. blinking away the moment, "hold on," sunwoo said as he quickly stood from his seat quite wobbly before approaching the counter.

you would’ve laughed at his clumsiness but you had to mentally scold yourself first, what did you just say? were you even ready for this? well, you’ll never be ready to face something this big anyway, not something as big as your feelings that caught you in those moments with sunwoo you wished would last a bit— a lot, longer. they crept up the very first time sunwoo bursted out laughing at a joke you made, it was this warmth that spread across your chest that made you realize that besides seeing him happy, you also liked making him happy.

oh this isn’t good. what a waste of friendship would it be if sunwoo found your feelings ridiculous, you would much rather choke to death instead of being rejected and having your friendship ruined.

maybe you’re over reacting, but what’s a girl got to do when she accidentally confesses?

you were so into your own thoughts that you didn’t realize sunwoo was slowing his walking still trying to absrob what you said. did you mean, it wouldn’t be.. so bad.. being his? sunwoo has always been gentle with you when talking about things in a serious light, but he didn’t find this time a good time to be slow, maybe he should just go for it?

you felt like you held your breathe until sunwoo came back, carefully placing your coffee and sandwich in front of you and his meal on his side. sunwoo's sat in front of you again wiping the pair of fork and bread knife with a napkin before handing them to you. you only quietly said "thank you," as you reached for them when he spoke.

"so you liked that, huh?"

looking up with your mouth agape, you were horrified. sunwoo had a smirk and his eyes twinkled with something that tells you this day was going to be about more than a friendly breakfast date, this one was a hole you both have been digging.

[anzulvr]

Imagine Karma having a bad day and a smart af reader who can see through him instantly catches on and tries to do little things to make him feel better but doesn't do anything direct bc they know that Karma isn't so great with admitting he's upset and he eventually opens up and cuddles up to them and omGHW RKSIAJWWNAOQ

KARMA X READER WHO READS HIM LIKE AN OPEN BOOK

This took like 2 weeks I’m sorry there’s so many requests 😭

Karma has never been the best at hiding how he feels, it never even seems like he tries to as he’s very open and honest about what he thinks.

No one can really read him except for you.

He doesn’t know wether to think of that as a good thing or not. You understand him but is having someone like that something he wants?

He sits down next to you in the morning for first period. He came late and he has this grouchy look on his face, you ask him what’s wrong.

he brushes you off “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

It was obviously something still you didn’t want to be pushy.

The rest of the day you could tell something was weighing on his mind so you made it your life’s (or days) mission to make him feel better.

You spent the rest of the day trying to cheer him up

passing him notes during class, (Korosensei sees you but doesn’t stop you from doing it when he sees Karma smiling while reading them)

Messing with him during your sparring session

“[Name] you sure you want to fight me? I’m not going easy on you.” (He totally will)

“You don’t have too! I’ve been practicing too.”

mid way the fight you realize you overestimated yourself, even with him letting you hit him it was somehow hurting you more.

“[Name] I’ve seen cats that hit harder than yo— PffttHAHAHA WHY DOES YOU TICKLING ME HURT MORE??”

you realize there was no beating him through sheer will but you did know he was ticklish and that’s a big enough weakness to exploit.

You were also just being extra corny all day just for the sake of it

“This (love) song reminds me of you.”

“[name] that’s so chessy it’s gross.” he says trying to hide the smile creeping up his face

You went to his house to hang out for a while

“Karma, let’s watch [insert really overrated action move]!”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to last time.”

“You like it right? I want to watch something you like.”

His heart exploded right then and there. How could someone be so sweet without realizing it

mid way through the movie his spirits seemed raised so you ask.

“Karma do you mind me asking why you were upset today?”

“t’s really nothing I’m surprised you could even tell. No one else said anything.”

“I just pay extra attention to you, they didn’t say anything cause you have resting bitch face”

“Obsessed much?”

“As if! seriously though, what happened?” You had to push further for him to admit anything actually happened

“I just got into a fight with some stupid guy”

“Really? That’s it? You get into fights like everyday.”

“It’s a long story. Him and his friends were talking about you and it really set me off because I’d already had a shitty morning— my parents called to tell me they already made plans to travel to New York after they told me they’d stay here for atleast a month?”

“Oh wow- I’m sorry Karma, I know they promised and everything.”

“Yeah. Uhm sorry— I didn’t mean to unload that much.”

(Sorry??? He says sorry??)

“Huh? You don’t have to apologize, I want to know these things cause I care.”

“Oh. Thanks [name], you’re the only person I’d ever tell these things too.”

“Whys that?”

“I trust you too much, who knows when you’ll blackmail me with this.”

“Blackmail is your thing not mine!”

“Mhm, that’s what a blackmailer would say. Anyways let’s finish the movie the best part is coming up!”

“I was hoping you forgot we were watching that snooze fest.”

“In what world is [super mega overrated action movie] a snooze fest??“

“Do you hear yourself right now..?”

“You don’t see me complaining when you make me watch those romance dramas you like.”

“What are you saying, you never shut up about how unrealistic the scenes are.”

“Cause they ARE— in what world do guys get in car crashes, stay in mid air for 5 minutes and look good while doing it??”

“…in what world does an antihero ninja go around fighting people to save humanity.”

“To be fair we’re trying to kill an alien octopus to save the world from exploding these days.”

“Yeah.. if you asked me a year ago which of these events were most likely to happen I wouldn’t have guessed alien octopus world explosion.”

“Right, to be honest the car accident in true beauty seems fairly realistic in comparis- [Name] LOOK THATS THE SCENE!”

in the end you fell asleep on the floor together when you woke up he complained about how you slept though it. (He fell asleep 5 minutes after you.)