#yet he’d win somehow

[mister-lucky-bunny]

Today I learned that the same guy who did the host of Ozzy’s Dungeon from VHS 99 is the same guy who voice Trevor from GTA V

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 In the Ring

♡ featuring: boxer!wriothesley x manager!reader

♡ summary: its hard managing a boxer full time. maybe it's time you relieve that stress. wc: 6.8k+ (???>":>?)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of trauma, mentions of violence, rough sex, overstim, face-sitting, size kink, unintentional edging, hair pulling, mentions of choking, argument, confessed feelings, slow burn, kinda toxic?

notes: can u tell how down bad i am for wriothesley. also do yall like the smaller text cause I do. jing yuan fluff next :)) art by sxnalien on twitter! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

For a second, the crowd stills. Bright intense lamps illuminate the sweltering squared circle, buoyant under the nimble movement of the boxers. They trade blows, bobbing and throwing each devastating hook with an even deadlier counter. No one took a hit for the past minutes, and the audience scoots to the edge of their seats at the sheer stamina of the two. Both dripping sweat, barely holding on between the merciless clock and their steadfast opponent. You can almost hear the breeze of swift jabs cutting wind against their jaws. The one with blue gloves can barely manage to guard himself, with a swollen face and wobbly legs, while the crimson gloves deal relentless punches. The crowd shouts. Unintelligible echoes, some that pray for the win, others grieving the money they’re about to lose. He’s caught on the ropes, and attempts a wild swing to save himself, to save his career. Red gloves weaves effortlessly and delivers a brutal crush to his bloodied nose and possibly busted mouthpiece. The crack is resounding, it makes the commentators cringe. His skull flies back, and he comes crashing down from his dizzying tower. The head-first fall vibrates beneath the feet of investors in proximity. 

DING DING DING 

Mass uproar ensues. They jump out of their seats, flailing their arms, joy and pain in equilibrium. 

“And he is out! It’s all over!” the commentator yells. Confetti floats golden dust from the ceiling. The victor stalks the ropes before hopping on them, his gloves raised in the air. Glistening, high off elation, but somehow composed in his attitude, akin to a wolf. 

“A savage knockout from the untouchable world champion, the king of the ring, Wriooothesley!” 

“Wrio, Wrio, Wrio!” they chant. You’re standing near the ropes, already identifying which joints you’ll need to observe after his victory lap. It’s hectic, and you’re jotting down the state of his figure. Past experiences sew through each deep scar carving his rugged biceps and abs, the bruises display early signs of discoloration. He’s tall on the unseen throne, it feels like you’re there with him. A million eyes in that vast stadium, and yet, those midwinter eyes ebbed in silver only look at you.  

Your beginnings as a manager were tumultuous. You could barely comprehend how out of your league you were working for a renowned agency fresh out of college. Though you found quick success in your ability to grab the attention of investors through public relations, you weren’t equipped just yet with the hindsight in preparing for scandals. The other athletes you worked with served no problem, and so you never had to worry about their appeal. Higher ups praised your extensive portfolio, and at such a young age, it was even more commendable. You earned it, fame and respect, interviews and gossip—a delicate dance. You were always busy, assisting your clients throughout the day and maintaining their presence while they slept. It was hard work, but you loved doing it. 

That was until you worked with amateur boxer, Childe. 

A snappy, overconfident lightweight fighter with no regard for anything or anyone. He had an unmistakable void in his eyes, but you fought for him ceaselessly, to prove that he wasn’t the cold person he portrayed himself as. You bore with his flirtatious compliments and innuendos, the need to focus him whenever you documented his afflictions, and he’d not-so-subtly flex his biceps. Childe was unnecessarily violent with underhanded tactics. The media knew this and did everything to amplify that bellicose story. You’d combat it, negate it, but he only fed the flames with threats of retaliation. Taking his phone wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t get through to him. It was only a matter of time before he went off the deep end.  

The day you slept, you discovered a restlessness you’d endure indefinitely. The flickering glow of your device woke you at midnight as hundreds of notifications congested your screen. 128 missed calls from your agency, 50 from news sources, and none from Childe. When you processed the damage from his deplorable stunt, you nearly hurled your phone out the window. He posted revenge porn, and evidently turned off his phone. Surely, there’d be a way to fix this. The chances seemed to dissolve with each text turning green. You started pacing, battling with morality and loyalty and anger. What he did was disgusting, but it’s your job to save him, right? Is he worth saving? You spoke with 4 managers at once, switching through motives and bickering until morning. As you flipped through the television, another emotion struck you. 

There he was, on a tasteless gossip channel. An interview you didn’t arrange, with a man you’ve never seen before. And he was...crying? The sob story emitting from his deceitful lips was almost impressive. Childe went on about how “demanding and horrible” you were backstage. The crocodile tears dried up through dodgy anecdotes, but it was enough to have people hooked. You were allegedly physically and emotionally abusive. He was too scared to speak up due to your position and he just couldn’t bear it any longer. Then he dropped the bomb; he blamed you for his post. You forced him to do it, jealous of his previous partners, emphasizing how enamored you were of him. The questionable tears began to fall again, but this time he covered his mouth, withholding the duping smile crawling on his face.  

You were filled with blinding rage, unable to control the fury at which your remote connected with the screen. It was everywhere now, social media websites booming with live opinions. He had no reason to slander you, and you couldn’t pinpoint why he chose to hurt you like this. You cried for him, shared stories of childhood and family. The knife you used to protect him was firm in your back, twisting and digging with each disgusting message in your inbox. You had no game plan to conduct, and no tears left to cry.  

Within a week, you finally understood how cruel this industry could be. Within a week, you were no longer on top. You lost clients fast. It spread like wildfire and not a single outlet spared an ear for your side. People you called friends, coworkers, hadn’t replied to your messages. When you got back to work, the rooms were silent as you passed. You could feel their judgement, whispers rattled with rumors and accusations. They waited for the tiniest slip-up and pounced like hyenas—you were eaten alive by their pitiful stares. You attempted to tell your truth multiple times throughout the week, but it was consistently rejected. The headlines were eye-catching: 

“Manager From Hell: Childe Tells All!” 

“He Cries: A Story of Love and Jealousy” 

Your stomach churned to the magazines being shown. Despite the great amount of loss you suffered, you were thankful for the one person that believed you, your boss. 

“Childe is a lying little snake. The media knows that, too.” 

“Then why is this happening?” 

“Money. That story is making bank right now. But I know for a fact you wouldn’t do this” he reassured.  

“Thank you, sir. But...I lost everything; I just don’t know what to do.” The weariness was heavy in your voice. 

“I have someone you can manage. It won’t be easy, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.” You were unsure of yourself now, and he continued.  

“You’re one of my best. If you want to climb out of this, now’s your chance.” Yes, you were unsure, drowning in doubt. But if the only way to get above water was to keep swimming, you wouldn’t give up so easily. 

Wriothesley wasn’t exactly known for his kindness. Crude, cocky, maybe even spoiled were descriptions that circulated in the tabloids. He had a knack for pissing reporters off by not answering questions or humming over their voice with a shit-eating grin on his face. Women loved him, however, throwing bras and phone numbers written on scrap as the condemned “bad boy” departed post-game. They screamed his name at once, and he’d done nothing to deserve it. He relished infamy—that way, it was much harder to pry into his private life. 

It had to be a coincidence that it was someone you fangirled over. In college, your eyes were glued to the screen every Sunday, waiting for Wriothesely’s post-conference and behind the scenes interviews. He didn’t speak often, but just the sight of those inky strands streaked with ash made your heart flutter featherlight in your chest. 

When you first approached him, he was just as arrogant as you’d expect. 

“Good evening!” you beamed. You caught him outside the gym, and he still had his headphones in. Full volume and blankly staring as you went on about the opportunity, silent under the blaring music. He took one earbud out when you finished. 

“Hm? Who’re you?” 

You were slightly annoyed. “Let me reintroduce myself, I’m (Y/N). Your new manager.” 

“No. Bye.” He began to walk past you without an ounce of care. You couldn’t lose it like this. 

“Ah, wait!” He turned half-heartedly. 

“Listen, I get it. You don’t want to be bossed around. But honestly, your reputation is shit. That can’t be good for business.” you persuaded. He towered over you, the figure of a Greek giant peeked through the compression top as he lazily watched you. 

“So? Why do you care?” he remarked. 

“I’ll help you. Sponsors, advertisements, whatever you want. You’re good, but you can be so much better. Let’s make money together.” You held your hand out, awaiting a handshake of approval. He merely glanced at your limp wrist. 

“Help? You’re obviously not doing this for free.” 

“Of course not. Give a little, take a little. I don’t do charity cases” you shrugged.  

He groaned, raking his fingers through his thick mane. At the very least, he hadn’t walked away yet. “I'd prefer for my life to be private.” 

“Then I’ll guarantee your privacy.” 

“Really?” he scoffed. “What can you give me besides empty promises?” 

“Anything you desire. Work with me, and I’ll make it happen.” That offer enticed him. No one had been this persistent with him yet, he scared off any manager that dared succor him. It was slightly entertaining, the way you burned ambition in your eyes, you were so easy to read. Most people wouldn’t look directly at him, and here you were, ready to follow him home if that’s what it took. He chuckled, and his massive hand reached for yours. 

You shook hands, and your fates were sealed.  

That was a year ago, and ever since then he’s been a thorn in your side. Nonstop drama and rectifying consumed your life. You didn’t think a man who spoke so little in public could talk so much around you. Whenever you argue—which is a frequent occurrence—his smirk grew wider at your frustration. You weren’t sure why you ever liked him in the first place. He only puts in effort when it comes to sparring, but you’re determined to ameliorate his standing, and in turn, yours.  

The minute you open the doors to the hall, the sound of pummeled sandbags, clanking metal, and sneakers skidding across the floor roars in your ears. Some men are dialed in on abusing the inanimate objects, the rest tense through repetitions of dumbbell curls with a hiss. You're in quick strides, the phone arm's length away from you as the sponsor on the other end screams. Another petty drama surrounding Wriothesley grabs the attention of the internet. Luckily, you have thorough experience remedying this. 

“What are you going to do? You’re fucking with my money!” you hear the faint voice. You bring the phone back to your ear. 

“Don’t I always deal with it? He fights, I make up for the other half. Give me a few hours.” 

“I’m not going to wa-” You hang up at the response. 

You propel the double doors free into a large room with a boxing ring in the center. A group of trainers swarm the perimeter, you can barely see through.  

“Don’t be scared!” one of them taunt towards the sparring partner, who has an unthinkable panic creeping in goosebumps dotting his skin. Each sloppy dodge tilts him more and more off balance against the strikes. Wriothesley has a powerful stature, with his back curving in a way that accentuates the rough muscle shaping his spine. You drone an annoyed sigh at the commotion and push yourself through them.  

“Move it, move!” you yell, before jostling your way to the front of the ring. 

“Wriothesley! Times up.”  He turns his head to the side, unintentionally sparing his partner and glares at you. 

“Two minutes.” 

“No. Now.” you command. He looks up at nothing, as if considering his options if he cusses you out. Then he begrudgingly drops the gloves and pulls himself under the ropes. The group disperses from the lack of action and he’s mere inches from you now. Sometimes you forget how to breathe in his half-naked presence.  

“What the fuck is your problem?” He mumbles while drying his head with a towel. His colossal forearms are raised over his head, highlighting the happy trail thick down his abdomen and tufts of hair on his armpits.  

“You. How many times do I have to tell you not to train during recovery?” you seethe. 

“Damn. Must’ve slipped my mind.” He doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest. 

“Well then, I’ll be sure to remind you hourly.” 

“Nah, I’m good. Hearing you once a day is enough.” He tosses the towel to you like his dutiful servant and grabs his water bottle. The liquid drips down his chin and on his shorts, hanging below his v-line. 

Your eyebrow twitches from withheld vexation. “If you don’t want to hear me twice, I suggest you do what I tell you. We need to talk.” A heavy sigh leaves him as he stretches, and he passes you the water bottle. If you had the strength to collapse the bottle with one hand, you would. “Lead the way” he goads. 

Wriothesley follows you through the backdoor of the gym to a secluded alleyway. When you get there, he immediately pulls out a cigarette you didn’t know he had. You were aware he smokes occasionally, but seeing it physically coaxed a strange worry in your gut. You twist your phone to him, to display evidence of him instigating an argument with Childe on social media. He reads in silence, briefly laughing at the recollection of his own comebacks, then lights the cigarette. 

“What’s this? Didn’t I say keep a low profile?” you reprimand. 

He drags in a deep breath of nicotine, and you eye the foul scent with distaste. He blows it above your unhappy face. “Calm down. Once a month thing. That fucker's testing me.” 

“This can’t happen again, Wriothesley.” He ignores you to continue his mumbling. “I should break his neck like a twig. He’s lucky he didn’t say that shit to my face, fucking punk.” he grouses. You're struggling to gather your thoughts, the cigarette compacted between his thick fingers irritates you. 

“We all appreciate your restraint, however-” you get closer, and yank the stick out his hand. 

 “No-!” Before he can finish, you promptly smudge it underneath your shoe. You aren’t sure how he’d react, but you didn’t expect him to sulk like a puppy. 

“You aren’t doing this shit while I’m here.” 

“Oh my god” he pouts, throwing his hands into his face and pulling them down.  

“You’re lucky I don’t report it to the doctor. None of this, ever again.” 

“Fuck, alright just...” he lets out a defeated sigh. “What do you want me to do about it? Apologize publicly?” You need him to do nothing; neither agency wants controversy, and it’d most likely be swept under the rug in just a couple days. You point his water bottle to him. 

“Nope, I’ll handle it. Just sit there and be pretty.” you reassure. He leans down to your height with a sweet smile and even sweeter gaze. 

“I do that well, don’t I?” he quips. 

“You manage.” He latches onto the water bottle, and drinks from it in your hand while looking at you. A soft heat envelops you beyond words that never reach your lips. 

“Listen to what I’m saying. Low. Profile.” Wriothesley comes up from thirst, dragging his tongue along the straw to the top, and licks his blushed lips. He delights in your flustered reaction. 

“Low. Profile.” he repeats in a sarcastic drawl. 

Later in the week, you receive a call in your office. It was fairly busy today, with coworkers constantly “checking in”, more so to see Wriothesley sitting across from you. He had no reason to be here, and you were surprised at his arrival. Be it boredom or a certain longing, a dull swell pulsed in his chest once he saw your overworked smile. 

“Hello, this is (Y/N) of Boxe Association. May I know who I’m speaking with?” Wriothesley’s ears perk up at your sudden professionalism, and he mimics your cadence. 

“Good afternoon, it’s Isadora.” Isadora was an event coordinator you previously worked with before your controversy. You understood that she stopped communicating to protect her business, but the pain lingered. You twirl the phone cord around your fingers, and meet eyes with Wriothesley, who’s laid back in the chair, his arms behind his head. 

“Oh. Hey, it’s been a while.” you say. You turn your swivel chair away from him to continue the conversation. His eyebrow twitches slightly with an unconscious scowl, and he walks towards your chair. 

“It has. I’m calling because I have a proposition that might interest you. I believe a meet and greet would be appropriate for your client. A large chunk of his fanbase are young adult women, however, he’s also popular with children.” He spins the chair around with a firm hand and presses his cheek against the phone. 

“That’s true.” You side eye him, and without skipping a beat, mush his nosey face away. His hot breath on your digits makes your skin tingle. 

“Who is that” he mumbles. You'd never seen Wriothesley interact with children, and you have every reason to be hesitant. 

“Hmm...any positive activity with children is good publicity. I’ll consider it. I’ll let you know by tonight.” The second you hang up, you release his face. 

“Why are you being annoying-” 

“Who were you talking to” he chides.  

“Isadora. She’s an event coordinator.” His clenched jaw unwinds. “She wants to do a meet and greet with you and a few kids. If we go through with this, I’ll have a camera crew and some reporters there. It’ll be good for your image.” 

“Okay.” he agrees. That was quick.  

“...Are you sure? Kids are loud and obnoxious a lot of the time.” 

“So? Fine by me. I can teach them how to fight.” Your skin crawls at the thought of Wriothesley launching a child through a wall. “That won’t be necessary.” 

“It’ll be fun.” The more he assures you, the more uneasy you feel. 

“Wriothesley, I’m serious. Don’t screw this up” you plead. He holds his pinky out. “I won't.” His loose interpretation of promises was dubious at best, but you had no other options, and this might be your only opening. You curl to his word. 

After parleying the finer details, you broadcast a raffle for young fans to meet Wriothesley. The traffic to the website was overwhelming, and you quickly began sorting out tickets for the favored winners. 

 Fortunately, the next couple of weeks were par for the course. 

It’s the night before the event, and you’re getting ready for bed. You sit at your desk in a big T-shirt and do your daily review of personal data. As you're scrolling through and identifying what needs improvement, you get a notification on your phone. 

“Breaking News: Boxer Bar Fight!” Curious, you open the tab to a video. It makes your breath stall, sweating frantically. You can’t think clearly, and your shaky hands can barely increase the volume. Unidentifiable noises and wobbly camerawork made it impossible to catch anything besides those familiar inky black strands, throwing punches in a drunken stupor at a defenseless man. Your previous conundrum flashes through your memory in a horrific stop-motion; the duping smile on his face. 

No. It’s happening all over again. Why is he at a bar? You messaged him before he went to bed. He never goes to bars. Why now, the night before the event? It’s late, he doesn’t go anywhere without telling you. 

He promised. 

None of it made sense as you threw on any sweatpants in your drawer and ran out the door. You can’t wait until morning. Disaster punctures and tears any rational decision you contemplate. Shouting silently within your mind, a crashing rage—or sadness—boils in your nervous stomach. You’re tunnel vision in a taxi on the way to his address. 

When you get there, you bang on the door with a fury that vibrates throughout the archway. His home is extravagant, with two cars and an expansive driveway. You bang again. 

“Wriothesley!” He finally opens the door. He’s still half asleep, pajama pants low on his waist, groggily leaning against the arch.  

“(Y/N)? Uh, what’s up?” He slurs in a deep slumbering voice through heavy eyelids. You barge in without saying anything. “Make yourself at home, I guess.” 

The interior is just as opulent as the exterior, it almost looks untouched. Every corner has a case or shelf stacked with ornate trophies and medals of excellence. It was the home of someone who achieved peak perfection and reveled in it. He follows you to his living room, bewildered at your furious expression. You play the video in front of him, and he watches with that same puzzled attitude that makes you angrier. You try taking deep breaths to compose yourself, but they halt shallowly. 

“What the fuck is this?” you accuse. 

“What? I don’t know.”  “Like hell you don’t know, this shit is on every homepage. Are you serious?”  

The cranky boxer pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. You show up at his house, and it’s to badger him about a rumor. Your temperament only heats the smoldering ember fueled by incessant claims. He covers his mouth, physically stopping the involuntary response. 

“Okay” he says, and blurts a facetious chuckle. Your heart thumps in your chest and ears.  

“Oh, It’s a fucking joke? I bust my ass to save your career and you’re laughing?” you snap, voice increasing in volume until it reaches a broken peak. He returns with the same energy. 

“When did I ask you to fix anything? Did you ever think that maybe I don’t fucking need you-” 

“You can barely control your smoking habits you pompous ass-” 

“I would if you didn’t nag me all the time. Whining and complaining, it’s fucking annoying!” he yells. Neither of you meant the words spilling out the bubbling surface, but your tongues were solely seasoned with the next spiteful jab. 

“Yes, whining! Because all you need to do is be on the straight and narrow, but you take nothing seriously, Wriothesley, and that’s exactly why-” 

“Exactly why what? Why your career went to shit so you’re piggybacking off mine?”  

Your battle stops. You can’t find the words to rebuttal. All the opinions of your colleagues, the media, Wriothesley, and yourself coagulate into a lump that fills the tightening throat. Pride comforts tears brimming your eyes. 

He pauses, as though he came to reality. An apology attempts to form on his lips, but it never manifests. “(Y/N), I didn’t-” 

“See you in the morning” you choked. You walk to the door, and he reaches out to the infinite space thick between you two.  

You didn’t sleep the entire night. It’s morning, and you’re exhausted. You consistently replayed the quarrel in your head through the taxi ride home, and when you strived for rest, it plagued your mind. Your coffee is untouched during your morning routine, a movement comparable to zombies. You don’t bother to confirm if Wriothesely is at the building—either way you owe it to the event holders to be there. 

You arrive just before the children file into the training room. Thankfully, Wriothesley is there in the center. Live cameras from reporters and parents border the walls; if something were to occur, it would be irreversible. Your head suddenly hurts. 

Perhaps playing it up for his reputation, the smile stretched across his face is a sunny warmth you’ve never seen from him. He waves to them, and they erupt with screams. To your astonishment, he gets on his knees to be eye level with them. They all jump into his arms at once, and he topples over onto the mat.  

And he’s laughing. This grumpy asshole fighter is laughing. A hearty, genuine laugh as he wraps his sturdy arms around all of them and picks them up at once. He whirls them around and they orchestrate high-pitched giggles. “Ready to have some fun?” he chortles. They say yes to varying degrees of excitement, and the meet and greet proceeds. 

You can’t help but smile when he frolics with the kids. They chase him with boxing gloves, he pretends to fall dramatically. Dogpiling him, he lets out a shrill scream of defeat. He manages to work in proper defense techniques while they jump him like a test dummy. He tosses each kid in the air whenever they ask, and never tells them no. You receive another call from Isadora amid your admiration, and you step outside. 

“Hey! Good news, these views are off the charts and the internet is really in his favor right now” she congratulates.  

“That’s great...what about the video from last night? Did you see it?” you ask. 

“Video...oh, that! Don’t worry, it’s confirmed fake.” What? Oh no. Immediate regret stirs in your blood, and you force the phone away to catch your breath. You feel utterly stupid. 

“Hello?” You quickly bring the phone back to your ear. “Yea, sorry. I have to go; I’ll call you later.” you insist. You can’t facepalm any harder. You make your way back to the training room, where the kids decorate his gloves with iridescent stickers. Wriothesley occasionally looks at you, but you can’t bear to show your guilty face. 

When the event is over, you both make sure to hug every child on the way out and thank the parent for coming. You’re sorting through mountains of requests people made to see Wriothesley again, and you mute your phone over the influx of emails. Peeking at the broadcast, under the footage in bold letters:  

“(Y/N) Back from the Dead?”  

It wasn’t the most flattering title, but it proved that public perception was salvageable. You emit a sigh of relief, for you and Wriothesley. As you’re packing your things to exit, he blocks the door with his body. 

“Can we talk?” You were dreading this discussion, but agreed, nonetheless. The ride to his home is silent, you grapple with a proper apology. 

You lean against the kitchen bar, while he’s laxing on the couch. Sleep deprivation torments you, causes you to wander as you fill in papers from sponsors. You can’t see the way Wriothesley steals glances at your slack figure curving to the marble. He eventually spoke.  

“So, um.” 

“I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. You did a good job today Wriothesley, you should be proud.” You flash a meek smile. He fumbles with his thumbs uncomfortably. 

“I am. Aren’t I the best?” he boasts. 

“You are” you say. The lack of sleep beckons you to a spur of honesty as you scribble. “You have stunning form, perfect accuracy, and immeasurable talent. Not just anyone can do that.” you return. He gazes at you, that dull swell pumping in his veins again. The cozy radiance of lights brightens your tired eyes. 

“You’re a big fan, huh?” he chuckles.  

“Of course, I used to watch you in college. I had a major crush on you” you snort. “Everything you are is amazing, but you know this. So cut it out.” He sits on the armrest, swallowing your confessions. The room is entirely too hot, he needs alleviation—he needs you. 

“Sorry. For what I said.” 

“Forget it. It's my fault, I was careless. I apologize.” you admit. 

“You know I didn’t do it, right?” 

“I know.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“I know.” you reassure.  

“What if some other bullshit controversy comes out. Then what?” You stop writing to give him your full attention. 

“Then, I’ll trust you. We’ve gotten this far. Even if no one else does, even if for some reason I lose my job and I’m not your manager anymore, I’ll trust you, Wriothesley.” you reveal. He doesn’t move. Wriothesley knew he wasn’t deserving of trust, and he’d made a plethora of mistakes throughout your arrangement. You had every right to leave him long ago. Nobody gave him the time of day or cared for his wellbeing like you did, but he couldn’t reciprocate. Even so, here he kneels, at the feet of an angel that shows him undying mercy. 

Wriothesley stalks at you, but you remain. He looms over you, pinning you to the counter with both arms, inches from your face. It isn’t a threatening force, but one that begs for confirmation. That slated storm searches for a specific craving, you feel his chest rising and falling laden with yours. 

“You’re too close” you quiver. The bitter musk and vanilla enveloping your senses makes you foggy, it lingers through the whole house. 

“Tell me to leave.” His mouth slants to you, and he waits expectingly. You ogle his features, the scratches of a warrior celebrated across his hardy torso. His hair brushes against your forehead, imperfect and uniquely beautiful. Why were you mad, again?

“Tell me to back off, (Y/N)” he pleads. The pads of your fingers lightly caress his ear, then his jaw. 

“Please” he whispers. Your thumb grazes his bottom lip, and he succumbs to the urge. 

You collide fervently, lips coated in definitive desire. Dancing with rough, bruising kisses that don’t make space for air. It smears on your face, dips down your neck and swiftly returns to your lonely mouth. The pressure of the counter bar burns across your lower back from his weight, but those mind-numbing kisses soften any injury. You bite his lip when he pulls away, and he groans. Suddenly, he lifts you effortlessly with his hands on your ass, and you clash teeth and tongue in a passionate challenge. He demands entry, and you moan into the wet mass intertwining through sloppy kisses. It explores your mouth, sending throbs to your nerves and subdues any control you have left. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, but you yearn for deeper contact. He licks up the organ, and spots moist, hungry kisses on your jaw. You both take a fleeting breath before converging again. You find passage in his hair and suck staining rose-colored marks on his neck while he carries you to the bedroom. 

“You’ve been waiting for this, hm? Slutty groupie” Wriothesley moans. You drag kisses along the shell of his ear. He tosses you onto the fluffy bedding and haphazardly strips to his underwear. The wide mirror opposite his bed gives you a glimpse of his thighs and shapely bottom hugging the briefs. You’re supposed to be undressing, but that thronging bulge made for a titan makes you nervous for what’s to come. He palms the erection to soothe the ache and climbs over you. He’s somewhat gentle, careful with the bulk of his body as he cradles your face for more kisses. The way he looks at you, a covet softness or misted lust tantalizing the wetness pooling in your panties. He moves to your neck, French kissing down your throat and on your collarbone. You feel like a virgin again, heart racing from every graze of his fingers and lips. His calloused digits grope the plush fat of your thighs, and gradually reach the hem of your skirt. You snake your hands over his pecs and abs and read the muscles. Moaning into each other's mouths, indulging every part of your bodies as you’ve wanted to do for months. He pulls your skirt off and you hold your button-down over your exposed panties. Heat spreads in your body, and he amuses at your sudden bashfulness. 

“Oh…you’re shy?” he teases, before popping the buttons off with a brutal rip. “Wrio!” you yelp. That’s the first time you called Wriothesley a nickname; he must’ve died and went to heaven. The lace gift wrapped around your breasts taunts him, and he buries his face immediately. He nips the sensitive skin and snaps the clasp off. “Cute. Need to feel you” he husks. He twirls the bud in his mouth, while manipulating the other between his girthy fingers. Alternating among loving hickies and harsh tugs of his teeth on your nipple. You whine, and his laugh tickles your raw skin. He flips over on his back and steadies you on top of him. Discards the rest of your top, and let’s out a shaky groan.  

“You’ve never been this speechless” he says. You smile and kiss his puffy lips, your hands kneading his chest. “You’re so pretty” you coo. He huffs while rubbing circles on your waist, eyeing your inner thighs covered in juices.  

“Then come fuck my pretty face.” He slips under the waistband and tweaks the fabric, but you grip his wrists. “Wait! Let me shower first- “ 

“You said you'd give me anything I desire, remember that? Keep your promise." He yanks the thin material down your legs in your weak clutches, trailing a string of drool that sticks to your labia. “C’mere” he grunts and lifts you towards his face. Your thighs are soft on either side of him, and you still in his grasp. He lolls his tongue out, but you’re reluctant to fully sit. “I’m heavy” you murmur.  

“Shut up.” He embraces your body, and you have no choice but to settle in his warmth. He keeps you flush with his flat tongue, swiping up and down the squishy flesh molding to his mouth. You writhe in his grasp, but he continues to lap at your clit with a starving lust. Wriothesely soaks in your velvet skin and perfumed essence dribbling down his chin. He doesn’t come up for air, and your brain is mush over him, his lips slurping your quivering cunt. A buzzing intensity courses through your twitching stomach. You rut your hips against his mouth, and he maintains his position while you use him. You’re grinding on his tongue, absent-mindedly biting your lips and mewling endlessly as you bring yourself closer to climax. He hums while sucking the nub and the vibrations make you cry out.  

“Wrio, ‘m coming” you whine. You hump his mouth until you come undone in a pulsating finish. His hands restrain you, greedily devouring the newly found honey as it pours out. You ride it through while he curls the tip of his tongue at your opening. Without warning, you feel the pink muscle push in your recovering vulva. “S-Shit, Wrio” you whimper, trembling on him as he drives inside. He seizes the back of your thighs and begins to bounce you up and down the mushy appendage slowly stretching you. The sensation is overwhelming, his nose skims your oversensitive clit each time you drop, and you sob. Wriothesley moves faster, your hands entangle in his hair. You babble please’s repeatedly, gazing sensually at each other as the coil winds in your gut. More, more. Then it snaps, an abrupt shock, clenching on his tongue as you cream. He raises your lower half; the wetness collecting in your convulsing heat makes his cock strain more than it already suffered.  

“Such a cute slut” Wriothesley husks. Your numb legs can’t navigate on their own, so he places you on your stomach. “We’re not done.” He springs his throbbing length free. The veins are consistent, prominent up his shaft to the angry red crown—9 inches begging to be inside you. Fresh precome trickles down his tip and he sighs at the bloated pain in his hefty balls. You arch your back, presenting yourself to his awaiting size. When he doesn’t enter you turn to him impatiently and he smirks. 

“Put it in” you whine. Wriothesley spreads your backside, and watches you clench around the ghost of him. He glazes himself with your slick, and moans from the feeling of your puffy lips cuddling his cock. “It’s not every day a fan gets to sleep with me. Be grateful.” he teases. He pumps through your squashed thighs, the head prodding your nub while he forces your chest flush with the bed. After he thoroughly coats himself, he nudges the bulbous tip to your entrance. 

Wriothesley sinks into your sex. You’re gripping him like a vice despite the searing soreness of your body accommodating the scale. The fevered sleeve nearly makes him crash to the hilt, but he stutters gradually to relieve your discomfort. He hits the base and shudders. You feel unbelievably stuffed, as if it’s squirming in your cervix. Then he starts at a savage pace. He’s using you like a flesh-light, balls smacking your overwhelmed tender nub with a carnal impulse. His moans spill uncontrollably as he watches your rippling ass and viscous webs blend together, clinging to his cock and forming a cloudy froth at the base. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets; you can’t think or feel anything that isn’t him, core surging with intense want. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, gonna snap my dick off. Ah- gonna make sure you can’t walk t-tomorrow. Then- hah- then you won’t be able to find anyone who fucks you like this, who makes you come like this.” He’s rambling and stuttering, completely incoherent the closer he gets. He glances at the mirror, then at you. You feel your hair jerked back by his massive hand, and lock eyes with Wriothesley in his drunken haze. “Stop, it’s embarrassing!” you slur. You’re both sheened with sweat, disheveled bodies satiating the hunger in any way you can. 

“Shh, you hear that?” The squelching slam of passion echoes in the room, sopping down your leg through his pummeling thrusts. Your back bends unnaturally as though it were folded in half. “You’re so fucking hot, so needy for me.” His veins adorn your walls, you start to tear up from the mixture of pleasure and pain. He notices your tears and holds you up so that your back is flush with his chest. 

“It hurts?” he questions, stalling his movement. You feel him twitch. “No, feels s’good Wrio. More” you mewl. He chuckles, and gently wraps his hand around your throat before pumping again.  

“Too good? Am I the best you’ve ever had? Say it.” He moves faster, free hand rubbing your clit. Your knees buckle and eyes roll back to your skull, he takes in the scene of your convulsing figure in the mirror. “S’best I’ve ever had, please ‘m so close!” you rasp, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He chases his high, panting animalistically in your ear.  

“Shit- look how desperate you are. Want me to come inside? Y-yea, I bet you fucking do”

“‘M coming!” you babble.

“Good. Make a mess.” he commands. Fire trails up your limbs, and you tighten before falling apart. Fluttering around him, taking him deeper while you come on his sack. Wriothesley pursues his sputtering hips, spurting thick globs that paint you white. He whimpers as you milk his spasming length dry and presses tired kisses along your shoulder blade. When he comes down from his apex, he turns you over on your back. It’s hard for him to not be proud of your boneless existence sprawled on his bed. You’re both breathing hard in silence, and he leaves for a couple minutes. You’re stunned when he returns with a damp rag to clean you up, and some dark substance in a mug.

You find the strength to sit up while he wipes your lower areas. “Where are my clothes?”

“...For what?”  he mumbles.

“To leave?” It seemed like common sense to you—boxers usually don’t go for long-term relationships, and so you assumed it to be a one-night stand. You dip over the edge of the bed and locate your skirt, but Wriothesely hops up and snatches it before you can. “I’ll put it in the wash. Relax.” 

“I didn’t know you were so hospitable. Do you do this for every girl?” you tease. He gets visibly upset, and shoves the cup from the dresser in your hands. “Don’t piss me off. Now, drink. I’ll order food.” 

Multicolored sunset flaking through the sheer curtains frames his stature while he’s on the phone. You sip the tea, it’s a vile grainy taste. For a moment you imagine what life could be like with him by your side—poor quality tea and an awful temper. In your pleasant aftermath, it doesn’t seem bad at all.

[gutsby]

Dead Ringer

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Weeks of separation and sexual frustration come to a head when Daryl pays you a visit in the middle of the night. Whether it's the product of your own sex-deprived subconscious or reality, you can't be sure—and you couldn't care less. Daryl is happy to fulfill the fantasy in any way that he can.

Warnings: NSFW (2.2k words of pure smut) Unprotected p-in-v, praise kink, daddy kink, breeding kink, somno, and a healthy dose of dirty talk à la dom!Daryl.

If you held on any longer you’d be seeing stars.

Chest heaving, toes curling, fingers tangled tight in a fistful of hair, you were on the cusp of your release and still scarcely breathing more than the man with his face buried between your thighs. Every lap of his tongue a gentle invitation, every moan laced with the sound of your name. A smirk, too, probably plastered on his face in satisfaction as he sensed you were close. It was relentless, as cruel and unkind a tongue-fucking as you’d ever received before, and yet, somehow so good you couldn’t help but beg for more.

Then, like clockwork, you jolted awake before climax—every fucking time.

Daryl had been gone a little more than a month, and you were starting to see him in your dreams on a near-nightly basis.

You’d wake to a set of soaked sheets and ruffled covers, hair in disarray, and find yourself searching frantically for any trace of him there, to no avail. The space between your legs left empty, the imprints of his hands on your hips little more than a figment of your imagination. You’d trail a touch down your body and swear he’d been kissing your skin just minutes ago, but no. It was nothing. He was out and about among the dead and you were here, in Alexandria, with nothing to show for your loneliness but a half empty bed and a head full of filthy thoughts.

“Damn you, Dixon,” you muttered before falling back on the mattress.

You’d lie awake for an hour or more, just counting your breaths and hoping sleep would find you sooner than another Daryl-shaped dream. But more often than not, the thoughts would win, and you’d be left with few options other than to grab the nearest pillow and shove it between your thighs. It didn’t do much to quiet your mind, but it certainly tricked part of it into thinking something was there, and eventually you’d drift off to sleep. By the third or fourth night of this, you’d grown accustomed to the routine—hardly stirring from your slumber as you reached for your stand-in Daryl and hoped the fantasy to follow would be good.

Seconds would give way to minutes, then minutes to hours, and somewhere in between came the comfort of sleep. You couldn’t tell when, or how, Daryl ever joined you there. But he always did.

All you knew was a touch on your skin in the still of darkness. Hands, as broad and calloused as they were careful, traveling the length of your body with a warmth bleeding from every fingertip. Always patient, always cool, always keen to pique your senses while he soaked in the sight of you and smiled. The thought alone sent the muscles in your legs clamping hard on that cushion, aching for relief. This was just a dream, you reminded yourself.

Fantasy man pressed a kiss to your stomach, and your eyes all but rolled back, squeezed shut in a medley of ecstasy and disbelief.

Just. a. fucking. dream.

When his lips moved back up your body, you thought you might cry. One kiss after another peppered gently down your neck, punctuated by the brush of his stubble, and you came undone, begging him to please, please let you cum this time, please.

There was a patience and an urgency together bound tight in his fingers, a kind of quiet desperation guiding them under the sheets and all over your body—almost hesitant to pry but eager to please. He slipped your shorts down your legs and your panties even faster. Slotted himself comfortably between your legs and pressed what felt a whole hell of a lot like his erection against your core. You whimpered. Without thinking, you bucked your hips against his and moaned.

And, if you hadn’t known any better, you could’ve sworn you heard a chuckle just above you. You disregarded it and continued to grind, shamelessly, for whatever modicum of relief you could get. With your eyes shuttered closed and your mouth hanging open, hips moving feverishly over the mound in Daryl’s jeans, you were sure you looked nothing short of pornographic in the moment. But you didn’t care, wouldn’t know, couldn’t even see the man in front of you, and you suspected this dream would be over long before you could, so you kept on moving.

Presently, your motions were stalled by a set of hands fumbling between your bodies, what appeared to be an attempt to unbuckle a belt and unzip a pair of jeans. Both items were discarded in a moment, so fast you hardly knew what to think, then—fuck—the thick, throbbing outline of his length pressed flush against your entrance.

You made one, final telepathic plea. Heels digging deep in his back and warmth threatening to spill down his member, you hoped, you begged, you pleaded for release—almost whined with a hunger you didn’t think was possible and pulled him in as close as you could before he’d breach the last precious inches between you. His lips caught yours, and you kissed him back as fervid and frantic as you felt. You were hot, you were sensitive, practically drenched in sweat, and—

“So fucking wet,” Daryl groaned in your ear.

You froze in your place. No sooner had the realization washed over you and your eyes snapped open that Daryl was pushing himself inside. A familiar face contorting in pleasure was the first thing to grace your vision and the only one to ground you to that bed, save for a mild sting between your legs. You glanced between his expression and the sight below, Daryl’s hips rolling softly into yours, and suddenly, it struck you that this wasn’t the work of your imagination at all. There was a living, breathing man above you with the slightest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips. It was Daryl.

He continued without a hitch, only slowing his pace to brush the hair from your face.

“That’s my girl.” Even in the dark you could tell he was beaming, eyes drinking you in.

You bounced up and down with the force of each thrust and found yourself ogling Daryl half-dumbstruck, half-cockdrunk. Searching for the words in the thick of this haze but coming up short, you sucked in a breath and settled on one simple, subtle, ‘Fuck me.’

Daryl’s face broke into a grin then, still straining with his motions below but managing to lower himself closer to you. Then reaching behind your head to thread his fingers through your hair and make you meet him eye-to-eye, he stopped. Eased himself out.

“What’s’at?” Daryl hummed as though he hadn’t heard.

You whined at the sudden loss of contact, rutting your hips in desperation. Daryl retreated even further, tightening the hold in your hair.

“Tell Daddy what you want,” he spoke through gritted teeth. Then, when you whimpered, pulled you even closer, “C’mon now, use your big girl words.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck you how?”

“Fuck me hard...a-and deep. Please.” You sounded pathetic.

Soaking the sheets with your arousal and begging for more. Daryl couldn’t have been fucking you more than a couple minutes and you were already on the brink of orgasm. After a week’s worth of edging and wildly unsuccessful pillow humping, you couldn’t help it. You sank your fingernails into the flesh of his arms and gave him one more pleading look.

But Daryl wasn’t having it. Opted instead for a shit-eating grin and a hand around his cock, dragging his member up the length of your slit and watching you squirm.

“Daryl, please.”

“Daryl what?” he snapped, pressing the head of his dick firm against your clit.

“Make me cum. Make me yours,” you begged.

With his free hand, Daryl cupped your face and made you look at him. Daryl loved to make you look.

“Yeah?” he sneered, “Gonna let Daddy cum inside?”

“Yes.”

You felt Daryl’s tip circling your entrance now, pressing between the folds and teasing you there.

“Wanna make me a Daddy?”

“Yes.”

As it was, he probably could’ve asked whether you wanted to be fed to a horde of walkers and you’d answer in the affirmative. Daryl was no stranger to the skin flushing, mind-numbing sort of frenzy that enveloped you now, and he was savoring every minute of it.

“You’ve been doin’ so good without me here, dunno if I believe you.” Taking his damn sweet time before he fed you another inch. Rolling his thumb over your bottom lip.

“I need you, Daryl. I-I’ve missed you so fucking much,” you spluttered, close to tears.

Daryl sank his finger in your mouth, fully, and waited for your lips to close around him.

“How much?”

But just as you started to answer, Daryl drove his cock deep inside you, bottoming out in a single thrust. You could scarcely let a moan slip before he pulled back and slammed into you again, and again, and again. Hurrying now, as if to make up for lost time, he fucked you fast and senseless—planting a hand on either side of your head and taking you how he needed. What little you could hear above the buzz in your ears was the sound of his balls slapping your ass and the grunts that accompanied it, hot on your skin and only getting louder.

“Tell me how ya want it,” Daryl panted in your ear, “Tell me how much you missed this cock.”

You were vacillating somewhere between Cloud 9 and your fifteenth almost-orgasm of the week, gripping his member and every last one of his ruthless thrusts like a vice, but you still managed to answer him, weakly, that you missed it more than anything.

Daryl pounded even harder and started to raise one of your legs to get you at another angle. Would’ve paid any sum of money to hear the sound you made at that new sensation a million times over.

“Daryl, I—” Your voice broke off in a moan when he nudged your leg a little higher.

Much to your surprise Daryl slowed his motions then, brow furrowing in concentration as he tried like hell to hit that spot—and keep hitting it, again and again. Knees to your chest and eyes practically glazed over in pleasure, you were scarcely more aware of Daryl kissing you on the forehead than you were of him reaching between your legs and easing a finger between your folds.

You were eye to eye again, short and ragged breaths tearing through your lungs as you both sensed you were close. This time, Daryl’s expression had softened considerably, almost as though he were watching you for the first time all over again.

“You okay?” He nudged your nose with his.

You nodded, breathlessly, and couldn’t seem to conjure up a more coherent response.

Daryl just hummed in understanding and ran a touch over your cheek. Swept a couple stray strands of hair away like he did before, only much gentler this time. When his other hand reached your bundle of nerves and your body tensed with pleasure, he helped brace your legs against his chest and take him even deeper. He’d nod and say how good you were doing, how nice you felt, how perfectly you fit his cock and stretched around him. If you whimpered again, he’d let you lean into the feeling and keep his eyes locked on yours so that you knew he was right there with you. How he managed to hold your gaze, stroke your face, and keep apace with that impossibly languid cadence of his hips was beyond your comprehension. All you knew and all you felt was him.

When Daryl found your lips again, you were practically trembling under his touch.

“Tha’s my girl,” he murmured between kisses, “Tha’s my good girl.”

Your walls clenched at his words, and you both moaned. You didn’t have to exchange another syllable from there, just folding into Daryl’s arms and taking him closer in your own. Squeezing him to you. You moved a little faster as the knot in your stomach tightened, and he rutted his hips even harder.

Daryl panted your name while you moaned his, and each of you kept your eyes on the other like an instant apart might take you away altogether. Another few seconds of him groaning and grinding and pumping inside you and you felt yourself coming apart. Waves of a new sensation struck your core that you nearly cried with pleasure, contracted around Daryl’s cock and felt him spilling inside you just moments later. It all seemed like an eternity and a half and still not long enough to have him like this, shaking and sweating above you.

When you rode out your highs and slowly sank back to Earth, your gaze stayed glued on him. Daryl was drained, barely able to hold himself up and still somehow smiling at you. You couldn’t tell him then—probably wouldn’t tell him ever—but the longer you stared, the greater relief you felt, realizing, at last, that this wasn’t just a dream.

[on-leatheredwings]

Checkmate

Yandere! Tim Drake / (AFAB) Reader

> romantic, rated M > tw/cw: yandere-typical behaviors (obsession). M rating is for a boner. just some sexual tension. reader is mentioned as bisexual.

> summary: Intellectually, Tim falls fast. Romantically, he falls hard. Seems this time it's both. > a/n: i just wanted to post some tim practice, pls let me know if i did okay. I made him a bit of a fuckboy i guess but ngl i think tim’s just run through af 😭 > word count: 1268

Tim likes you. And knowing himself, soon, he’s going to really like you.

More than anticipated, too. He didn’t think he’d have much of an opinion at all on you, when you had first met on your first day, in your new position as his personal assistant.

Personal assistant. 

At the reveal, he exchanged a hard look with Bruce across the room. Tim Drake had not been slacking on the job. And sometimes he had the eye bags to prove it.

Tim hadn’t even said anything yet, when you chirped, “Think of it as delegation.”

You gave him a pleasant, albeit cheeky look – which he respected. If you had the qualifications and enough charm to impress the hiring manager, who was a notorious hardass in interviews, you were probably fine. Probably more than fine.

Either way, he expected to forget your existence until you texted or called him to remind him about meetings he hadn’t forgotten about.

It turns out, you had… personality. Probably more than you should’ve, working in the professional setting of Wayne Enterprises. You dealt with Tim’s shit (absences, excuses), but gave as good as you got (ultimatums, thinly-veiled blackmail to run and tell Bruce). You were also… very attractive. And clever. And smart. And insightful.

And God, he wonders if you have a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Partner. And he wonders if he can somehow orchestrate a breakup. 

Tim moves a chess piece across the board. 

Okay, maybe he’s being too hasty. 

Oh, for the love of– you know what? No, he isn’t being too hasty. Anyone working in such close quarters with the heir apparent of Wayne Enterprises is heavily vetted. But it’s about time he did his own background check on you. He has made it three whole months without doing so. 

See, he really is getting over his control issues. Eat that, Stephanie.

Okay, if he’s going to entertain the idea of courting you– Wait, wait, since when was it courting? Yeah, no. He’s merely entertaining the thought of you. He’s been burned too many times now to start courting.

Let’s talk about having sex first before we start talking about dating, he jests with himself.

Anyway. He wonders what would be the most interesting means of going about this. Coming out and confessing would be a little boring. Too easy. His eyes wander to your lips. You’re too focused on making your next move to notice him ogling the soft swell of your chest beneath a sharp button-up. You’ve rolled up the sleeves – very casual for this very casual hangout. You both lounge on your bed, in your bedroom, in your apartment, because if Tim wins, you don’t get to hound him on personally contacting investors. (Sometimes, you gotta leave malcontents out to dry. Make them miss you.)

He hopes you like being experimented with. Or maybe you like experimenting on others. He would do anything you liked because, man, it’s thrilling to know people and their wants. Anything you give, he could take it–

Tim startles as a realization comes to his mind. 

… Him. Taking it.

Is that something he wants? To bottom for you? … Is that something… he wants? 

Yes.

Now that the idea has been conceived, yes, he wants that. So that’s that. 

The reality of whether you’d want to do that… is slim… maybe? You’re bi as well. Maybe that changes things. He’s not going to think about it too hard, because now he’s getting excited.

Tim would love for the skittering, synapses-firing-on-all-cylinders effect in his brain to cool down – for everything to wash over with cool calculation and academic interest. He manages to do that much for even the most intriguing cases. But you… Tim sighs.

And now he’s hard.

Tim shifts uncomfortably. He’s lying on his stomach, held up by his forearms. 

He sighs, even though there’s an evil piece of his brain snickering and taunting, “But you love this, though!” Evil, evil.

At Tim’s increasing silence, you lift a brow. Man, he’s been out of it all game.

“Tim?” He comes back to planet Earth. “It’s your move. Again.” You wear a Cheshire grin. “It’s almost like we’re taking turns, or something.”

He blinks, baby blue eyes clearing up. He shifts in his spot, feeling trills of pleasure from friction against erection. Your sheets. Against his erection. He bites back a smile. Okay, yes, he loves this. He likes hiding like this, right under your nose.

Him getting a boner was a development he had foreseen coming ten minutes ago, once he started daydreaming about you. So he just went ahead and casually switched positions. A risk, but a calculated one. He was pretty sure there’d be no reason for him to get up and expose the tent in his jeans. And boy does he love it when he’s right.

Tim goes to move another piece, when he glances up at you and nearly goes slack-jawed. You don’t meet his eyes. Instead, you wet your lips, seemingly meditating on something.

You meditate on him. After all, Tim is so… pretty. Pretty in a way unlike the rest of his gorgeous brothers. He has pretty eyes framed by dark lashes and a smaller frame, though he’s deceptively muscled under the clean-cut slacks and button ups. He has silky black hair that often falls into his eyes; a defined jaw. And pale skin. He is notably the palest in his family, burning miserably on beach days. It is that pale skin, contrasted so sharply with his dark green tee, that brings your eyes to his collarbones.

Tim nearly erupts.

Fuck, yes. He caught you staring. It takes him self-restraint not to puff out his chest or try to show more skin, lest he reveal his hard-on.

You snap out of it only moments after he notices, grin returning to your face.

“You know if you lose focus like that, I’m going to win,” you tease, almost childlike mischief in your expression. 

Tim so badly wants to parrot the words back at you, but he doesn’t want to scare you into never checking him out ever again. The little inch you just gave him– oh, he intends to take a mile. Whatever small acquiesces you give in the future, he knows he’ll take that and much more.

Now, he’s hungry for you. As soon as this game is done, he’s going to create a new case study file, just for you. He could start kicking his feet at the thought, he's that excited. He’s excited! 

He’ll put the pedestrian, basic stuff like your height, weight, alma mater, major, past jobs and experiences. Somehow get into your social media that’s all on private mode to see what you’re always laughing at on that damn phone. He’s also going to bring up your phone records, go through your email, go through your physical mail. Oh, fuck, surveillance. He’s already in your room, too, luckily. If only he had more of his bugs on hand… The ones he always keeps in his belt buckle will do for now. Also, Tim needs to think of some way to acquire your breast, waist, and hip size – he has a good idea of those measurements, but he wants to know. When is the next time you’ll be out of the house and not at work, he wonders–

“Tim,” you whine, impatient. The sound is music to his ears.

Tim’s eyes rise from the board to your pouting face, and he smiles apologetically. Suddenly, your face dawns with disbelief and indignance.

Tim swiftly picks up one last piece and knocks one yours over.

“Checkmate.”

[ramp-it-up]

Try a Little Tenderness

Paring: Mob Boss! Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 3.7 K

Summary: Steve can’t win you with presents. He’s got to try a little tenderness.

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, Lil bit of ANGST. Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Pining, flirting, organized crime, implied ice skating, teasing, former jerky boyfiend, inexperienced reader, nipple play, oral (both receiving) p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) breeding kink, size kink, crying during sex, violence (due to mob world).

A/N: This is for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

“Good morning, Steve!”

You were stocking onions, but you looked up and smiled as the tall blond entered the store, setting off the bell. He was well built and handsome and wearing a fine wool coat with a red scarf. It was a cool December, but New York had not yet had its first big snowfall.

“Mornin’, Ambrosia,” came his gruff response. 

You kind of liked his early morning voice. And the nickname. The first time he came in, he’d picked up an apple, already biting into it but also already paying. He handed you a twenty and said, “Mmmmm, Name?”, pointing to you with the apple. Flustered, you replied with the name of the apple instead of your name and the rest was history. 

This morning, Steve smiled at you and his blue eyes were sparkling. They always sparkled when he looked at you. He seemed very sweet.

“The usual.”

You laughed and went behind the counter to wash your hands.

“Of course, already had the fixin’s set up for you.”

You started the water for the espresso and got out the fresh everything bagels you’d put aside for him. Steve was one of your best customers, coming in every morning, and several evenings. He’d been coming in for about four months now.

Steve settled at the counter and watched you prepare his food. He looked at his watch: 7:42 am. He knew you'd been at work almost two hours now and that you were working very hard. One of your braids had come undone from your bun, and he wanted to put it back, but he didn’t touch you. You wore no makeup, yet your skin always glowed, and when you looked up at him, his heart nearly stopped. 

You were naturally beautiful. And your apron did not hide your curves. Or the fact that you were wearing the same pants that you’d worn three days ago. Steve figured that you didn’t have many clothes. He had the urge to take you shopping on Madison Avenue and let you go crazy. But somehow he knew you would never blow a load of cash on clothing. And that’s part of why he was so far gone on you.

He watched you battle your espresso machine with bemusement.

“Why haven’t you set up your new machine yet?”

You stopped and put your hands on your hips, looking so cute that Steve restrained himself from jumping over the counter.

“Is that from you?” You shook your head. “I suspected it.” 

Steve had unexpectedly given you many gifts, the espresso machine, a cash register. He’d even tried to have a new walk in cooler installed. You refused and sent back everything he’d sent. It wasn’t right. He barely knew you. 

You wondered what he did for a living, always dressed in the finest and able to afford multiple thousand dollar gifts. You figured that he was one of those Angel investors. Well, he wasn’t very good at being anonymous.

You watched as Steve gave you a lopsided grin, then leaned over the counter toward him. 

“Listen. Steve. Mr. Rogers.” 

You looked from his eyes, to his perfect lips, to his golden St. Christopher’s medal. He smelled so damn good. You bit your lip and Steve smiled, warmed by your proximity. This was his chance.

“Yeah, Ambrosia?”

“I’m not taking your gifts.”

You straightened up abruptly, handed him his drinks and finished his order. You gave him two folded newspapers.

“One Daily News for your friend and one News Day for you.” 

“Have you thought about it yet?”

You raised your eyebrow at him.

“About what?”

You thought he was finally going to ask you on a date. You knew the main reason he came in was to check you out. But you weren’t about to be bought.

“About the possibility of getting The Times in here? Alright, the Sunday Times at least.”

“Sorry Steve, it doesn’t sell. If it doesn’t sell, I don’t order. Can’t afford a non starter. But I do subscribe to the Sunday Times myself for the crossword. You can borrow mine any time.”

You winked at him. Something about Steve brought out your inner flirt.

Steve wanted to say something about sharing the Sunday Times in bed, but he thought better of it. Any other girl, and he would have been able to spit all kinds of game. But with you, he was tongue tied.

Steve sipped his coffee and shook his head as you gave him his bag.

“You are the most stubborn person I have ever met.”

You waved at him as he stood up.

“Have a great day!”

Steve chuckled at your dismissal as he walked out of the door. Bucky was waiting by the car. Steve handed him his cup and sandwich. 

“Send Sam to pick up the espresso machine.”

“Still a tough nut, eh?”

“Yeah. She’s still refusing gifts…”

Steve got in the passenger seat while Bucky sat behind the wheel.

“Instead of giving her all of this expensive shit, why don’t you just be nice to her?Ask her out ice skating or something.”

Steve scoffed. He didn’t know how to ask a girl out anymore. He felt like that scrawny kid running around with Bucky back in the day. Now, women were always clawing at each other to get to him. And they always wanted something. 

Steve didn’t respond to Bucky, just asked about his calendar.

“What’s on the agenda for today, Buck?”

“We gotta meet with the truckers today. They don’t want to bend to our terms.” Steve put on his sunglasses. 

“We know what to do to make ‘em bend, don't we Buck?”

“Sure do, buddy.” 

You were in your walk up apartment above the store halfway listening to the 10 o’clock news. They were doing a story about an explosion at the Eatern Tri-State Trucking hub in Bay Ridge as you put your body oil on after your shower. The reporter indicated that authorities thought that the Valkyrie crime organization was behind it. You were zoning out looking forward to the next day.

You were glad that Janie and Nate would be back at work tomorrow. Nate had just taken a week off, and Janie had recovered from the flu.  You were going to take the next afternoon off. You could have taken the entire day, but you wanted to open up for some reason.

Running an organic bodega in Brooklyn was a tough job, but the business was growing, but it was even tougher when your help was not there. You deserved a bit of a break.

The next morning, you were humming an Otis Redding song when Steve came in. You looked over your shoulder and caught him looking at your ass.

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers.”

“Mornin’ Ambrosia.”

“The usual?”

Steve wanted to say no, I want to ask you to marry me, but that might be a little too forward.

“Yeah.”

He sat down at the counter and noticed that you had on something brand new. When you turned around, he gestured to your outfit.

“What’s the occasion?”

You looked down and then grinned. 

“This outfit is my Christmas present to myself. I’m taking the afternoon off and I’m going into the city to go to the Central Public Library.”

Steve tried to respect your glee. But he had to do it.

“How thrilling.”

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch, “ you quipped.

Steve laughed at you. He thought about what Bucky said the day before.

“Grinch hunh. Well, would a Grinch offer to take you ice skating instead?”

You turned around and leaned on the counter. Steve leaned toward you.

“I don’t know. Are you offering, Mr. Grinch?”

You loved teasing him. Steve groaned.

“C’mon. I’m trying here. Ambrosia. Do you want to go ice skating with me in the city this afternoon? And to dinner afterward.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Steve was very close to you now, staring at your lips.

“Yes.”

You stood up and put your hands on your hips.

“It’s about time. Sure!”

Steve laughed at how easy it was. You shoved his order into his hands.

“Pick me up at 1.”

Steve was grinning like an idiot out at the car, and didn't know how he got there.

“So you finally asked her out, hunh?”

Steve snapped out of it as he got in the passenger seat.

“Move the talks up to 10. I’m taking the afternoon off.”

“Rumlow is stalling. I can handle it this evening.”

“You sure?”

Bucky looked at his best friend.

“Sure as shootin’.”

You and Steve had a great afternoon, and Steve thought that ice skating was genius. He had to thank Bucky. You had to hold hands to stay steady, and when he pulled you in close, you didn’t pull back so you could stay warm. He didn’t know that you were thinking the same things.

Steve got to treat you to Via Carota and you two walked right in. The food was great, the wine was amazing, and you even stole a kiss in your corner booth. The night was perfect.

He drove you back to your place and you sat in the car for a minute. He’d been a perfect gentleman, and you were the one to make the first move with the kiss. You looked at him quizzicaly.

“Can I ask you something, Steve?”

“Yes, Ambrosia, anything.”

“After today, this afternoon and tonight. Do you still like me?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course. Why do you ask?”

You looked down. 

“Well, you’ve been such a gentleman. I see how you look at me, all hungry all the time. And the gifts. I don’t know. I just thought you’d be. You know. More…”

“Aggressive?” Steve responded.

“Well. yeah. I just thought.”

You looked back up and saw that Steve’s eyes had darkened.

“I am not a gentle man in my everyday life, Ambrosia. And I know that I can come on strong. But you make me want to be tender with you. I want to cherish you.”

“Oh.”

And Steve pulled you in for a sweet, but sexy kiss.

“So, yes, I still like you. And I have very aggressive thoughts about you. Want to ruin you in fact. But I want to do it carefully. Make you feel it. And make you glad you did.”

“Oh. No one has ever…damn, Steve.”

He recognized that you had been hurt.

“Here’s an aggressive question. What kind of an asshole would make you feel that way about yourself? His name is all I need.”

You laughed.

“Do you want to come up for the answer?” You cocked your head at him as he chuckled and nodded.

“Yes.”

When you got up to your place, you were settled with a glass of wine on your couch.

“I’m not going to give you his name, but I will tell you that we were together for a few months, and we only did it a few times. He’s the only one I’ve ever been with.”

The way you looked as him made Steve’s heart soft, but other things hard.

“It…It didn’t feel good. He said I was frigid and too small. I… I went to the doctor and everything. She said I was fine physically. So I figured it must have been in my mind and I haven’t been able to get out of my head after that. He broke it off and then I just decided to focus on work.”

You peered at Steve to see his reaction.

Steve’s eyes flashed with anger, then cooled.

“That joker is a fucking idiot.” 

His eyes traced your body.

“He didn’t know what to do with all this?”

Steve reached for you and kissed you, this time with undeniable passion. You broke away and stood up, offering him your hand.

“Show me, Steve.”

He stood up and followed you to your bedroom.

You stood at the foot of the bed and reached up to kiss Steve, and he picked you up and sat down, sitting you down with both of your legs over his. You made out like this, Steve’s hands still in neutral places until you whined and scooted closer to him.

Then, he went under your sweater, finding your nipple in your bra and brushing it with his thumb. He was exhibiting intense will power, but he couldn’t hold it all back as you responded to his passionate kisses.

Steve lifted your sweater off and your tank top, which was underneath, with it. Your bra contained your breasts, but your nipples were erect and straining against the material. He brought your body towards his for a kiss, his thick fingers pressing and playing with your sensitive buttons. He had you squirming on his lap as he reached around and expertly unfastened your bra.

He looked down at you and then back up, eyes hungry. You’d been yearning for that look.

“I’m gonna cherish this moment, get you ready for me, Baby. You’re gonna feel so good.”

He was weighing and kneading your breast and tenderly flicking your nipple, then he leaned down and kissed you, moving down your neck and collarbone, descending your chest and kissing all around your areolas, teasing your stiff nipples.

He had you moaning and writhing, wanting some friction for your cunt.

“Patience, Baby. You’re gonna get everything you deserve. Including this.”

Steve moved your hand to the hard member in his pants, which you tried to grip in vain through his slacks. You whimpered in frustration.

“I know. I know. I want to do so many things with you.” 

Steve’s fingers were in your leggings, through our panties and tracing your wet pussy lips gently as he finally started sucking your nipples. You pulled his hair wantonly as he teased you.

“Mmmmm. Who’s got you all wet, Ambrosia?” he asked, as he pulled his fingers out and put them in his mouth.

“Y-you, Steve… unhhhhh.”

The sight of him relishing your taste made you even wetter. And he found out, because his hand was right back down your pants. 

His lips were at your ear and he was breathing hard.

“Can I…”

His thick finger parted your lips and the rough pads of two fingers slid over your clit into your wetness. You arched your back in anticipation.

“...Can I eat you out, my sweet Ambrosia?”

His voice and the request sent you on a tailspin. You nodded vigorously as Steve pulled his hand out to your whine of desperation at the loss of contact.

You quickly stood up as Steve captured your hips to stand still in front of him. His eyes raked up and down your form as he took hold of the waistband of your pants, and slowly pulled them and your panties down your legs. You stepped out of them and Steve’s hands ran back up your form as you looked down at him. He grabbed the backs of your thighs as he pulled you near him.

Steve put one knee over his shoulder and stared at your most intimate part. 

“She’s a sweet little flower. So pretty and tight.”

His fingers were parting your folds so he could see even more.

“But she will be ready for my thick cock, I know she will, Ambrosia.”

He pulled you forward and held you up as he licked through you, almost causing a near stroke as far as you could tell. 

“Mmmmmm,” Steve’s eyes rolled back into his head.  “You are so sweet. I could eat you all night.”

You almost cried as he dove back in, grabbing his hair for purchase. He grabbed your bottom and stood to place you on the bed. He kneeled on the floor and held you down and open with his huge hands.

Steve started his feast, gently licking at first, then made you build to a crescendo as he started tongue fucking you. He made sure to stimulate your nipples, and when he felt your hard little nub vibrate, he sucked your clit hard as you came.

“Was that good?”

“Oh my stars, that was good.”

You both laughed.

“You’re so fucking cute, Ambrosia, but there’s levels to this.”

You sat up and watched as  he took off his shirt. You were sure that your eyes were sparkling now.

“It’s just going to get better and better.”

He was just clad in his black boxer briefs, a huge bulge leading the charge. He reached in and you were certain that he was going to pull out an entire pack of socks, but instead, he showed you the largest, thickest dick you’d ever seen. Your eyes were like saucers. You were a little afraid, but your legs fell open out of reflex. 

“See what you do to me?”

You bit your lip and nodded, reaching out and touching it tentatively.

“I’ve never seen one that big.”

You looked up at him and his heart melted simultaneously as his cock jumped. Your trembling fingers around him made him almost bathe your hand in his spend.

“Oh, Baby.. So sweet.”

“You are too, Steve. I want to taste you.”

You looked up at him through your lashes and Steve groaned, trembling with the effort to hold back.

“Christ… I’m…I…. Whatever you want, Baby.”

You stared at his cock for what seemed like forever. Then, you tentatively reached out and kitten licked his tip, causing him to groan as he palmed the back of your head.

“You’re killing me here, Ambrosia.”

“Hmmm.” You smiled. “Lay down for me, Steve.”

He did as he was told and put his arm behind his head to watch you. The way his muscles bulged inspired you anew. He reached down and roamed his fingers over your body as you hovered over him. You stroked him a couple of times and then played with his balls, Steve putty in your hands.

“B-babyyyy.”

You smiled in triumph that you had him whining as you spread your lips over the thick mushroom cap and sucked it into your mouth vigorously, causing him to moan and buck his hips up. You took the cue and drew him into your mouth, making him hit the back of your throat and gag.

“Holyyyyyy sssssshit. Stop. StopStopStopStop.”

Steve pulled you off his dick, which made you release him with a plop. He sat up and stared at you, disbelief in his eyes. 

“Did I do it wrong?”

“Did you do it wrong. Fuck, you almost made me…. C’mere.”

You giggled as you ended up with your back on the bed again, Steve eating you out, this time one finger inside you as you came. You were in shambles as he looked up at you and inserted another finger inside as his opposite thumb stroked your still-quivering clit.

“Gotta get you up to three. Hold on.”

You did, and when he crooked his fingers this time, you let out a wail that caused dogs to bark down the street.

After your fourth orgasm, Steve looked up, smiling ear to ear.

“Still want this dick?”

You scowled at him.

“If you don’t…”

He laughed as he kneeled between your legs, stroking the magnificent beast. You opened your legs even wider and stared down at it.

“No. look at me, look at me. You’re ready. I got you Baby.”

Steve supported himself with one arm as he got nearer to you and started swiping his head between your folds. You keened as he entered you.

“Ow. Steveeeee.”

Your face looked so adorable as you struggled to take him.

“Holy shit, you’re, fuck you’re so….”

Steve kissed you through your moan of shock and pleasure as he slid all the way home. You gripped his bicep, your fingernails leaving marks. Steve pecked your lips as you pounded together, waiting for you to get used to him.

“You ok? You good?”

Steve checked to make sure you were okay. You nodded at him with tears in your eyes.

“I- I- think it feels good. You’re so big, Steveee. But.. but I like it….”

You started moving, a little at first, and then more wantonly. Steve looked down to where you were impaled upon his dick.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You are perfect. Just so.. Fucking… tiny…. But made for me…Shit.”

You felt Steve’s cock jumping inside you when he said those words, and you clasped your hands behind his back and uttered, “More!”

And that’s when you began to get fucked. Tenderly yet filthily. It was the best Steve had ever had, trying to be gentle and knowing that he wanted to put the bed under the ground. It was such a turn on. The ragged moans that you gave him with each stroke was a gift from god, and he started cumming before he could think.

“Shit! I didn’t use a condom…Fuck. But why does that just motivate me to keep going?” 

Steve laughed into your ear as he kept stroking for dear life. He was usually so careful, knowing that most women wanted his kid. But with you he didn’t care. You wrapped your legs around him, taking the pounding he was giving you now.

“Hmmmmmm. You want me to put a baby inside you? Pump you so full of cum that you get all round and full with my seed?”

“Hnnnnghhh. Steve… I…”

“Tell me. Do you want it? You want me to get you pregnant?”

“Ohhhh shitttttttt! Steeeveeeeee!”

You detonated around him and Steve cursed, finally pulling out and jacking hard onto your stomach as three fingers on the other hand continued to fuck you through your orgasm. His pearly spend looked beautiful on your skin.

“So gorgeous. There’s time for that yet, but we gotta get you to a doctor, because I don’t want to do this too many more times. And fucking you with condoms is no longer an option.”

You were fucked out, absentmindedly playing in his cum, causing him to spurt one last rope onto your fingers. When you brought them to your mouth was when he shivered. He collapsed beside you.

“I can’t even explain how good that was.”

You just smiled at him, lips shiny with gloss that he made.

“You are an angel. A Christmas angel.”

Steve sighed as you smiled at him. He got up and went to your bathroom to clean up and get a warm towel.

“I’m hungry.”

“Anything you want, Babe. I’ll get it for you.”

You grabbed the remote and  turned on the tv, catching the tail end of the news.

“Shootout in DUMBO tonight between the Rumlow and Valkyrie crime organizations. Several high-ranking officers dead or injured, including Brock Rumlow and James Bucky Barnes. More news when we have it.”

“Steve? Bucky? What’s going on? Valkyrie?”

Steve was up and grabbing for his clothes, an inscrutable look on his face.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this, but I gotta go.” 

He gave you a quick kiss. 

“Don’t leave. Sam will come back with some food for you and he will stay with you. Don’t open the store tomorrow.”

“But Steve!”

“No buts! I will call.”

And then Steve disappeared into the night, leaving you with so many questions.

Knock that reblog button off the block fa me. 😉

Read part two, All I Want.

[jaylaxies]

ARIAARIAARIAAAAA HAVE YOU SEEN THISS

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSL7vJc3J/

GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS 💭 - 🎉

OMG I HAVE and here:

tw: stalking, drugs, blackmailing, gambling, guns, smut

stalker!hee who pretends to be the nerd in your class, always watching you from a distance simply because he can’t get enough of you, you’re too pretty for anyone else to have and that’s how he learns the way to your heart, getting information about the smallest things such as your favourite drink so when he finally talks to you, he can manipulate you into thinking that he’s the perfect guy for you, knowing everything there is about you, him being wild in bed and having a big cock is only a bonus.

drug dealer!jay who’s always present at all your frat parties with whatever a person would need to feel out of this world, yet that’s not what you crave, you want love, you don’t wish to feel alone in this world and so, you try drugs in an empty balcony, but you request jay to accompany you for the same. he’s habitual to it, and he finds you cute with your mumbling, but once you both get high out of your mind, heat kicks in and soon, you’re on top of jay, kissing the life out of him while riding his cock, which feels a thousand times better while smoking.

blackmailer!jake who’s also your ex and possessive beyond what you’d consider normal. the breakup was messy, he was controlling your life and you were against it, but he had ruined everything for you. nothing felt good after him, no one fucked you as good as him till the day you get a text from him, hoping that it’ll be an apology but he ends up blackmailing you with the crime you had committed and buried deep in your memory. what he wants in return? you. it’s an easy bargain with you missing his touch and him doing anything and everything to have his cock in you again.

street racer!sunghoon who’s all the money in this world and yet nothing gives him the thrill like racing does, and that’s why he finds himself back there each week, until one day he spots you. he hardly pays attention to anyone, and he almost missed you since your clothes fit right in, but he doesn’t like how you’re clinging on to his rival heeseung. that would have been enough for him to stop thinking about you but that wasn’t the case when he made most out of the line bet with him—that he’ll have a night with you if he wins, which he did. but you’re fierce, you hate how they treated you as a bet, and without your knowledge at that. but that doesn’t stop you from fighting back, and fighting with sunghoon doesn’t end well, one minute you’re fighting, the other you’re under him, begging for more as he fucks you senseless on his silk sheets.

gambler!sunoo who cannot stop getting back to the gambling hub each night. the reason? you. he doesn’t like how you wear that smirk of yours, clad in the tightest clothes while playing strip poker, somehow always winning and never having to go beyond removing your top. sunoo never plays with your group, always observing from a distance until he finally caves in and plays with you, eyes on you, not caring about the ones around. he plays effortlessly, being the best player you had ever came across, a gasp left your mouth when you were left in nothing but your panties but he stops you from removing them, eyes dark, “leave them on, it’s only for me to see,” he’d whisper, and yes, you can’t deny him and find yourself following him back to a hotel.

mafia!jungwon who never had any other motive in life but to kill his rival as a revenge for his family, but right on the day of his final plan, things went south and you (who happened to be at the same restaurant) got hurt. of course jungwon completed his mission but leaving a girl injured would be way out of line even for him, and you had also seen their faces behind the masks while holding guns, which is why they couldn’t let you run away, which is why you found yourself in their secret building, trying your best to get away, but jungwon wasn’t having any of it. he snapped, pinning you against the wall and warning you, but you took this as an opportunity to kiss him, turning it into something deeper as you let him fuck his pent up frustrations into you. the sex was good but you wanted out, running away when he was sleeping, not knowing that he’ll come to get you again.

[guav]

Hiii!!! Can I request a girlfriend Rindou reader, where Tenjiku doesn't even know he has a girlfriend like Ran doesn't even know, and so she meets Tenjiku, and she can fight really really good and she's like PRETTY PRETTY and like how...? Did RINDOU EVEN GET HER? And she stars to catch other members eyes ;)

ᥫ᭡ for haitani rindou and tenjiku, WAREHOUSE ROMCOM.

in which you insist on meeting your boyfriend's current gang and fuck, you definitely just knocked out one of their captains.

𔘓 it's my first time writing for some of these guys so i'm sorry if they're ooc D: you used she/her and mentioned girlfriend so i'll be using those for this fic :] around 3.1k words of chaos.

“rin, how come i’ve never met any of your friends?” 

the timing doesn’t allow for a deep conversation. rindou’s too busy messing with his laptop, one earbud immersing him in whatever program was running. meanwhile, a catalog resting on your lap took half your attention.

as expected, the question is around the fifth priority in rindou’s head. “buncha smelly thugs, you wouldn’t like ‘em.”

“and you’re not in that demographic?” you idly munch on some snacks you scavenged from his pantry. 

“no, i’m not.” rindou scoffs like you just spat on his entire bloodline. “i’m your handsome boyfriend who you love very, very much.”

oh, this sweater has a really nice discount. “what about your brother? i've never seen him either, i’m starting to think you’re actually an only child.”

he’s gonna pretend like his comment going ignored didn’t sting a little. 

“you should be grateful, once you meet ran you’ll be cursed with a killer headache for the rest of your life.”

somehow it doesn’t seem as bad, nor does it deter you in the slightest. whine all he wants, rindou loves his brother. he knows it, and so do you.

“rinnie.” a vein could very well pop out his head at the dumb nickname. “are you embarrassed of me?”

(you know rindou would kiss the floor you walk on. still? good leverage).

his typing halts, left earbud joining the right to hang around his neck. a thousand times of the same coercion tactics should have prepared him better. should have. be as it may, rindou’s heartbeat stops for a minute.

you’re the one good thing he’s got going on, why would he ne embarrassed of you? no, never, he loves you too much.

not like he’d willingly admit to it, though. “a little” his typing resumes, this time a little more attentive to the situation. safety measures and all that.

seems he’s not budging. the playful banter turns into a bitter taste in your mouth. “rude.”

rindou doesn’t like your sudden silence. it cuts at his facade like the dullest of knives—painfully slow.

he can’t win against you. if there's one more thing he hates more than sweaty gym equipment is getting on your bad side.

“i’m not embarrassed, you’re just too pretty for them.” it’s not a lie.

“flattery won’t save you from sleeping on the couch.”

he’s in his own home, it's his couch and bed. “if i take you to meet them once,” rindou emphasizes the word, “will you be pleased?”

you would, “a little.”

works for him.

rindou groans like the sore loser he is, yet hands you an earbud. “whatever, don’t come cryin’  when you realize they're actually lame."

secretly, he prays you don't like them better than him.

"they're your friends—or gang, i'm guessing—i would never think bad of them."

aren't you just a godsend? rindou breathes a chuckle, pressing play. whatever wrinkles remained on his face washed away when you bobbed your head to his mix. he forgives you for being a pain in his ass.

everything’s fair in love and war; you came and conquered with ease. as implicit as he fights to keep it, rindou's a big softie for you.

you lean over to kiss his temple, maybe you’ll buy that sweater you saw for this special occasion.

just this once, punctuality would be the death of you.

the only street light a couple meters away flickers every two minutes, you’ve got no service, and the run-down warehouse you’re leaning on is the shadiest spot rindou’s asked you to meet at. seriously, what’s his issue?

“little late for someone like you to be out alone, isn’t it?” couldn’t have said it better, voice you've never heard before.

..wait.

with a gulp, you turn to meet whoever was talking to you. it’s not the least comforting when you have to look up to see his face. tall, weird eyebrows, and overall menacing.

for once in your goddamn life, think!

“yeah—i mean, it must suck to be alone in the dead of night.” you laugh nervously, as if to quell the goosebumps rising in your arms. “not me though, nope.”

mochi squints his eyes. you can’t be serious, right? there’s no one else in the entire block. “‘s that so?”

one gulp to hush your anxiety. “yup, my boyfriend’s waiting for me, if i don’t show he’ll come looking,” great, now you’re shaking. 

he’s not gonna buy it. this is the end, death by two hands the size of your head. truly tragic.

“only a shitty boyfriend would leave you all alone like this,” he huffs. it’s true, part of him wants to wait and chew out whoever this man is. 

safe to say, you have to agree. rindou is a dead man as soon as he shows his face, and it won’t be at the hands of this monster of a guy.

blame it on your current hyperfocus on every little thing (something’s gotta make up for your obvious lack of fight or flight) you can’t help but notice he’s wearing all red—is that a gang uniform?

funny how hope goes out as quick as that.

rindou’s uniform is most definitely not red. the fight bound to unleash is already brewing inside your mind, you’re not even sure if rindou can take a hit from this guy. if he ever gets here, only one of these two would walk away. 

you have to act, fast.

“it’s not safe, what’s a thing like you gonna do if—”

he makes the mistake of looking into your eyes. they’re wide, like a deer caught in headlights; innocent.

mochizuki’s second mistake is not noticing the right hook you swing.

the light flickers again, and one of tenjiku’s heavenly kings falls unconscious.

it goes without saying you fucking panic.

“i didn't mean to—shit!” you’re kneeling beside his body, checking for pulse. of course there's still a pulse, there’s no way you could actually kill a guy like that. “i’m so, so sorry.”

he didn’t even try to hurt you. are you the monster here? 

initially, you were worried rindou would be the one to start a fight if he saw you cornered by the guy. never would you have thought the culprit would be none other than yourself.

quickly, your sweater becomes a makeshift pillow—the least you could do for knocking the living daylights out of him. though you do cringe when the brand-new fabric soaks up all the dirt on the ground.

it’s okay, surely once he wakes again you can explain you didn’t mean to hit him. you were aiming for… a fly? a mosquito? those can carry deadly diseases. sure, let’s go with that.

kakucho doesn’t know what he just walked into.

there’s a stranger kneeling beside mochi whispering in a fret to herself, something about the last recorded case of dengue fever in japan. right, he was also unconscious.

soon, you notice him too. particularly his red uniform.

there’s a brief pause in which you just stare at each other.

come to think of it, you’d probably kick the bucket in these clothes, and you wouldn’t mind. dying with these on would be something you can live with—or die, rather? idioms are dumb. point is, you picked a really nice outfit for your supposed date with rindou. 

rindou haitani, who somehow managed to be late enough to miss you picking a fight with another gang member.

the silence is deadly. 

“you’re… his friend, right?” cautiously, you’re the one to break it. “i figured he'd appreciate a pillow to enjoy his nap.”

so why was his cheek painted a raging red? god, that’s a nasty bruise.

kakucho blinks twice. then, he looks around, trying to discern any other lifeform in close vicinity. any possible culprit. anything to explain what the fuck is going on.

“are you alone?” the question is courtesy, he already knows the answer. 

“no.” maybe he didn’t know after all.

he narrows his eyes, and you rush to fix whatever mistake you made. “my boyfriend—and friends, so many friends, are waiting on me. they’ll know if i don’t show up.”

you’re nervous. kakucho steps closer, and you’re quick to jump on your feet. “you’re right, i should probably go—”

“did you do this?”

“do what?”

as if it wasn’t obvious, he waves his arm at his fallen friend. “this.”

it’s been a long night. you’re frustrated, terrified out of your goddamn mind, and you can’t help the panic tears that start to form.

“i’m so sorry!” you bow, trying to hold back from outright sobbing in front of the delinquent. “he—i was alone, and he came around and-and started talking to me and i just, i got scared!”

kakucho blinks, again. 

“i didn’t mean to hurt him, i’m sure he’s a great guy, i was just jumpy, and fuck i didn't mean to cause any trouble.”

tears run down your cheeks, mourning both your sweater as a breeze rolls by and your wasted last moments of youth. great, you’re making it awkward. 

sometimes instincts take over, and kakucho is unsure why he’s shrugging off his tenjiku coat. neither does he have an answer as to why he reached to drape it over your shoulders.

“c’mon, just breathe.”

you do. you take a deep, deep breath, and your problems start to lessen. not actually though, the other gang member is still very much on the ground. however, it's nice not feeling in immediate danger anymore.

kakucho settles down next to mochi, and pats the ground next to him. “sit.”

last thing he tasked you ended up helping, so you decide to listen once more. a respectable distance away from him, you sit.

he’s not sure where to start. there’s so many questions he needs the answer to.

(how did you take out mochi? how did you know the exact warehouse where the higher-ups were meeting tonight?)

but he keeps quiet. 

either way, any explanations coming from you would be interrupted by hiccuping, and he didn’t want to risk any more crying from you.

“am i in trouble?”

the answer should be obvious. kakucho knows you’re aware of the mess you’re in now. still, there must be something missing. “i can count with one hand the people who’ve been able to take mochi out.”

so that’s his name. your gaze lands on him, peacefully resting. it’s a nice name. 

“so i need you to be honest,” kakucho tries his best to speak gently. “did you do this?”

he takes in a sharp breath when you nod.

“...how?”

the strained chuckle that leaves your lips makes his heart skip a beat or two. “i just, y’know, hit him.”

“but, how?” the mere thought is baffling to him.

“i can show you if you want.” you bite back. it’s playful. now you can cross-out befriending a random delinquent from your bucket list.

“never thought i’d see kakucho flirting.” a new voice enters the array. “didn’t know he had it in him.”

white hair flows freely, unfazed by the unresponsive commander beside the two. his presence exudes commands without diction. explain, now.

kakucho’s posture stiffens, and he’s quick to get back on his feet. “i arrived and mochi was knocked out, seemingly by,” he pauses to look at you. “uh, what’s your name?”

you match his movements, standing up and completely ignoring his question. “i’m really sorry about that, i didn’t know he was—”

izana interrupts the meaningless spiel, “your name, what is it?"

shivers crawl up your spine. a phantom would be more merciful with the frighten. so you answer his question.

and just like that, poor mochi is forgotten. "i like your name, it's nice on the ears."

you know better than to grimace at the compliment (was it really?) "i should get going, i don't want to be in your hair any longer."

izana follows your every movement with violet eyes. not a word is uttered, just a plastered, quite unsettling smile on his face as acknowledgment. 

right, your idiot boyfriend. one quick glance at the no signal on your phone serves as a reminder you're stranded.

a jingle brings you back to reality. it's izana, tilting his head. "what's wrong?"

well, you're certain all trains back home stopped doing rounds about half an hour ago, and there’s no way you can catch a ride from either of these two.

(the guy with the scar would probably do it, he seems kind. the urge to squish his cheeks like a grandma would is intense.)

"actually," an awkward laugh makes up for the nerves rattling within. "i.. can't leave, not yet."

his patience is wearing thin, you presume. "is that so?"

from behind you, kakucho shifts. would they even go for a one on two? when you're the one wearing heels?

"i told kakucho—" you glance back to confirm you remembered his name correctly, biting back a smile when he looks surprised. "—i was waiting for my friends and boyfriend, specifically at this exact, dirty warehouse." 

izana doesn't look satisfied. 

"half of that was a lie, it's just my boyfriend i'm supposed to meet." this doesn't seem to be getting any better. 

he's thinking about something.

"i know i shouldn't have lied, but it's basic street smarts! can't blame me for that." 

he steps closer, seemingly having resolved whatever idea was brewing in his head.

you're close to going on another rant on street safety, or maybe going for another swing, but izana makes you stop dead in your tracks. "do you wanna be kakucho's girlfriend?"

smelly thugs was cutting it short, this guy was bizarre as fuck.

kakucho is grateful you don’t have eyes on the back of your head. tenjiku’s number two, overwhelmed with a barrage of embarrassment and murderous tendencies for his one and only king.

(was he that obvious? were his fleeting glances that easy to notice?)

izana on the other hand had only just begun his career as a salesman. “kakucho here is a great guy—the definition of a gentleman and a picture-perfect servant.” 

odd way of selling someone for a boyfriend. you’d have a few pointers and even additions to his pitch, except you literally have a boyfriend, and you’ve told him so.

you check for the hour. maybe you’ll consider his proposal if kakucho isn’t horrid with meeting on time. “go on.”

two heavenly kings have yet to show their faces, another is knocked out, and the last is close to digging himself an early grave.

“so you’ll date kakucho then?”

has he heard a single word you’ve spoken? “i have a boyfriend.”

“it’s a yes or no question, preferably yes or yes.”

it’s better if you ignore the vague implication of a threat behind his statement. “rain check?”

that seems to please him. “i’m izana,” he offers his hand for a handshake. “pleasure doing business with you.”

“cool.” you’re absolutely sure he’s missing a screw in his head, but it’s funny. 

“too late to join the roster?” to absolutely no one’s surprise, it’s a new voice joining this sick joke of a night. you’re amazed at the fact four men have managed to show up unannounced to your date, and none are the one you're actually going out with.

izana turns to meet the new addition, eyebrow raising at the fact it’s only half the duo. 

“he’s finding a spot to park, sent me to check on that one over there.” one hand points to you, the other toys with a dual-colored braid. 

he’s clad in a black uniform—just like rindou’s. everything's even more confusing now, hurray you!

kakucho, who’s more than grateful to leave the past conversation behind, begins to process the situation. “you know ran?”

“ran?” puzzle pieces are slowly coming together. “as in haitani? ran haitani?”

the man himself lets out a low whistle. “sorry man, only been here for at least half a minute and i’m already takin' the spotlight—nothing personal.”

that’s not how you meant it at all. “no-”

“kakucho gave her his jacket.” izana you are not helping. 

“that has nothing to do with this.” kakucho pleads to everything under the sun for his boss to just, shut up. just this once.

“ran, where’s ri-”

“see? already reeling back to me, i think i've got more game than you.” rindou was right, he’s a living headache. 

izana tugs at your blouse. “you already said yes on kakucho, no take backs.”

“that never happened.” kakucho, angel on earth, everyone.

something boils from within. "i have a boyfriend."

“you’re too pretty for him.” he blurts without an ounce of hesitation in his body. it’s amusing how ran said the same thing as rindou—they really are family. still, no. does he even know you're dating his brother? 

the situation is getting out of hand, your patience is being tested, and you just want to go home at this point. 

at this rate you’re sending ran home with half his braids in your fist, izana is getting his arm put in a cast if he utters another word, and kakucho is getting his jacket back and a pat on the head.

there are a few reasons you’re dating rindou haitani. among the perks lies the telepathic bond you two have—whatever you think, rindou is already doing. which is exactly why ran is suddenly getting his braid damn near ripped out by gloved hands.

“wanna say that again?” rindou holds the hair tightly in a fist, he’s fuming. “c'mon, don’t pussy out now.”

the three of you gawk at the scene. kakucho and you in shock, izana in awe. the man of the hour arrived, and everything took a turn for the worse.

the youngest haitani has always followed his older brother like a best friend and inspiration. it’s a relationship based on respect for the other and no one else. sure, they have disagreements, but rindou admires no one more than ran. 

the haitani brothers, joined at the hip by crime and blood, now tearing each other apart in the pettiest of ways.

ran, tallest, oldest, arguably strongest, hisses in pain by the harsh tugging. “why dontcha rip it out while y’re fucking at it? whatever got into you?”

izana pokes a finger into your side for the second time. “you know rindou?”

your eyes are glued on the brothers. ran keeps whining, rindou is professing his undying and very much ongoing love for you. “yeah, we’re dating.”

a pause. a long one at that. 

“...why?” he sounds puzzled.

rindou screams insults at ran and soon drags his hair-stylist through the mud too, for some reason. “what do you mean by that?”

izana blinks at you like the answer is obvious. “is he like, forcing you or something?”

“what?”

kakucho, who’s been silently witnessing the convo fights to stifle his laughter. it’s of no use, not when you’re throwing his jacket back at his face to shush him. it’s a strong throw, sending him backwards a step or two.

izana thinks you’re funny, too. “you are too pretty for him.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀navi.⠀＆⠀m.list.⠀＆⠀send me an ask!

[shuadotcom]

143 Miles (M)

💞Pairing: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

💞Summary: You and your boyfriend decide to change up your Valentine’s Day plans this year, so you plan a two-week getaway - or a “love vacation” as Seungcheol calls it. With each destination, you fall more and more in love with each other and it may just be your best Valentine’s Day yet.

💞Genres & AUs: Fluff, smut, established relationship au, road trip au

💞Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

💞Warnings: Profanity, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, pet names (baby, sweetheart, baby girl), big dick!Cheol

💞Words: 5k

💞Note: Here’s my fic for the Cupid For You Fic Exchange hosted by @svthub! Happy Valentine’s Day to my lovely valentine @gyuwoncheol !! 💘 I hope you enjoy my beloved Paula!!!!! 😘 ❤️

Thank you to my girlies @horanghater and @onlymingyus - Bambi for always coming in clutch as my beta and Mars for the beautiful banner!! 💕

“Okay, on the count of three,” Seungcheol declares once you’re both back in the car. “One…two…three!”

You reach into the bag in your lap and dramatically present the trinket to your boyfriend. He bursts into a fit of laughter upon seeing the small smiling frog donned in a cowboy hat resting in the palm of your hand. You quickly notice that he’s holding the same figurine. You join in with him, the two of you cackling in the front seat of the car together. You’re sure anyone walking would think the two of you look deranged, but neither pays that any mind.

“Well, guess this means we’re tied this round,” you manage when you finally collect yourselves.

“Yeah, but I’m still winning,” Seungcheol boasts, taking the frog from you and putting both away in the backseat.

“By one point!”

“A win is a win,” your boyfriend shrugs, grinning widely at you. You concede and start the car, somehow forgetting how competitive your boyfriend can be, even over something as silly as a game of who can buy the other the most ridiculous gas station souvenir. You’re on day three of your cross-country road trip and Seungcheol’s souvenir picks have been just a little sillier than yours. He’s simply lucky is all.

It was his idea to do something different this Valentine’s Day. You and Seungcheol have been together for almost five years and every year in February you’ve done the same thing when it comes to Valentine’s Day. You usually go out on a date somewhere, always a fancy romantic lunch or dinner, and then an activity such as a movie or a trip to the amusement park. Neither of you are ungrateful about the time you spend together, of course. You love one another and anything you do will be enjoyable if you’re together. Your dates are always full of nothing but shared love and admiration for each other. You love Valentine’s Day and celebrate it by spreading more love than usual to your boyfriend and he loves doing the same, but you both wanted to change it up this year, so when Seungcheol brought up going on a road trip, you wasted no time in agreeing.

Initially, you thought about driving from Seoul down to Mokpo, but that is only a 4-hour drive at most and didn’t feel like enough of a trip. That’s why Seungcheol brought up something that was once on his bucket list: fly to the US and then drive to the other side of it and back. He mentioned that it was something he’d always seen in American teen movies growing up and he always thought it looked fun and like a way to get even closer to the people you care about. And since you’re the person he’s closest to and cares about the most, he wouldn’t want to do this with anyone but you.

It didn’t take you much convincing either. You can never say no to a good road trip, so you both took time off work at the beginning of February, packed your suitcases, and booked a flight to New York. From there, you rented a car - a BMW to be exact, at your boyfriend’s insistence. (“It’s our love vacation! We have to drive in luxury!”) Then start your journey to Washington, planning to stop at as many states in between as you can.

You’ve finally made it into New Mexico with the end goal of getting to Las Vegas to stay for a night. Neither of you had many goals for where you would stay or what you’d do when you got to every state and are just winging it. It’s more fun that way.

Well, except when it comes to your souvenirs. You decide to stop at a gas station in each state for the wildest souvenir you can find after you unearth an Empire State Building-shaped mood ring right before you leave New York. It’s an extremely impractical shape and you demand that he put it on as soon as you leave.

Once you get back onto the highway Seungcheol fiddles with his phone, making sure his Bluetooth is connected.

The familiar first notes of  “Sugar We’re Going Down” by Fall Out Boy start and your mouth quirks up into a smile. Every time it’s your turn to drive on the trip, Seungcheol insists on playing the playlist of your favorite songs that he made for you. The gesture still makes you feel warm at how thoughtful he always is, even when it comes to the little things.

Drumming your fingertips on the steering wheel, you relax in your seat. Seungcheol turns the volume up and rolls down his window just a bit. The February air is a little crisp, but not too cold. As soon as Patrick starts belting over the speakers, you join in, singing the song word-for-word as you go. Other than talking and playing silly road games, a favorite of both of yours has been using the car as your karaoke room. 

Both of you have more than enough playlists to never run out of a soundtrack to your drive and you’re not shy about singing around one another. For the first few hours at the start of the drive, you had nearly gotten a sore throat from how serious you were at road trip karaoke. You were only missing a tambourine and the typical multi-colored karaoke laser lights.

The drive to Nevada will take nine hours, so you do half of that drive, and that whole time you and your boyfriend sing your hearts out on the way. Every once in a while, he reaches over to feed you a chocolate at your request for a snack. He makes sure that his finger grazes your lip or your teeth each time, chuckling when you nip at his digits or place tiny kisses on them. Little moments like this with Seungcheol make your heart even more full, which you didn’t think was possible, yet here you are - falling more and more in love with him each simple moment like this.

When Paramore comes on shuffle, Seungcheol goes all out during “Ain’t It Fun,” doing all of the ad-libs and being the guitar and the drums. At this point, you’ve made it more into town and hit a stoplight after passing nothing but dirt and rocks.

It gives you a chance to look at him, admiring the way his dark hair falls in his eyes - the eyes that turn into half moons when he smiles wide and laughs loudly. You can’t help but swoon over the giggle he lets out when he notices you watching him put on a solo concert, his dimple making its appearance and you want nothing more than to lean over and kiss it. And then kiss him on his lips that you know are so soft and warm and made perfectly to fit against yours like a puzzle piece.

So you do. You lean over the console quickly when he turns to you again and gives you a closed-mouth smile. Seungcheol lets out a noise of surprise, but gladly accepts the kiss, his hand reaching to cup your chin as your lips move slowly against his.

A honk from the car behind you makes you spring apart and then you remember where you are and see the green of the stoplight in front of you, indicating that you’ve got to focus on the road again. Seungcheol reaches over to take your hand as you start driving again, placing a kiss on the top of it, keeping it in his hold as you continue, both of you getting back to your playlist and the road ahead. You can’t help the way your heart swells and you almost don’t want this moment to end. You would travel around the world and back if it meant you could do it with Seungcheol.

When the sun sets on your journey, Seungcheol has always insisted that even if it’s not his turn, he’ll do the driving. He’s halfway through the state of Arizona when it gets darker and he’s behind the wheel. You didn’t stay in New Mexico long, only stopping to refuel and make sure to see what that gas station has to offer in the form of trinkets. Not much, as it turns out, but you manage to win this round of your game when you snag a keychain with an alien riding a donkey while all Seungcheol finds is a pen in the shape of a chili pepper with a mustache. He couldn’t not give you that point even if he tried to argue with you just a little about it.

Seungcheol hums along to his music, keeping it low enough not to disturb you while you try to sleep. He passes a mountain range, briefly admiring how the moonlight shines on the red rocks surrounding you. His attention quickly gets diverted to you when you turn in your seat to face him. You have the smallest pout on your lips and your eyebrows are scrunched up the tiniest bit. Cheol knows how hard it is for you to fall asleep in the car, but he still makes you try so you can get rest.

His eyes focus on the road, but he can’t help but steal glances at you and your cute expression. Not only does the moonlight bounce off of the nature around, but it also does the same to your face. It highlights your cheeks that he loves to pinch, your nose that he loves to boop, and your perfect lips that he loves to kiss. Your facial muscles relax when you seem to slip into a state of rest finally and the sight of your expression that he can only describe as angelic has his stomach doing flips. 

It’s been almost five years and every single day that he gets to look at you, he counts just how lucky he is to call you his. From the moment he met you, you occupied space in Seungcheol’s mind, and to this day, over everything else in his life that swirls around in his brain, he always comes back to you. Your face, your voice, your body, your everything. You are everything to him and he’ll tell you every single day for the rest of your lives.

“I love you, so much,” He whispers as one of your favorite songs plays through the car and you stir, just a little. 

Look at the stars, look how they shine for you. And everything you do.

A smile tugs at the corner of his as he glances your way again. The stars, the moon, the sun, all of it truly does shine for you and only you - his whole world.

When your phone’s calendar reads February 14th, you and Seungcheol finally make it to Las Vegas and you decide to treat yourselves to a fancier hotel. Instead of the usual 3-star hotels (and a few seedy motels) you stayed at along the trip, Seungcheol finds the nicest hotel that the two of you can afford. You even get so lucky as to somehow snag the honeymoon suite. “It is our love vacation after all,” being his reason yet again. 

You definitely don’t complain when you walk into the room and kick your shoes off, immediately taken aback at just how fancy and spotless everything in the room looks. The bed is the biggest you think you’ve ever seen and is covered in rose petals. The large window across the room overlooks the city of Las Vegas, the neon lights brightening up the room before you even turn the lights on. The furniture looks modern and clean and the room even smells fresh yet sweet. You can’t place the scent of the air freshener, but you love it nonetheless.

“Holy shit, this is the nicest hotel room I’ve ever been in!” You marvel, running and plopping onto the large bed. The bed is big enough for you to starfish comfortably on and you start making comforter angels, Seungcheol laughing as he flops next to you. 

“Only the best for my girl,” he hums, squeezing your socked feet, forcing a sigh out of you.

“Damn, I’m so sore.”

“Well if you’re interested, there’s a more comfortable place for your sore spots.”

You lift your head to look at Cheol and follow where his finger is pointing. There’s a half wall across the room made of decorative swirls of metal that you can see straight through. On the other side sits a large jacuzzi bathtub.

“Is that our tub?!” You spring up from the bed and rush over, eyes widening at the size. 

Seungcheol comes up behind you while you’re admiring, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you close. “That definitely looks like our very own giant, two-people-sized tub.”

“Looks like it has jets too.” Your hands rest atop his, fingers threading together.

“I think I even see some bubble bath on the counter over there.” Lips meet the back of your neck, your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

“Hmm, how about I get the bath going and you grab the bottle of champagne chilling in that bucket by the bed? Then we can order room service. I’d love some good sushi.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Seungcheol punctuates his sentence with a final light kiss on your neck. You have to quite literally peel yourself from him, but you manage it as the two of you split up.

It only takes a few minutes for him to grab the bottle along with the two glasses and for you to get the bath running. As soon as the water is warm and bubbly, you and Seungcheol shed your clothes on the floor as you each slip into the tub with you sitting between his legs. He manages to find the button that powers the tub, the jets hitting you at all sides, including your outstretched feet.

You relax into the water, tilting your head back, and resting on Seungcheol’s shoulder.

“I have some bad news for you, Cheol.”

“What is it?” 

“I think I must pass away here, just like this.”

Your boyfriend breathes out a laugh behind you, wrapping you in his arms again.

“You’re telling me you’d just up and leave me like that? And to stay with a bathtub no less!” You can hear the pout in Cheol’s voice and it makes you giggle.

“It’s nothing personal, baby, but I mean you can’t produce jet streams of soothing water.” 

“Hmmm. That may be true, but I can do this.”

Seungcheol’s fingers dance up the front of your body, gently cupping your breasts and squeezing. His fingers tweak your nipples in between gropes, making you let out a surprised moan. 

You practically melt into Seungcheol’s chest as he plays with your sensitive buds and your eyes flutter closed.

Soft moans fall from your lips as your head lolls to the side, Seungcheol using the opportunity to latch his lips to the side of your neck. His teeth scrape over your skin, nipping and biting along the way. 

Seungcheol has always loved to mark you. He loves leaving not only signs to others that you’re his, but every hickey and every bruise is a little reminder that he’s the one who makes you feel good and he’s the one that you always come home to at the end of the day. Not that you need a reminder because you’ll always come back to Seungcheol no matter what.

You count at least two reminders now, one on the side of your neck and another at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. His fingers never leave your nipples, the stimulation already making you nothing but putty in his hands. If you weren’t in the tub you’re sure you’d be making a mess of whatever panties you would be wearing.

Your boyfriend trails kisses from your shoulder, up your neck, to your ear, and lands on your cheek, peppering your face with a few more kisses. His plush, slightly chapped lips kiss any spot he can reach as his hands trail down from your waist to your thighs. Seungcheol opens your legs wide and shifts you both around in the tub. The moment the jet across from your body hits your clit, you let out a shriek and Seungcheol knows he’s positioned you the way he wants to.

The tub jet feels like heaven coupled with Seungcheol’s relentless hands that are back on your tits, cupping and squeezing in the perfect way you need it.

“Ngh, Cheol!”

“Hmm? What is it, baby?”

“F-fuck. I need you.”

“You need me? But didn’t you say a little while ago that you wanted to stay with the tub since it has jets? Aren’t you enjoying the jets right now?” His tone is smug yet teasing, warm breath hitting your ear and making you shiver.

“Cheol, please!” you pout at him, doing your best to beg in between whines.

“Oh, so you do need me, huh?”

“Yes!”

“And what is it that you need, sweetheart?”

Seungcheol tugs at one of your nipples harshly, making you jolt. You feel so close to cumming already, but you do your best to hold off. You want to cum around Seungcheol’s cock or even his fingers - something, anything of his.

You voice this to your boyfriend, choking and stumbling over your words along the way. Seungcheol’s gaze is heavy as he peers down at you, enjoying how you squirm and wiggle in his hold. Your head is resting on his shoulder as you look up at him, batting your eyelashes and pouting extra hard. He loves it when he can see how needy you are for him and how much you want him. He especially loves all of the noises you make for him - the pants and the moans and the whispers of his name. 

He needs to hear more from your pretty lips, and he knows exactly how to do that.

With a smirk, one of Seungcheol’s hands releases your tit and trails between your legs. The tip of a finger taps against your clit, an embarrassing moan tumbling out of you in response. 

The thick digit slides into your eager pussy and it takes everything in you not to sob at the feeling. Seungcheol crooks his finger as he pistons his hand and the heel of his palm knocks against your clit each time. You practically dissolve into his hold while his other hand plays with your nipple, your brain already turning to mush at all of these sensations combined.

“Fuck, sweetheart, listen to you. You sound so fucking pretty.”

“C-Cheol…”

“God I love it when you say my name. I wanna hear it again,” Seungcheol slips another finger into you, and you yelp out his name again without even thinking about it. His pace quickens, fucking you with his fingers as quickly as the bubbly water around you will allow. 

“Yes! Please don’t stop, Cheol, please!”

“Mm, I won’t, baby. Want you to cum for me. Come on, pretty girl, let go for me.” Seungcheol’s voice is so deep that you practically feel it in the pit of your stomach. The pads of his fingers digging into your sweet spot, the jet from the tub still pelting your clit each time his hand moves, and his hard cock digging into your lower back are enough to have your world tilting and your orgasm knocking into you as soon as he tells you to let go. 

Your body stiffens as you cum, the shrill sound of his name that you let out sounds too loud in your ears, but Seungcheol eats it up. He curses under his breath, telling you another handful of times how pretty you sound and how beautiful you look falling apart for him. 

Seungcheol caresses your cheek and chin as you come down and when your breathing seems to steady, he tilts your face back and kisses you. His lips meld with yours, kissing you as if he’ll never get the chance again, making you even dizzier.

His tongue prods at the seam of your lips and when you let him in, he swallows up all of the desperate little sounds you puff out. He pulls back from your lips suddenly so he can help you turn around in his lap. The water in the tub sloshes as you get comfortable facing him and straddling his waist. 

Neither of you wants to waste any more time, the carnal desire to have Seungcheol inside of you is a mutual feeling.

The head of Seungcheol’s swollen cock prods at your sensitive folds, whimpers falling from your lips as you start to sink onto his length. His hands hold your hips as you lower until he’s completely sheathed between your wet walls. You and Seungcheol have had sex more times throughout your relationship than you think you can feasibly count, and each and every time the stretch is familiar but always succeeds in taking your breath away. 

“Shit, Cheol…”

“Feel good, baby? My fat cock stretching you out?” Seungcheol grunts between clenched teeth. 

“Yes, s-so good, Cheollie.” 

“You’re still so fucking tight, baby.” He winces when he feels your walls twitch, squeezing his dick and momentarily making him speechless. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

With Seungcheol’s grip tight on your hips, he helps you lift a little, letting his cock slip nearly all the way out before you slam back down and he’s shoved inside of you to the hilt. You share a groan as he helps you ride him, finding a steady rhythm. The water around you continues to splash, but he only moves you in his lap faster. 

Your head falls back as you alternate between bouncing on his cock and swiveling your hips, letting out curses and calls of his name. Seungcheol bucks his hips up to meet your movements, fucking up into you as much as he can in the slippery tub.

“Shit, you look so beautiful like this. You were made to take my cock, you know that, baby? This pussy was made for me.”

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck!” His compliments only spur you on, your fingernails digging into the thick skin of his shoulders as you grind on him. Your thighs are starting to burn, but you ignore it. The feeling of your boyfriend’s girth driving up into you over and over makes you feel floaty, everything around you fading away. The only thing you feel and the only thing you know is Seungcheol and his hands on your moist skin, his lips sucking bruises onto your tits, and his dick kissing your g-spot with each harsh thrust.

Seungcheol knows your body better than anyone, so he knows when you’re going to cum. He notices the frantic cries, the way your body shakes, and that far-away look in your eyes.

“Gonna cum for me, beautiful?”

“Y-yes, fuck yes.”

“That’s right, baby. Be a good girl and cum for me. Can you do that?”

“Mmhmm! I’m so close, Cheollie!”

“I know, baby girl, I know,” Seungcheol moans against your chest, burying his head in between your tits as he drives his hips up so hard, you almost lose your balance. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “I’m close too, fuck - gonna fill you up. Can you handle that, baby girl?”

“A-always! I can a-always handle y-you, baby,” you gasp out, your stomach tightening and your body buzzing the closer you get.

Seungcheol keeps one arm around you while the other snakes in between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit without even having to try. The stimulation shocks you and has you mumbling gibberish, a mix of your boyfriend’s name and pleading words. Your fingers slide up and into his dark locks, threading your fingers through the brunette strands and tugging, making him growl into your skin.

“Please, fuck, Cheol I’m gonna cum!” 

“I love you so much baby,” Seungcheol nearly explodes right on the spot with how your gummy walls clench around him again, but he manages to hold off. “Cum for me, sweetheart…” He nips at the side of your breast and applies more dizzying pressure to your clit.

“I l-love you too! I’m cum - fuck!” Your words are cut off with a scream as you tumble right over the edge, cumming harder than you did the first time, tears pricking the edge of your eyes.

Seungcheol lets go right after you, his face still in your chest as he holds you close, moaning out words of pleasure, love, and admiration about you and how you feel like “literal fucking heaven” and how you’re his and his only. Seungcheol pumps you full of him, his warm seed dripping from your throbbing pussy and mixing with the remaining bubbles around you. Somewhere in between his pussy-drunk babbles your ears pick up something about making you his wife.

You both stay where you are for a few minutes, your fingers lazily raking through his hair as he keeps you close to him, placing small, closed-mouth kisses on your hot skin.

“I love you so much,” he mumbles, letting out a sigh as his hand, still between your bodies, moves to rest on your thigh.

“I love you too, Cheol,” you sigh back, a drunken-post orgasm smile on your lips. Even through your haze, you didn’t forget what he said. “Did you…did you mean what you said?” you whisper out, hoping he knows what you’re referring to.

“Which part?” His question sounds calm, but you notice the way his fingers on your thigh press into your skin a little harder.

“The part about making me your wife?” A fraction of a second of silence hangs between you both and part of you starts to panic. What if he only meant it at the moment? You’ve had fleeting conversations about one day being married, but it was always lighthearted and more in a “one day we will” way.

When Seungcheol finally answers you, it’s in the form of a sigh. Wordlessly, he lifts you from his softening cock and untangles your limbs, sitting you down in the tub. 

“I didn’t want to do this now or like this, but I can’t hold it anymore. Especially not when you ask me and look at me like that.” He steps out of the tub, giving you another look before sticking his feet in his complimentary hotel slippers and shuffling into the main part of the room. 

You watch him rummage around in his suitcase before he comes back to the tub and kneels on the bath mat, facing you. You immediately spot the red velvet box in his hands and you gasp, tears immediately gathering in your eyes.

“I wanted to do this when we got to Washington and say some cheesy words about seeing the world with you and traveling everywhere with you for the rest of our lives, but I can’t wait any longer. Y/n Y/l/n, will you do me the honor of being my forever Valentine and be my wife?” The emerald stone of the ring shines back at you, surrounded by small diamonds on a gold band.

“Yes! Of course I will, Cheol!” you sob, tears blurring your vision as he plucks the ring from the box and slips it onto your finger, placing a kiss on your knuckle after it’s securely on. 

Seungcheol cups your face with both hands as he leans forward and kisses you. The kiss is soft and warm and you can just feel the love that Choi Seungcheol holds for you in his heart seep out. His love overtakes you, your heart feeling more full than you think it’s ever been.

“I love you so much, Y/n.” he sighs when he pulls away and rests his forehead against yours.

“I love you too, Seungcheol. So fucking much.”

Your boyfriend fiance smiles widely at you, his own eyes red-rimmed with potential tears as he scans your face. “I can’t wait to officially make you my wife. And you know, if you want, we are in Vegas so we could technically make it official tonight.”

With a sniffle, you shake your head. “Patience, my love. We can worry about all that wedding stuff when we get home. Let’s just focus on us and this, and right now.” 

He pouts dramatically before kissing your forehead. “Fine, I’ll wait.”

“Good boy,” you giggle, watching the way his eyes darken at your playful praise. “Now, how about we actually open that champagne and order room service? I’m still craving sushi badly.”

With a chuckle Seungcheol nods, standing as goes back into the room to look for the room service menu.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart. We have all night to eat anything you want to order.” 

“Good, because if they have good pizza I want that later too. Oh! Or maybe kimchi jeon if they happen to have that!” Seungcheol chuckles at your enthusiasm as he comes back with the menu. 

Before you order, he helps you out of the tub when you complain about the water going cold. Dinner is put on hold again when you decide that a warm shower in the luxurious shower stall in the bathroom should come first before you get comfortable for the evening.

In between the warm water cascading over you and Seungcheol helping wash your back, you end up bent over the bench in the shower, Seungcheol slipping into your still-aching cunt again. 

As your fiance makes you cry out around him yet again, somewhere between the moans and grunts, you’re both able to whisper “I love you” and “Happy Valentine's Day” when you share another blissful orgasm. 

Tomorrow you’ll be back on the road and back to making the rounds for silly souvenirs, but tonight it’s all about you and Seungcheol and this moment right here. You can’t wait to have many, many more Valentine’s Days with the love of your life.

Permanent Taglist: @aaniag

Net Tags: @kflixnet @kbookshelf

[karajaynetoday]

nothing's going right, and everything's a mess, and no one likes to be alone | jack hughes

author's note: don't ask me how the university semester timeline in this works. i have simply given reader a three week break in march bc why not. this is fanfiction okay, anything can happen 😂 no one proofread this for me so soz for any typos!

word count: 3.4k words

warnings: none that i can think of? but lmk if i've missed anything. soz if the ending makes you mad LOL i do love a cliffhanger

read part one here

read part two here

(This is a fem reader insert)

More writing here (soz that the masterlist is not up to date lol) | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here

Somehow, the ill feeling of waiting until summer to see Jack again began to fade with each passing day. The itch to text him every time something exciting or infuriating happened to you began to lessen. The thoughts of him when you saw a funny meme he’d like, or your shared favourite foods on special at the grocery store, quietly stopped happening as frequently. 

But then there were the things that didn’t stop. The sharp pain in your chest whenever Jack’s smiling face popped up on your social media feed. The butterflies in your stomach whenever your parents brought him up in conversation, fuelled by whatever the latest updates were from their group message thread with Jim and Ellen. The joy that would wash over you when you heard about a Devils win or a Jack Hughes goal, followed almost always by a wave of sadness that you were hearing about it second or third hand, rather than from Jack himself.

You were the one who’d asked for space. You needed time, you’d said. Given the blow up of All-Star weekend, all Jack was doing was respecting your wishes; but a huge part of you not so secretly wished he’d be a bit more disrespectful and reach out. Your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts, and your heart wasn’t sure which emotion to feel or where to go next. 

Since kindergarten, you’d barely gone more than a few days without seeing or communicating with Jack in some way. Now you were nearly a month without a word, and even though you were still mad at how he’d treated you, you were craving a return to the friendship you’d become so accustomed to. Jack knew you better than anyone, could basically read your mind with a single look, and although you had plenty of friends at college and still around in Toronto from high school, none came close to the camaraderie you shared with Jack. He was someone you could talk to for hours, or sit next to in silence for the same amount of time, it didn’t matter. With Jack, you could be utterly and entirely yourself, no complications. Now it felt like you were always pretending. And it was exhausting.

It was about 9pm on a Thursday night when you found yourself pushing through that exhaustion to try and complete yet another university assignment. For motherfucking economics. You couldn’t wait until you’d completed all of your compulsory economics credits because it was the absolute opposite of your cup of tea, when it came to academic subjects. This assignment was your last one, and you weren’t sure whether to cheer or cry at the idea of hitting the submit button on the online portal. Maybe you should’ve bought a confetti cannon to celebrate. Or a box of wine. Or booked yourself a flight somewhere fun, given you had a break from classes soon.

As soon as the thought of a trip crossed your mind, your phone began to buzz with an incoming video call. A video call from… Luke. Luke Hughes. 

Your face scrunched in confusion, as you swiped to answer the call, met with Luke’s smiling face and messy curls. 

“Hey sunshine! Long time no see. How have you been?” Luke spoke cheerily. Almost too cheerily. 

You were immediately suspicious and narrowed your eyes at the youngest Hughes. 

Luke was 3 years old when you met for the first time; he could barely remember a life without you in it. Given how inseparable you and Jack were, Luke became your de facto little brother, always tagging along where he could and joining in your adventures. Later on, when he became a teenager, you were the one Luke would come to when he was having issues with his friends, or trying to build up the courage to ask out the cute girl in his math class, or missing his brothers when they moved away. You were his second call after Ellen when he felt homesick at Michigan, and you were his first call when he had fucked up something that he felt his brothers would never let him live down. Emotional support and damage control, with a healthy dose of teasing and laughs thrown in. That was the dynamic between you and Luke. It also meant you could read him to filth when he was lying to you, and your honesty radar was through the roof at this sudden video call.

“I’m fine, Moose. Just trying to wrap up my final assignment before the break without losing my entire mind.” You offered weakly, half-expecting Luke to make a joke about your mind having been lost years ago, but the joke never came.

Instead, you saw the concern flicker across Luke’s face, just for a moment, before he forced a smile.

“How long is your break for? Any plans?”

“Three weeks, and not really. I promised my mother I’d spend a few days helping her with planning for their anniversary party in June, but that probably won’t happen until right before I go back to school.” You chatted absently, hitting save on your essay and standing up from the couch, bringing your phone with you as you moved into the kitchen to make yourself a drink.

You propped the phone up against the vase on your kitchen bench, reaching up into the cabinet to retrieve a glass. 

“Well, you should come visit. We’ve got like 5 home games in a row or something ridiculous coming up. It’d be fun!” Luke’s tone was cheerful, but cautious, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to react. 

You hummed in response, moving slightly out of view of your phone to get some ice cubes from your freezer and a soda from the fridge. 

“Besides, I heard a rumour that you’ve got an airline voucher to use. I’d hate for it to expire or something.” 

You could feel your heart starting to beat faster. Luke knew about the voucher. Did that mean Jack had told him about your fight? 

“The voucher won’t expire for three years. I’m sure I’ll manage to use it before then.” You deadpanned, stepping back into frame to see Luke rolling his eyes at you. 

“Yeah, sure, but will I survive that long without seeing you? Absolutely not. Come on, sugar. Please? Even if it’s just a weekend?” Luke had moved into full begging mode, with puppy dog eyes and everything.

You sighed, fidgeting with the straw in your drink and avoiding his gaze. 

“I don’t… we haven’t talked at all, Luke. I don’t know what he’ll do if I just show up there.” You half-whispered, feeling that all-too-familiar wave of sadness coursing through your veins. 

“He talked about you tonight at dinner. Says he misses you. But he doesn’t want to push, or not give you the space you wanted. But right now, he’s on the couch watching Gossip Girl, so…” Luke stated matter-of-factly, staring you down with a knowing look on your face.

Gossip Girl was something you’d insisted Jack get into when you were teenagers, as long as he “wanted to be called your official best friend”. And The OC. And Gilmore Girls. And One Tree Hill. And basically any other teen drama series you could think of. Collectively, those shows had thousands of episodes, and you always found yourself settling down to watch them whenever you were missing Jack more than usual. You’d never realised before that he did the same.

“Should… should we tell him I’m coming? I don’t want him to get upset by a bad surprise.” 

“Not at all, sugar. Book the flight and send me the details, I’ll sort out the rest.” Luke’s beaming smile made a smile of your own creep onto your face, as you nodded at him and went to retrieve your laptop from the couch to log onto the airline website.

“Now that that’s sorted, I was wondering, what does it mean when a girl asks me what my sun, moon and rising are? Should I be worried? Or is it a good thing?”

– 

Two days later, you were done with your semester and on your way to the airport. Luke had suggested you book a one-way flight, “That way, you can go home whenever you like!”, but you were starting to feel like the whole thing was a mistake. 

Nonetheless, you pushed through those feelings and boarded your flight. The whole ordeal took less than two hours, and soon enough you found yourself navigating the arrivals area at Newark airport. You spotted Luke’s lanky figure, clad in a Michigan sweatshirt, with his back to you. You couldn’t help but creep up on him and poke his side, cracking up with laughter as Luke jumped at least three feet into the air. He’d always been the easiest to scare, ever since you were kids. 

Luke cussed you out, and then pulled you into a bone-crushing hug. 

“Missed your face, sugarplum.” Luke murmured, as you pulled away from each other and he rested his hands on your shoulders, studying you. 

“Aw, Lukey. I’d say I’d missed yours too, but we really gotta do something about that hair.” You poked your tongue out as the youngest Hughes brother’s jaw dropped in mock offense. 

You retrieved your bag from the luggage carousel, and headed out to where Luke had parked. The two of you fell into easy conversation as Luke navigated through the New Jersey streets back to the apartment he shared with Jack. 

You managed to bury most of the nerves, but they came bubbling back to the surface when Luke pulled into the parking garage at the bottom of his building.

“Is… um… Is Jack home? Alone?” You managed to squeak out, and Luke looked at you like you were crazy. 

Ever since All-Star weekend, you’d been having a recurring nightmare about Jack and the girl from the messages you’d accidentally become privy to. In particular, it was a scenario where you would come home from wherever you’d been out, and opened the apartment door to find them… entangled, on every possible surface you could think of. You felt yourself starting to feel ill as the images from your nightmares started to flash back into your mind. 

“He’s alone. Ever since… ever since he came home early from All-Star, he’s been alone. None of the… usual visitors have been over. And he hasn’t been going to theirs, either. Not even when we’re on a roadie.” Luke said carefully, and you could tell he was trying not to upset you.

You could also tell that he was being honest. Because you could always tell when he was lying. But your mind was running a million miles a minute. Jack hadn’t… for a month? Because of his fight with you? You loved Jack, but you also knew (despite wishing that you didn’t know at all) that it had been years since he’d gone that long without intimacy. In fact, it was probably the longest since losing his virginity that Jack hadn’t fulfilled his desires. 

Your mind was starting to wander into the gutter, and you pressed your eyes closed to bring yourself back to Earth. All you could do was nod at Luke, before you both hopped out of the car and into the elevator. Luke insisted on carrying your luggage, so you found yourself fidgeting incessantly with your hands as the elevator climbed to the correct floor. 

You trailed behind Luke as he strode towards the apartment door and unlocked it, stepping inside and putting your bag down. He looked back and waved you into the apartment, pressing a finger to his lips. You tiptoed across the doorway, and your heart softened at the scene before you. 

You could see the back of Jack’s head leaned up against the couch, and an episode of Gilmore Girls playing on the TV mounted on the wall. In fact, it was one of your favourite episodes; where Jess comes back and shows Rory the book he wrote, and calls her out for dropping out of Yale. You smiled ruefully as you thought about the parallels between that episode and your current situation with Jack, as the argument between Jess and Rory played out on the screen.  

What do you mean?

You know what I mean! I know you. I know you better than anyone! This isn't you!

… 

This isn't you! This! You going out with this jerk, with the Porsche! We made fun of guys like this!

You caught him on a bad night.

This isn't about him! Okay? Screw him! What's going on with you? This isn't you, Rory. You know it isn't. What's going on?

I don't know. I don't know…

“Are we Team Jess or Team Rory this time, Jacky?” Luke called out, making you jump. 

“Team Jess all the way, obviously. Where have you bee-” Jack stopped dead in his tracks as he turned to face his brother, and instead saw you in the middle of his living room.

Jack’s face was a revelation. Confusion, at first. Then the briefest flash of hurt and anguish. Then a smile. Then caution and uncertainty, as he slowly stepped towards you. 

You let a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, and quickly moved across the room, clumsily throwing your arms around your best friend. You felt Jack freeze momentarily, almost as if he was shocked at your touch, but that soon passed and you felt his hands slide around your waist and squeeze, bringing your bodies as close together as possible. 

You nestled your head on Jack’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. His thumbs softly rubbed up and down your side, and you felt him press a soft kiss into your hair. You stayed like that for a minute, or maybe longer, relaxing into the embrace.

The sound of the apartment door slamming shut made you jolt, and you rolled your eyes as you realised that Luke had tried to sneak way unnoticed and failed miserably. 

“Hi.” Jack whispered, pulling back from you slightly but keeping his hands locked around you. 

“Hi.” You whispered back, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. 

“Is it still shit hair? Or better now it’s longer?” Jack teased, rolling his tongue between his teeth.

“Better. But only slightly.” You teased back, your hands slipping down to the back of his neck comfortably. 

The warmth of the surprise arrival was starting to fade. The dread you’d felt over addressing your fight with Jack was starting to set in, fast. The guilt you felt for being the catalyst for over a month for not speaking to your best friend was washing over you. Your heart rate was through the roof, and your palms were beginning to sweat. 

Jack sensed your change in mood, and pulled away from you to look you up and down.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to shower? Or take a nap?” He was nervous, too.

“I ate before my flight. And showered this morning. And it’s 11am, so I think I’m good on the nap front. But I do think we should… we should talk. About everything.” You were basically tripping over your words at this point, but Jack’s reassuring nod helped to calm your nerves. 

Wordlessly, Jack took your hand and led you over to the couch, gesturing for you to sit. You sat down and faced him, crossing your legs and resting your hands on your knees, still fidgeting with your hoodie sleeves. 

“I’m sorry - “ You both said unanimously, a gentle laughter filling the room. 

“I’m sorry I needed so much time apart, J. It fucking sucked, and it was my fault, and I just didn’t -” You began to ramble, only stopping when Jack leaned over and squeezed your knee reassuringly.

“You only needed that time because I was an asshole, sugar. It’s on me, really. I had no right to treat you like an occasional friend, or something that I shouldn’t prioritise -” Jack paused as you cringed, remembering the text messages that referred to his time with you as “boring family bullshit”. 

“I was thinking with my dick, not with my head, and that’s not fair on anyone.” You shot Jack a weird look, and he looked sheepish in return.

“Quinn… Quinn said that to me. After you told him to tell me about the messages. He’s right, thought. It wasn’t fair.” Jack continued, pausing to take a deep breath. 

“This whole… thing, this life -” Jack gestured broadly at the apartment around you, and you glanced around properly for the first time. Framed jerseys of Luke and Jack’s adorned the walls.Various photos of the Hughes family scattered about the place. The fridge, with a gas bill stuck to it, along with a polaroid of you and Jack from last Christmas. And a photo from your senior prom. And a group photo of everyone from last summer at the lake house, Jack’s mouth open in laughter with his arm slung over your bikini-clad shoulders. 

“It’s all I thought I ever wanted. And it’s amazing, and I’m so grateful. But it’s worth nothing to me, the money, the girls -” You felt yourself involuntarily cringe again. “The fame, the accolades, it’s worth nothing to me without the people that I love by my side. And if those people don’t know how much I love and appreciate them, because I treat them like shit, then that’s on me. No one else. Me.” 

You sat quietly, taking in Jack’s emphatic statement. You weren’t quite sure what to say. So instead, you gently reached over and took Jack’s hand in yours, lacing your fingers through his and squeezing softly, for a moment while you gathered your thoughts.

“I know the life you live, Jack. You don’t have to be sorry for it. Playing hockey was all you ever dreamed of, and I honestly can’t blame you for… enjoying… all the perks it comes with.” You swallowed the wave of nausea that hit you, before continuing. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what life looks like without you in it. The last month was such a bizarre experience, and not one that I ever want to repeat, but I also… I need to… Can I be honest?” You spoke softly, glancing up from your hands to meet Jack’s gaze, and he nodded encouragingly at you. 

“I wasn’t just upset because you made me feel like I was inconveniencing you, or cock-blocking you -” It was Jack’s turn to cringe. “I think I was upset because I was jealous. Because that will never, ever be me. And I think… I think I want it to be? Maybe? Fuck, I don’t know!” You dropped Jack’s hand and stood up from the couch, and started to pace the room. 

“Sugar, please sit down.” Jack pleaded, and you paused, looking back at him on the couch. One look was all you needed, and you narrowed your eyes at the smirk on his dumb face. 

“Why are you smirking? I am experiencing emotional distress, you asshole.” You seethed, running your hands through your hair in frustration.

“Tell me more about this jealousy thing. I’m intrigued.” Jack’s tone was light and teasing, and washed over you like sour milk. Your head whipped in his direction and your face must’ve said a thousand words, because Jack’s smirk soon disappeared and he hurriedly stood up and walked over, reaching out to touch you. 

“See, this -” You jabbed a finger into Jack’s chest. “This is why I have avoided this conversation for almost my entire life. Because you think it’s hilarious that we could ever go down that path. That we could ever be something more than what we are. Because I’m not good enough,or pretty enough, or just enough and I never will be, and I hate it. I hate it so much.” Your voice cracked on the last few words, and you felt the hot tears start to bubble out of your eyes and stream down your face. 

Jack didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He pulled you into a hug, bringing his hand up to your face and gently brushing away the tears with his thumbs. 

“Breathe, sugar. You need to calm down.” Jack said quietly, willing you to calm. That just made you cry harder. 

You were about to pull away, when you felt Jack cup your face with both hands, before leaning in to kiss you. 

[nezuscribe]

𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: it's not hatred that looms between you and eddie, but it sure feels like it. maybe a charged summer night may be able to clear a few things up.

fic warnings (mdni 18+): reader is over 18, enemies to lovers, cunnilingus, cum eating, blow jobs, heavy making out, fingering, teasing, mentions of weed, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, soft eddie for the win

There are about forty billion planets in the milky way galaxy that could support life. Planets far beyond what human understanding could reach, and hold the capability of supporting life far better than earth could. Yet, somehow, with your luck, the planet you seemed to be stuck on just so happened to be the same one with Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson and his rings resemble every single thing you hated about him; his flare, his over-the-top persona, his all-around charismatic nature. He never seemed to brush his hair, his tattoos were already bleeding into his skin, and his shirt was always halfway tucked into his ripped jeans. He always drove his van recklessly into the school parking lot, his music on blast as you muttered angrily to yourself that this was a public place. 

“Keep it down, Munson. Can practically feel my ears bleeding.” You’d tell him every time, your words are hidden behind a fake sneer as you grasp onto the straps of your bag, your lips curling upwards as he jumps out from the driver’s side, his hair in its usual hectic nature as he tilts his head to the side. 

“Then how’d you know I was coming?” He’d answer back, the door slamming shut as he walked away, your brows furrowing into a seething glow, your nose wrinkling as you walked away, his own angry mumbling reaching your ears as the two of you go at acting like it was only hatred that caused these interactions to occur. 

It was years of this constant back and forth bickering that everybody seemed to pick up on, the bantering between you and the supposed “Devil of Hawkins” that never stopped and had no means of ending. And for many, it was confusing how you, the top girl of your class, graduating as number one, could even busy yourself with clashing with the club leader of the Hellfire Club, but even you nor Eddie had an answer to how this all started. The only thing the two of you could mutually agree on was the fact that one day he ticked you off and he never stopped doing things to push your buttons.

“Off to castrate another devil worshiper? Who’s it this time? Wheeler?” He’d ask, watching as you’d roll your eyes, walking past him in the near-empty hallway, finding your locker as you slammed it open. He heard a huff of annoyance escape your lips, and he grinned knowing that he could perhaps be the only one who could break your picture-perfect attitude. 

“You’re next on my list, Munson.” You’d say through gritted teeth, biting back a smile as you shove your notebooks back into your bag, ignoring the curious gazes of the on-lookers as they observe your interaction with the spawn of satan just as they always seemed to do.

But, in all honesty, Eddie Munson wasn’t even that bad.

Sure, you hated how he always walked like he knew he was better than everyone. You really just despised how his cologne smells much too good for the likes of him but had it not been for his obnoxiously loud music that played right next to where you were parked and how he barely showed up to group projects, Eddie wasn’t the worst person to have graced Hawkins. 

In fact, you kind of liked his tattoos. You could see some peeking out from the confines of his white hellfire shirt, and some of you yearned to see them to their fullest. And though his hair was a crazy mess on top of his head, his curls seemed perfectly tamed, just enough so they never tangled. His hands seemed gentle, and his smile was soft. 

And the only times you saw him were at school, so it’s not as though you ever had to put up this facade for that much once you went home. You could argue as much as you wanted in the parking lot, in the halls, in class, whatever reached the limits of Hawkin’s High, but the two of you seemed to have an unspoken agreement that whatever thing it was that was happening between the two of you if should stick to the confines of the infamous building.

So that’s why when you saw him at Chrissy’s party you suddenly felt particularly queasy.

Leaning against the wall, his arm crossed over his chest as he was deep in conversation with one of his friends. You were shocked to see both of them here when half the school insisted that they were not to be meddled with. And you could see how people strayed away, a little circle collecting around them, backs turned as the students tried their best to ignore them. But fuck, you could feel your heart pounding just a bit quicker at the sight of his smudged eyeliner, the rings that littered his fingers, and the jacket he wore over his shoulders. He was simply gorgeous, unrightfully so, and it didn’t take much in you to admit that.

“What?” Your friend felt your hands squeeze hers more roughly, “Yeah, I know it smells like that beer you hate but…” She trailed off when her eyes found what you were looking at, her lips pressing into a thin line as she noted your uneasy expression.

“Why’s he even here?” You muttered, your friend having to lean down to catch your words as a childish sulk made its way onto your face. 

“You do know that Chrissy buys her shit from him, right?” 

In the way your eyes widened in obvious shock, she guessed that you didn’t know.

“Damn, you seem to know every little thing about him, don’t know how you missed this one.” She says, trying to lighten the darkened mood as you roll your eyes, pulling away from her as you move around the kitchen island, grabbing a bottle of water for yourself as you begin to chug it down.

“I don’t know everything about him.” You try to argue lamely as the water trickles down your chin. The both of you knew that was a lie, but she just shrugs, looking back into the crowd as her smile widens when she spots somebody.

“Holy shit, Buckley’s here…” She looked back at you, a sort of pleading and desperation look overtaking her features as she began to pout, already telling you enough as the water bottle crinkles in your hand.

“Shoot your shot,” You murmur with fake dejection, not able to control your little grin as you watch her face light up as she beams, “Meet me at the door at ten, though. Swear to god, don’t leave me here, okay?” 

“I’ll be back! Promise!” She exclaims almost instantly, giving you a quick hug as she squeezed your back, shooting you a big, goofy smile as she quickly disappears into the thick of the crowd as you lean against the counter, picking at the wrapping of your bottle as you sink into yourself. 

When it came to preferences, you preferred your home or even a movie. The mall was out of the question, seeing that it burned down, but even that was better than the congested state of whatever these parties were. The smell of sweat and cigars was thick enough to choke on, and most of the time you found yourself nauseous at the end of them.

“Looks like you’re about to puke yourself.” 

Your hands gripped at the bottle just a little bit tighter at the drawl of the familiar voice, your pose growing rigid as your eyes darted to the side, widening just a bit as you saw him standing there, leaning his hips against the island opposite to you.

“‘Cause you walked in, Munson.” You say with a bite, bringing up the bottle back up to your lips as you take a hefty sip, suddenly becoming incredibly parched under the onslaught of his heavy gaze.

He snorts, fiddling with the rings that littered his skin as he watched you under his hooded eyes. 

“Thought you never came to these things. Shouldn’t you be at home, studying? Don’t you have like, what, five scholarships lined up?” He cracks open his own bottle, and you try your best to look away as you watch his adam's apple bob up and down as he drinks. 

“Try ten, Munson,” You correct, a small grin on your lips as he huffs out a tiny laugh, “And I don’t have any exams left. So…” You open your arms up, motioning to the party surrounding you, “Here I am.” 

“What joy.” He said to himself, under his breath as you rolled your eyes at his statement. 

“Why are you here though? You never struck me as the - well, the type, really. With the, y’know, whole spiel of not conforming to modern practices.” You ask, leaning your back on the wall as you make sure not to bump into any of the picture frames behind you.

He smirked, tucking a strand of his unruly hair behind his ear as he looked at you from the corner of his eyes. 

“Yeah, well,” He nudged a stray beer cap with the tip of his boot, “Wanted one last hurrah before I leave this…hellhole. And who am I to pass off at a party thrown by our very own queen of Hawkins High?” 

“Careful there. Say hellhole again and people’ll think you’re gonna start doing some human sacrifices.” 

Eddie chuckles, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he nods, a boyish grin making its way onto his face.

“If I do, you’re next on my list.”

You smile, lips tugging upwards as he mimics your words from a couple of weeks back. You find it both terribly annoying that you still managed to remember, and that he never seemed to forget the little things the two of you would say to each other.

“If you’re wondering, yes, these are new tattoos. Thanks for wondering.” Eddie quips, his voice laced with mockery as your stare jumps back to his face, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. 

“Huh…those are tattoos?” You say, picking at your nail as you taunt, “Thought you gave one of your hellfire friends a sharpie and told ‘em to go crazy.” 

His smile drops back into a scowl, and you grin triumphantly once again as he grumbles to himself. Your hands drop to your sides, the bottle bouncing off of your thigh as you look back into the crowd, in search of your friend though you find her to your dismay. You guess she’s probably off in the congested space talking Robin’s ear off.

“Oh, come on Munson, don’t look so defeated. A couple of weeks from now and you’ll be free of me.” 

And though your words were meant to offer him some peace of mind, they only cloud yours more. You should be happy. You should be pumping your fist in the air, glad to be away from him and the countless hours spent disputing with him. So why did it feel so longingly sad? As though you were losing a small piece of yourself? You knew that leaving Hawkin’s behind for college was going to hurt, but that’s because you had friends, family, and places you were going to miss. 

Who was Eddie Munson to you for you to feel this way?

Eddie pursed his lips, staring at you as you quirked a brow, a small, pitiful smile on your lips as you tried to hold them back from wobbling. It was all too much, the sudden and impending realization that there was nobody like Eddie Munson that could make your heart churn and yearn at the same time.

“I know…don’t remind me.” He means it sarcastically, but even he can’t stop the grimace that makes its way onto his face when he admits it out loud.

You’d been reminding him all year. He doesn’t need tonight, his night of supposed relaxation, to be tainted with the oncoming actuality that you were going to leave and were probably never going to come back.

You hated him, you would tell yourself, but you didn't hate him because of his behavior, his loud music, or his constant parade of bleak vitriols. You hated how above everybody else, he was the only person who could make you forget who you were when you were with him, acting like a damn fool in love as you tried to hide it all behind a pathetic excuse of a facade. 

“Why the long face? Worried I’ll somehow track you down even from Massachusetts?” 

“Not likely,” He chuckles, rubbing at his jaw, looking as though he was deep in thought, debating on whether or not he should say what was on his mind. He gave a lifeless laugh as he shook his head, “Y’know… I’m actually kinda worried that you’ll find another Eddie Munson while you’re away.”

The bottle in your hand almost fell as your eyes widened at his words, your body going slack as you watched him pick at his jacket, a habit you had picked up on whenever he felt anxious, or nervous. 

“Another Eddie Munson?” 

“Yeah,” He says through a curt laugh, tilting his chin up so that he could look at you more clearly, “What if there’s somebody in that snotty school that’s more tatted than I am…sets you off like I do?” 

“It’s not the tattoos that set me off, Munson, it’s you.” 

He raises a brow at that, his lips threatening to pull into a smile as he rests his shoulder on the wall, turning sideways as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Me?” He laughs, not quite believing your confession as his tongue prods at his cheek, “Pray tell, just what about me does it for you? The hair, the eyes…my witty charm?” He’s testing, teasing you just as he always does. He wants to see you break, so you move out of the tight mold you’ve put yourself in for the entirety of your life. But you know what he’s trying to do, you can always read him like an open book, so you decide to indulge him. 

“Now, Munson, I’m sure you don’t want me ruining your ego on the night of your…last hurrah.” You say through a smirk and watch him as he shrugs, looking unbothered by it as he motions for you to continue. 

“I can take a hit.” 

You snort, sighing deeply as you shake your head in a way that screams you did warn him as you set your bottle down, mimicking his movements as you cross your arms, tapping your foot on the ground as you squint. 

“Your music, for one. It’s obnoxiously noisy, and you never turn it down,” You pause, waiting to see if he was going to argue but he was just waiting for you to continue, so you obliged, “You always showed up late to our group project for O'Connell's class, a-and even when you came you always managed to distract everybody there. Three, the hellfire club room used to be our room-” 

“Decathlon had six members, it was never going to last.” He interrupted you as he heard you give an exasperated sigh, rubbing your forehead as you shake your head in annoyance. 

“Hellfire has seven!” You exclaim and he pauses, looking somewhere as he counted all of your club members on one hand and then yours on the other. You watched as he then gave you a sheepish and apologetic grin.

You shake your head, clearing all of your tights as you take a step closer, no longer trying to sugar coat your words.

“You’re loud - I could never focus when I was trying to eat my lunch in peace. You always parked your car just close enough to my spot so that I could barely get into it. You’ve almost run me over ten, no…twelve times, of which you have never apologized for. You always smoke near me even though I’ve told you the smell makes my head hurt-” 

“W-whoa, hold on,” He said with a forced laugh, his arms widening tighter together as his brows crease, “You’ve never told me that.” 

You pause, mouth half open as you try to look back into all the times you’ve talked to him. 

“I didn’t?” 

“Wouldn’t have done it if you told me, sweetheart.” There he goes with that damn name, the same that made your legs weak and heart churn. You hated that a simple nickname could have such an effect on you, so strong that it almost made you forget what you were talking about.

“Oh, um, well, thanks…I guess,” You murmur, looking embarrassed as he raises his eyebrows at you. You look away, your body flushing under his gaze as you bite on your cheek, continuing with your rambling, “That’s - that’s not the point. Listen, Munson, what I’m trying to say is even if I miraculously - with my infinite amount of luck - found a six-foot, dungeons and dragons playing weed seller in college, none of them could match up to your…splendor.” 

“My splendor?” He repeats with a chuckle, teasing you as you groan, trying to hide your winching face away from view. 

“Yes…splendor. Splendor can mean surprising - surprising in a bad way - and you, Munson,” Your finger points at his chest,  “Never fail to surprise me with what you do. You buzzed off your hair the night before the talent show. You can speak fluent French even though you haven’t turned up to a single lesson. You apparently deal with Chrissy….” You slightly pout, your voice quieter as you move a piece of trash with your shoe, “...do you?” 

“Customer confidentiality.” He said smugly as you groan, mumbling nonsense underneath your breath as you wave your finger at him. 

“You weren’t being very confidential when you told me that you dealt with that guy from the basketball team.” You try to argue and he can only look away, pick at his nails as he lets out a deep breath through his nose. He heaved a sigh, his curls falling into his face as he looked back up at you, his eyes round, warm, the exact thing that first made you fall for him.

“Is that all?” 

You stutter, clearly not expecting this reaction as you slowly nod. 

“W-well, yes. But I’m sure more will come to me later.” 

He grins, nodding in agreement as he digs through the pocket of his jacket, pulling out something as he closes his fist around it.

“You let me know if anything pops up, yeah?” He dangles his car keys in front of you, “Next time, though. This party’s beginning to get too crowded, and I think somebody just said they think I’m gonna start performing a seance so…” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, “I’ll take it as my cue to leave.”

There’s a sinking feeling in your chest as he says that, a part of you wanting to reach out and tell him to stay because even though you just listed off everything a normal person would hate to hear about themselves, you knew he had a list double the length about you. You knew you had hours of things you could tell him about, things that you’ve wanted to for months, years, but were too fucking scared to admit out loud. 

But almost as though he could read your mind, (you guessed he could after knowing you for so long), he spoke, stopping you in your train of thoughts.

“D’you need a ride home?” It was a casual question, simple enough to get a simple answer, but it was enough to send your heart into another spiel of mindless thinking, thoughts flooding your head as you cluelessly sputtered. 

“I…” You look into the crowd, narrowing your eyes as you try to look for the familiar mop of red hair only to find her talking with Robin, a gleeful smile on their faces as they conversed about something you couldn’t hear, “Yeah…actually,” You sighed as your shoulder sank, a sign of you giving up, “I’ll be back.” 

You weave past him with that as you plunge into the thickness of the students, bumping past elbows and bodies as you let out a flood of hurried apologies, reaching her familiar back as you tap her shoulder. You don’t have time to prepare yourself as she whips around, searching for who it was until they settle upon you. 

‘H-hey!” She says, trying to speak over the loud volume of the people screaming around the two of you, “This is Robin!” She points to her even though you’ve already shared a couple of classes with her in the past. The two of you give each other an awkward smile and wave as you look back at your friend.

“I know, we had bio together last year! Hey, Jess, I’m a bit tired and I found a ride home. Thanks for inviting me…but I’m leaving!” You yell, your voice growing hoarse as her eyes widen in both shock and confusion at how in the span of half an hour you managed to get close enough to someone to drive you home.

“Who’s giving you the ride?” She exclaimed, apologizing to Robin as she gave you her full attention, the people around you giving glances at her loud outburst. 

“It’s nobody that you know, don’t worry,” You say awkwardly as you give her a wave, “Have fun, bye.” You wince, trying to leave to no avail as she tightly grips your wrist, watching as her eyes rake over where she last left you, falling on Eddie as she watches him eyeing the door.

“Holy shit…now way…Munson?” She screamed, the name garnering more attention as people looked over at the two of you, heat burning at your face as you wish she could just quiet down a little bit.

“No,” You lie as she looks at you as though she was scolding you, “Alright - fine, yes. Don’t worry though - if he kills me, you’ll know he did it,” Her hand tightens at your weak joke and you can only muster up an apologetic shrug, “Just…enjoy your time, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” You squeeze her hand as you wrangle out her grip, giving her another smile as she mirrors yours with a confused one. You push past others as they art, walking over to where Eddie was standing as you tugged on his jacket. 

“Hurry up Munson,” You titter, watching him jump a little by surprise as he finds you next to him, “My feet hurt, my neck is sweaty and I feel like I’m about to throw up. ” 

He can only laugh nervously, hoping that the last part was a fib as he leads you towards the front door. You can practically feel the eyes of people drilling into your back as the two of you walk through the denseness of the crowd. People almost move away from him, not realizing you were there with him as they murmur curiously with one another.

He opens the door with a creak, extending his arms out as he waits for you. 

“Ladies first.” He said, grinning as you grumbled under your breath, still going first as he followed after you, shutting the door behind him as you skipped down the steps of the house, hearing his shoe clunk in the background as you scan the vast neighborhood full of cars.

“Pretty sure you know which one is mine.”

And though you hate admitting he was right, he was, because you could immediately pick it out in the sea of all the others.

Even though you don’t voice it, Eddie takes the initiative as he walks towards it, taking longer strides than you as he unlocks the door. He opens it up just as he had done seconds ago, giving you that damn smile as he waited for you to catch up.

“Don’t look scared, she works pretty well,” Eddie says as he hauls himself up, settling in his own seat as he jams his keys in, the van roaring to life as his usual music comes on, flooding your ears as you think too soon. 

“My house is down-” 

“Down the road, to the left, last house till the cul de sac.” He finishes, not looking over at you as he fiddles with the sound, turning down the volume as you let out a breath of relief. That is until the confusion settles in as you wait for him to explain how he knows where you live.

“What?” He’s startled by the abrupt silence, almost expecting a thank you for accommodating your bland music taste as he looks up, catching your wide-eyed stare as his mouth falls open in an embarrassed chuckle, “Oh…that. Well, you were sick for a couple of days during O’Connell’s project, remember? And I wanted to drop off some things ‘cause I knew you’d come back to drag me by my hair if nobody filled you in on what was happening.” 

“Still doesn’t explain how you have my address, Munson.” 

“I asked your red-head friend for it. She seemed…willing to give it,” She shrugs, shooting you another grin as heat flares across your face, “Guess she never told you, huh?” 

You can only shake your head, embarrassed as he chuckles, tutting as he shakes his head, the van moving as you grip the seats. Jess only told you that she dropped it off when you called, confused about the organized packed box of papers. She didn’t explain much, sounding far too enthusiastic for somebody who supposedly just dropped off homework.

The two of you don’t say anything, letting the dim sounds of Ozzy travel through your two bodies, and circle back until it becomes the only thing you could hear; aside from the blood thumping in your ear. It was a strange calm that washed over you as you watched him tap his fingers on the wheel to the beat of the song, too focused on the road in front of him as his lashes fluttered against the soft skin of his cheek. Houses pass by you as he turns the corner, the asphalt crunching under the tires as you look out the window.

“There,” You mutter suddenly, and Eddie leans into his seat, squinting as he looks to where you were pointing and he clicks his tongue as the familiar house comes into view, looking just as it did months ago when he dropped by. 

He slows the van down, his foot easing on the brakes as he pulls up to your house, the drive here was far too short, shorter than you remembered it being as he abruptly stops. You look out, staring at your house as you heave a swallow, your fingers trailing up to the handle as you struggle to find yourself to open the door. 

“This one, right?” He asks, his voice almost inaudible as you nod, your fingers tracing little patterns onto the material of the door. 

“Thanks…Munson.” You’re able to bite out, pulling at the handle as the door pops open, the night air hitting you in the face as you look back at him, offering him a curt smile as he gives you a little nod. 

You’re about to hop out, your head screaming for you to stay, to tell him everything that’s been slowly bubbling up in you over the years. But before you’re able to get anything out, he cuts you off.

“I’m parched,” He says, “D’you have anything to drink?” 

And just like that, everything dies down as you groan in annoyance, shooting him a look as you perk your brow. 

“No funny business, okay, Munson?” 

He crosses his heart, his palm over his chest as he holds three fingers up. 

“Scouts honor.” 

You roll your eyes at his corniness, opening up the door, and jump out as Eddie follows in suit. You can hear his keys jangling behind you as he locks his door, his boots crunching on the gravel as he rounds over his van, standing beside you as he waits for you to lead him up to the door. 

Fishing out the keys from your pocket, you grumble as he whistles under his breath, a song you can’t quite place as you jam it into the keyhole, turning it to the right as the door opens. You’re greeted to the darkness of your house, and you wince as your hands play with the light switches, finally getting one that illuminates the living room and kitchen as you walk inside, looking behind at Eddie as he turns his head to take in the house, looking almost apprehensive to come inside. 

“My parents aren’t here if that’s what you’re wondering.” You say as you drop the keys into the bowl on the coffee table, taking off your shoes as you point to him, wanting him to do the same. Even if your parents weren't home you didn't want anything muddy being tracked inside.

“Fridge is over there,” You jut your chin to the fridge as he turns his head as you shed off your jacket, “Help yourself to whatever.” 

He grins, his eyes wrinkling around the corners as he gives you a thumbs up. You busy yourself with turning on the other lights, the house coming back alive as you hear him rummaging around until he gives a satisfied noise. You can see him as he takes out a bottle of water, opening it up as he drinks, never stopping until he chugged it all. 

It crinkles in his hand as he looks for the trash, throwing it away as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand. 

“You know what, I just remembered. It’s your voice,” You say, scrunching up your nose as you look up, his startled eyes finding yours as you continue, “It ticks me off.” 

His brows furrowed together as he swallowed the remaining water, his lips pulling up into a little sneer as he shakes his head in disbelief. You look serious, with the way your arms are crossed, holding your stance like you couldn’t have said anything better to seal the night. 

“Yeah?” He nods, pursing his lips together as he shrugs, deciding that there was no better time and place to do this. He thought that after all these years, maybe tonight the two of you could actually grow up a bit and mature, but Eddie knew you would never back down and he was never raised to be a quitter, “You know what ticks me off? It’s your attitude, sweetheart.”

Your eyes twitch a bit, an incredulous laugh falling from your lips as your teeth grind together. He takes a set forward, leaving the kitchen as he comes nearer to the living zoom, his gaze dead set on you as you refuse to back down. You knew you could never act rationally near him, Eddie Munson just brought out a different side to you.

“I despise your rings.” It’s a lie you have to bite out because you love his rings more than anything.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he instinctively goes to fidget with them, turning each one around as he takes another step closer as you confidently (fake confidence, if anything) stand your ground.

“And I loathe that dainty little necklace you wear. Looks like it could snap any fucking second.” 

You swallow, your mouth running dry as the lights almost seem to dim, his cologne wafting around you so much so that it almost dries you deliriously, the scent far too much as he inches closer to your body. The seconds tick by faster yet the minutes seem to slow down as you puff out little breaths of air.

Your gaze jumps from his hands, the finger interred in jewelry as they trail back up to his face, his eyes darker than before you can practically feel yourself getting weaker the closer he gets.

“I detest the way you do your hair.” Your ability to get out is pathetic, but how could you when he’s only breathing away from you, everything in your system seemingly about to crash as your blood roars loudly in your ears. You can barely hear your heart pumping, let alone anything else that’s going to fall from his lips. 

“I hate that you’re leaving in two months.” 

Your heart stops as the usual smile falls from his face. You can’t breathe, can’t think as he steps a little closer, and you knew you only craved for him to only come closer. 

You shake your head, eyes darting away from his deep stare as they focus on the wall, taking a long pause and an even longer minute as you look back at him. 

“I hate that you’re the only Eddie Munson I’ll ever meet.” 

Your words still over the two of you, your chest heaving up and down as you stare each other down, your minds working as one as eyes dart from lips to hands to everything you could possibly think of. 

You can hear him let out a deep groan, his eyes shutting for a second, deep in thought. They open back up with clear hunger written all over them as he throws it all away, taking the final step forward as your feet stumble out from beneath you. And you surely would have fallen if not for his hands supporting your back as his lips quickly collide with yours. It’s fast and messily urgent how he moves against you, how sinfully wet it is as he laps up your taste, the unknown sweetness that is solely you as he slots you up against the wall. His free hand cradles your head, careful not to hurt you as he grows restless, craning his neck to the side so that he can kiss you with even more fever. 

You can only whimper as his teeth nip at your lips, hips tongue coming out to taste you as you grow to mush in his hold, tilting your jaw up to the side as you search for him again, for the aftertaste of weed and mints that lay on his tongue. He was addictive, more addictive than a drug, and you knew that you would never be the same without this. 

“You’re a pain in my ass,” He murmurs against your skin, lapping at your tongue, meshing with your teeth as you whine, “And…” His hand comes up to cradle your chin, moving it the way he wanted as he moves down, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down your heated skin as his nose nudges at your jaw, “You drive me crazy whenever I see you. All your talk of how I’m too loud and too cocky,” His brown eyes, still as gentle as they always were as his rings rub against your neck, his eyes boring into yours as his heart thumbs widely against his chest, “But…as nice as it sounds, I don’t think I could ever imagine a single fucking day where you’re not in it.” 

You wince, heart throbbing as he sloppily kisses down the column of your neck, his movements longing though covered in a false sense of confidence as he nips, biting little marks all over you, anywhere his lips can reach so that tomorrow you wake up and never forget what he told you the night before. 

The dull pain of your head thumping against the wall has nothing in comparison to how all your emotions are bundled into one big mess as you watch Eddie needily tug at your shirt, his hands roaming the expanse of your stomach and hips as he commits your softness to memory.

“I hate you, Eddie,” You falter, your words meaningless but it causes him to stop, his eyes growing with instant worry as he watches your lip tremble, “I hate that you’re so gorgeous I can barely think clearly around you. I hate your perfect smile and how you make me feel when you call me sweetheart, even if you do it to make me mad,” You say as your laugh is short, hurt as you try to find his hands tugging him closer to your chest as you pull him to another kiss, trying to convey a thousand emotions into it as his nose pressed against yours. You can feel his fingers grip at your waist, holding onto you as though you were his only lifeline, “A-and most of all, Eddie…I hate that I can never - never hate you, no matter how hard I fucking try.” 

He huffs out a pained laugh, his hands coming up to both sides of your face as his thumbs create two parentheses around the sides of your lips as he kisses you again, his hair ticking your cheeks as you smile weakly at the tingly sensation.

“Don’t say shit like that…” He murmurs, his smile faltering for a second because he can’t believe that this is really happening, you are really here in his arms, telling him the words he had always longed to hear, “Makes guys all sappy ‘n shit.” His voice is thick, almost as though he wanted to laugh but couldn’t. 

You bite back the choked sound that comes from your throat, try to control the glossiness of your eyes as you hold onto his arms, helping him as your shirt falls to the ground, the air biting at your skin as he works to unclasp your bra.

“Holy…shit,” He licks at his lips as he stares childishly at your bare chest, his cheeks flushing a dark red as he rubs at the back of his neck, gaping so much that you felt like something was wrong until he muttered, “Prettiest fucking girl I’ve ever seen.” His fingers trail down your neck and to your breasts, your eyes fluttering shut as he curiously toys with them, flicking your nipple as you grip at his wrists.

“Should have said it sooner, y’know.” Your hands fall to his shoulders, playing with his soft curls as you give him a lopsided grin. He moves his hands away from your chest, no matter how much it pains him to do so, as he rubs at your bare shoulders.

“Said what, sweetheart?” He coos, pressing a chaste kiss to the edge of your lips as he moves up, kissing your cheek with such tenderness and care that you almost melt right there. He moves up, kissing your cheekbone, your forehead, until he comes back down to you, his thumb holding your face as carefully as he could. 

“That I hated your rings,” You let out a pretty giggle as he sighs, rolling his eyes as he playfully bites at your neck, his hands buying themselves somewhere on your hips as you shrug, “‘S working out pretty well in my opinion.” 

“Think I’m actually gonna have to agree with you for once.” 

You smile giddily as he works at your jeans, looking up to make sure you were okay with it as you gave him a quick nod, helping him as you looped each leg out. Your demeanor suddenly changes, though, when his fingers delicately loop around the material of your panties, until he suddenly stops.

“What?” You asked, worried as he looked up to you, his lips quivering for a second as he pulled at the hem. 

“Lace panties? Oh look,” He flicked his finger over the front, “It even has a little bow.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands as your body heats up in embarrassment, his chuckles barely reaching your ears as he pats your thigh, a silent apology as you lightly smack his shoulder. 

“Not like I’m complaining, sweetheart…‘s fucking hot.” He says cheekily, tugging them down as you quietly whine, the cold air hitting your bare pussy. You watch him as he kneels, making a soft thump on the ground as he glances up, his chin hounding at your knees as your hands move to grip his head. 

“What’s wrong,” He quips with a teasing smile, noting the way your eyes were shifting as little puffs of air hit your aching cunt, the sensation surely going to drive you insane as his hand moves down to grip your ankle, “Too much f’you?”

He knew he was simply just poking more as you huffed, your hands winding tighter in his hair as you try not to smile stupidly at his words. And he doesn’t need to hear much from you as he gingerly takes a hold, moving your right leg up and onto his shoulder as he moves around a little bit more in his seat, situating his head as he slowly places delicate kisses on the inside of your thighs, each one wetter and longer than the one before as he grumbles something under his breath about how soft you were.

“Damn, Y/n, you’re so fucking messy,” He groans as he notes the wetness dripping down your thighs, “S-shit, fuck, s’wet, so fucking wet….can’t even talk straight when I’m around you,” He mutters into your skin as he grips both of your thighs, the coldness of his rings biting at your heated skin as you pant when his lips get closer to where you want him, “Where d’you want me, sweetheart,” His rests his chin on the meat of your thigh as he looks up at you, just so close to your bare mound yet you can barely talk as his fingers draw little circles onto your ankles, “Come on, use that mouth of yours.” 

Your fingers tug at his curls a little tighter, a small warning as you squirm around, uneven breaths leaving your chest as you whine. 

“F-fuck, Eds,” You gnaw on your lip as his nose nudges dangerously near your cunt, not aware of how your little nickname for him just goes straight down south, “Just - shit - please just touch me.” 

He chuckles lowly, his hands coming up to grip and knead at the flesh of your ass as he kisses wetly near your heat, toying with you with what you wanted as his soft hair rubs against your stomach.

“Where, sweetheart? ‘M not a mind reader.” 

You shot him a glare because he was, when it came to the two of you, you both knew each other better than anybody else. It was pathetic, really, how much you said you hated one another when you knew what his favorite color was, but you couldn’t and wouldn’t let your mind wander in a time like this. 

“Eddie,” You’re bordering on begging as he raises a brow, still not budging as you groan, taking his head as you directed him upwards, exactly where you wanted him as your cheeks heat madly with embarrassment, twinged with euphoria as he grins knowingly against you,  “Here…Eddie, please.” 

“Well…” He thumbs at your clit, the sensation causing your head to loll back as it hits the wall, a keen whine escaping your lips as he digs his thumb deeper into the bundle of nerves, your eyes rolling back as he does it, “Because you asked so nicely.”

He dives in, taking little licks at your clit as your moans grow louder with each stroke, feeling your legs wobble as he laps up your taste, groaning at the back of his throat at your saccharine sweetness that coated his tongue. You tasted like fucking heaven, the nights he sent pumping his fist angrily to the thought of you couldn’t have done anything to make up for how you actually felt. 

It feels so fucking amazing that you felt like you were going feral, his fingers teasing around your fluttering hole as he rubs your wetness everywhere, wanting to create an even bigger mess. He acts like a man starving as he eats you out, replacing his tongue with his thumb on your clit as he hikes your leg further onto his shoulder, his fingers slowly entering your puckering hole as you let out a quiet squeal when he slowly inches his pointer in, his eyes darkening at the way you sucked him in. 

“Shit, sweetheart,” He muttered, his shoulders and entire mood tightening for a second as he feel your clench around him, “Such a pretty pussy, fuck. You-you're so fucking tight…fuck.” He gives you some time to adjust, but his impatience takes over as he begins to pump in and out, the wet noise can only be described as downright sinful as he watches your string of arousal coat his finger.

“E-Eddie!” You can barely talk as he continues to pump faster, adding another one as your body winds up, sucking him in even more as he whines how hot you feel around him, “So good! Fuck, you’re making me feel so good, mm…” Your stomach clenched as his pace grows quicker than before at your words. 

“Yeah?” He chuckles but it’s broken as he falters, his eyes squeezing shut for a second as he feels you guide his wrist up and down, his rings bumping against your clit as the sensation only causes you to moan louder, “Y-you like it? God…you’re such a fuckin’ slut, huh? Never would have guessed with all the b-books you hide behind.” 

You nod dimly, your lips pressed into a thin line as you awkwardly move around, everything too much as he replaced his fingers with his tongue, everything happening too fast and all at once as he gives a low, guttural growth at how you tasted.

“Fuuck…” He can barely even say that as he eats it all up, knowing he was slowly yet surely growing addicted to you as he spreads you out with the help of his fingers, “Tastes like - likes a fucking t-treat sweetheart.” And he doesn't stop the relentless attack with his thumb as white dots the outer corners of your vision, your body beginning to shut down as Eddie only picks up his pace.

“Eddie! Please…don’t, don’t stop. Feels so fucking good Eds,” You’re a blubbering mess as he heeds your words, your mouth falling into a silent scream as his thumb goes just a little bit faster, his tongue pumping in and out of you with such fervor that you’re just growing wetter and wetter by the second, “Y-yes, yes, yes! Eddie, you feel so good!” 

Your hands tighten on his scalp as your legs wobble, and if it weren’t for the wall and his tight support on you you surely would have fallen. You can feel it coming, and you can only keen loudly as you climax, your orgasm washing over you as your toes curl, gushing around his tongue as he quickly laps it all up, hungrily tasting your release as the two of you moan out loudly in tandem. 

He slowly removes his hand from your clit, the little nub is swollen as he gingerly pats your knee, removing it from his shoulder as he slowly rises, his lips pink and slightly pouted as his chest heaves up and down with labored breaths, pupils blown wide open as he reflects your stare. You can feel your pussy still fluttering around nothing, your puffy lips aching for more as you tightly grip at his shirt for some leverage. 

“That was so fucking hot,” You can see yourself glistening on his chin, the sight too much to believe as he pulls you back into another kiss, your teeth clashing, tongues swirling as he ravages you as best he can, “Don’t know why…why it took us so long to do this.”

You whine a little, the sound muffled by his hungry lips as you taste yourself on him, the tangy sweetness mixed with spit and sweat was so addictive that you pulled him by the collar of his jacket, wanting more of it as he chuckled against your plush skin.

“Don’t know…don’t know why either.” You're able to get out as he moves away, giving you some time to catch your breath as he stares at your wet lips, glistening under the dim light as your hands trace little patterns onto his palm. You tug at his fingers as he traced your features, losing yourselves in the moment as his thumb traces the corners of your jaw, moving up to your cheek and then to the bottom of your lip. The padding of his fingertips was soft, softer than what you expected from somebody who played the guitar day and night, but nonetheless, you craved it more than anything you’ve come to know.

Your hands eagerly roam around his body, tugging at the fabric on his chest, doing a quick job of shedding him of his jacket as you paw at the hem of his shirt, your eyes wide and needy as chokes out a muffled groan when your hands dip under, your nails tracing along his bare skin and happy trail as his stomach clenches under the cold sensation of your fingers.

“Not fair, Eds,” You whine into his neck, licking up at the column as he shudders when you drag your nails up his torso, “I’m only the naked one here. Doesn’t m-make sense.” You whimper when he holds you tightly by the waist, nodding in agreement as bliss fogs his eyes as they gloss over.

“Y-you’re right, I’m a fucking idiot.” He gets out as you help him take his shirt off, his hair bouncing off of his shoulders as you smile against the corner of his lips, your chest pressing against his bare one as he shucks in a breath at the feeling of your nipples rubbing against him.

“Biggest idiot I’ve ever met.” 

He chuckles, his cheeks and eyes brightening up for a second as a blip of your usual back and forth bleeds even into something like this, wondering why it took him so long to actually do this when he was so clearly enamored by you.

But even that can’t stop your wandering eyes and hands as they tug at his belt, a quiet umph leaving his lips as you play with it. 

“You’re such a perv, Eds, getting off on shit like this.” Your words are so sweet, such a far cry from how they were minutes ago as Eddie quickly nods against your lips, helplessly whining as you palm his growing bulge against his jeans. You flick at the zipper, his lips quickly opening as your thumb presses deeper into his aching cock.

“Y-yeah, well,” He tries to hold back another choked moan as you tug at his belt, undoing it in such a swift manner that he almost raises a brow at it, “Can’t exactly be gods strong soldier when you’re in front of me…looking like that.”

“Looking like what, Munson?” 

There’s a bite to your voice, but it’s only because you like to coquet, as you always have because you like to see his reaction as his eyes slightly widen, kissing your collarbone as he kneads and rods at your ass, whimpering even more as you unzip his jeans.

“You’re a fucking tease, sweetheart,” He says, his smile wavering as you tug his pants down, lifting his legs as he kicks them off, somewhere to the side as he wraps his hands around your neck, laying with that damn necklace as he shrugs, “I’ll tell you later when you’re not…fuck, about to s-suck me off.”

You pout at his words, seeing the satisfied look on his face at your let-down expression. But you knew that sooner or later that smug smile would be wiped off his face, so duck your head down as you try to busy yourself with the more important matters at hand.

Your thumb finds his tip, easy to find as his precum is staining his boxers, the translucent liquid now on your fingers as you drag your hand up and down, the fabric creating more friction around him as his head falls back onto the wall.

“You’re messy too Eddie,” You tell him softly as your thumb presses deeper into his leaking head, his breathing becoming uneven and choppy as you stop, going down to your knees as you hook your fingers around the elastic as you tug down, his cock slapping you across the cheek as it pops out from its’ tight confines, “Calling me messy when you’re leaking right here.” You mumble to yourself, the sound too innocent and adorable for the situation you were in as Eddie finds his hands unconsciously going to the back of your head, just as you had done with him as he tries to give you some time to get used to him. 

He almost cums on the spot when your nails trace up and down his cock, memorizing all his veins and crooks to heart as you delicately wrap your hands around him, your eyes widening at the sheer size of him as you dryly swallow. 

“Too big?” He asks, trying to be cheeky, to lighten the mood, but you can only dimly nod, your hand slowly coming up and down from his base to the tip, cupping his balls as you whine at his precum trickling onto your body.

“You’re - you’re too cocky for your own good.” You respond weakly, not intending the lame pun as you lean your head forehead, slow as you take a tentative lick at his bulbous tip, moaning as his salty taste floods your senses.  He stops breathing for a second as he feels your hot tongue benign to quicken its pace, licking more and more as his hand grows weaker at the back of your head.

Slowly you being to envelop your mouth over him, suctioning as you hollow out your cheeks, taking him in little by little, your hands making up for whatever you can’t fit into your mouth as you pump back and forth, your throat gagging a bit as he hits the back, but you continue because more than anything you love the burn and the loud moans he’s letting out as you suck him off.

“Mph, god, fuuck…” He’s controlling your head, bobbing you up and down on his dick as your spit mixes with his pre, rubbing off on your chin and cheeks as he tries to wring his eyes open to stare at you, to see your wide eyes staring back at him as you take him whole, “So fucking good, sweetheart, you’re so fucking good. Can’t - fuck - can’t believe you’re such a good fucking girl. N-not, mfph,” He chokes as your tongue swirls around, his tip getting angrier and redder as you don’t let up, “Not when you acted like such a fucking pain this entire time. But you’re just a slut, huh?” He shudders, his chest moving up and down as your hands move down, one on his cock and one massaging his balls as he practically just dies, “You’re a slut f’me, yeah?” 

And you can only nod, tears escaping your eyes as they mix with everything else on your cheeks, your cries and whines causing blissful vibrations around his throbbing cock as he moans out louder.

“O-oh, shit, you feel so fucking amazing, so fucking good….shit, Y/n, you’re so fucking good - god I fuckin’ love this.” His hands make you go faster, choking you more on his dick as your nose rubs against the little curls at his base, your gags only going straight to his head as it spurs him on even more.

“Holy shit, sweetheart, y-yeah, hmm, fuck just like that,” He’s becoming a stuttering mess only able to get out more, more, more, as he begs for you to go faster, his thumb wiping away at your tears as he whines, keening loudly as he feels his release quickly about to come, “Y-yes, fuck! Shit, you’re doing amazing. God, I’m gonna cum. You’re gonna make me cum sweetheart…is it okay if I - fuck - if I cum? Please, fuck, y-you okay with that?” 

And you're bobbing your head, trying to nod as you sniffle, your humming as you try to say yes, but it only sends him over the edge, hot, white spurts of his cum trickle down your throat, thick as you gag, pulling off of him as little bits fall onto your chest, splattering over your collarbone and tits as he tries to catch his breath. 

You swallow anything remaining on your tongue, showing it to him as he groans again, patting your cheek as he loops his arms around yours, helping you stand up as you wince a little bit at the biting sting at your knees. 

“Fuck, Y/n, are you,” His eyes roam your face, gently cradling your jaw as if he hadn’t fucked your throat seconds ago, “You okay sweetheart?” 

You smile, nodding as you press a small kiss to his lips, your spit, his cum, and your tears mixing with one as he groans at the taste, whining as you pull away.

“M’fine, Munson.” You kiss the tip of his nose as he lets out a sigh of relief, his hands running up and down your back comfortingly as he lets his breathing get back to normal before hooking one of your legs around his waist.

The two of you don’t care about much as you follow his movements, letting him turn around so that you resting against the wall, your heart pounding wildly in your head as he kisses wetly against your neck, stroking his dick as he kneads at your breasts, acting like he was going crazy as he brought his lips back u to yours. 

“Sweetheart, think I’m about to go crazy if I don’t fuck you,” His thumb follows the bone of your brows, settling on your cheeks as you stare u into those big, brown eyes of his, the ones that made you fall for him the moment you saw them as he kisses your jaw, “P-please let me - let me fuck you…?” 

You don’t know how he can ask when you’d go crazy too if he didn’t.

“Please, Eddie,” You shudder out a shaky breath as his thumb falls lower and lower, inching closer to your swollen clit, “Please…w-want it more than anything.” 

And so he takes the initiative, linen himself up with your dripping cunt, hoping that he stretched you out enough as he teases your entrance with his tip, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he feels you sucking him in, moaning at how wet you felt around him, your pussy clenching as he carefully and slowly pushing a little bit more in. 

“Oh, fuck,” He can barely speak as you wrap your leg around him tighter, allowing him to reach deeper into you as his veins drag up your bare cunt, the sensation maddening as you whine at the feeling, “S’good, so fucking good…damn, you’re fucking amazing Y/n.” And you don’t know if it’s the way his voice grows tender at the way he speaks your name or if it’s everything in the atmosphere combined, but a part of you grows warmer with the way he gently tries to situate himself inside of you, not wanting to hurt you as he stops. He gives you time to adjust to his size, noting the little tears that lined your eyes as you clench your teeth at how big he was inside of you.

“You’re so big Eddie, so… b-big.” You cry at the sting, wanting more as he limply nods, muttering out apologies as he rubs your clit, his motions quickening in pace as he openly kisses you on the mouth, the kiss needy as the two of you reach for each other.

“I know, I know sweetheart, but…” He pulls out a little bit, his cock dragging against you again as your walls flutter against them, “I’ll go slow, okay? You tell me if you want to stop, yeah?” You can only nod, maintaining eye contact as he gives you one last kiss, pulling out completely before he pushes himself in with one go, a loud cry escaping your lips as your jaw slacks.

“E-Eddie!” You scream, your nails digging into his back as he picks up his pace by just a little, biting into your shoulder so that he can muffle his own moans, “You feel so good…fuck!” You can barely think straight as he fucks you dumb on his cock, your wetness coating his dick in a sheer slick, a white rim collecting around his base as he stares hungrily at your essence. 

“You feel amazing, …don’t think I’m ever gonna be the same, fuck, without you.” 

You can only nod with him because you know that his words ring true for you, too. 

He tugs at your chin, tilting your head up as he motions for you to open your mouth with his free thumb. When you follow his instruction he brings himself closer, letting a wad of spit fall from his lips and onto your tongue as he taps your jaw again, silently asking you to close it as you whine at his taste. It’s so much, everything happening all around you, that you don’t even question yourself as you swallow, watching as Eddie bites little marks all over you as if you weren’t already his.

“Ahh, look at me, fuck, Y/n, p-please,” He begs to cup your jaw as you will yourself to look u, your swollen lips shining with sweat as your eyes almost dro from the feeling of his balls slapping against your ass, the sound of squelching and wetness of the two of you so loud that you almost didn’t hear him when he mutters; “So fucking pretty, don’t think…don’t think I’ll ever be able to let go.” 

You whine, your hands wrapping tightly around his neck as you grind yourself down on him, joining his fingers on your clit as you swirl around, your head lolling to the side at the extra sensation.

“L-love it, Eds, you feel so fucking good!” 

He stops, his heart churning as he kisses your neck, your body shining in the light with a layer of sweat coating you, the image graining itself into his head as he moves your hips up and down on himself. 

“Sweetheart,” He bites down onto your shoulder, “Gonna be honest with you, yeah? I don’t think I ever actually hated you. F-fucking hell, looked forward to seeing you every day. ‘S why I always turned my music up, knew you…fuck, knew you hated it...just wanted to hear your voice,” You can slowly feel your release coming, your toes curling, back arching into him as your chest presses tightly against his, “Never hated you because…shit, think - think I’ve been in love with you this entire time.” 

Your eyes widen, your arms growing tighter around his neck as he winces, wishing he never let his emotions get the best of him, especially now. But as he’s about to apologize, to blame it on the hormones, you press your cheek to his chest, never letting go of his waist as you can hear the faint thumping of his heart against your skin. It’s calming, it’s peaceful, and it’s Eddie.

“Damn you, Munson,” Your able to croak out, not even able to muster up a smile as a moan falls from your lips, “You always gotta b-beat me to it everything…fuck!” You trail off, your mouth falling open to a silent scream as your fingers stop attacking your bundle of nerves, everything crashing over you as your legs shake, screaming out his name as you come undone, gushing all around him as you slump against his body. 

Eddie can’t say anything as he follows after you, the feeling of you clenching down on him enough to throw him over, forgetting everything as he comes inside, his hot cum painting your fluttering walls white as he groans into your neck, biting down on it to stop himself from saying anything more stupid.

You pant, your hot breath hitting his chest as you slowly peel yourself off on him, your mind running faster than ever before as you quickly try to regain your senses, anything that could possibly explain to you what just happened. 

He’s quiet as he ducks his head down, avoiding your gaze as he quickly mutters out hurried apologies, searching the floor for your clothing as he piles them all up, his cheeks flushed a dark red as he tries to hide, not wanting to ruin anything else before it’s too late. He stops at your panties, pressing his lips to a thin line as he rubs at his eyes, massaging his forehead as you awkwardly tilt from foot to foot. 

“I, um, I didn’t hate it, you know…”

He whips his head around, blushing again as he comes into view with your naked self as he averts his gaze, handing you your clothes back as you offer him a small smile at his obvious confusion.

“Your music, I didn’t hate it. I think Ozzy’s great ‘n all. Ultimate Sin’s my favorite yet…well, except for Blizzard of Ozz, but you woke me up enough to not go to school like a zombie. So thanks…for that.”

He huffs out a laugh of disbelief, his nervousness melting away in a split second almost as if he can’t believe his ears. You don’t act like it’s much though as if you hadn’t calmed his racing nerves with a single statement as you tug your shorts back on, his cum seeping through the delicate material as he almost goes feral at the sight of you keeping himself inside of you. He watches as you opt to forget your bra as you pull your shirt over your shoulder, looking more gorgeous than ever before in the afterglow of being fucked.

“You know Ozzy?” 

Your head pops up, your lips pulled into a cute frown as your brows furrow together at his question. 

“Of course I know Ozzy. Went to his concert a couple of years ago.” You rub at your nose, heating up as you feel some of his cum still on your cheek. 

Eddie rushes over, giving you another apology as he fishes out his shirt, wiping your face clean, not missing the bubbly smile you give him as he looks down. It’s a tender moment, a far cry from your heated ones that would ever lead to such a scenario. But you guess that there was a fine line between love and hate and you guess the two of you had just strolled right past it.

“What?” He asks, stopping for a second. You nudge at his palm with your cheek, wanting him to continue as you go to fix his hair for him, detangling some of it with your fingers as you move it out of his face, beaming when you can see his eyes once again. 

“I don’t hate you either, Munson…” You grip at his wrist, pressing a delicate kiss to the inside of it as he almost melts, “Kinda like you too.” 

His face falls for a second, wondering if this was your sort of cruel rejection as you giggled at his obvious reaction, pulling him in by the chain of his necklace as you run your hands freely through his hair. 

“But I think I’d be able to love you if you do something for me.” 

The shirt drops from his hands as he comes up to hold your face, a hopeful smile on his face as he nods, playful nudging at your nose with his as you laugh at the feeling of his hair tickling the skin of your neck.

“Anything sweetheart, name it and I’ll do it.” 

And even if you asked him to balance the world on his shoulder he’d attempt to. If you told him to buzz off all his hair he’d do it, just for you. He’d get your name tattooed wherever you wanted. He’d stop smoking if you wanted, though he knew it’d take time and a lot of patience, he’d do it, he’d do anything if you asked him to. 

But you smile, your hands scrawled out on his bare chest as you cheekily grin. 

“I want you to take me out on a date. It’s our last summer together Munson, and I don’t think it’s very gentleman-y of you to fuck a girl and not take her out on a date, hm?”

He chuckles, rolling his eyes as he kisses your lips, the gesture gentle and sweet as he holds you like you’re the universe, the stars that light up galaxies to come because you are, you’re the light of his life and the thing that keeps him wondering if soulmates really do exist. 

“You’re right sweetheart,” He pulls at your necklace, a little bit surprised that it didn’t break as he cocked his head to the side, “So…where do you want to go?” 

You squeak, eyes widening in surprise at how willing he was as you shrugged, glancing at the door as you asked, “Now?”

He nodded, pulling on his boxers and pants as he looked at you from over his shoulder. 

“Well… like you said, it’s our last summer. What do you want, ice cream or bowling?” 

You grin shyly, shrugging your shoulder as you hold up his shirt to him as he kisses your forehead in appreciation. 

“Eddie,” You murmur, “I literally have your cum leaking out of me…I can barely stand and...” You trial off, knowing that it wasn’t much of an excuse for him as he gives you a playful grin. He kisses your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin, wanting to savor this moment forever because he never truly thought it happen.

“Ice cream it is, sweetheart."

[calcifiedunderland]

Spare Change

Azul x GN Reader (they/them)

—In which you win Azul’s friendship with the loose change in your pocket.

Notes: I tried to keep the coin description vague so it could be from any currency!! I had this idea for a little while now. Enjoy shrimpies~

—

You were going to buy Azul’s friendship at the cost of a gumball.

Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. By all accounts, it would’ve been impossible to do that, even with a large sum of money. You didn’t think that you’d ever be back in his office making a deal with the merman who almost turned you out of your dusty dorm. But this time, it hopefully would go in your favor.

Earlier that week, you’d been cleaning out your knickknacks, and came across some loose change you’d had in your pockets when you arrived to NRC. Honestly, you forgot about it - it wasn’t like you could really use it here.

Still, you recalled some offhanded comment Jade made - something about Azul’s coin collection, and his fascination with human trinkets. Once, when you’d visited Azul’s dorm room while he was recovering from his overblot, the framed coin showcase on his wall had caught your eye. The coins shimmered, and despite some wear and tear, you could tell they were now kept in meticulous, pristine condition.

This went through your mind as you stride into Octavinelle, feeling the coins in your pocket thump against your skin.

You sucked in a deep breath and knocked on his office door, and, not waiting for a response, you opened it. If you waited, you’d lose your courage. Azul looked up irritably, adjusting his glasses. “Please wait a moment, I’ll be wi-” he stopped mid-sentence, mouth hanging open when he saw you. “Well- Hello, Prefect,” he clasped his hands over his desk, discreetly shoving a contract into a drawer, “what brings you here today?” He coughed slightly, clearing his throat.

Wordlessly you sat down in front of him, change jangling in your pockets. You looked at him intently, searching his eyes and thumbing a coin in your pocket. This could go really well or really not well. Still, you’d made unlikely friends with Riddle and annoying acquaintances with Leona. Besides, you thought as you rubbed the coin, what you wanted wasn’t anything material. Rather, it was genuine and immeasurable - less to you, but more to him.

Azul was pensive, looking at you carefully. You unsettled him. After what happened before winter break, when he overblotted, he’d had a hard time making heads or fins about you. You were a walking paradox - a magicless human who somehow had so much power over strong housewardens. By all accounts, you shouldn’t have been able to one-up his contract to gain Ramshackle. And yet you somehow did, with Leona and your friends.

In all honesty, you had every reason to be upset with him. So why were you in his office now? His eyes zeroed in on yours. What was your angle? What did you have to gain? He hated this feeling of being indebted to you after his overblot. Like he had to make it up to you, somehow. Would you hold it against him?

You fidgeted slightly under his gaze, feeling a little unnerved. Wordlessly, you fished into your pocket and pulled out one of the larger coins from your currency. You put it on the desk between the two of you, the tether between you and him. And if all went well, a symbol.

He looked down at it, curiousity getting the better of him. He picked it up carefully in his gloved fingers, holding it up and turning it around. He rubbed his fingers over the dips and engravings, analyzing the text on it. He held it up to the light, admiring it. Strange, he thought to himself. A childish fascination grew in him, and he carefully flipped the coin around in his fingers, admiring the way it glinted and reflected the light. You smiled, watching the awe in Azul’s eyes grow.

At last, he spoke, not taking his eyes off it, “I’ve never seen anything like it. I’d have to look into it’s origins if you’d want me to appraise it.” He couldn’t think of any other reason you’d be here, giving this to him. Was this your way of getting him to repay you? Have him auction off this coin? His mind halted, why did you show this coin to him? To lure him in and then take it away?

You shook your head, “you won’t find any information on it.” He rose an eyebrow at you, and you continued, “this is a coin from my world. Where I’m from.” He glanced back at the coin with new interest, enraptured. A one-of-a-kind, limited commodity? A coin that only you would have? His heart skipped a beat.

He’d be lying if his businessmer side wasn’t salivating, but a part of him didn’t want to sell it. Deep down, he knew he wanted to keep it for his collection - after all, it wasn’t often that he came across rare coins.

Still, Azul knew better than others that you couldn’t get something without payment. “…what would you like for it?” He asked so quietly, you would’ve thought you’d imagined it if he wasn’t looking at you. He braced for the worst, thinking you’d demand something wild as revenge for his overblot.

You took a deep breath, “Nothing.”

Weeks ago, you would’ve disbelieved the idea of befriending the same person who almost ousted you from Ramshackle. Especially offering him your friendship in the form of spare coins you’d found in your pocket.

Being in his office, trying to offer your friendship to him in the form of a coin of a lost world, was the last thing you thought you’d be doing. But here you were, the subject of scrutiny, sitting in the lavish armchair in front of his desk, trying to show him that you weren’t as ill-intentioned as he thought others may be. That you genuinely did want to connect with him.

Which was hard to do when he was looking at you intently, hands clasped under his nose, presumably staring at you uncomfortably. The look on his face was unreadable. Nothing? They want… nothing? Azul was no fool. All his clients wanted something, no one would ever do something nice for nothing in exchange. You had to have some ulterior motive. Right?

“What… do you want?” He asked again, straightening. A few weeks ago, you might’ve been a little ruffled at his straightforwardness. Now, you only knew he was trying to compose himself, as he lifted his head and offered a debonair smirk, adjusting his glasses. “I understand that the headmaster has still not given you proper accommodations for you. I’m sure, as a non-magical student, I could offer you assistance in exchange for this rare commodi-“

“I really don’t want anything material,” you cut him off, crossing your arms. You would’ve thought you’d have insulted him, from the way his face contorted. “That- that’s preposterous, Perfect. Surely you’d want something in exchange for this coin!” Otherwise why would you be here? was silently said between the two of you.

“I wanted you to have it. It’s a gift. I’m giving it to you.” That’s what friends do!, you thought exasperatedly.

Azul’s eyes bored into yours, and you noted that his pupils were slightly square rather than round. He said, “nothing is free, now Prefect. Surely there’s something you want?” You sighed through your nose. “I just…” you swallowed, looking at him, “I thought you’d like it.” Your tone was genuine, and you squared your shoulders. Azul’s tone softened, “do you not want to keep it? It’s from your world, after all.” You angled your head in wonder.

A few weeks ago, Azul probably would’ve taken the coin without regard for you, or done something underhanded. You were curious (and maybe a bit hopeful) why he was considerate to you now.

“It wasn’t the only coin I had,” you responded, fishing for an identical coin in your pocket and pulling it out, “I had another. It’s the same thing, see?” Azul glanced at it, indeed it’s the same. He asked, “regardless, wouldn’t you want both?” You shrugged, “I can’t exactly spend it here, and I have no need for two of the same. Besides,” you smiled at him, hoping he’d understand, “I… thought you’d appreciate it.”

A lump rose in Azul’s throat as he turned the coin over in his fingers, noting every small scratch and engraving. “I…” he cleared his throat, composing himself. “Thank you, Prefect. I want to give you something in return,” he looked up. You were about to insist you wanted nothing (even if you did start out wanting something), when you saw the look in his eyes. You supposed old habits died hard - he would keep insisting on compensation for you until you accepted. So, you supposed it couldn’t hurt to be honest.

You smiled at him, holding out your extra coin to him. “How about your friendship?” His eyes widened, and you saw his adams apple bob. “I mean it,” you said softly, “really. Please?”

His eyes searched yours for any foulplay or malice. Feelings surged in him - memories of other merchildren making fun of his tentacles or his ink, times when they’d fooled him into being ‘friends,’ hiding in a crevice from bullies. Still, he found no reason to doubt you, as you smiled at him. How could you forgive him?

A poor, unfortunate soul is he, to refuse redemption.

He held his coin in his fingers, “It’s a deal,” he declared, and tapped it against yours.

——

[kazumist]

when he catches you staring at him. gn!reader. fluff. wc: 456.

childe would stare back and then give you a smirk, saying, "enjoying the view?" just smack him (lightly) on the head, and he’ll stop with his corniness. though that doesn’t mean you’ll hear the end of it; it happens every time. but who are you to resist his heartwarming and welcoming smile? maybe you were enjoying the view after all.

diluc would awkwardly smile at you before asking if there was something wrong with his face and whatnot. just assure him that it’s nothing! it’s just that… he looked so pretty. diluc had never shown that he was shy in public (he’s too embarrassed for kaeya to spot him, really), but whenever he’s with you, he shows this side of him: shyness.

albedo would also stare back and give you a soft smile before continuing on with his work. albedo doesn’t always have the time in the world, so he secretly decided to show you that he still loves you in the simplest yet indirect ways possible. he feels guilty whenever he can’t always be there when you need him the most, but he tries.

zhongli is similar to diluc; he would ask you if there was something on his face. but once you tell him that you were just admiring his looks, he'll laugh. a wholesome laugh that makes you embarrassed for what you did, and he’d even apologize for making you blush. however, that’s okay; as long as the two of you are happy together, then it’s all good.

alhaitham wouldn't notice it at first; he always has his nose in a book, even when you're dating. but he gets confused when you pull his book down a bit, then proceeds to pull it back up to hide his faint blush on his ears when you say that you did it to see his pretty face better.

xiao raises an eyebrow at you. was there something on his face? he didn't know, but when he questions you about it, he coughs rather abruptly as he also tries to hide the blush that crept onto his cheeks.

kaeya stares at you right back. so technically, it becomes some sort of silly staring contest between you two. and just when you were about to win, kaeya suddenly spoke up and said, "am i that attractive to you that you just can't help but stare at me?" better luck next time.

scaramouche would blankly stare back at you. and it somehow ends up in... conversing with him? you both don't say a thing, but you're clearly talking to each other through eye contact, which is a bit strange, but not that you were complaining. "kuni, you're really pretty. did you know that?" farewell to scaramouche's composed demeanor.

[sluttywonwoo]

no nut november — felix (loser #6)

pairing: lee felix x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, special guest appearance, jealousy, smut (18+), fwb, protected sex, hard(ish) dom!felix, spit kink, choking, multiple orgasms, orgasm control

a/n: part of @gimmeurtmi and i’s collab <3

word count: 3.6k

series masterlist

No one had expected Felix to last this long, least of all Felix himself. When he woke up to Chan’s text saying he lost, he almost couldn’t believe it. Bang Chan was one of the most competitive members of the group. He honestly thought Chris would have had a little more control. 

But Chan’s loss left Felix in the final three, which felt like a big deal. Felix considers himself to be competitive as well, even though he isn’t particularly good at games. He isn’t particularly good at not cumming either, so it’s a miracle that he hasn’t yet. He hadn’t put much stake in the bet at the beginning since he didn’t think he had any chance at winning, anyway, but as more members dropped out and the finish line crept closer, he began to take it more seriously.

He’d even been so careless to have tried to have sex with you at the beginning of the month, convincing himself he could last through it, before pulling out a couple minutes in with a frantic “no no no no no!” 

Felix hasn’t taken any risks since then. 

You’ve been completely understanding about it, to his relief, and haven’t stopped hanging out with him even though you know you won’t be getting laid like you usually would. That type of behavior is obviously expected from a girlfriend, but you’re not his girlfriend even though he treats you like one and talks about you to the guys as if you are. They all know it’s not official and if Felix refers to you as “his girl” without actually making you his girl one more time, he’s convinced Chan’s gonna slap him. He’d deserve it, to be fair. He’s a coward and he knows it. 

You’re not dating, you’re simply friends with benefits and he likes it like that- at least that’s what he tells himself. It takes the pressure off. Even though you’re not exclusive, he’s not fucking anyone else. You are kind of his person in his mind but he would never admit that out loud. He loves spending time with you and going on dates with you and waking up next to you, but at the end of the day he’s a bit of a commitmentphobe. So what if it’s a shitty excuse? He just doesn’t want to fuck up what you guys have going on and lose you completely. Maybe one day he’ll get the balls to have that talk with you, but for now he’s content with the dynamic you already have, that is until the last week of November.

The end of the month is just around the corner and victory is so close he can taste it. He’s been doing so well, resisting the urge to touch you whenever he’s near you. You’re over a lot these days, which he loves but also hates because of how hard you make everything, literally. 

 You’re in his bed today, dangerous territory already, but Minho and Seungmin were occupying the living space so you had no choice but to hang out in his room. Somehow you’d ended up tangled together beneath his sheets, making out and desperately grabbing at each other. Felix feels you grind into him, feels himself getting harder in response, and realizes he won’t be able to stop if you keep going like this. He’s so tempted to just say fuck it and throw caution to the wind, but he’s so close to winning that he knows he’ll never forgive himself if he gives in now.

Felix forces himself to pull back, breaking the kiss. “We should... probably stop,” he says breathlessly, hating himself for ruining the mood.

You take a moment to process and then push yourself away from him, nodding. “Oh, right. I totally forgot about the bet, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m sorry that we haven’t been able to- that I haven’t been able to you know.”

“Lix, how many times have I told you it’s not a big deal?”

“It’s not fair to you, though. I hate leaving you hanging when you’re horny.” And you seem really horny. You were all up on Felix a few seconds ago, already whimpering into his mouth and tugging at the buttons on his shirt.

You scoff. “It’s not like I’m going to die if I don’t get some dick in the next hour.”

“You’re all worked up now, though, and-” 

“I promise you, Felix, it’s fine. I’ll just call Wooyoung to pick me up in like thirty minutes.”

Felix nods before he processes what you’ve said, then it clicks and he whips his head back up to look at you. “Wooyoung? Jung Wooyoung?”

“Mhm.”

“Why would he pick you up when I can just take you back home myself-”

“Lix, he wouldn’t be taking me home...” you trail off a little uncomfortably. 

“What, are you guys like fucking or something?”

It’s supposed to be a joke, a suggestion so outlandish that it would break the tension but you don’t laugh. Felix panics. 

“Wait, seriously?”

You sit up and cross your arms over your chest. “I mean, not as often as you and I but yeah... we hang out sometimes.”

“And by ‘hang out’, you mean his dick hangs out inside of you?”

“Lee Felix!”

“Sorry! It’s just... this is news to me, that’s all.”

That’s not all, and Felix is afraid you can see right through him but he tries to brush it off anyway. 

“Are you okay?” you ask tentatively, reaching for him. 

He jerks away from you out of instinct and immediately regrets it. This is not a good look for him and he knows it. He huffs out a breath and takes your hand in apology, squeezing in reassurance. 

“Lix... is this going to be a problem?”

“N-no, no it won’t be,” he lies. “Just, will you stay a little longer tonight?”

You soften. “Yeah, of course.”

Felix shifts on the bed and pulls you in close, playing with your hair as you nestle yourself into his side. He thinks back to the last time he saw Wooyoung. It was at some stupid after party for The Fact Awards, just over a month ago. You were Felix’s date, he’d gone to get you both a flute of champagne from the table of refreshments, and when he came back, you were in the middle of conversation with Wooyoung. 

Felix didn’t even know you knew each other. If he had, he would have invited you to more of their Strayteez hangouts- any excuse to spend more time with you, honestly. 

He approached the two of you and presented you with your drink, placing his newly free hand on the small of your back as he sipped from his glass. 

“Felix!” Wooyoung exclaimed and pulled the younger man in for a hug. Felix nearly spilled his champagne down Wooyoung’s back but managed to hold it just out of the way so that only a little bit splashed out onto the floor. 

When Wooyoung finally released him, Felix looked between the two of you, trying to connect the dots. 

“So how do you guys know each other?” he asked. 

You just exchanged looks with Wooyoung and chuckled awkwardly, something Felix hadn’t caught on to at the time.

 He feels like an idiot looking back on it. Wooyoung had known this whole time that they were both sleeping with you and never thought to mention it. It was technically none of Felix’s business, but he couldn’t help feeling betrayed by his friend. And Changbin! He was even better friends with Wooyoung than Felix was. He had to have known you were hooking up and also managed to neglect sharing that important piece of information. He would be having words with that man whenever you left and he got back from his girlfriend’s house. 

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” you whisper all of the sudden, breaking the silence. “I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I know you can be sensitive about these things so-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Felix blurts out. 

“But-”

“We’re not exclusive or anything and we agreed on that. As long as you’re being safe with him...”

You nod. “You don’t have to worry about that. We use condoms, just like us. No one’s getting an STI.”

Felix hums thoughtfully. He’s honestly relieved that you aren’t letting Wooyoung fuck you raw, not because he’s worried about protection even though that is a concern, but moreso because it would imply you like him more or you’re more serious about him than you are about Felix. It’s a petty victory but a victory nonetheless. 

He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head, enjoying the feeling of having you close. It’s not a very ‘friends with benefits’ thing to do so he hopes you don’t mind, but you don’t move away from him which he takes as a good sign.

“Don’t go to his place tonight,” Felix murmurs into your hair. “Let- let me take care of you instead.”

You stiffen in his arms. “But... the bet.”

“I don’t fucking care,” he rasps. 

You turn a little more so that you can face him. “Felix, I’ll stay. We don’t have to have sex.”

“I want to,” he insists. “Unless you don’t?”

“No, I want to,” you assure him. 

“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that?”

“Positive. I was all over you not even ten minutes ago, remember?”

Felix grins. “I remember, I remember. But things can change, you know?”

“You’re sweet,” you say, kissing the corner of his mouth like you were rewarding him for it. 

“I try.”

“So how do you want me?” you ask. 

He takes a moment to think about it. “Um, want me on top?”

“Mhm that sounds good.”

“Yeah? You like just laying there and looking pretty? Like me taking control?”

The change in his demeanor makes you whimper, stroking Felix’s ego significantly. He pushes the blankets off of your bodies and rolls on top of you, taking your chin in his hand so that he can force you to look up at him. 

You arch to kiss him but he dodges you, smirking and still holding your jaw in place. You pout and try to turn your head to the side to break out of his grasp but he manages to keep his grip, surprising you both. Felix isn’t weak, but it’s usually pretty easy for you to overpower him. When you realize you can’t this time you stop trying, relaxing back into the mattress with a sigh of annoyance.

“Look at me.”

You do, eyes wide and eager. He spreads his fingers until his thumb is resting on one of your cheeks and the rest of his fingers are splayed out across the other, squeezing your face gently to get you to open your mouth. 

“C’mon, baby. A little wider.” You obey easily and Felix spits into your mouth. “Swallow. Good girl.”

He’s quick to undress you both so that he can get his head between your legs, needing to taste you after going so long without having you on his tongue. You’re wetter than he expected and he can’t stop himself from groaning at the sight. 

“God, baby, making a mess already. Gonna have to change my sheets after this.”

His comment makes you shrink into yourself in embarrassment. “You have no one to blame but yourself for that.”

Felix grins. “I know.” 

He makes you cum with his tongue and his fingers twice, feeling a little like he has something to prove after learning that he has competition. He wants to go for another, but his cock is aching at this point and he’s worried he’ll cum his pants before he gets to fuck you if he does. 

“Still okay?” he asks, checking in. 

“Perfect,” you respond. “You’re so good at that.”

Better than him? Felix wants to ask, but he doesn’t. He’s not entirely sure he wants the answer to the question, not entirely sure he’ll believe you if you tell him what he wants to hear. 

“Are you good to keep going?”

“Yes, please fuck me already.”

Felix chuckles. “Always so impatient.”

“You would be too if you knew how good your dick is.”

He curses, dick twitching. “You always know just what to say, don’t you?”

“I try,” you parrot. 

Felix gets up on his knees and reaches over to his bedside table. He opens the first drawer and pulls out a condom, bringing the foil packet to his teeth to rip it open when you suddenly reach out to stop him. 

“Let me?” you ask. 

“Yeah, baby. Go ahead.”

He hands it to you and watches as you do the same thing he was about to. You take the condom out of the wrapper and hand the trash back to Felix. He scoffs but accepts it anyway and tosses it in the bin that was easily within your reach without complaint. 

You pull his boxers down just below his butt, just enough to get his cock out, and roll on the condom, jerking him a few times before you do. You’ve never done this for him before and it all feels very intimate. His breath catches in his throat when you touch him for the first time and he shudders. He makes himself stay very still as you work. One wrong move and he’ll cum all over your hand and ruin everything. 

He’s in awe of how careful you are with it. You gently guide the material down his length, making sure that the elastic doesn’t accidentally pinch him in the process.

“That feel okay?” you ask once it’s on all the way. 

“Mhm. Now come here.” 

He hooks his hands under your thighs and pulls, yanking you forward and making your head fall back onto the pillow. Once your body is flush with his, he positions himself and guides his cock inside of you, holding his breath yet again as his name falls from your lips in a strained whisper.

God, this was a mistake. He’s going to embarrass himself, isn’t he? Why did he think this was a good idea? Why did he let his jealousy color his judgment? It wasn’t even about the bet anymore. He already knew he wouldn’t last when he decided to fuck you. He wasn’t that naive. 

No, it was the fact that his pride was on the line and it’s taking all of his strength and willpower not to cum on the spot. It’s been weeks since he’s felt you, felt anything for that matter, obviously it was going to feel incredible. 

Felix always cums faster than he wants to when he’s with you. The (literal) grip your pussy has on him is ridiculous. Does Wooyoung have this problem? Honestly, probably. Felix likes to think that anyone in his position would struggle.

“Fuck, fuck, don’t move,” Felix pleads. “Just. Stay like that. One second.”

You start to nod before remembering what ‘don’t move’ means and then freeze in place, mild concern replacing the lust reflected in your eyes.

“I’m fine,” he grunts out and closes his eyes, willing the feeling to pass. 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m s-sure.”

He can tell you don’t believe him but you don’t press any further which he’s thankful for. You wait patiently for him to recompose himself and when he finally does, he asks you if he’s good to start moving. 

“Yeah, give it to me.”

“Careful what you ask for.”

You roll your eyes and wrap your legs around his waist, forcing him deeper inside of you with a smirk. Brat. 

“Behave,” he warns.

“Or what?” you challenge, raising your eyebrows. 

“Do you really want to go there?” 

You shrug indifferently. “Haven’t decided. Now, are you going to fuck me or what?”

He has to cover your mouth with his hand when he starts snapping his hips into yours, forgetting about how loud you get when you’re this worked up. 

“Baby, we’re not home alone, you have to be quiet,” he hisses, even though he’d much rather hear all your pretty sounds. 

“Feels too good,” you whine. “Fuck me harder, Lix! Please, harder...”

“Harder? Gonna break you in half if I go any harder.”

“Yes, yes, break me in half,” you sob. “It’s been so long. Missed this so much.”

“Will you be good and stay quiet for me if I give you what you want?”

You nod. “I can be good.”

“Are you lying?”

You hesitate. “Maybe.”

Felix laughs coldly and shakes his head in disbelief.

“But not because I don’t want to be good!” you protest. “I just can’t help it.”

“I know, baby,” he coos condescendingly. “Can’t even think straight when you’re so fucked out like this, isn’t that right?”

“Uh-huh.”

The change in dynamic is almost comical. Mere minutes ago, Felix could barely move without cumming, too lost in the feeling of your hot cunt to concentrate. Now, you’re the one gasping for air and clawing at his back like an animal. Even Felix is surprised by the amount of self-control he’s exerting. He’s using it to his advantage though, taking the opportunity to thoroughly ruin you like you deserve. 

Even if you’re completely silent, the sounds coming from Felix’s room are obscene and anyone that walks by would immediately know what you were up to. Seungmin or Minho had probably already texted the groupchat announcing Felix’s loss but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to make you feel better than Wooyoung ever could. 

“Does he fuck you like this? Huh?” Felix is wandering into dangerous territory, he knows, but he can’t help asking. He needs to know. “Does he make you feel this good? Cum this hard?”

“No!” you cry. “No, he doesn’t!”

“Be honest,” he growls, wrapping his hand around your throat. He only applies a little pressure, just enough to make you lightheaded the way you like. 

“I am! I’m being honest, I promise.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Lix, ‘m gonna... gonna cum,” you whine. 

“Who told you you could do that?” 

Your eyes get wide at his response, bottom lip trembling. “What?”

“Who gave you permission to cum?” Felix demands. He’s right there on the edge himself so he doesn’t really know why he’s dragging it out, but he just wants to see you squirm a little more. 

Thankfully, you’re quick to adapt to the new rules. “Can I? Can I please cum? I need it, baby. Please make me cum... please tell me I can. I’m not gonna be able to stop myself if you don’t...” 

The desperation in your eyes does something for him, and knowing he can’t hold back any longer, he relents. “Go ahead. Be a good girl and cum for me, baby.”

He’s only halfway through the sentence when your body locks up and you scream his name, gushing around his cock. If he’d waited any longer you wouldn’t have been able to obey him. He helps you ride it out by rubbing your clit and fucking you through it, letting his own orgasm wasm over him as you’re still clenching around him. 

“Oh god, I’m cumming. I’m cumming, fuck!” he groans, making a last ditch effort to stop it before it happens. But his efforts are in vain because it’s too late and he’s cumming into the condom so hard his vision whites out.

When he starts to come down, you’re still weakly rocking your hips into his, whimpering with every thrust. 

Felix winces at the oversensitivity but doesn’t stop you. With how long it’s been since he last got off it won’t be long until he’s hard again. 

“Insatiable tonight, aren’t you?” he muses. “Came three times and still want more.”

You frown and try to get yourself to stop without much success. It’s like your hips are moving on their own accord. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. Want you to be satisfied.”

“God, you’re so good to me,” you moan and wrap your arms around Felix’s neck, making his chest feel tight all of the sudden. 

“It’s what you deserve.”

He doesn’t have enough energy to hold himself up above you properly so he has you roll over onto your side so that he can slip himself inside of you and you can fuck yourself back against him that way. 

While you’re doing that, Felix feels around the bed for his phone, grabbing it when he feels it under one of his pillows. 

Like he predicted, he doesn’t even have to announce his loss because his roommates did it for him. 

Min: Felix lost

Chris: what? how do you know?

Seungmin: we heard it happening :/

Min: and we’re traumatized

Innie: thank god i wasn’t home

Felix: you guys could have LEFT. you didn’t HAVE to listen!!!! btw changbin i need to talk to you

Min: oh no not his government name. someone’s in troubleeee

Binnie: um. 0.0 should i be worried 

Felix doesn’t respond right away, wanting to make Changbin sweat a little for the trouble he’d put him through. 

He puts his phone on his bedside table so he doesn’t lose it in his bedding again and turns his attention back to you. The oversensitivity had started to bleed together with pleasure and Felix could feel his cock getting stiff again. He groans and buries his face in your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. 

There was still a lot to talk about with you. He needed to address his feelings, be honest about everything. But for now...

“Round two?”

nnn tags: @doesthismeannothingtoyou @yellowroses-world @allyoops @thelostverse @karlitaburrito @lydataylorsversion @septemberkisses @caticorn61 @multifandomtrash-dree @cixrosie @mchslut @cutiequokka @fairygemss @multistancheck @lady—-boner @stay-bi @compersian @raspbinniecreme @skzgallll @strawberriesandknives @laylasbunbunny @goddessofhiddenpleasures @brit97 @jonaticdragon @linobuns @vampcharxter

[saerins]

ᯓ ᝰ RIGHT HERE .ᐟ — touya todoroki

touya x female reader. content tags modern au, childhood sweetheart!touya, both are working adults, making out, mentions of infidelity/murder, he’s a tease. word count 1.7k

ᯓ notes .ᐟ haha can you tell i love touya too much rn ? just getting back into writing so have some of my touya :) thanks to any of you who read this <3

“touya, you’re gonna make me late for work tomorrow,” you whine, pouting as he wins you in yet another round of super smash bros. (and hence you’d have to stay up and continue playing at his behest.)

beside you, touya smirks, rows of pearly white visible while he clearly enjoys tormenting you. “weren’t you the one who said you needed a distraction?”

you grumble as you take the couch pillow and hold it over your face, groaning in frustration. touya’s right; you’d called him right after dinner, practically forced him to come after you figured out that you’re actually not as strong you thought and you’re actually still really upset that your ex cheated on you.

it’s only pathetic because it’s already been a couple of months and you’re still wallowing over it somehow.

“you know, i bet all that frustration will go away if you just let me kill that fucker,” touya tells you, flicking your forehead as leans forward, yanking the cushion off your face.

unamused, you deadpan at him. “yeah? then what am i gonna do when you’re in jail, huh?”

touya snickers, “aww, what? can’t handle being without me?”

in a strange way, your honest answer is definitely not. you’ve known touya forever. ever since you were five and your families connected at a preschool event. ever since your friend fuyumi introduced you to her brother. ever since touya confided in you how much he hated his father.

fast forward more than a decade later and you’re both sitting in your apartment, in a different state than either of your families, still as close as you were when you were kids.

you glare at touya, rolling your eyes before scrunching your nose and smirking at him. “actually, go ahead, i’ll go find myself a better guy while you rot in the cell.”

your best friend scoffs, cocking a brow and looking like he’s offended. “i off someone for you and you don’t marry me immediately? the fuck is wrong with you?”

the shit-eating grin that dawns on his face immediately after makes your heart skip a beat. yeah, you’ve always found him attractive, maybe even had a crush on him back in high school, but he’d always had girls after girls, and somewhere along the way you learned to stuff those flimsy emotions back down.

until you remember that he’s been single for a while now, and the fact that you’re both working adults with all the freedom in the world.

fuck, you really shouldn’t go back there.

“haha, funny,” you try to wave it off sarcastically. “says the one who told his ex that he just sees me as a little sister.”

he laughs, leaning back against the couch, a hand behind his head, abs sticking out from the edge of his shirt. it takes you a second to rein yourself in, not wanting to get teased relentlessly by him if you get caught staring.

“hey, she was getting jealous of me spending so much time with you! what was i supposed to say?”

yes, you’re aware. most of them were. most of the time you never told touya about any of that; of how his girlfriends were coming up to you, all insecure about your friendship and asking if you could back off. that was the most common thing among all his relationships: the girls’ pleas for you to keep a distance.

you did… the first few times.

and after his fifth relationship, you realised that touya would always pull you back close. would always end up breaking up with them if your friendship is causing them too much worry.

“you didn’t have to say anything, maybe you should’ve just kept your distance, you know? since most of them seemed to have a problem with it,” you comment, trying to act as nonchalant as possible, though even you don’t believe yourself.

a life without touya is unimaginable for you. even if you can’t really say the same for him.

touya sighs, shifting in his position before ultimately putting an arm around you, pulling you close. he smells like your soap and his hair against your face tickles.

he’s always like this; always touchy, always close. recently he’s been more than usual, coming over and sleeping the night (you never did anything physical!), chasing other guys away at the club because they’re not good enough for you.

and when he’s like that, you think maybe there’s no harm in letting those long-lost feelings flow back.

it’s dangerous.

he’s always like this. always way too much for you to handle. and yet you can’t live without him.

and then he does something he’s never done before.

you feel his lips on your temple, and you hear the chuckle reverberating from his throat. his left arm around you holds you tight, not that you’re running anywhere—you’re pretty sure you’re frozen stiff from the shock.

did that really happen?

“how can i do that when you’re the only one i want?”

you’re sure that’s his voice. it can’t be anyone else’s. but you’re not sure if you believe him. is he really saying what you think he’s saying?

slowly, you turn to face him, expecting him to wear that smug grin and tease you for being so gullible but it never comes. instead, you’re greeted with his half-lidded eyes, blue pupils staring at your lips like he’s hypnotised, his thumb caressing your lower lip from left to right like he’s trying to memorise all the grooves.

it’s so soft that you barely recognise your own voice when it comes, “touya, kiss me.”

and maybe he’s always wanted to, because he doesn’t miss a beat. the second you open your mouth, he’s giving you what you asked for, his tongue prying your lips open and he tastes just like the warm in winter mornings, like the comfort people always dream about.

mint. you can taste the sweet from when he ate it right before he beat you in the game. you can feel the cold on the tip of your nose from when you brush against the piercings on his nostrils. you can feel him carry you onto his lap, feel his hands wrapping around your waist. you can feel his heartbeat under his chest, under your palm, almost as erratic as your own.

were you really just upset over someone else?

every relationship you’d been sad over suddenly didn’t seem to make sense anymore. not when touya’s right here, lips locked with yours and telling you more with his kiss than you’ve ever heard from his words.

by the time you pull away, both of you are breathless, his hand on your cheek, lips softly brushing over your own like he can’t bear to be away even for just a second. you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, half overwhelmed and half confused.

“fuck, did we really just—”

“shh,” you hush him, putting a finger on his lips, suddenly embarrassed. your foreheads are still pressed together, and you can’t see it but he’s admiring your face, holding himself back from just kissing you even more.

touya moves your finger away. he whispers your name in the most gentle tone you’ve ever heard, “does that mean you feel the same?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, tongue-tied and still straddling your best friend on the couch. you’re just a single impulsive action away from going all the way.

dangerous.

pulling back even further, you’re about to make a break for your bedroom when touya pulls you back, making sure you face him.

“no running this time,” he tells you, voice raspy and his eyes flicking from your eyes to your nose and your lips but mostly your lips. “i want you,” he whispers, and the minute you lock gazes, the answer has never been more clear to you.

“i want you too, touya,” you answer, both excited and afraid but he never lets you harp on things too much because he’s already kissing you silly, barely letting you breathe—you don’t have to guess with him; he wants you so desperately you can feel it in his actions.

“touya, we should stop,” you whine, knowing that this might be going way too quick yet you want it all the same.

touya shakes his head, big hands slipping under your shirt and squeezing your waist. “no, don’t wanna stop,” he whispers into your mouth.

he’s about to pull your shirt over your head when the loud shrill of his phone interrupts. he would’ve tossed it to the side if you hadn’t taken it and insisted he should take it. it’s from shoto, after all. (he doesn’t call often, it’s a complicated relationship.)

grumbling, touya leans back, keeping your thighs in place so you can’t move away. he’s smirking at you as he answers, “shoto, what is it?”

you can’t hear his brother over the phone. you can only guess snippets of the conversation from touya’s end.

“huh.”

“what for?”

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.”

when he finally puts it down, he pulls you close by the chin, a glint of mischief in his grin. “get ready, doll.”

“huh? for what?”

touya gives you a peck on the lips. “family’s visiting, a surprise or whatever. they’re already in the city.”

you blink, praying he’s not being serious and wishing it’s not what you’re thinking. “okay, have fun!”

“and where do you think you’re going?” touya laughs, pulling you back down after you barely got back up.

“go spend some time with them, it’ll be fun.”

“oh i’m sure it’ll be fun,” he smirks, typing something into his phone and sending the message before you can sneak a peek.

you’re almost too scared to ask. but you do. “and why’s that?”

touya chuckles, thinking you’re way too stubborn, playing dumb even if it’ll kill you. but he guesses it’s fine if he has to spell it out for you. “because i wanna re-introduce you.”

“wait, what do you mean?”

with a gentle smile and a poke on your forehead, he looks you in the eyes. “i’m gonna introduce them to my future wife.”

[mysticworks]

Still I rise ~ Lewis Hamilton

Reader comforting Lewis, after a disappointing qualifying session.

Word Count 1.2k

Genre: Angst

------------------------------------------------------------

His helmet lay strawn on its side, as if tossed to the floor with anger and frustration. 

The changing room door was ajar, the sliver of light from outside piercing a fraction of the darkness within.

From it, you could only just make out the flash of yellow - what seemed to be Lewis’ shoes - the neon, bright in the darkness.

The moment you’d seen his post qualifying interview, you’d known; the sadness in his perfectly practised smile, the tension in his furrowed brow, the unfocused eyes as he spoke of his session to the reporter questioning him.

“At some point you start wondering if it's the car or just you, y’know.” 

He’d shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to diffuse his answer to the question, the biting on his lip holding in a tremour only you could notice.  

After a viciously challenging start to the season, you’d seen the confidence that Lewis usually carried himself with, slowly begin to deflate, and this practice session in Japan seemed to be the absolute breaking point for his positive spirit. 

The situation was taxing, understandably, and the Mercedes crew had spent much of the season heads down, working on new improvements to make - yet somehow, progress seemed slow.

Lewis seemed to be blaming himself much more these days, longer hours in the gym, harsher dieting; absolute eternities he’d spend rewatching clips of his race and memorising data the analytics team sent across.

He was disappointed in himself. Torn apart from self-doubt and worry. 

And now, post qualifying interview, he seemed to have gone missing. 

You’d spent the past however long looking from him; pacing the entirety of the paddock to the Mercedes garage, even peeking into the press conference green room where you’d bumped into a very confused Max- having to squeak a quick “sorry,” before rushing back on your mission to hunt Lewis down. 

Yet here he was, confining himself to the darkness of his changing room, burying himself in wavering self -confidence.

Sucking in a deep breath, you took a ginger step towards the door, lightly giving it a quick knock to signal your entrance. The light flooded in from outside, and from the doorway you caught sight of Lewis - your heart crumbling as you took in the sight of him.

Oh you poor, poor thing.

He was sat on the floor in the far corner of the room curling into himself. Head in his hands, his knees drawn up to his chest. You saw his body tremble in a tremendously suppressed sob, one you could only wonder how long he’d been holding in.

It didn’t take you a second longer to reach him, falling to the floor in front of him. It was then you noticed just how violently his hands were shaking, and you reached out, tenderly taking them into your own.

Lewis responded to your touch immediately, his head lifting to meet your eyes. 

In an attempt to soothe him, you rubbed circles into the back of his hands, eyes locking with his bloodshot ones.

You broke the silence first, in a whisper, soft but firm. “You’re going to be okay.”

He gave you a tight smile through his tears - sad and forced. “I’ve lost it. I’ve lost it all.”

His voice gave him away, cracking 2 words into his sentence and his eyes filled with fresh tears. They spilled out onto his face and he tore his hands away from yours to wipe them away.

Lewis had always been the type to keep his emotions in control - and this time he’d reached breaking point.

“Lewis,” you reached out for his face, forcing his eyes to meet yours again. There was defeat in them. Like the hope and passion to fight for wins had been sucked out and replaced with tonnes and tonnes of self-doubt. 

“You haven’t lost anything.”

Rubbing the tears off his cheeks you pulled him into an embrace, and in moments his arms were tight around you, his head resting on your shoulder and soaking it as he let out the frustration, the pressure, the anger, the pain.

“It’s not the car. It’s me.”

You shook your head, determined to let him know that this was no fault of his own. He curled further and further into you, and you held him tighter, cradling his quivering body in your arms in an attempt to take the pain away. 

Lewis had always been physically bigger than you being the athlete he was; taller, bulkier, stronger. 

Yet in your arms he seemed so small. So vulnerable. As if needing your protection to shield him from scrutiny. 

You rubbed his back, shushing him with words of affirmation. 

He was stronger than this. He was a fighter. He was a champion. And that's what he needed to know. 

How he’d conquered years of championships and podiums. How he’d brought it home on only 3 wheels at Silverstone. How he’d stolen the show in his rookie years, being only a point behind the season winner. 

But also how he was so much more than just a formula one driver. 

A motivator, justice seeker. An inspiration, role model for thousands and thousands if not millions. Someone passionate to right wrongs, unafraid to condemn the world for its immorality. 

“One failure doesn’t set you back Lewis,” His sobs had quietened down, and he gave a small sniffle in reply, “A bad qualifying isn’t a bad race. A bad race isn’t a bad season. A bad season isn’t a bad career.” 

You wanted him to see what so many saw in him. What you saw in him. His eloquence, charisma, humility. 

And so you tightened your hold against him, giving him a gentle squeeze on his palm, to let him know, it would all be okay.

A small smile erupted on your face when you felt him give a small squeeze back. One that showed he acknowledged what you’d said. 

You pressed a kiss against his forehead, before leaning against it so your breaths intermingled. “You’re a fighter, Lewis. So get up and fight for this.”

—---------------—----------------------------------------

Race day:

Lewis zipped up his race suit, adjusting his ear piece before picking up his helmet and striding towards his car. 

He felt a new found confidence surge into him today - his breakdown less than 24 hours prior to this race lifting a huge weight off his chest he didn't know he'd been holding onto. 

It was as if his faith had been restored, by someone letting him know that it was okay to fall. It was okay to hit hurdles, as long as he picked himself up and fought through it. 

Lewis found your face in the crowd of engineers - not that you'd been hard to find - you stuck out like a sore thumb in the sea of Mercedes team uniforms.

“Ready?” You let warmth fill your eyes, closing the gap between you until the chaotic bustle of the paddock drowned away - becoming no more than a background buzz. 

“Ready.” Lewis’ voice was low, yet it held certainty. You rested your palms against his solid torso, eyes locking with his, through the visor of his helmet.  

There were no signs of yesterday's doubts; no question of ability; the tears of vulnerability dissolved from the fire that set ablaze in his orbs of gold. 

He was ready to make a statement.

Lewis flashed you a smile, cocking his head to the side with the charisma you'd fallen so in love with.  

“I am a fighter, and I will fight for this. I am a fighter, so I will rise.”

[honeybeedrabble]

can i get a shikamaru x reader, where they are on a mission together to the sand village and perhaps only one bed 😈😈 (also include gaara if u can i love sand emos) - also only one tent and pillow wall

MDNI 18+

OMG. THIS !!!! mission sex? probably the hottest sex. at least for shinobi. something about shikamaru improperly using shadow paralysis while the Kazekage feels you up in his office 😳😳

CW: AFAB reader x shikamaru x gaara, somnophilia, mission sex, only one tent, only one sleeping bag, handjob, cum eating (?), eiffel tower, MFM threesome, improper use of shadow possession, pet names, unprotected piv (don’t be stupid), cream pie (don’t be stupid), oral (m receiving) lmk what else lol

September 22. It was September 22, Shikamaru’s 19th birthday and yet he was summoned by the Hokage for a mission. Sure, he could’ve just declined, everyone told him to anyways, but Shikamaru knew some things had to be done. And yeah, he complained the whole time that it was ‘a drag to work on his birthday’ but with his wallet running slimmer by the day, a low risk mission to the hidden sand didn’t seem like the worst idea for a couple ryō. He figured he’d throw a bigger belated birthday party after he got paid so to him it was whatever.

When he was summoned to the Hokages quarters and saw that he wouldn’t be alone, but instead paired up with you? Oh baby… it was a win-win for Shikamaru all around. The mission itself was easy, travel to the hidden sand, deliver a few scrolls and plant a few medicinal herbs native to konoha. Since the war has been passed for a few years, the allied nations don’t seem to have any animosity towards each other and the path ahead should be clear.

It didn’t take long for you two to head out, traveling west to the village. You hadn’t exactly come prepared, telling Shikamaru that you had already been assigned for this mission before he had so you had only packed one tent and one sleeping bag. Luckily you had enough hindsight to see you might have some food or water shortages, especially in the desert heat, and rations weren’t an issue.

When traveling, Shikamaru told you to lead the way so he could keep a better eye on you. But to be honest, he was just staring at your ass the whole time, watching your hips sway side to side after each step you took. It caught him off gaurd when you turned you head to speak to him.

“Hey, isn’t it your birthday?” you asked, ignoring the feeling you thought you caught him staring at your ass (you did).

“Yeah, why’d you ask?”

“I dunno, I guess never took you for the type to not celebrate your birthday.” You replied with a shrug. Shikamaru raised a brow.

“ What d’you mean?”

“Well I mean… going on a three day mission to the hidden sand and back doesn’t quite strike me as a celebration,” you said with a laugh. Shikamaru chuckled.

“I guess you’re right. It is a real drag having to do this but I need the money anyways. Besides, if I didn’t come you’d be out here all by yourself, who’d protect you then?” He smirked. You blushed, shrugging off your flustered reaction with an eye roll.

“Pft, maybe someone who brought their own sleeping bag,” you teased.

“Touché. But you have to admit, the company’s nice.”

“It is... Happy birthday, Shikamaru.”

“Thanks.”

______________________________________________

You two had somehow traveled a little ways past the halfway point, and you could tell by how late it was partnered with how tired you felt. After a long dinner of canned soup, protein bars, jerky and dried fruit you had pulled out the tent. Snapping each piece together with a small click each time. You threw the cover on and tucked in the corners, zipping the tents zippers in place before unzipping and crawling in. Once you were in you rolled out your sleeping bag.

“Do you want to share?” You asked, unzipping the zipper and opening up the bag. Shikamaru was slightly taken aback and shook his head.

“No it’s fine, s’my fault I didn’t pack a bag, I don’t want to inconvenience you.” He said, laying down on the grass. You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“It’s big enough for the both of us, trust me I’ve had to do this on a few missions before. Nothing I’m not used to.” You reassured, laying down inside. You motioned with your hands for him to come inside and he let out a small huff.

“Fine, but only cause you wore me down.” He said, trying to hide his excitement.

He crawled into the tent, immediately he could tell how much warmer it was with you. Shikamaru got in next to you and zipped the bag up behind him. He nestled closer to you and you flipped on your side facing away from him, and he settled in against your back in the snug sleeping bag.

“I’m sorry about your birthday,” you said, still facing away. His head sunk lower near yours.

“Don’t worry. It’s going a lot better than I thought it was,” he said low and sleepy.

You had fallen asleep pretty fast, he could tell because of the soft, steady breaths you took besides him. While you were happily sleeping, you didn’t anticipate occasionally grinding into him. The push of your ass was enough to keep Shikamaru awake, and he couldn’t help himself from sleepily grinding into you. When you stirred for a moment Shikamaru stilled immediately, his heart pounding out of his chest. When he heard your sleepy sighs and breaths he went back to his prior movements.

He continued to press himself against you, moving when you did. The curve of your ass hugging the outline of his dick euphorically. However, the pleasure was subsided by his need for sleep and his hips stopped meeting yours in an attempt to save energy. He realized most of the grinding was on his part and not yours, when he stopped you had. Slowly he drifted off, fighting the urge to not jerk himself off under your shared sleeping bag while you dreamt.

_______________________________________________

The second day you two had decided to take things easier and walk half of the time rather than run. While you were leading, Shikamarus gaze felt hungrier. Everytime you looked back, his eyes lingered on your ass far too long to be a coincidence. You had a feeling yesterday, but today had confirmed your suspicions.

“So, what are you planning on doing when you get home?” You asked him, turning your head to look at him. His eyes lingered on your ass for a few seconds shamelessly before snapping up and meeting yours.

“I’m going straight home, I’ve got something in mind,” he said, his lips curling into a small smirk. You were confused.

“What do you mean? Are you gonna have the party at your house?” You asked. Shikamaru let out a small laugh, his hand reaching down to adjust his crotch, his semi hard on making itself present.

“Sure, I guess I can call it a party. But it’s gonna be a party of just myself, unless you wanted to join me?” His eyes had gotten darker and filled with lust as they returned to your ass. You felt your face heat and you felt naked under Shikamarus gaze.

“Um… sure. We can have a small party before everyone gets there. You said you wanted it at your house?” You asked, trying desperately to get his attention. He looked up at your again, his hand adjusting his pants again.

“More specifically my bedroom,” he whispered coming up behind you. He brushed the back of his hand against your ass before passing you and taking the lead himself with you to follow.

____________________________________________________________

That night when sleeping with Shikamaru in the tent under your sleeping bag, Shikamaru was a mess. He spent 24 hours sexually frustrated, all while he was alone with you. He was a wreck and couldn't help himself to the cruve of your ass for a second night. He was sure you were alseep, but he didn't care if you werent.

He wrapped his arms around you, mercilessly grinding himself into your hips while you stirred underneath him. You couldn't fall back asleep with his movements and you were so turned on it was almost painful. You could feel yourself drenched with arousal as he abused your ass cheeks with his hard cock. You didn't know if you should pretend to be asleep or rock your hips into him and risk him stopping.

Shikamaru was animalistic, growling and whimpering into your ear as his arms flexed around your core, and you couldn't pretend for any longer. You smashed yourself into his groin, grinding pleasantly against his dick. An arm came out from its grip on your waist and gripped your wrist tightly. He unbuckled his pants with the other and brought your hand down to his boxers, where he palmed himself with your hand.

You couldn't help but gasp lightly, feeling how large he swelled under your touch. He hissed as your fingers traced the outline, then shoved his boxers aside for his dick to spring out. He guided your hand to his dick, where you reached out for his tip. He let out a shaky exhale as you smeared his precum around his angry tip, dragging the liquid arousal down his shaft and back up. He groaned in your ear, fucking your fist from behind as you lay at your side.

"Shit- you've got some soft hands." He let out between breaths, slowing his pace to feel every crease of your palm wrapped around his cock.

He picked up his pace, suddenly feeling too crazed with lust to savor your touch. He reached under you, pulling your other arm behind you to add to his pleasure. You whined, rubbing your thighs together sleepily for any friction you could get, the stitch of your pants working just enough to have you craving more. You closed your eyes, imagining how his cock looked soaking wet with his own precum as you jerked him off, his heavy, euphoric breaths mixing with the squelch of your grip on his shaft.

You pumped upwards, your thumb circling his drooly tip and he whined bucking himself into your finger.

"Ah- fuckkk. Do that again. Get as much as you can and slather it over my cock." he instructed, his voice straining. You did, dragging his precum and coating his shaft with the liquid. His breath hitched for a second, grapsing your hands from behind you and cupping them together in front of his tip.

"Fuck-Fuck-Fuck," He moaned heavily, grasping his dick and angrilly pumping it with his own hands. "Ngh- fuck. ahhh..." He spilled his thick ropes into your hands, the ribbons full and heavy. As soon as he finished cumming he dragged his dick into the cupped seed, fucking your hands one last time before putting himself away.

"Eat up," he smirked, whispering in your ear lazily. He fell asleep soon after and you wiped your hands off on your pants with your inner thigh. You licked a finger, tasting his cum and felt hornier than ever. You had to go to sleep that night without touching yourself, not wanting to get his leftover cum inside of you.

__________________________________________________________

The next morning morning neither of you spoke about the previous night. Shikamaru was internally cursing himself for being so unprofessional and letting his perversions get to him. You however, were craving more. You didn’t get to see him that night, how his eyebrows knotted and his eyes pinched shut as his mouth fell open letting out pleasurable moans while cumming several roles into your palms. You thought about it a lot and by the time you two reached the hidden sand you were soaking.

These scrolls were important and by no means was anyone allowed to open or read the contents inside. In order to prevent any curious eyes, you and Shikamaru were ordered to deliver them to the Kazekage himself. When you entered the building the Kazekag was sat at his desk, the room empty as he awaited your arrival.

“Ah, the hidden leaf shinobi. I take it that the journey was easy?” He asked.

“Yeah, the way over wasn’t too bad, Lord Gaara.” Shikamaru said, stepping in with you to follow, closing the door behind you.

“Thats a relief, I’m aware that your birthday was two days ago so I apologize for the abrupt mission. And please Shikamaru, no reason to be so formal with such an old friend.” Gaara said with a small smile. Shikamaru nodded. “And hello to you too,” Gaara said, switching the conversation towards you. You smile.

“Hello, Lord Gaara! It’s nice seeing you again. I wish it was under different circumstances though, with the journey back we’ll have to get on our way soon.” You sigh sadly.

“Now now, no need to rush. I haven’t seen you in a while, why don’t you sit down? I missed you.” Gaaras voice was lower, his eyes gently looking into yours. You felt hot suddenly, and definitely didn’t want to act weird around the Kazekage. You needed some air.

“Um, sure. Sorry, I’ll be back I just need some air.” You said, fanning yourself. You spun around and headed for the door when suddenly your body froze in place. You grunted trying to move your legs when you watched thick, black stripes make their way up your legs. Your eyes widened, turning you head behind you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Shikamaru asked demandingly, his eyes narrowed looking at yours. Shadow paralysis. He walked up to you and turned you around, still stuck in his jutsu.

“What are you doing, Captain?” you whined, looking back at the men in front of you. Shikamaru wandered behind you, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

“Fuck- I’ve been thinking about this all mission. That handy you gave me last night isn’t nearly enough, I need you.” he breathed heavy into your skin. You felt your body shake, a vibration sent down your spine as Shikamaru nibbled gently on your delicate skin. You watched through half lidded eyes as Gaara approached you, his hands sliding between your shirt and vest and he slid the vest off- it hit the floor with a light thud.

“I haven’t seen you in months,” He whispered, grabbing your waist and rubbing small circles with his thumbs. “I almost forgot how you felt,” He added. Gaara grabbed the end of your shirt, pulling it over your head slowly and watching as your skin started to reveal itself under the lifted fabric. As he tossed the garment to the floor, Shikamaru was quick to undo your bra clasps, pushing the straps off your shoulders as the underwear landed on your shirt and vest on the ground.

“So beautiful,” Gaaras eyes were blown and dark, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into him. His head dipped down to your tits, popping a hardened nipple into his mouth and rolling it between his tongue. You couldn’t help but let out a soft breath, still unable to move the paralysis placed on you. You tried struggling with the jutsu, yet ultimately unable to undo yourself from Shikamarus power.

He grabbed your head and pulled it to the side, then pulled himself into your lips, crashing into you with a messy kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your cunt already wet with arousal as Gaara fondled your other fit in his hand. Shikamaru was able to silence your moans with his tongue as it lazily lapped at yours slowly and softly. He opened his mouth and a trail of spit connected you two together.

“Goddamn, you make me crazy. I ought to bend you over that desk and take you for myself.” Shikamaru said, grabbing a fistful of your ass. You whined, the feeling of his shadow around you tightening.

“Don’t be selfish. You can have her all you want back at the leaf, I don’t have that luxury,” Gaara said, popping your tit out of his mouth with a pop. “Ngh- I want to touch you… be inside you… taste you… I have to have you, beautiful. Right on my desk.” Gaara picked you up, Shikamarus shadow possession allowing you to wrap your legs around him.

He brought you to his desk, Shikamaru standing in front of it with you and Gaara behind. You felt the jutsu gently leave, allowing you to move better. You bent of the desk, Gaaras chest pressed against your back as his hands trailed down your stomach down to your core. He unbuttoned you pants from the back, grabbing the zipper and slowly pulling it down. He then lifted off of you and pulled your pants and panties off together. He whimpered softly as he watched your slick covered underwear fall down your thighs. You stepped out of your pants, naked and splayed out on the desk, shaking gently in arousal.

“I knew it, you were wet,” Gaara groaned, palming his erection through his pants. Shikamaru smirked, undoing his pants and sliding them half way down his thighs. You reached for his boxers, grabbing his waistband and freeing his hard cock. You whined in excitement, pleased by the sight of his hard dick already wet with precum.

Gaara thrusted his clothed dick into your wet cunt, you breathed deeply, tossing your head back to look back at him. He backed off just to undo his own pants, freeing his own sizable dick. You watched as he rubbed the head of his cock against your wet entrance and you both moan in need. He pushed slightly in, you moaned heavily as you felt him part you in half, his thick cock already nudging a spongy spot inside of you. He pushed the rest of his length in and bottomed out inside of you with a raspy groan.

Shikamaru was getting impatient, gliding his hand up and down his girthy length. He positioned his head at your opened mouth and you accepted his angry red tip with gratitude. He hisses in delight, his fingers digging into your hair as your slid him down your throat until he hit the back. You gagged around his length, then slowly released him, grabbing his dick and licking his tip to taste his salty precum, remembering what little you tasted last night.

“You look so beautiful with dick in your mouth. Ngh- feel so warm… so wet… Ahh, I can’t help myself.” Gaara huffed out, slowly sliding out of you before roughly thrusting himself into you again. You moaned around Shikamarus cock, slick running down your thighs as the momentum pushed you further down Shikamarus shaft. Shikamaru winced, his grip on your hair loosening.

“Sucking dick like a natural, I don’t even think I need to put in any work,” He smirked, resting his hand on the back of your head as Gaara stuffed you full of his rock-hard cock. He stuffed you roughly with a tight grip on your hips, you chocking on Shikamarus cock as he gasped in delight.

“Good girl,” Shikamaru praised, running a hand through your hair. You eyes watered as you looked up at him through your lashes, grabbing onto his thighs.

“So tight.. Oh fuuck you’re running down my thighs. Ahhh, beautiful girl, I’m going to miss this pussy,”Gaara grunted, pistoning you full with each snap of his hips. You drooled down Shikamarus cock, your jaw sore from his jolting thrusts inside you mouth. You tan your tongue up and down, tracing a vein that ran along his shaft as his precum continued to fill your mouth.

“Good girl, sucking me like a perfect cock whore. Shit… I’m almost there baby.” Shikamaru stifled, his hips gently thrusting into the back of your throat. You whined around his length, wishing that the pleasure would never end, regardless of your own high quickly approaching.

“Go ahead, love. Cum on this dick. I want to see you choke on his dick as you choke my cock,” Gaara lewdly growled, thirsting into you faster. Shikamaru groaned deeply as you moaned, the vibrations of your throat stimulating him in a new way as he came several ropes into your mouth. You tried swallowing each mouthful as you clenched around Gaaras cock, pulsing around him as warm, salty cum was poured down your throat.

“Fuuuck! Ahh- oh god… Your mouth is so good, you did so good.” Shikamaru praises, bending down to your level and holding your face in his hands as Gaara continues to sloppily fuck you. Shikamaru kissed you, sliding his tongue back into your mouth and tasting himself on your lips. You moan in his mouth still cumming around Gaara as his grip on your hips tighten.

“Ohhh… Yes! Almost, almost- I’m almost there. You’re s-so good,” Gaara breathed. “Cum with me,” Gaara said, hitting your spots just right. Your core aches as you came undone on his Kazekage desk, Shikamaru kissing you all over as Gaara pummeled you and then stilled, cumming deep inside of your pulsating cunt.

“Fuck! T-Thank you, Lord Gaara!” You cried into Shikamarus mouth, your legs shaking as the man behind you overstimulated you into a moaning puddle. Shikamaru planted one last kiss on your lips before he stood up and tucked himself away into his pants. Gaara lay ontop of you, occasionally pushing himself into you as he slowly softened until he pulled out, his cum spilling onto your naked thighs. He kissed the nape of you neck deeply, then stood up and pulled back up his boxers and pants.

You lie there fucked out and stupid, Shikamaru and Gaara exchanged scrolls while Shikamaru went digging through your bag for medicinal herbs that you brought with you.

“Excuse me, Shikamaru?” Gaara asked, completely ignoring the fact you were still naked and shuddering on his desk. Shikamaru raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?” He asked.

“I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday one last time,” Gaara smiled. Shikamaru stifled a laugh.

“Thanks, I think this might’ve been my best birthday so far.” He smirks, his gaze landing on you. You whimpered in embarrassment, still naked as the men in front of you softly embraced you in their stares.